Road to War

by Valerie Wilding

  Aunt Eloise was understanding. “Anxiety affects people in different ways,” she said, clasping my hands between her own. “Some people retreat into their own imaginations, where it feels safe. Is she painting still?”

  “Oh yes,” I said. “Beautiful work – much softer than usual, but full of fairies. And oh, Aunt Eloise, she’s sent some to the gallery – nothing like the ones they’re used to receiving. She’s asked me to go and see what’s happening to them. Suppose the gallery people refuse to sell them? Mimi would be broken-hearted.”

  “Hush now,” said Aunt Eloise. “If they refuse them, we won’t tell her. It’s as simple as that. She has no communication herself with the gallery, so it will be easy to deceive her. Knowing your mother, I’m quite sure she never checks where her money comes from or how much she has, so that’s not a problem.”

  I feel so much better now my aunt is here. And she’s agreed to help Mimi and me run the household. “Help” is not the right word! I think Aunt Eloise will be shocked to see how little my mother does, and how poorly I do the rest. I rely heavily on Mrs Hallibert’s experience.

  25th April

  At bandage-rolling today, I noticed that three of the youngest women were missing.

  “They’ve gone to work in the factory, down the valley,” I was told. It seemed odd to me. Why would girls – for they were little more than that – want to make tools or nails or whatever they produce down there?

  I soon found out. The factory’s been changed and now it makes munitions, whatever they are – things to do with the war. How exciting!

  26th April

  I looked up “munitions” in the dictionary this morning. It means weapons or ammunition. It must feel wonderful to make something that a soldier will actually use to fight for his country!

  After tea I drove round the park in the motor car. It’s such fun! Then I called Billie and took Honeycomb for a gentle canter. We went to the highest point beyond our land and looked across the valley. I could see the factory.

  Aunt Eloise took Mimi out today to call on friends. “Your mother hasn’t left the estate for a while,” she told me. “It’s done her good. I just hope she doesn’t expect me, in return, to listen to her talk about her little fairy characters!”

  Aunt Eloise is quite fun.

  27th April

  A postcard from Archie arrived today. He’s still training, and has had a photograph taken of himself in his uniform, with Firebrand. How grand! I can’t wait to see it.

  29th April

  Uncle Cecil’s here again. I told him I can drive. He was quite impressed, and let me take him for a spin. He wanted to go up to the crossroads and back, but I told him I tend to stay on the estate lanes because I don’t think my friends’ mothers would approve of me driving. So we went down to the river and back.

  Uncle Cecil seems tired, and Mimi hardly spoke at dinner, so I did all the talking. I mentioned my war work. That made him sit up!

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

  Mimi put a hand on his arm. “It’s nothing dreadful, Cecil.”

  “Not at all,” said Aunt Eloise. “Tell him, Daffy.”

  I skipped over the knitting fiasco, then told him about bandage-rolling. I mentioned that some of the village girls work in the munitions factory.

  “Good for them,” he said.

  I was so taken aback by his reaction that I spoke without thinking. “I should like to do that sort of war work, too.”

  He froze with his fork stuck in his lamb cutlet. “Are you out of your mind? Your place is here, with your mother. You’re all she has at home now.”

  “But there’s Aunt Eloise, and I do so want to do some—”

  “It’s not what you want,” he snapped. “It’s what’s right and proper. Young ladies of your station do not work in factories. Most unseemly. Your father would turn in his grave – begging your pardon, ladies. Your task in life is to learn to run a home so that you can support whatever man is fool enough to marry you.”

  That was unkind and I had to look down because my eyes filled. He seems to be putting himself in a father’s place now I don’t have my Papa.

  Afterwards, we sat in the drawing room. Mimi did a pencil sketch for a new painting and Uncle Cecil read. When Aunt Eloise took up her tapestry, I dug out some embroidery I keep neglecting. Pale pink flowers on a dove-grey sash, with red specks where my pricked fingers have bled on to the silks.

