The Importance of Being Kennedy

by Laurie Graham

But Euny said it was between Germany and Russia, and when it came to facts learned out of a book you’d trust Euny over Danny Walsh anytime. She’d been given the brains intended for all nine of the Kennedys.

  And Danny was wrong on another count. It wasn’t just a flap. The minute we stepped off the train in London you could tell it was something serious.

  Everybody was carrying gas masks. There were sandbags along the front of Prince’s Gate, and queues at Bourne and Hollingsworth to buy blackout material. Even Teddy could feel the difference, spinning out his questions when it was bedtime.

  “What did Germans look like?” he wanted to know. “Would there still be school if a war started? Could a bomb knock down a whole house?”

  Mr. K drove to the aerodrome to collect Mrs. K, and when they got to Prince’s Gate she came straight upstairs to see me and Fidelma.

  She said, “The Ambassador has taken a house in the country while this grave situation continues. We’ll begin the move in the morning.”

  Fidelma said, “What about their schools?”

  “We’ll see how things develop,” she said. “Rosie will go back to Belmont as planned. I see no sense in disturbing her routine. But the most important thing now is to get the rest of the family out of London. I don’t want them alarmed, though. There’s to be no talk of gas attacks or air raids, especially in front of Teddy.”

  The house was out in Radlett, not far from Rosie’s school. Wall Hall. It belonged to a friend of Mr. K’s, Mr. J. P. Morgan Junior, but he hardly ever used it. It was perfect for us. Big grounds, so you didn’t feel cooped up, and yet handy for London. Beautiful yellow stone, with little turrets and mullioned windows. I don’t know why we hadn’t stayed there all along. It was a great deal nicer than Prince’s Gate. Mrs. K could have had a grand old time there playing Queen of the Castle if the circumstances had been better. As it was, we had one golden week. September 3, everything changed.

  It was a Sunday. We were all going into town for ten o’clock Mass, but just as we were leaving, Mr. K was called to the telephone. Lord Halifax wanted to speak to him. We sat with the engine ticking over until Mrs. K told Danny he was wasting juice. Then we sat in silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t have the word “war” in it.

  Mr. K came loping out eventually.

  He said, “Rosa, go to Prince’s Gate directly after church. And tell the Father to hurry things along. The Prime Minister’s broadcasting to the nation at eleven fifteen. People are going to want to get home in time to hear him.”

  She said, “Perhaps we shouldn’t go to Mass?”

  “No,” he said, “take the children. It’s important. Just don’t stay for the Dismissal. Jack, when you get out of church come straight round to Chancery. Joe’s going to ride with me now. Danny, when you’ve dropped them off, go to Prince’s Gate and make sure the wireless receiver’s working.”

  It was such a grand morning. It seemed too fresh and sunny for anything bad to happen. There was hardly anyone at the Oratory and Father Minns served Mass faster than anything I ever saw in Ballynagore. With Father Hughes you could be in and out in twenty-five minutes, before he got his bad hip, but Father Minns beat that the morning war broke out.

  We could hear the bells ringing down at St. Mary Abbot’s when we got to the house. Everybody hurried up to Mrs. Kennedy’s sitting room and the staff came in, Danny Walsh hovering there beside Herself, in case the wireless signal went wonky and an expert was required.

  Mr. Chamberlain said he’d warned Germany they had till eleven o’clock that morning to stop threatening Poland, and if they didn’t promise to pull back their troops, we’d be at war.

  He said, “I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.”

  He sounded like a tired old man. He said we’d be fighting against evil things but right would prevail. “God bless you all,” he said, and Fidelma Clery wasn’t the only one who had to wipe away a tear.

  Kick said, “What happens next?” and the very next minute the air-raid sirens started.

  Mrs. K made us all put on our gas masks and sit on the floor, away from the windows. London Jack and the pantry boy went up to the roof to watch for bombers. They said the barrage balloons had gone up over Westminster and St. James’s, but there was no sign of any planes. A false alarm. It was a shock though. Even Teddy wasn’t doing his usual larking about. He stuck close to Mother until she got a call from Mr. K. He was taking Joe and Jack to Parliament to hear the Prime Minister speak and he wanted her along too.

