‘There’s no hurry,’ said Arthur, and it was true that the space round the buffet tables was crowded. ‘Will you come into the conservatory with me, Kate? It’s very hot in here.’
Kate could not control a smile. She had heard from her friends so many accounts of proposals of marriage which had taken place in conservatories that the word had become a joke, as though such an extension of the house existed purely for this purpose, and not for the benefit of the plants which grew there. She was about to tease her partner – for although a few moments earlier she had felt herself enveloped in a romantic atmosphere, it had not touched her emotions – when it occurred to her that Arthur had not spoken in joke. He was displaying all the nervousness of a man planning to put the conservatory to this conventional use.
The idea came as a shock. Kate had been on friendly terms with Arthur ever since she arrived in England to start her medical training, but she had never thought of him as anything more than a cousin, and she did not wish to do so now. Instinctively she took a step backwards, searching for a reason to stay in the crowded hall.
The excuse which presented itself was not one which she would have chosen. While she had been talking to Arthur, Lord Glanville’s butler had come into the hall, carrying the silver tray on which he was accustomed to present letters. But no ordinary letter would arrive at this time of night. What Brinsley was reading was a telegram.
His face flushed with excitement. He called to those of his friends who were in uniform and they hurried to read the words over his shoulder. They spoke briefly to their partners before moving in a little group towards their startled hostess. But Brinsley called them to a halt.
‘One more dance!’ he shouted. ‘Lord Kitchener won’t begrudge us a last waltz.’ He dispatched the butler to call back the orchestra, who were taking their own break for refreshments, and led the way back into the ballroom. There was an eager chatter of voices as the other guests left their suppers and followed.
Arthur was saying something, but Kate did not hear the words. Too abruptly to be believed, the atmosphere of the ball had changed from a romantic dreaminess to a highly charged drama, and Kate’s blood was cold with a sudden fear. Brinsley, without doubt, had received his summons to leave for France. His friends, commissioned at the same time, would in a few moments hurry to their homes to discover whether similar telegrams were waiting for them, but Kate’s emotions were centred on her brother alone.
‘How can he look so excited when he’s going into such danger?’ she exclaimed, appalled that the family should have admired Brinsley’s enthusiasm without stopping to reflect that it was leading him somewhere where he would have to kill or be killed.
‘How could he go into such danger if he were not excited?’ Arthur countered. His arm was round her waist as though he feared that she might faint, but Kate was hardly aware of it.
‘I can’t let him go,’ she cried, overwhelmed by the nearness of the parting; but as she tried to hurry into the ballroom, Arthur tightened his grip.
‘You can’t hold him,’ he said. ‘None of us can. We have no rights any more. He has to do whatever his country orders. And when he is happy to obey, it would be unkind of you to do anything but support him.’
Kate realized that her cousin was speaking the truth. It was unusual for her to reveal her emotions but her unhappiness now made some gesture necessary. She turned into Arthur’s waiting arms, her head pressed against his chest, while she struggled to restrain her tears.
‘Brinsley has an aura of good fortune,’ Arthur said quietly. ‘Can’t you feel it as you look at him? Some people are lucky, against all reason, and he’s always been one of them. He’ll come back. They’ll all come back. The war will be over by Christmas.’ He paused for a moment. ‘It’s natural that you should be upset. Your parents are a long way away. You’ll be lonely when Brinsley’s gone. We could help each other, Kate. It’s lonely for me as well now that Beatrice has decided she must work in London. You’re losing a brother: I’ve already lost a sister. It’s ridiculous for one man to live alone with so many servants in a great mansion like Brinsley House. It would make me very happy if you’d agree to share it with me, Kate.’
Through the confusion of her anxiety Kate heard the words and – although not immediately – understood them. Appalled by her own weakness, she pulled herself away from Arthur and straightened her shoulders, steadying her body and her emotions at the same time.
‘I shouldn’t have allowed – I can’t – I’m sorry, Arthur.’
