Live the Dream

by Claire Lorrimer

  The twins exchanged glances and Una reached hurriedly across the breakfast room table to grasp Dilys’ trembling hand in hers.

  ‘I’m afraid Dliys has some rather bad news to tell you, Mother. She is going to have a baby.’

  For a moment, Lady Singleby was speechless. She pushed her plate of half-eaten toast and marmalade away, patted her neatly waved white hair absent-mindedly and stared at her twin daughters. Her pale blue eyes went from one to the other in disbelief.

  She had arrived home late last night after a lengthy spell in London where she had been supervising help finding temporary homes for families whose houses and flats had been bombed, so consequently had not seen her daughters for three weeks.

  The horrifying shock of Una’s announcement filled her with dismay. She stared at Dilys’ white face, her eyes travelling down to the recognizable bump beneath her daughter’s ungainly smock. Appalled, she realized that not only was Dilys pregnant but that it was not going to be all that long before she gave birth. She was unmarried and only just eighteen. Her next, even more frightening thought was of her husband’s reaction to the news. No one was more aware than she, his wife for over twenty years, of his lifelong, passionate desire to be promoted to the Cabinet, an ambition which she privately feared, replacing the far younger previous incumbent who had been called up and was now in the army. She knew only too well his almost paranoid insistence upon conformity, on the absolute necessity for his own and his family’s impeccable reputation.

  ‘You’re telling me Dilys is … is pregnant?’ she gasped.

  Una nodded and Dilys burst into tears.

  Her mind racing, it occurred to Lady Singleby that, ghastly though the news was, the present situation might yet be mitigated if Dilys could be married quietly before the baby was born … yes, married, but to whom?

  ‘The father!’ she exclaimed, staring at Dilys’ white, tear-streaked face. ‘You must be married at once. You can stay with your aunts. They can keep you hidden until the wedding. You can be married quietly down there and—’ She broke off and grasped Dilys’ arm. ‘Who is he? The father? Answer me, child!’

  As she waited for Dilys’ reply, it crossed her mind that he must be one of the public school boys, the sons of their neighbours who the twins met at local dances and tennis club parties. Did the silly girl now think she was in love with this boy? No matter, he would have to marry her whatever his age. Sir Godfrey would see to that.

  ‘Kristoffer Holberg. He’s a boy I met in Germany!’ Dilys whispered. ‘He’s Norwegian.’ She broke off as tears engulfed her once more.

  ‘Then your father must write to him at once …’ Lady Singleby began, but Una broke in.

  ‘Dil doesn’t have his address, Mother, and he hasn’t written to her since we left Munich. He doesn’t know about the baby. With the war and everything, we don’t think he wants to see Dil again.’

  Lady Singleby’s face turned pink. ‘I don’t imagine your father will care what the young man wants. He shall be made to do what is right, and you, Dilys, will do what your father tells you.’ Her voice softened the merest trifle as she added: ‘Why in heaven’s name didn’t you tell me this before? What on earth did you think you were going to do when that child is born? When is it due?’ She turned to Una, saying, ‘You have a more sensible head on your shoulders – why didn’t you make your sister tell me about this months ago?’

  ‘Partly because Dil didn’t want me to say anything until she heard from Kristoffer, and also …’ she added pointedly, ‘… you haven’t been home often enough or long enough for there to have been a suitable moment. You’re always in town now with Father or you’re busy with that WVS thing you’re doing. Besides, there didn’t seem much point worrying you until Dil was certain about it. She didn’t start getting big for ages!’

  Dilys, now dry-eyed, said urgently, ‘Must you tell Father? I mean, couldn’t I go and live in a cottage somewhere where no one knows me … Scotland or Ireland or something? Una says she’d come with me.’

  Lady Singleby drew an exasperated sigh. ‘And just what did you think you were going to live on? Food costs money; houses, cottages cost money …’ She paused before adding with difficulty: ‘Babies cost money. And what chance do you think there would be of either of you ever finding suitable husbands in future?’ She paused to draw a deep breath and then said forcibly: ‘Of course your father must be told. However busy he is, he must come down this afternoon.’

