Within a few hours of their departure Cass was bundling in, to hug Kate and to exclaim over the twins.
‘Aren’t they lovely! Who are they like, d’you think? Thank God Frankenstein and his monster have gone! Tell me, Kate, does Mark’s father ever smile? And the monster! Fuss, fuss, fuss! Every time I see them I try to imagine them in bed together. Quite impossible.’
They giggled hysterically, remembering whispered conversations in the dormitory—d’you think so-and-so and whoever ‘do’ it?—and Cass sank into a chair.
‘Mark must be thrilled! When’s he back? Imagine, he’ll have missed a whole month of their lives. Oh, you are lucky to have got it all over and done with and to have these two gorgeous poppets to show for it!’
Kate glossed over Mark’s ‘thrilledness.’ One telegram and a letter which dwelt more on the delights of Nova Scotia than it did on the arrival of his twin sons, hardly came under the heading of ‘thrilled.’
‘Must be sheer bliss,’ said Cass, tactfully changing direction, ‘to be able to cut your own toenails again and I see that you’ve squeezed yourself back into your jeans. Pig! Never mind. I’m determined to get back into my ball dress by Christmas.’
‘Then you’ll have to have the baby early, like I did,’ said Kate.
Cass’s daughter, however, made no effort to hurry into the world. Charlotte was born two days after Tom’s birthday at the end of November. He was at home for the event and there were great celebrations.
‘I’m sure,’ said Felicity, watching Cass twirling languidly in George Lampeter’s arms at Dolphin’s New Year’s Eve Ball, ‘that she shouldn’t be out and about yet, let alone dancing. Much too soon!’
‘Cass believes that it never harms you to do the things you want to do,’ said Kate. ‘Much worse for her, she says, to be frustrated in her desires.’
‘I can certainly believe that!’ snapped Felicity.
WHEN TOM’S SUBMARINE SAILED at the end of January, the General drove to Hampshire, packed Cass and his granddaughter into his car and drove them back down to Devon. Cass settled down happily to being spoiled by her father and Mrs Hampton whose son John was now grown up and working in Hong Kong. She missed him dreadfully and poured out all her redundant mother love on Charlotte whom she adored. She spent every moment she could with the baby thus giving Cass, who was only too delighted, the chance to relax and enjoy herself. General Mackworth took her round introducing her to all his new friends in the village.
It was a charming village, tucked away in a fold on the edge of the moor, with the church and its Georgian Rectory. There was a tiny shop with a Post Office, a cluster of old grey stone cottages, and several larger properties on the outskirts of the village. The Manor House with its farms and estate cottages stood farther out and had belonged to generations of Hope-Latymers as far back as anyone could remember. The present owner, William, a widower, was in his late-forties; his only son, another William, was just sixteen and away at school.
It was too damp and raw to enjoy the countryside but Cass charmed her father’s friends and basked in their obvious admiration. Before long she began to be a tiny bit bored with the company of mainly elderly people and started to think of rejoining her friends and the social life awaiting her in Alverstoke. She told her father that perhaps she should be getting back. He was far too wise to show his disappointment or to attempt to stop her.
‘Quite right,’ he agreed at once. ‘Got your own life to lead. And Mrs Hampton will spoil that child to death if you stay much longer.’
Overwhelmed by his generous and uncomplaining attitude, which made things so much easier for her, Cass flung her arms around his neck.
‘It’s been such fun,’ she said. ‘And we’ll come again soon. We’re going to try to find a bigger place so that you can come to stay with us. If only it wasn’t such a bore on the train. Specially now, with the baby.’
‘Ah!’ He returned her embrace and gently put her from him. ‘Wanted to talk to you about that. It’s your twenty-first birthday this year. No, I hadn’t forgotten. I think the best present I could give you would be a little car. Only a little one,’ he added as Cass’s cries of excitement threatened to drown his words, ‘but you’ll be able to get about more. No excuses then, mind, about visiting your old pa when Tom’s away!’
‘Oh, Daddy! It would be absolutely wonderful!’
‘That’s settled then. What d’you say to a trip to Plymouth tomorrow? See what’s going.’
