“Oh, I’m so glad.” The sparkle in her eyes lent her an air of vivacity. “I do want it to be a success, and it isn’t easy to find enough gentlemen these days. Besides, it’s always lovely to see you, Freddie.”
“I am looking forward to it – and now I must return to my friends or appear rude. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He nodded in a general way and went back to his table.
Simon’s eyes followed him. He was frowning as he looked at Christine. “He’s much too old for you, Christine.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. “But he is rather a dear – and I did tell you we were short of men for the dance. It is really good of Freddie to come, because I know he’s always busy.”
“I’ll have to see who I can find. I might know someone, though I am not sure if he would come. He doesn’t socialise much these days, though he’s perfectly presentable. He was shot down over France in forty-one and in hiding for quite a while before he got back. His nerves were ragged by then and he’s been working as a training instructor for the past couple of years. Can’t go over again himself, lost his bottle. I quite like old Trevor, though most of the chaps think he’s a bit weird - but we none of us know how we might react if we’d had his experiences.”
“Did he have a terrible time?”
Simon nodded. “He was captured by the Germans at one point. I think they tortured him and he was due to be shipped off to a prisoner of war camp, but the convoy was attacked by the French Resistance and he escaped. He was wounded in the attack apparently and hidden away in desperate circumstances for some months before they managed to get him out.”
“That does sound awful. Does he mind talking about it?”
“Trevor never mentions it. He had to tell his debriefing officer all the details, of course, and things like that get around. They are not supposed to, but they do somehow.”
“Well, if he comes to my dance I can promise that no one will say a word about the war. The subject is going to be completely banned for the whole weekend – by Order!”
“Good for you!” Simon toasted her with his wineglass. “I’ll speak to him about it then, shall I?”
“Yes, please do. He can stay overnight. We shall have plenty of room, though some of the single men may have to double up.”
“We’re used to that these days,” Simon took her left hand as it lay on the table, her fingers toying with the stem of her glass. “I’m glad I came up to town with you, Christine.”
“Are you?” Her heart was racing and she could hardly bear to look at him.
“Yes. How long are you planning on staying?”
“Just until the end of the week. I shall have to go back and help Mummy get everything ready for the dance. There are masses of little jobs to do, and I can’t leave it all to her.”
“Shall I drive you home?”
“If you want to.”
“I’ll bring the car down then. It’s a bit of a wreck. I haven’t used it much in an age and it needs an overhaul, but I dare say it will get us there.” He looked thoughtful. “Would you like to dance? We don’t have to go home just because the parents do. I know somewhere we could go on – just the two of us.”
Christine felt a little tingle of excitement. If she had come out before the war she would never have been allowed to go to a nightclub alone with a young man, though of course some girls had at the risk of being thought fast - but the war had changed things.
“I should love it. If you’re sure Caro and Rupert won’t mind?”
Caro urged them to go. “You young people should make the most of your time. Run along and enjoy yourselves.”
It was the first time Christine had been taken to a nightcub, and she was both excited and nervous. The lights were deeply shaded and the atmosphere a little smoky, but she could hear someone singing a blues song as they went in and she held tightly to Simon’s arm.
“I love that kind of music, don’t you?” she whispered. “It seems to touch something deep down inside you, doesn’t it?”
“I’m a big fan of Ella Fitzgerald. This singer sounds a bit like her in a way.”
“I didn’t know that you liked her.” It occurred to Christine that she didn’t really know very much about Simon.
“Shall we dance?” he asked once they had established their table and been brought a very expensive bottle of inferior champagne.
“Yes, please.”
Christine smiled and gave him her hand as he led her on to the dance floor. She went into his arms easily; it felt good to be held close to him in the intimate atmosphere of the club, and she wasn’t at all surprised when she felt the touch of his lips against her neck. It was nice to be treated like a woman for once.
She turned her face to meet his, allowing the kiss that brushed her cheek to develop into something more. The feeling it gave her was warm and pleasant, sending a little tingle down her spine.
“You’re so lovely tonight, Christine.”
She smiled dreamily up at him. She wasn’t sure that he really meant it, but his words didn’t seem to call for a reply. It was just the rather heady atmosphere of the evening and the wine they had drunk. She was enjoying his attentions and the music. For the moment nothing else seemed to matter.
In the morning Christine had a slight headache, and groaned as she realized she must have drunk too much of that rather bad champagne. Still, it had been a glorious evening, and she wouldn’t have missed it for anything, though she was afraid Simon hadn’t meant the things he’d said to her as they were dancing. He couldn’t have, could he? Not if he was in love with Helene.
He’d had rather a lot to drink of course. She felt a little hurt that he could simply use her to forget the woman he loved, and a part of her began to wonder if she understood Simon at all.
Of course she did! She had always loved him!
Yet, she knew so little about him when she really thought things through. Was it possible to love someone you didn’t know? Or had it just been a childish crush after all?
For years Christine had adored Simon, her dream of one day being his wife all important to her, but now something had changed and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt anymore.