  She forced herself to look once more at her daughter’s smocked figure. ‘Heaven alone knows what that man you work for, Mr Sherwin, must be thinking! Being a vet, I imagine he has probably guessed you are pregnant, Dilys. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you notice!’

  James had in fact guessed Dilys might be pregnant. Not only had she started wearing the loose-fitting garments, but there was something about her which reminded him painfully of when his wife had been pregnant with their son – a sort of concentrated yet dreamy manner, in some ways as if in a private world. Her face had somehow changed, too, and recently she and her twin had become easily distinguishable.

  Una was now considering enlightening her mother as to James’ kind, friendly nature, but decided not to do so. Their mother was clearly deeply shocked and any further discussion about poor Dilys’ future was better left for the moment.

  Fighting the feeling of betrayal of her twin, Una was feeling an unexpected sense of relief that it was now her mother not herself who was responsible for Dil’s’ situation. The weeks since Christmas had flown by and sometimes it had seemed as if she, not Dilys, had been the one lying awake at night worrying how to solve her sister’s problem, wondering what would happen when Dilys had the baby. Dilys had seemed astonishingly complacent and spoke frequently but irrationally about how she would love and care for this baby because it was Kristoffer’s. No amount of cautioning from her, Una, as to the certainty that Kristoffer had long since forgotten his brief fling with Dilys had deterred her from the dream world in which she appeared now to be living. She even spoke of calling the baby Christopher if it was a boy or Christina if it was a girl.

  Their mother’s shocked reaction to learning the facts had not been quite as drastic as either had expected, but the thought of their father’s was daunting.

  ‘You will stay with me when Father gets home and calls me into the study, won’t you, Una?’ Dilys now pleaded as they went up to their bedrooms to get ready for the Sunday morning service at St Andrew’s church. ‘It’s bad enough when he gets into one of his bates and he’s bound to be terribly angry …’ Her voice trailed away as she struggled into her coat.

  Una understood exactly why her twin was so nervous. From time to time when they were growing up, although it had not happened very often, their father had lost his temper when they’d continued to commit the same offence after his first reprimand. The family cook at the time had been an ill-tempered woman called Mrs Kelley. She always complained to their mother if they left uneaten any of the starchy food sent up to the nursery for their meals. They had devised a nickname for her – ‘Mrs Smelly-Belly’ – which they’d thought so funny they had dissolved into the usual uncontrollable giggles when hearing their governess repeat it to their father. On the second occasion they were reported, Sir Godfrey had been angry enough to lose his temper. The two seven-year-old girls had been made to turn their palms up on his desk and been slapped hard enough with a ruler to set them howling. His furious purple face and angry voice had disturbed them as much if not more than their stinging palms. Small wonder now, Una told herself, that Dilys was afraid of his reaction when he arrived from London that afternoon and was told his eighteen-year-old unmarried daughter was going to have a baby.

  The twins had every reason to be nervous. Sir Godfrey had been working overtime in London. After occupying Denmark and Norway, Germany was now invading Holland. In London the government was in conflict as to the planned strategy for the British Expeditionary Force. The probability that Hitler might next intend to incl
ude Belgium and even France in his list of conquests could no longer be ignored. Mining the beaches was mooted, as was the building of concrete gun emplacements on the south coast in addition to those defences already in place such as the issue of gas masks, the necessary blackout curtains in all the windows, the removal of signposts and construction of air-raid shelters.

  When Sir Godrfey finally arrived home late that afternoon and his wife met him in the hall, he failed to give her the customary peck on the cheek.

  ‘There had better be a good reason you have brought me back this afternoon, Daphne,’ he said sharply. ‘As I told you on the phone, I have important meetings tomorrow and I’ll have to go back to town on the late train tonight.’

  ‘Godfrey, I can assure you this disaster is not only important but extremely urgent,’ Lady Singleby interrupted him as she followed her husband into the drawing room. She closed the door behind them and before either had sat down, she blurted out: ‘One of your daughters is pregnant!’

