The Bannister Girls

by Jean Saunders

  Fred and Clemence set off early for Meadowcroft in the stately splendour of the Daimler. Louise was to follow later in her own car. In the smaller Sunbeam, the chauffeur, Hobbs, eyed his three pretty charges with a ready cockney smile. Miss Ellen and her friend, the pale Rose Morton, and the beauty of the family, Miss Angel.

  He didn’t mind in the least that the stuffier one of the Bannister girls, Miss Louise – Mrs Crabb now, he reminded himself – wasn’t in his company. At least he could have the occasional laugh with the other girls, providing he was careful not to upset the young widow, of course. He must remember that.

  Hobbs was bursting with news of his own, and he couldn’t wait a minute longer to tell somebody. They had been on the road for a couple of hours and stopped for a cup of tea at a small café, and Miss Angel was rubbing the small of her back as if he had bumped her to hell and back.

  ‘I’ll slow down if you like, Miss,’ he offered obligingly. ‘But it ain’t going to alter the state of the roads, and we’ll get there all the slower if I do –’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Hobbs. I just slept awkwardly, that’s all.’ Angel sat upright immediately. ‘You get us there as fast as you like, and don’t bother about me.’

  ‘That’s all right then, because this’ll be the last time I drive any of you lovely ladies about.’ He beamed at the two sisters as their mouths dropped open.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ellen demanded. ‘You’re not leaving us, are you, Hobbs? You can’t! We need you!’

  The chauffeur laughed.

  ‘So does King George, Miss Ellen. Ain’t you heard that there’s a war on? I’m enlisting. Signing on the dotted line to glory. Goin’ off to France to see all them places that the rich folk see, only I’m doin’ it at the country’s expense.’

  ‘Hobbs, for heaven’s sake –’ Angel breathed, wondering just what effect all this patriotic claptrap was having on Rose. But to her surprise, the girl spoke up, her cheeks pink.

  ‘No, please don’t stop him, Angel. It doesn’t upset me to hear him speak so. It’s an honour to know that there are still fine young men willing to go and do what my husband did. Willing to fight for their country, and to die, if need be.’

  ‘Yeah well, I ain’t akchully given much thought to dyin’,’ Hobbs said, suddenly hot under the collar. ‘But all the rest of it – yeah, King and country and all that. ‘Course I’ll go. Any red-blooded young man wants to do his bit, especially for all them young French mamselles if you get my meanin’.’

  He caught the tight-lipped look on Ellen’s face and grinned sheepishly. Cocky he might be, but it was a daring thing to say to the three young ladies, and if he wasn’t about to leave the Bannister employment, he would never have risked his job.

  ‘Sorry for speakin’ so bold, Miss. Truth to tell, I don’t much fancy telling your Mama I’m leaving. I had a drop of rum this morning to give me Dutch courage, and it’s gone to my head.’

  ‘So that’s why we’ve been rattling around the countryside like idiots,’ Angel muttered feelingly.

  ‘But what about us, Hobbs?’ Ellen quickly veered him away from the subject of the French mamselles. ‘We need a chauffeur, for heaven’s sake! How will we get about when Father takes the Daimler off to his wretched Yorkshire all the time?’

  Hobbs stretched himself out in the wooden chair, his jaunty grey cap tilted on the back of his head in a way that would infuriate Clemence if she could see it.

  ‘I s’pose you’ll just have to learn to drive, or rely on Shanks’ pony,’ he drawled without concern. ‘And you’ve all got them bicycles at Meadowcroft, ain’t you? You’re always pedalling about the place when you’re down there.’

  ‘I think you’re being totally unfair,’ Ellen said indignantly. ‘Leaving all of us in the lurch like this –’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a stinker, Ellen,’ Angel put in. ‘Hobbs is perfectly right to enlist. We wouldn’t want him hauled up in court like one of those awful conchies, would we? Everyone has to do their bit, and if ours is – well, to ride bicycles around the country, we shall just have to do it.’

  Even as she said it, Angel knew how appallingly pathetic it sounded, and she was ashamed that the hovering waitress with an eye for Hobbs’ smartly-turned-out uniform might have overheard. Was that all they could do for the war effort? Ride bicycles, for heaven’s sake?