She seemed unable to communicate and could see that he did not understand what it was that she was failing to say, for his puzzled frown gave place immediately to a sympathetic smile.
‘I’ve chosen the wrong time to declare myself,’ he said understandingly. ‘How can I expect you to think of anyone but Brinsley at this moment? After he’s left we’ll talk again.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Kate. She knew that she was behaving badly in leaving him so abruptly but she could not bear to waste any more of the time which she might be spending with her brother. She hurried out of the banqueting hall and into the ballroom, arriving just as the waltz was ending.
‘Have you been called to go?’ she asked Brinsley.
‘Yes, but not till morning,’ he said reassuringly. ‘The others will want to push off now so that they can pick up their things and say goodbye to their families. But everything I need is here. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t dance till dawn. Don’t look so upset, Kate.’
‘But of course I’m upset!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s only a few hours, isn’t it, since I said I felt like Cinderella. And now midnight’s struck, but it’s not my dress that disappearing. It’s –’She was too near to tears to go on.
‘It’s what?’
‘Everything.’ Her gesture took in the whole of her surroundings, the jungle ballroom and the exotic display of food in the banqueting hall. ‘You’re all going. And the ball is ending too soon. It’s as though the life we’ve known, everything about it, is coming to a close.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Brinsley. ‘Why do you think I’m going, if not to make sure that everything will be able to go on as before? And why should the ball stop, when we’re still here? Come on, Kate; keep your chin up. You’ve never let anything beat you before. Why don’t we show them all what we can do?’
He spoke to the leader of the orchestra and then smiled at his sister as he took her in his arms, allowing her a moment to steady not only her body but her feelings after such an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Then they moved smoothly together in a rhythm which was unfamiliar to many of the guests, for the tango was still a novelty in England. Doubtless some of the young debutantes present would have learned the new steps, but in their eyes Kate knew that she was an oddity, dull and over-serious. They would certainly not expect to see her giving what was almost an exhibition dance. It would be yet another joke on the part of a young man who allowed nothing to subdue his spirits.
It was an odd side-effect of their childhood in Jamaica that Kate and Brinsley both had a strongly developed sense of rhythm. Neither of their parents was musical, but the two children had almost unconsciously absorbed the music in the Jamaican air. When the members of the Hope Valley congregation sang Baptist hymns, they transformed them into something powerful and thrilling. As they worked, they sang other songs, fitting the rhythms to the tasks; and in the evenings they sang and danced in a different way – a way disturbing in its intensity. Both the young Lorimers had learned to feel the throbbing of nonexistent drums through the stresses of the singers and the movements of their bodies. The rhythm of the tango was as different from Jamaican music as Jamaican from English, but Kate and Brinsley found no difficulty in moving with a graceful precision which brought applause from the older guests.
For a moment after the music had stopped they stood close together. Neither of them had yet fallen in love, although Brinsley moved from one flirtation to another: their strongest emotional attachment was still
to each other. Kate knew that this state of affairs could not survive for much longer, but for the moment she was bound by ties so tight that part of herself would go to France with her brother the next day. Even Brinsley, normally light-hearted to the point of frivolity, recognized this; and for a few seconds the gaiety of his smile faded into affectionate seriousness as he looked into her eyes.
‘You’re not to be frightened for me, Kate,’ he said. ‘I shall be all right. And it’s only for a little while. It will all be over by Christmas.’
It was the second time within an hour that Kate had heard that phrase. She tried to make herself believe it and, with rather more success, forced herself to smile back into her brother’s eyes.
4
In time of war, nothing makes such a fierce frontal assault on the emotions as military music. The sound of the drums was at first hardly more than a vibration, an almost imperceptible disturbance of the air, but it was enough to catch the attention of the excited, shouting, jostling crowds on the departure platform of Waterloo Station. Within a few seconds the full diapason of a regimental band could be heard, its bright brassiness piercing the air and lifting the spirits. Margaret tried to control the excitement which the music induced in her. A feeling of elation affected not only the soldiers who were waiting to board the train but also the civilians who had come to see them off. Although she reminded herself that a mass emotion of this kind was dangerous, warping the judgement, she was not proof against the contagion of patriotic pride.