  “Cook, dear,” she said. “Make a little lunch for the children. Nora, I expect we’ll drive straight back to Radlett this afternoon. There’ll be arrangements to be made.”

  Kick shot me a look. She’d never said anything about wanting to stay on, if it came to a war, but her face said it all. I went down to the kitchens to help Gertie Ambler and she followed me.

  She said, “We’re all going to get sent home, aren’t we?”

  I said, “Of course you are. To be kept safe from German bombs.”

  She said, “Maybe Daddy’ll let me stay if I say I want to do war work.”

  I said, “You’re dreaming. You can do war work in New York, isn’t that what he’ll say? Fund-raising. Red Cross parcels.”

  She said, “All my friends are here.”

  I said, “Eighteen months ago you didn’t know a soul here. Is it Billy you’re thinking of?”

  “Not only Billy,” she said. She was picking at the crust on the bread.

  “Well, actually,” she said, “we are kind of engaged.”

  And the first terrible thought that came into my mind was that Adolf Hitler and his war might just have spared us a big drama.

  She said, “I know, I know, don’t look at me like that.”

  I said, “You may think you’re ‘kind of ’ engaged, but your Mammy and Daddy’ll have none of it and neither will Their Graces, so if you’ve an ounce of sense you won’t even bring it up.”

  She said, “I know Mother’ll fuss, but she just needs to get used to the idea. She really likes the Devonshires. It’s just the church thing, that’s all. And Daddy’ll understand. He’ll be able to get me a position somewhere. You know, typing at Army Headquarters or something. Take a top-secret letter, Miss Kennedy!”

  I said, “You can’t type.”

  She said, “You’re splitting hairs. Okay. I can make tea.”

  She couldn’t, of course.

  They came back from hearing Mr. Chamberlain’s speech and Mr. K looked like a specter. As the butler took his coat he said, “It’s the end of the world, Stevens. It’s the end of our world.”

  Then he had the whole family assembled to hear what had to be done.

  He said, “You’ll go back to the States, but tickets are hard to get because everybody else has the same idea, so you may have to travel in twos and threes.”

  We all knew the real reason though, after the Germans torpedoed the Athenia, with women and children aboard, American citizens who weren’t even in the war. He was afraid if we all sailed together we might all go to the bottom of the ocean and that’d be the end of the Kennedys.

  Minnie Stubbs dropped by, and Susie Frith-Johnstone, both abubble about volunteering. I thought Kick might say something about her own crackpot scheme, but she didn’t. Only that war sounded like it might be fun.

  Good girl, I thought. Keep your head screwed on.

  Our whereabouts at Wall Hall was meant to be a secret. An important ambassador can’t live out in the sticks where any madman can walk up to his front door. But Billy Hartington knew where to find us. We were just back from Prince’s Gate when he came looking for Kick. The Guards’ Reserves were being called up, so he’d come to say good-bye.

  Then Danny Walsh came into the scullery. He said, “Nora Brennan, you’re wanted. At the tradesman’s door.”

  Fidelma and Gertie Ambler were all ears.

  Walter Stallybrass
was out on the doorstep, mangling his driver’s cap like it was an old cleaning rag.

  He said, “War’s broke out.”

  I said, “I’ll bet I knew before you did. How did you know we were here?”

  “Lord Billy made inquiries,” he said. “Are they leaving, your Kennedys?”

  I told him what had been decided.

  He said, “Don’t go, Nora. Stay here. Did you think about what I said? We can get wed.”

  I said, “I can’t. How can I? I’ve got obligations.”

  “Nay,” he said. “You’re not obliged. How old are those kiddies?”

  Teddy was eight, Jean was eleven.

  He said, “They can’t expect to keep everybody on. There’s a war on now. Everyone that can be spared’ll have to do war work, till we’ve beat them Germans.”

  I said, “We’re Americans. America’s not at war.”

  “Oh,” he said, and he took a step back. “Is that how you see things?”