  ‘I’m sure it will be all right, Angel,’ Rose murmured as Ellen’s eyes glinted in annoyance at her sister.

  Rose was tired. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in the middle of a family squabble, and with Ellen hinting nonstop about some dark secret of Angel’s, she was beginning to wonder if she had made a mistake in joining the Bannisters after all. They were all so strong in their different ways, and Rose still felt so weak and lost after Ronnie’s death…

  ‘Of course it will be all right, Rose.’ She heard the sudden note of triumph in Angel’s voice. ‘I shall learn to drive the Sunbeam myself. If Louise can do it, I’m sure I can master it, even though Daddy’s so against it. Louise only had to get around Stanley, but why don’t you start teaching me now, Hobbs? Then I shall drive Mummy wherever she wants to go, and anyone else will have to ask me nicely!’

  Ellen looked aghast. ‘I’m not sitting beside you while you drive us into a ditch, thank-you very much. If the parents agree to it, you can take proper lessons on your own, not with Rose and me in the car!’

  ‘She’s right, Miss Angel.’ Hobbs looked at her with undisguised admiration all the same. ‘Tain’t fair on you to have any distractions when you’re learning. You’ll pick it up easy enough, and I’m sure you’ll find someone to teach you.’

  ‘All right. I’ll ask Daddy, and insist on it. If that’s settled, let’s pay the bill and get on our way.’

  She spoke airily, but in reality she was suddenly glad no one had taken up her reckless suggestion to start her driving lessons right now, as the cramps tightened her stomach again, and she felt momentarily giddy.

  It wasn’t just because of the monthly visitor though. It was the thought of what being able to drive might mean. It meant an independence she hadn’t considered before. It could even mean driving an ambulance, and really helping the war in a more positive and involved way than by joining her mother’s knitting circles. Perhaps she could be a nursing auxiliary.

  She might even go to France … to the Front … her mother would faint with shock if she had any notion of Angel’s careering thoughts, but that was the very best thing about a person’s thoughts – they were private.

  ‘Angel’s put on her dreaming face again,’ Ellen broke in, still irritated with her sister, as they got back into the car and it lurched off towards the west. ‘A penny for them, Angel.’

  ‘Sorry, sissie dear. You couldn’t begin to afford them,’ Angel said sweetly.

  And they certainly weren’t for sharing, especially when her thoughts had been inevitably winging towards Jacques de Ville. Angel sometimes despised herself for allowing him into her mind so often, but it was impossible to keep him out. He was like a sweet and deadly drug, once tasted never forgotten; once possessed, craved for all the more…

  ‘Are you quite well, Angel?’ Rose leaned forward in the car to peer into Angel’s face.

  Her pretty face was filled with concern at the sudden stillness of the youngest Bannister girl. Angel unnerved her a little. She was so self-possessed, outwardly so young and innocent, and yet with an air of sophistication that Rose admired tremendously.

  She was different from Ellen, who was of the straight-forward, no-nonsense brigade, and a wonderfully loyal friend. Not that Rose sensed Angel would be any less loyal. But Angel had hidden depths to her character that made her an intriguingly sensual young woman, as well as a beautiful one.

  ‘I’m quite well, thank-you, Rose,’ Angel answered warmly. ‘Just wondering how to get round Daddy to let me learn to drive the car, that’s all.’

  Ellen gave a snort. ‘You can always get round him, and you know it. He always
gives in to you in the end.’

  ‘Does he?’ Angel said in genuine surprise. ‘It doesn’t always seem that way to me!’

  Hobbs gave a chuckle as he negotiated the car round some deep ruts in the road, unable to resist putting his oar in.

  ‘All rich daddies have their favourites,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It’s easy to see why Miss Angel is Sir Fred’s.’

  ‘Thank-you, Hobbs. When we want your comments, we’ll ask for them,’ Ellen’s voice was freezing.

  Hobbs glanced sideways at Angel and winked broadly. She giggled, and lapsed into silence as the motion of the car lulled her into dozing. They had a long way to go yet, but they would stop somewhere for lunch. Cook had packed them a picnic basket, since the weather was not so cold as a few weeks ago. As the towns gave way to lush green countryside, signs of spring were everywhere. London, and even the terrible war seemed very far away.