  Sir Godfrey’s head turned sharply to look at this wife. ‘What did you say?’ he asked sharply. ‘One of the girls is pregnant?’

  Understanding his shocked disbelief, Lady Singleby remained silent as she urged him into one of the armchairs. She then crossed the room and poured him a glass of brandy before seating herself opposite him. Only then did she take her courage in both hands and, as unemotionally as she could, said, ‘I’m afraid it’s true, Godfrey. Dilys is going to have a baby. And if that isn’t bad enough, the father is some unknown Norwegian boy she met in Munich and she doesn’t even know where he lives, so we can’t get in touch with him and insist he marries her.’

  ‘Poppycock!’ Sir Godfrey exploded, his face flushing a deep red and his pale blue eyes narrowing. ‘There has to be a way to get in touch with the scoundrel. I’ll get Smithers at the Foreign Office to locate him. He must be brought to England and marry Dilys as quickly as possible.’

  Daphne clasped her hands together as if this would give her the strength to force her husband to face the ugly truth. ‘There’s a war in Norway. Godfrey—’ she began but he interrupted her.

  ‘I am not without influence, Daphne: a fact you seem to have forgotten. My contact in the Foreign Office can trace this fellow’s family and—’

  Daphne interrupted him a second time. ‘Godfrey!’ she reminded him sharply. ‘The silly girl does not know his address. Apart from the fact that their country is at war, there could be hundreds of Norwegians with the same surname and—’

  It was Sir Godfrey’s turn to interrupt. His mouth tightened as he said sharply, ‘It not only “can be done” but “will be done”. Meanwhile, Dilys is to be confined to the house. I will not have her going about the village where all my constituents can see her disgraceful condition. And she’s to stop going to work at the vet’s in Fenbury. Really, Daphne, it is beyond me why you have not supervised the girls’ behaviour so this sort of disaster could not happen.’

  Lady Singleby’s face turned pink with indignation. With a huge effort, she bit back the reminder that it was her husband’s idea they should go abroad to learn a language; that it was in Munich where Dilys had disgraced herself. Time had taught her to avoid Sir Godfrey’s often irrelevant outbursts which could be quite violent, especially if he was tired and had had a few too many whiskies to revive him. She now forbore reminding him that her war job with the WVS would not allow her to remain at home to supervise all day. It would be far preferable for Dilys to continue her job at Fenbury and be away from the village. One thing was certain: the wretched girl could not go around in that awful smock. Hopefully none of the village women had seen her in it or they would already be gossiping when they met in the village hall for lessons in first aid on Wednesdays or to knit woollen squares to be made into blankets on Saturdays. In retrospect, she could recall now that the last time she had been home and had entered the hall, their chattering had ceased abruptly.

  As she left the room to go and fetch Dilys and then get ready for supper, Lady Singleby faced the fact that on this occasion her husband was not going to be able to resolve the problems which lay ahead. This conviction that the baby’s father could be traced was so unlikely in her opinion it could be discounted. Only the previous day on the six o’clock news, they’d been told Norway’s army was incapable of repelling the might of the highly trained German forces. If the culprit was not found, what would happen to Dilys?

  Lady Singleby had never been a doting mother, nor, indeed, in the least anxious to have any more children after the twins were born. Nanny had coped with them as babies and then a governess until they were old enough to go to boarding school. She had been rather flattered when her friends had commented on how alike they were and how pretty. Una tended to be slightly more forward and more adventurous than her twin, but Dilys was more advanced in aptitude. They were little trouble and she had been quite proud of them both on the rare occasions she, not Nanny or their governess, took them out with her. Now, suddenly, one of them was about to bring appalling disgrace on the family. The thought of her sisters, Ivy and Rose, learning the facts was almost as daunting as it had been telling her husband.

  She hurried up the stairs on her way to the twins’ bedroom where she must tell Dilys that her father was waiting in the drawing room to see her, and to be quick about it as he was catching the late train back to London. As she did so, it suddenly struck her that as there had not been any mention of Dilys being raped, she must have allowed the culprit to have sex with her despite the fact that she was an underage virgin. Recalling the unpleasant occasion when, on her wedding night, she had submitted to her husband’s sexual demands, she failed to see why Dilys had submitted to the foreign student when he had no rights as a husband. In her experience it was certainly not an activity to be enjoyed.