“Is there something on your mind, Henry?” Beth asked. He had joined her in the study for tea that afternoon, as there were just the two of them. “You seem a bit thoughtful…you’re not feeling ill are you?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” he declared stoutly and frowned at her. “Nice to have a bit of peace and quiet in the house – just you and me.”
Beth poured him a cup of tea the way he liked it.
“You mean without Helene, of course. You don’t like her much, do you?”
“Don’t know her. Girl hardly speaks to me – but I dare say she’s all right in her way.” He shook his paper at her. “Have you seen these wretched prefabs they’re building as fast as they can – won’t last, you know. Waste of good money if you ask me. The Government should be building decent homes. At least that estate they’re putting up here is of a reasonable standard, but of course that was planned before the war. They seem to imagine anything will do these days.”
He was off on one of his high horses again. Beth recognised the signs. For some reason he didn’t want to talk about Helene.
Well, she couldn’t blame him. There was something about Helene that made Beth feel guilty, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“Trevor took some persuading,” Simon told Christine as they drove back to Penhallows that Sunday morning. His car sounded a bit rough, very different from the one Sir Freddie had loaned them the last time. “But I managed to convince him that he ought to stay for the dance. He says he’ll take the train, and I’m going to pick him up from the station.”
“That is good of you. Mummy says some friends of hers are bringing a few young men as well, so it looks as if the dance will be a success after all.”
Christine knew that Helene had returned to Penhallows earlier that week, and accepted that
she must be prepared for Simon to transfer his attentions back to her. To her surprise he greeted the other girl with a nod of the head but no smile.
“Have you fallen out with Helene?” she asked him later.
“I’ve decided not to waste my time on her,” he said with a sullen look. “She’s what the chaps call a bloody prick teaser!”
“Simon!” Christine was a little shocked by his language. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about Helene.”
“It’s the truth. She likes to keep men dancing at the end of her string.”
Christine couldn’t help being warmed by his criticism of Helene, though she was ashamed of herself for it: especially as Helene seemed to be making more of an effort to be on good terms with her.
She actually offered to walk down to the churchyard with Christine when she mentioned that she was going to take some flowers for Miss Timpson’s grave later in the week.
Christine hesitated for a moment, then agreed. “Yes, of course – if you wish. Mummy didn’t want me to go to the funeral, but I can’t help feeling that I ought to have done. Miss Timpson didn’t have many friends, you see. I feel as if I let her down a bit, so I wanted to take the flowers and say sorry.”
“I expect the funeral was awkward, being a suicide, that’s why Beth didn’t want you to attend.”
“Yes, Mummy wasn’t sure at first if they would allow a Christian burial – but Miss Timpson was always a tireless worker for the church, and they decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She could have fallen from the bridge, couldn’t she?”
“Perhaps…” Helene frowned. “I had a friend who killed himself. In my friend’s case there was no doubt at all that he had taken his own life on purpose. They wouldn’t allow him to be buried in Holy ground. I was sorry for that. He was a sad man and he didn’t deserve to be punished. I wept for him but I was also angry.”
“Oh…” Christine looked at her curiously. “Were you great friends? Did you know him well?”
“Not really. Do we ever know anyone well? The face people show to the world is often not their true one…”
“No, I suppose not. I feel so sorry for poor Miss Timpson. She had no life …all that time looking after her mother…such a waste of her talent.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She wanted to be a concert pianist but she was tied to her mother…” Christine frowned. “I suppose she was just too upset that day to think that there was a chance for her to do all the things she wanted at last. Her mother’s death set her free in way, didn’t it?”
“Perhaps that was why she could not bear to live, because she was afraid – afraid that she might fail. It takes courage to change a life, to become someone different.”
“Yes, perhaps…”
There was something in Helene’s face at that moment that made Christine wonder. She felt as if the other girl was on the verge of telling her something important, but then Simon came running to catch up with them and the moment had passed.
“You don’t mind my tagging along?”
“No, of course no. We’re only going to the churchyard, aren’t we, Helene?”
“I think perhaps I shall not go at all,” Helene said. “Please excuse me.”
Christine stared after her as she turned away. She felt slightly annoyed with Simon for interrupting. What had Helene been about to tell her? She would probably never know, for the other girl’s defences were difficult to penetrate, but it made her wonder if perhaps she had misjudged Helene.
“Have you quarrelled with Helene? She seemed upset.”
Simon shrugged. “She’ll get over it. She didn’t think about my feelings when she went off with Jack.”
Christine frowned as she saw the look on his face. She wasn’t sure that she liked Simon very much at all these days. Had he always been this way, or was it just the effects of the war?
There was a surprise waiting for Christine when they returned to the house in time for tea. Harry had arrived while they were out, and was watching the men who had come to put up the marquee on the lawn.
He waved to his sister, then raced across the lawn to swing her up in his arms, hugging her and grinning at Simon, who had been his best friend on summer holidays in the past.
“Where do yer want it, guv?” He did a credible impression of the foreman of the construction gang and grinned as Christine went into a peal of laughter. “It’s all very well for you to laugh, miss – but unless we want our flowerbeds trampled to pieces, I think someone ought to tell the poor chap exactly where everything goes.”