  How strange, Angel thought suddenly. It was Britain that was at war with Germany, and yet the fields of France and Flanders were being desecrated.

  She must have slept, for she awoke with a start as she realised the car had stopped moving. Hobbs was in the process of hauling back the canopy of the Sunbeam tourer to make it an open-top while they ate their picnic, and all around them were flat green fields. The late March winds had dropped, and thin sunlight warmed the day.

  ‘I thought you were never going to wake up,’ Rose said. ‘You must have been really tired, Angel.’

  ‘I suppose I was. I didn’t sleep very well last night.’

  She stifled a yawn, knowing that it was impolite to do so in public. Ellen had leapt out of the car, and was helping Hobbs to spread out the picnic feast on a checked cloth on the grass verge. Ellen believed in keeping the hired help in their proper place when they threatened to become too familiar, but when it came to mucking in, she was always ready to lend a hand.

  In the middle of the preparations, a noise like the buzzing of a hundred bees droned overhead. Angel looked up, startled, craning her neck, her hand shielding her eyes against the brightness of the sky.

  ‘It’s them flying machines!’ Hobbs said excitedly. ‘I was told that there’s a training area around here, over Salisbury Plain. Dandy little machines, ain’t they? I wouldn’t go up in one if you paid me a thousand pounds, though.’

  Angel stood up in her seat, twisting round to watch the three flimsy aircraft flying low above the tree tops. As they approached, the noise was deafening, and Rose put her fingers in her ears as she stood up too, to watch the three planes, silhouetted against the sunlight.

  Angel felt oddly exhilarated, watching them. Jacques would have done exactly this. Maybe he would have trained here too, and flown over these very fields. Before she could stop herself, she had dragged off her blue silk scarf and was waving it furiously at the pilots. Their goggled faces grinned down at them, and their free hands waved back with enthusiasm.

  ‘Angel, how can you be so common!’ Ellen snapped, when the roar of the machines had passed overhead and she could make herself heard. ‘And you too, Rose, I’m surprised at you!’

  Until that moment, Angel hadn’t realised that Rose had been waving too. She saw the young widow blush crimson.

  ‘Well, don’t be, Ellen. If my Ronnie had been alive now, I don’t think he’d have begrudged me a few waves to a pilot who may be killed over the skies of France tomorrow.’

  She spoke with an edge to her voice that stopped Ellen at once, and made her shamefaced.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think,’ she began clumsily. ‘Oh God, Rose, take a sandwich, for heaven’s sake, before I start to smarm all over you for my being such an idiot.’

  Rose took one and bit into it delicately.

  ‘Was Ronnie your husband?’ Angel said unnecessarily in the small embarrassed silence.

  ‘Yes. Awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘What?’ Angel said, puzzled by the remark. The girl gave a short laugh.

  ‘Ronnie and Rose. The terrible twins, they used to call us. We knew one another right from when we were at school. Nobody took us seriously when we wanted to get married. They all said we were far too young, but if we hadn’t, I’d never have felt so close to Ronnie, even though he’s not here any more –’

  Her face suddenly crumpled, her hands trembled and the sandwich dropped onto the grass as she fumbled for a handkerchief. It was Hobbs who held one out to her, and it was Hobbs against whose grey-uniformed shoulder Rose was suddenly held tight, sobbing her heart out.

  ‘Just you cry it out, love. Tears were never meant for keeping shut up inside,’ the chauffeur said gruffly, while the two Bannister girls stood helplessly by at this outburst of grief. It was almost as if they weren’t there, as Hobbs comforted the distraught young widow.

  ‘I miss him so,’ Rose wept against Hobbs’ chest. ‘I feel as if I’m only half alive without him.’

  ‘’Course you do, love. It’s natural to feel that way. It will pass, but don’t you try to rush it. Tears are for washing pain away gradually. It can’t happen all at once.’