Louder even than the band itself now was the tramp of well-drilled feet, and Margaret felt her eyes pricking with tears – of admiration rather than sadness – as a battalion of guardsmen marched the length of the platform and came to a stamping halt beside the carriages reserved for them at the front of the train.
The civilians cheered them as they passed and the men in uniform – most of them, like Brinsley, volunteer members of the British Expeditionary Force – watched their immaculate professionalism with envy. Then the chatter of farewells was resumed.
Six members of Brinsley’s family had come to see him off. Alexa and Piers Glanville, Margaret and Robert and, of course, Kate, had all travelled with him from Blaize. Arthur had said his farewells there and had returned directly to Bristol; but his sister Beatrice had joined the party at the station.
In the years before the war, as it became clear that she would never marry, Beatrice had lived, as convention demanded of a spinster, in her brother’s Bristol mansion. Fretting at her uselessness, she had allowed her temper to grow as sharp as her features, and had become the least popular member of the Lorimer family. But since the third day of the war she had been working full time in the London office of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies. Over a period of many years she had supported the movement in its efforts to win the vote for women, acting as its local secretary in Bristol. But now the organization had changed its immediate aim, and was assembling the staff and equipment of medical units to be sent to the front. Beatrice too had changed as she committed all her time to the cause instead of giving a few hours of voluntary work each week. Her resentment that she was still a spinster had been replaced by confidence in her own new-found efficiency and the knowledge that she was doing a worthwhile job. Almost overnight she had become friendlier and less prickly. Her absence from Brinsley’s birthday celebrations had not been because of her admitted dislike of Alexa, but on account of an urgent need to pack up a consignment of drugs for France. Margaret could tell that her eldest niece was genuinely glad of the opportunity to join the family party, and anxious to assure Brinsley of her affection and support.
At the moment, though, it appeared that it was with Margaret herself that Brinsley wished to speak. She felt his hand on her arm as he led her a little way from the others. The platform was crowded, but each family group was intent only on its own leave-taking. Surrounded by strangers, it was possible to speak freely.
There was no time for any preamble. Knowing that he would be leaving at any moment, Brinsley came abruptly to the point.
‘We’ll be off soon,’ he said. ‘Aunt Margaret, you’ll keep an eye on Kate for me, won’t you?’
‘I’ve never known a young woman better able to look after herself,’ said Margaret. ‘What foolishness do you anticipate?’
‘She’s turned down an offer of marriage from Arthur. I’m certainly not implying that’s foolish. Arthur seems to me to be a cold man.’ Brinsley laughed. ‘Kate thinks he has his eyes on part of Father’s estate as a marriage settlement.’
‘Then Kate is uncharitable. I agree that Arthur doesn’t appear likely to fall passionately in love with anyone, but he’s been fond of Kate since she arrived in England. It would fit his nature to choose someone he knows well for a wife, rather than a strange young woman. Anyway, we may agree that Kate has made the right decision.’
‘But for the right reason? She told me she’d be ashamed to devote herself to the comfort of one man when she should be using her skills to serve hundreds. I wouldn’t like her to end up as an old maid like Beatrice.’
‘One day she’ll be swept off her feet by a dashing young prince on a white charger and all her doubts will be forgotten. That’s not really what’s worrying you, is it, Brinsley?’
‘I don’t know what’s worrying me,’ he confessed. ‘But she’s planning something. She has that broody look. I’d like to feel that you’d discuss with her any ideas she may be considering.’
‘Well, of course,’ Margaret assured him. ‘You know very well that Kate is almost a daughter to me, just as you are another son. Look after yourself, Brinsley.’