“I’ll tell Mummy,” Christine promised. “Oh, it’s all right – she’s seen them and come out herself.” She linked arms with her brother. “Have you come to stay for a few days? You will be here for the dance, won’t you?”
“Yes – though I won’t promise to dance with anyone but you.”
“Not even me?”
They turned at the sound of Helene’s voice. Harry stared at her, his eyes slightly owlish behind his spectacles.
“I might,” he said, a slow smile creeping over his mouth. “Would I be right in thinking you are Helene?”
“And you must be Harry.” She came towards them, a cloud of expensive perfume that must surely have been a gift from Jack wafting around her. “I’ve heard about you from Beth – but not how tall you were…”
Christine glanced at Simon as he made a sound of derision in his throat, and she knew immediately what he was thinking.
“She hasn’t said much about you to me…” Harry’s smile seemed to freeze and his sister knew instinctively that he disliked Helene’s flattery. “Do you think there’s any tea, Christine? I’m starving.”
“I’m sure there will be. Cook has been slaving in the kitchen for days now.”
“I wanted to tell you that Jack and Caro have arrived,” Helene said, looking directly at Christine and ignoring the two men.
“I’ll go in and have a word with him. I’ll see you later, Christine – and you, Simon. We’ll have to get out for an hour or two, away from all these women.” Harry ignored the French woman.
“Yes – this evening perhaps,” Simon said. “It’s good to see you back. We’ll swap stories this evening then?”
“That’s a nice dress you’re wearing,” Christine said to Helene, noticing that she had changed since they’d spoken earlier. “I don’t think I’ve seen it before - is it new?”
“Yes. Jack got me some coupons and I bought it in London. I went up for a couple of days after we’d been to the cottage. Jack took me to the workshops – and he gave me this.” She pulled back her sleeve to show off a diamond and white gold link bracelet. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, lovely,” Christine agreed.
“No one wears diamonds in the afternoon, and in the country,” Simon told her. “No one with breeding that is…”
The colour was wiped from Helene’s face. Christine was shocked. There had been no call for Simon to be so rude, even if he was angry with Helene.
“Would you like to see the dress I’m wearing for the dance?” She was surprised to hear herself issue the invitation, but felt annoyed with Simon and wanted to make up for his rudeness. “What are you going to wear, Helene?”
“Beth gave me something of hers to alter,” Helene said with a little shrug. “Yes, I would like to see your dress. Can we go now?”
“I’ll talk to you later, Simon.” Christine flashed a look of disapproval at him. She didn’t want any unpleasantness on the eve of the dance. He looked unrepentant and she sighed inwardly.
Helene didn’t say anything as Christine led the way upstairs, but her eyes lit up as she admired the simple white dress hanging in Christine’s wardrobe.
“That’s lovely. How on earth did you manage to find it? There was nothing in the shops worth having that’s why Beth gave me something of hers. I can make it look much better, but it doesn’t compare with yours, Christine.”
“This isn’t new. It was my grandmo
ther’s,” Christine said, touching the material reverently with her fingertips. “We found it in a trunk in one of the attics a few months ago. The lace had gone a bit yellow but when Millie dipped it in the blue bag it came up like new. I think it was meant as a wedding dress.”
“Yes, it looks as if it might have been, but it isn’t old fashioned, is it? It has the style of a Medieval tunic…” Helene looked at it longingly, obviously envious. “It’s much nicer than the dress Beth gave me…”
Christine hesitated, then took a black velvet box from the top drawer of her dressing table. She opened it to show Helene. There was a single strand of pearls inside – but very special ones. The beads were large and perfect with a wonderful creamy lustre and it had an impressive square diamond clasp.
“Henry gave me these for my eighteenth birthday.”
Helene touched the pearls with the tips of her fingers. “They must have cost a fortune…”
“Perhaps. Henry does spoil me sometimes.” Christine took a deep breath. “Simon shouldn’t have said what he did about your bracelet. It was rude of him. I’ll talk to him, make him apologise.”
“He was right though, wasn’t he?”
“It’s just a silly convention some English people think important,” she said.
“I like wearing them. They are so beautiful and cost so much money. I told Jack I didn’t want anything, but he insisted on giving them to me because I wouldn’t let him give me a ring yet…”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“I – I’m not sure.” Helene returned to look at Christine’s dress and stroked it reverently. “This really does have style.”
“Perhaps you should make up your mind,” Christine suggested. “Do you think it’s fair to keep both Jack and Simon hanging on like this? It’s bound to cause tension…”
Helene turned, eyes snapping with temper. “You just don’t understand. How could you? I’ll do what I want and wear what I want – and I don’t care whether you and your friends approve of me or not.”
She slammed out of the room. Christine stared after her, feeling puzzled. It was clear that Helene was upset, which might have pleased her a few days ago, but somehow didn’t now. There was no feeling of triumph, just an odd regret that an opportunity to make friends with the other girl had been lost.
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