  Downstairs, Sir Godfrey was reluctantly shocked by the memory of the letter he had destroyed last September from the foreign student shortly after he had brought his daughters home. At the time he had considered Dilys much too young to be receiving that kind of sentimental rubbish, and especially from a foreigner. It occurred to him now that it had included an address to which Dilys was to have replied and was momentarily filled with regret that he had been so hasty in destroying it. Not one to justify or dwell on his actions, he put the thoughts aside and awaited the arrival of his daughter. He would get on to his Foreign Office colleague tomorrow, who would undoubtedly be able to trace the whereabouts of the Norwegian. One thing was absolutely certain: he was not going to have his or his family’s good name tarnished by the advent of an illegitimate child, of all things. War or no war, even if the culprit was a foreigner he must be found without delay and be made to marry his daughter.

  Upstairs in their room, the twins had been sitting side by side on Una’s bed, Una’s arm protectively round Dilys’ shoulders as they strained their ears to hear what was happening. The faint sound of their father’s loud, angry voice had been just audible and then the banging of the drawing-room door. They were tense with anxiety when their mother came into the room to instruct Dilys to go down to the drawing room at once.

  When Dilys returned to the bedroom ten minutes later, far from looking frightened or distraught, she was radiant. She flung herself down on the bed beside Una, saying, ‘Father thinks he knows someone who can find Kristoffer. When he does, he is to tell him about the baby and make him come to England and marry me, and Una, I just know Kristoffer will want to come.’ Yet again she fingered the ring hanging round her neck. ‘I know you don’t think so, Una, but I just know he does still love me no matter what anyone says.’

  Una regarded her nervously. ‘Wasn’t Father terribly angry?’ she asked. ‘He sounded furious!’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know!’ Dilys replied, ‘but when I told him I knew the name of Kristoffer’s home town, Bergen, and that his father owned a large timber company somewhere there, he was certain he could be found.’

  For the first time in the past eighteen years of their lives, Una did not share her
twin’s certainties – not regarding her beloved Kristoffer being found, but that when he was told he had fathered a baby and must come to England to marry Dilys, he would want to do so. Much as she wished, she could not believe that Dilys’ faith in her beloved Kristoffer’s undying love was justified.

  SIX

  It was with considerable difficulty that Kristoffer managed to hide his feelings of despair as his parents hosted a small party to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Gerda and her parents, Herr and Fru Magnusson were there, as were his aunt and uncle and two elderly friends of his parents. Pleading a need for some fresh air and exercise after the meal was over, he had managed to avoid Gerda’s request to accompany him and gone out for a walk up into the woods behind the house.

  It had been snowing in the night and the faint glimmer of sun did little to combat the cold to which Kristoffer was oblivious. His mind was filled with memories of Munich, that lovely city now embroiled in its country’s war with the Allied countries, and the shock of losing contact with Dilys. For the umpteenth time he remembered that dreadful day when her father had spirited her away and his life had changed seemingly for ever.

  Although he had returned to Bergen to work with his father at Holberg Tømmer AS, the family timber company, there were the evenings and nights to be endured with memories of what had been and fears that Dilys had not after all been in love with him and was deliberately not writing to him. Gerda was an almost daily visitor, suggesting they went to the cinema or a party, expecting their past affectionate familiarity to continue where it had left off when he met Dilys. He knew he should tell her he had fallen in love with someone else, but his feelings were too raw that even the mention of Dilys’ name brought a painful stab to his heart.

  With Great Britain at war with Germany, his plans to go to England to try to find Dilys were impossible, and so he had decided to join the army. He had been given three days’ leave to go home for the family party and would be returning the following day to his unit. As he stood now beneath a fir tree dripping snow on to his head and shoulders, he reflected that he would not have gone home had he not hoped – irrationally – that there might yet be a letter from Dilys.