  It wasn’t, not really. I felt sorry for England. It wasn’t as if they’d started it. But I didn’t want to be bothered with another war. I’d been supposed to marry Jimmy Swords and it was the war that scuppered that. I wanted everything to stay as it was.

  I said, “My head’s spinning, Walter. I got up this morning, put my best hat on and went to church, and now all of a sudden the Germans are coming and you’re talking about getting married.”

  He said, “It’s not all of a sudden. I asked you when you were down at Compton Place and you didn’t turn me down. You said you’d think about it. Well, thinking time’s up. Why not grab a bit of happiness? There’s hard times ahead, Nora, and I reckon we could be a bit of comfort for one another. Stay here. We can volunteer together.”

  I said, “You’re too old for the forces.”

  “Plenty else I can do,” he said. “You too. It’s called the home front.”

  Then Fidelma put her head out the door.

  “Inside, Brennan,” she said. “Excuse me for interrupting. We’ve got a situation on our hands. And you’d better get round the front, Romeo, fast as you like. Lord Billy’s sitting in his car wondering what happened to his driver.”

  I said, “It’s all too rushed.”

  He started to walk away.

  I said, “We can’t leave it like this.”

  “Up to you,” he said. “I’m at the Devonshires’ house in Carlton Gardens. Don’t know how long for though. We could all be dead by morning.”

  There was a shouting match going on between Mrs. Kennedy and Kick.

  “But I love him” was all we could hear from Kick. Mrs. K was doing most of the talking, rapping out the words she wanted to drive home.

  “Be still, Kathleen. You must master your feelings. No more foolish threats. You’ll do as you are told and not cause your poor father further anxiety. On this horrid day of all days. Remember what the Sisters taught you. Bear the small trials of daily discipline. Develop fortitude. Now be silent, Kathleen. I won’t listen to another word. Go and contemplate the Sacred Heart.”

  Kick went to her room and Mrs. K went back to her lists and the whole house tiptoed around them, waiting till Mr. K drove home and they came out of their corners for round two. I was darning socks, trying to think straight. Danny Walsh was cutting out pictures of German bombers and English bombers, making a chart so we’d know the difference.

  Fidelma said, “Well? Spit it out, Brennan. That driver you’ve been pretending not to like comes looking for you, you must have something to tell us.”

  I’d practically never mentioned him.

  I said, “We were just talking. Wondering how long this’ll go on.”

  She said, “Poor bugger looked like you were making him sweat. What’s up?”

  Gertie Ambler said, “You’re not in the family way, are you?”

  Danny said, “She’s too old for the pudding club.”

  I said, “No, Danny. Too smart.”

  Fidelma said, “Did he propose?”

  I said, “Sort of. He wants me to stay on. Volunteer for war work.”

  She said, “What is he? A recruiting sergeant?”

  I said, “Well, he did tell me he liked me before. He said they’d probably find something for me at Chatsworth. If we got married.”

  She said, “That’s a proposal, you chump. What do you expect at forty-five, a moonlight serenade?”

  Danny said, “Mrs. K won’t like it if you give your notice. She’s having a very bad day.”

  I said, “I’m not giving my notice.”

  Fidelma said, “Mrs. K doesn’t need to hear about anything, Danny Walsh, and if she does we’ll know which blabbermouth told her. Now why don’t you go out and scan the skies for Stukas. This is girl talk.”

  He went.

  “Well,” she said. “Are you going to accept him?”

  I said, “I hardly know him.”

  She said, “That’s not such a bad thing. My cousin Tula’s been engaged nineteen years to Declan Mulherne. She knows every last thing about him, so it doesn’t seem worth the bother of a wedding now. And he’ll be nicely fixed, this Walter. He’ll have a job for life up there. Does he live in?”

  I said, “He said there might be a cottage.”

  “Well, there you are then,” she said. “And he’s not bad-looking, Brennan. I’ll have him if you won’t.”

  I said, “This is a good position to give up.”

  “It is,” she said. “There’s fools lined up all the way down the road, waiting to jump into your shoes.”

  I said, “And Danny’s right. Herself ’ll have a fit if I give my notice at a time like this.”