  It was such a painful scene to watch that Angel walked quickly away from the two of them, locked together in so unlikely a fashion. She felt that it was an intrusion to witness such emotion, and the fact that it was the chirpy Hobbs who had the means to console Rose Morton was the most extraordinary thing of all. She brushed a shaking hand across her face, surprised to find that her own eyes were damp. Seeing Rose give way like that brought home the full extent of her loss far more deeply than anything so far.

  Before, it had been just words. Ellen’s words, begging their father to let her bring Rose to Meadowcroft. The polite platitudes of her mother’s words, with Rose answering in the same polite, chillingly brave manner. But this was simple raw grief, and even Ellen was keeping very busy sorting out the picnic and not allowing herself to intrude on something very private.

  Angel walked along the verge to where a wicket gate led into the field beyond, the thick blackthorn hedges on its perimeter just beginning to show tender buds. She leaned on the gate, her eyes gazing blindly into the distance, to where the little flying machines were now no more than a shimmering blur in the distance.

  What she had seen in Rose today was the way she would react should anything happen to Jacques. This same desolation, this anguish … was Rose’s pain any deeper for having known her Ronnie a lifetime instead of for just one magical night?

  Angel knew in her heart that the two couldn’t compare, but how could one measure one person’s pain against another’s? She had rarely bothered to think so deeply about anything before, and that thought was followed swiftly by the sweeping panic that if anything did happen to Jacques, she would probably never know.

  ‘Angel, let’s eat this bloody food and get on our way,’ she heard Ellen’s tetchy voice right behind her, and the fact that her sister was swearing, in the modern way she did at times of stress, told its own story.

  They went back to the car, where Rose looked more composed now, and Hobbs lounged against the side of the car to eat his lunch. He was a curious mixture, Angel thought. She supposed he was what they called the salt of the earth, which was why Rose found him comfortable to be with.

  ‘What service are you going to enlist in, Hobbs?’ Angel asked, for want of something to say.

  ‘Army, Miss. They need men in the trenches, and I’m not afraid to stick a bayonet up Jerry’s backside,’ he reverted quickly to his usual form, but seeing the little smile at the sides of Rose’s mouth, the Bannister girls didn’t attempt to reprimand him.

  ‘I’ll pray for you, Hobbs,’ Rose said quietly. ‘I’ll add you to my list, next to Ronnie.’

  ‘Thanks, Ma’am,’ he said gravely. Neither of them noticed the incongruity of the words. The other two looked at each other and glanced away again, as if each had just discovered the meaning of mortality. And Angel felt as though the ground beneath her feet had suddenly turned to shifting sand.

  Chapter 6

  By the time they had
been at Meadowcroft for two months and resigned themselves to Fred’s ultimatum that they must stay there for the duration, they began to feel as though they had never lived anywhere else. The news from the Front was so bad that none of the girls even wanted to be in London now, where the thick of the air raids was concentrated, and posters and newspaper cartoons depicting the police parading with placards telling everyone to take cover when danger threatened, only added to the feeling of alarm. Anyway, Clemence too was adamant in not going back until it was all over, and just hoped that their dear Hampstead house would be spared.

  Meadowcroft was like another world, and Clemence busied herself at once in gathering up a new knitting circle among the countrywomen, and enlisting poor Rose to help, even if Ellen and Angel grumbled about it so annoyingly.

  During April, the newspapers had reported the dreadful new German secret weapon, poison gas. As it had drifted towards the French and British lines at Ypres in a bluish white mist, the area became horrifyingly thick with dead and dying soldiers.

  There were no gas masks available, and once the gas had been dispersed, even the Germans were unable to advance and attack for risk of being caught in their own trap. If they, like the Allies, slipped into a shell hole where the gas had accumulated, they could as easily be killed by their own poisonous fumes.

  ‘Bloody madmen!’ Fred blasphemed loudly, uncaring for his wife’s disapproving face. ‘The Boche are creating nothing but a stupid stalemate that neither side can win!’

  As if to confirm his words, weeks of fruitless fighting followed, with only the casualty lists growing longer, and then the French and British resorted to using gas themselves.

  ‘I simply fail to credit this.’ Fred scanned the latest reports in disbelief. ‘Since there wasn’t enough wind to blow it into the German lines, many of our men were killed by their own gas, to add to the appalling number of fatalities.’