It was a foolish remark to make to a young man on his way to a battlefield. For a few seconds Brinsley’s smile seemed a little less carefree than usual. As he kissed her goodbye, Margaret could feel the depth of his affection for her. He had never put it into words and he did not do so now, but it was true that for the past eight years their relationship had been almost that of mother and son. While she watched him make his farewells to Beatrice and Robert and Piers Glanville and Alexa, she felt a moment of sympathy for his mother, her dear friend Lydia, who had been deprived of so many years out of her elder children’s lives.
Whistles were blowing. Brinsley had saved his last embrace for Kate and for a moment brother and sister clung together as though they feared that they might never see each other again. But the prevailing atmosphere was one of excitement, not sadness. Brinsley leaped on to the train and reappeared almost at once to smile from a window. Everyone was waving now: the platform fluttered with handkerchieves. With a blast from the steam whistle the engine began to hiss and puff. Very slowly, so that Margaret and Kate found it possible for a few seconds to keep pace with Brinsley as he leaned from the window, the train began to move. There was a last-minute rush of repeated messages; hands were clasped and reluctantly released. The engine picked up speed and the band started to play again.
They played ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’. The soldiers leaning from the train sang it lustily and as their voices faded the civilians on the platform took up the chorus. They sang it through a second time, and a third, still waving at the blank end of the guard’s van as it pulled away along the rails and curved out of sight.
The soldiers were not, of course, going to Tipperary but to Ypres. A dead weight of anti-climax stifled the excitement on the platform as the band ceased to play. The waving handkerchieves drooped and were put to a different use, dabbing at eyes unable any longer to smile. The little group of Lorimers lingered on the platform, reluctant to disperse – as though the parting need not be considered final until they as well as Brinsley had left the station. Even Margaret, who had taken time off from her hospital duties, could not bring herself to move at once. There was only one farewell which could have wrenched more cruelly at her heart – if it had been Robert, and not Brinsley, who had just been carried away. Sometimes she was frightened that such a moment might come; but then she reminded herself that Robert
would not be twenty-one for another nine months, and surely the war would be over before then.
Even while she reassured herself, anxiety made her stretch out a hand to Robert for comfort. He took her hand, but failed to provide the comfort.
‘I want to go as well, mother,’ he said.
It was almost the first time in his life that Margaret had seen her mischievous, carrot-haired son looking so serious. She stared at him without at first understanding what he meant.
‘Go where?’
‘Into the army. The Royal Engineers. To go on with my engineering training but be of some use to the country at the same time.’
The shock was so great that Margaret still could not absorb it. She had prepared herself for the parting with Brinsley but Robert, surely, was only a boy. Lord Glanville came up to stand beside him.
‘Robert discussed this with me at Brinsley’s party,’ he said. ‘He wanted to be sure that you wouldn’t feel yourself alone while he was away. Naturally, I was able to promise that Alexa and I would always be at hand if you needed any kind of support.’
You mean, if Robert is killed, thought Margaret, but it was not a thought which could be put into words, though Robert and Piers must already have faced it. She had to struggle against a panic which closed her throat so that for a moment she was unable to speak.
‘Well, we must think about it,’ she said at last, trying to smile; but Robert’s serious expression did not change.
‘I went to the recruiting office this morning,’ he said. ‘It’s done.’
‘Robert, how could you! without even a word?’
‘How could I expect you to debate a decision like that and be forced in the end to say that you agree? It must be easier, surely, for you to accept that it’s settled.’
‘You’re not twenty-one yet,’ she protested. ‘I could –’ She checked herself. Whether or not Robert needed his mother’s permission to enlist – and she was not sure what the legal position was – he had made a man’s decision and she would never be able to treat him like a child again. They could discuss the decision, and if it proved that Margaret still had the power to annul it, she could try to persuade him to change his mind. What she could not do was simply to say No. She was forced to recognize that every mother must face the moment of realizing that her first-born has grown into an adult with a life of his own. But not many mothers were confronted in that moment with a choice which might be literally one of life or death. Was her whole life to consist of partings from the men she loved? Without making any pretence that she approved or even accepted his decision, she kissed Robert to reassure him of her love.
Lorimers at War Page 3