  Fidelma said, “She will not. All she’s interested in is getting her gowns home safe and keeping Kick from running off with Lord Billy. And she’s in a better mood now than she’ll be once she gets back home. God in Heaven, Bronxville’s going to feel like a comedown after London. One minute she’s getting her photograph in the dailies and having dinner with the King and Queen of England, the next she’s back on Pondfield Road playing bridge with Joey Timilty. She’s not going to like that. You’ll be well out of it. And you don’t have to give your notice now. Wait till we see who’s traveling when. She might go on the first sailing. Then it’d just be Mr. K. I’d sooner face him any day.”

  Mr. K didn’t get home till gone eleven that night and he looked all in, but Mrs. K insisted he speak to Kick.

  She said, “I want to stay here and do my bit, Daddy.”

  Over his dead body, he said.

  She said, “But all my friends’ll be doing war work. I can’t just run out on them.”

  He said, “It isn’t our war, nor ever will be if Roosevelt listens to me, and I didn’t raise this fine family to see the Luftwaffe use it for target practice. You’re going home, Kick, away from the damned stupid war.”

  Mrs. K said, “And away from Billy Hartington.”

  Kick said, “I won’t go. I just won’t. I love Billy and I’m staying where he is. We’re engaged.”

  Well! Mrs. K wanted to telephone Their Graces, to get the affair nipped in the bud from both sides, but it was nearly midnight, and anyway Mr. K said he didn’t need help from any Devonshires in taking care of his family. Truth be told, I don’t think he minded the idea of Kick being a Ladyship someday. It would have been quite a feather in his cap. But when it came to anything to do with the girls or the Church, he always allowed Mrs. K to have the last word.

  He said, “Your mother’s upset by this, Kick, and if she’s upset, I’m upset. Now go to bed. I have graver things than this on my mind, young lady. We could wake up tomorrow to find Germans at our door.”

  Mrs. K sent for me. I was in my nightgown and she was in hers.

  She said, “Dear heart, I’m worried she’ll try to elope. When she’s gone to sleep, take her shoes and bag away.”

  I said, “If she was set on doing that, she’d go whether she had her bag and shoes or not. But Lord Billy’s not that type. I’m sure Devonshires don’
t run off to get hitched. They’ve their own chapel up there, you know? And he’d want everything done by the book, I’m sure.”

  “Yes,” she said, “I expect you’re right. But then, it would be their idea of ‘by the book.’”

  She looked so tiny and tired.

  She said, “Kick can be so headstrong, but Billy must know his people would never agree to the match. The Devonshires have always been the most stubborn kind of Protestants. I’m just worried this declaration of war might have prompted him to suggest something crazy.”

  I said, “I’ll sleep with my door open. I’ll hear her if she makes a move. But I doubt she will. We’re all worn out by what’s happened.”

  “We are,” she said. “Oh Nora, what a long day it’s seemed. All that effort Mr. Chamberlain put in and it’s still come to this. Everything’s changed, thanks to those Germans. And it was going so well for us here. The opportunity of a lifetime for the children, and now we won’t be able to stay on for Pat to have her debut.”

  I said, “How soon do you think we’ll be going?”

  She said, “The sooner the better. There could be gas attacks and bombs. The Ambassador has his people getting us onto the earliest possible sailings. We might not be able to get staterooms, of course. We’ll just have to take what we can get and consider it part of our war sacrifice. And I have to think of this setback as a blessing in disguise. I’ve been so busy and distracted while we’ve been Ambassador. I believe this may be God’s way of telling me to pay closer attention to my children. We have to keep Kick occupied. When we get home she must take some classes. And we’ll invite some nice Catholic boys down to Palm Beach for Christmas. She has to put this Billy Hartington episode right behind her.”

  I looked in on Kick. She was still wide-awake.

  I said, “Do you have your sneakers on under those covers? Are you thinking of running off?”

  She laughed.

  She said, “I’m not that dumb. It’s not fair though. I mean, Mother’s so upset about Billy, but he’s a good, sweet person. His folks are just in the wrong church, which is hardly his fault. And now he’ll have to go off and fight. I don’t know when I’ll ever see him again. It’s all so not fair.”