  Uncle Cecil may be right, but it does seem a shame. I won’t learn much about running a home from someone who paints fairies. I’d be far better off doing war work of some sort. Thousands of women do. Why not me? I’m no use at anything else, apart from driving and riding and things like that. I’m not like Elizabeth Baguley – the domestic life is just not right for me. Or rather, I’m not right for it. So what am I right for?

  Later

  I’m livid about Uncle Cecil’s reaction, and I told Archie so when I wrote to him. He’ll understand.

  30th April

  Before he left, Uncle Cecil took me aside.

  “I was a little harsh last night,” he said, “but I must consider your upbringing carefully now your father is gone. Your mother is … not herself. I still stand by what I said – you cannot and will not work in a factory – but there is other war work you can do.”

  “Really?”

  “Join some sort of organization,” he said. “An organization that’s especially for young ladies like you. You can’t run around with village girls. That’s not where you belong.”

  I felt like saying that I didn’t think I belonged anywhere, but I was curious to know what he meant. “What sort of organization?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Your Aunt Leonora’s got herself involved with something. Keeps her occupied, and she says they’re a fine bunch of women. I’d mention it to her but I’m going away for a couple of weeks. Drop her a line. She’ll steer you in the proper direction.”

  I’ll do better than that. As I have to go and stay with Roberta, I can speak to her mother in person!

  2nd May

  A letter from Archie arrived in the evening post. I hate him. He says he absolutely agrees with Uncle Cecil that I shouldn’t do war work.

  Well, things have changed since I wrote that letter. And of course I don’t really hate him. I’m just annoyed with him for not standing up for me. And I’m angry because he’s crossing the Channel today. Not only that, but John and Violet Wetherby were going to see him off. I’d like to have done that. I almost think he prefers Violet to me.

  3rd May

  It’s just sunk in and I feel so miserable. How could I have thought cross thoughts about Archie? My brother’s gone to war, and it’s bound to be dangerous.

  5th May

  I’m going to visit Roberta tomorrow. Aunt Eloise said it will do me good, and I mustn’t worry about Mimi.

  That made me feel mean, because I’ve actually been worrying about Archie, rather than my mother. Also, I’m sorry for myself because, after Mimi telling me for years that when I grow up I can do anything I want, and be anything I want, it seems I can’t.

  I’m tired of sorting out menus with Mrs Rose, and doing domestic tasks and embroidering that wretched sash (which I seem to have been doing for years). Not to mention bandage-rolling, which may be worthy but is just so tedious. Women leave home every day to do important things. Even Mimi does something worthwhile. She paints pictures people pay good money for. Well, she did. Certainly no one in their right mind will want her fairies.

  If others do things that matter, why can’t I? The only task I have ahead of me is to visit the gallery. That will be somewhat embarrassing. I’ll need to have the unsold pictures sent home, and must instruct the staff not to mention them to Mimi. We’ll find somewhere to store them until her mind is stronger.

  But there’s still one ray of hope. I have Aunt Leonora’s organization to investigate.

  6th May

  Gosh! Roberta’s changed. She’s not bra
iny and dull any more. Well, I’m sure she’s still brainy, but she’s certainly not dull. Everyone except Uncle Cecil – even Aunt Leonora – calls her Bobby, for short. And she has had her hair cut short – in a bob! It’s rather stylish, but it is a little … well, unfeminine, I suppose.

  Bobby goes to lots of meetings about women’s rights (I was beginning to think we didn’t have any, after Uncle Cecil’s and Archie’s pronouncements) and to meetings about women being allowed to vote. It all sounds rather intense to me.

  When I said I wanted to do something in the war, she said, “Then you must jolly well do it, Daffers! We all should.”

  Easy for her to say.

  Later

  I’ve found out what Aunt Leonora’s war work is. It’s not very warlike. She works in an office in Earl’s Court Road, in London, for an organization called the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. Yeomanry! I looked it up in Uncle Cecil’s dictionary, which says it’s a volunteer cavalry force. The cavalry ride horses! (It also said yeomanry’s for men, but I’m ignoring that as Aunt Leonora says the FANY are all women.)

  And this is the organization Uncle Cecil recommended me to find out about. War work and horses! That’s for me! Don’t know about the “nursing” bit, though.

  I didn’t get to sleep until after the landing clock had struck four. Too much on my mind!

  7th May

  I’m completely dumbfounded!

  I made Bobby go to the art gallery with me today. I didn’t want to deal with the proprietor on my own.

  “I’ll feel stupid,” I explained. “If you’re there it won’t be so bad.”

  “Oh, Daffers, you are wet,” she said. “He’s only a man. Why should he make you feel stupid?”

  I explained about the fairies.

  “Oh, I see,” she said. “That’s different. But your poor mama! She’s just not coping, is she? Never mind. We’ll tell the gallery owner that she has no end of people wanting to buy her fairy pictures, so she won’t mind at all having these back.”

  When we met the proprietor, it seemed that my worst fears were about to be realized. After he’d greeted us, and offered refreshment, he said, “The situation’s a little difficult. Mr Rowntree’s style has changed. He’s started painting…” He hesitated, so I took the opportunity to correct him.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “you mean Mrs Rowntree.”

  He stared. “But… Oh. Oh, I see.”

  I didn’t see. “Sir,” I said, “were you under the impression that these paintings were done by my father?”

  “Well, yes,” he said. “The signature, you know… It was just initials and he never said… How could I tell?”

  Bobby spoke through tight lips. “So you assumed the artist must be a man? You didn’t think a woman could possibly have painted something as good, and as saleable?”

  “I’m sorry.” The proprietor turned to me. “Your father never corrected me, Miss Rowntree.”

  I was too tired to care. “Never mind, sir. You were saying about the change of style. I assume you’d like to return the new pictures.”

  He shook his head violently. “Not at all! Oh, not at all! In fact, I’ve none to return. I sold them all to an American dealer.”

  “Goodness!” was all I could manage. Bobby’s chin dropped.

  “The difficulty I mentioned,” the flustered man continued, “is that the dealer’s American clients would like more of the pictures where fairies feature in a small way in woodland scenes, but not, I regret to say, the ones that are solely of fairies.”

  He shall have them. Mimi will be so pleased! And he’s asked that she sign them with her full name.

  “Somehow,” he explained, “it seems more fitting that they come from the brush of a lady.”

  Bobby and I headed straight for the nearest hotel, to celebrate over a pot of tea and slices of very jammy Victoria sponge. (I wonder if the king will have a cake named after him, as the last queen did. Somehow “George sponge” sounds unappetizing!)

  I’m going straight home tomorrow. I can’t wait to give Mimi the good news!

  8th May

  I was so excited to be home and Mimi was as thrilled as I’d expected.

  “Daffy, darling, that’s wonderful!” she said. “Isn’t it, Aunt Eloise?”

  “Wonderful!”

  I knew what my aunt was thinking. This was just the news Mimi needed to cheer her, to make her concentrate on real things.

  Or so we thought. At dinner, Mimi refused pudding and said, “Please excuse me if I go to bed. It’s been such an exciting evening, and I want to be up early to go and give the good news to Lalu and Polan.”

  She smiled happily as Aunt Eloise and I stared, dismayed.

  “How thrilling,” she went on as she left, “that they’ll be known in America!”

  I put my head on the table and sobbed. I hate crying in front of the servants, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I got vanilla cream in my hair, and it was only washed two days ago.

  9th May

  I feel better today. After a long discussion with Aunt Eloise I realize that Mimi is happy with a head full of fairies. It’s good, really, because it means she doesn’t worry so much about Archie. If she didn’t have her fairies, she’d be in tears all the time. I couldn’t bear that.

  I’ll talk to her about me joining the FANY. That will give her something else to think about. Maybe it will take her mind off Lalu and Polan. Heavens! I’m talking about fairies now! Get a grip, Daffy!

  10th May

  Well, that went all right – in the end.

  I explained to Mimi and Aunt Eloise about the FANY, and what Aunt Leonora does in the office in Earl’s Court Road. Actually, I made that bit up, because I don’t know exactly what work she does – all I’m interested in is that it’s to help the war effort.

  “So I should like to join the FANY,” I finished.

  Mimi picked at some blue paint under her nails. “Ooh, I don’t know, Daffy darling,” she said. “I’m not sure if it would suit you.”

  “Mimi, you always said I could do anything, be anything.”

  “But darling, I meant you could be a good tennis player, and row a boat, and ride a horse – and I was right. Why, you can even drive a car! How many young women can do that? But joining an … organization…”

  She made it sound like a weird club for people who aren’t quite our sort.

  “Please say I can,” I begged. “Archie’s fighting in the war, some of the village women are making munitions, and Papa gave his life for our country. I so want to do something, too. Please, Mimi. I must.”

  She turned to Aunt Eloise. “Daffy’s certainly got a bee in her bonnet,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “I think you should say yes,” said my wonderful aunt. “It will be good for Daffy. She has a need to do something and, to me, that’s praiseworthy. Besides, how dangerous can it be, if Leonora belongs to it?”

  Mimi shrugged. “Very well, Daffy darling.”

  I hugged them both and hurried to my room to write to Aunt Leonora.

  12th May

  Aunt Leonora has replied. She seems pleased, and says, “You’re rather young to join the FANY, but we won’t let that stop us, will we?”

  I do have some terrific aunts.

  13th May

  A letter arrived at lunchtime from Uncle Cecil. Aunt Leonora has told him of my wish, and I have his blessing! But, he says, I may only be in the FANY for as long as Aunt Eloise stays with Mimi. And I must be careful and not get into dangerous situations.

  Dangerous situations – in Earl’s Court Road! The really dangerous place to be is at sea, it seems to me. There have been so many attacks on merchant ships by U-boats that the Navy is having to supply ships as escorts, to try to destroy the submarines.

  15th May

  I’ve wasted no time. I’m back at Bobby’s, and tomorrow Aunt Leonora’s taking me to the FANY office. Bobby can’t come, as she has one of her give-women-rights meetings, and she won’t miss that for
anything.

  16th May

  Goodness! The FANY is like an army. They wear a smart uniform, and they’re so efficient. The women who run the organization are very busy, but I suppose they would be, since they need to know where people are and where to send them, and what they must do when they get there. Some of the FANY are in Belgium and France; others are in England working hard to raise money and get new recruits. That’s probably what I’ll do to start with. I hope I get a chance to go to France. We used to go there for holidays before the war, and it’s very lovely, with deliciously different food.

  Speaking of food, the FANY women pay for their keep and so on, and supply their own uniforms. And they give a regular subscription to the organization itself.

  I don’t mind paying. It all helps the war effort, and I can afford it without asking Mimi. I have a good dress allowance – Elizabeth always says I have far more than she does. How, then, does she always manage to look so neat, when I don’t?

  But I will look neat in a uniform! I cannot wait to get it. It’s sold in Gamage’s, which is a large store made up of different departments. I’ve never been there, but I would adore to.

  Anyway, during my interview, the Organizing Officer asked why I wanted to join the FANY, and I said it was because I wanted to do something useful, like my brother. They asked if I’d done anything else, so I told them I’d tried to organize the village women to do war work. It was sort of true – I did try to organize the knitting.

  They said I came highly recommended as being of good character. Someone (thanks, Aunt Leonora) told them I’d never enter into any obligation I was unable to fulfil. That’s a FANY way of saying I wouldn’t join if I didn’t think I could cope.

  I have to do a first-aid course. I gulped at that, as I don’t like blood. I’d been so thrilled at the word “yeomanry” when I first heard about the FANY that I’d completely forgotten the first-aid bit! Anyhow, Aunt Leonora promised I wouldn’t be doing any nursing, so that’s all right. I suppose you need to know first aid in case another FANY falls over, or cuts herself or something.