So Cass and Charlotte returned to Alverstoke, Cass driving them in a little Mini. Kate was quite green with envy.
‘We shall share it,’ declared Cass, as they sat together in Kate’s sitting room, surrounded by babies. ‘We can go shopping together and, in the summer, we’ll have picnics and outings. Imagine the fun!’
But by the time the summer had come, Mark had been appointed to a submarine running out of Devonport and Tom to a submarine in refit in Chatham.
‘IT’S PERFECT HELL HERE,’ Cass wrote to Kate. ‘There’s hardly any submariners and we have to use Pembroke’s Mess. All dreary Supply and Secretariat people. Oh for dear old Dolphin! General Service people aren’t a bit like us! Thank God I’ve got the car. The Medway towns are the end but Canterbury’s lovely. And, of course, it’s not too far from London on the train!
‘Have you seen these wonderful nylon tights? No more boring old suspenders! Go and have a look in Plymouth. If you can’t find any just let me know and I’ll send you a pair. Just the job with skirts getting shorter!
‘How are the twins? I’m glad they liked their presents. Just think what we were going through a year ago. I’m glad you’re seeing my dear old pa. Give him my love and tell him that Charlotte and I will be coming down to see him soon. Tom’s got to go on some course so I thought we’d pop down for a little visit! It will be wonderful to see you but I’ll probably have to stay with him.
‘It’s lovely having Tom home but I do miss all the parties, etc. Never mind . . . ’
But she did mind. For the first time she and Tom were thrown very much on each other for entertainment and they discovered that life ran along more smoothly with friends dropping in and various social events to look forward to. Tom, surprisingly, minded less than Cass. He was delighted with the year-old Charlotte and could spend hours playing with and reading to her. Cass was amused by this new aspect to his character and left him in charge now and then while she popped up to London. Their married quarter was one of a block of five houses built on the edge of a new housing estate on the outskirts of Rainham. Only two other quarters were occupied, both by General Service Lieutenants, one attached to Pembroke and who was, therefore, a Supply Officer, or in Naval parlance, a ‘pusser,’ and the other to a frigate in refit. The submarine service considered itself the elite branch of the Service and the surface fleet—known as ‘general service’ whilst its men were known as ‘skimmers’—to be definitely inferior.
‘One “pusser” and one “skimmer,” ’ reported Tom to Cass after his first sortie. ‘Never mind. Nice enough chaps and their wives seem fun. One’s pregnant. I’m sure you’ll get on.’
And with these and the only other young officer as yet appointed to the submarine, the Wivenhoes had to be content. Cass felt happier with a little court around her and, although she preferred to operate with larger numbers, she made the best of it. The pusser had come up through the ranks and was rather older than Tom and very free and easy. His wife Maggie, aware that Tom was ‘Officer Entry’ and Cass a real pukka memsahib, was rather deferential which Cass thought touching. Because Maggie made it clear that she knew her place, Cass never felt the need to put her in it and was able to ignore it and pretend that there was no difference in their status, thus enabling the relationship to proceed very satisfactorily. No such subterfuge was needed between the men. Tom ignored Jeff’s broad Midlands accent and his confusion on occasions as to which knife to use and they got along splendidly. Jeff flirted outrageously and publicly with Cass, accompanied by shocked
remonstrances from Maggie who feared that Cass might feel that he was presuming on the growing friendship and getting above himself. Cass merely laughed and responded in kind and encouraged Maggie through her pregnancy, taking her for little trips in the car and doing her shopping for her.
Richard and Annette were a slightly different proposition. They were a very serious couple who found it just the tiniest bit necessary to show that they felt that Jeff and Maggie weren’t quite up to scratch, managing to do it in a very tolerant and understanding way that drove Jeff mad and upset Maggie. They had two young children and at the little supper parties at the Wivenhoes’ Cass would send Maggie into fits of horrified mirth by giving huge pretend yawns behind Annette’s head whilst she droned on about the latest amazing achievements of these two dreary children. Since Cass was constitutionally unable to resist charming any man who swam into her ken, she would listen with an absorbed expression whilst Richard bored on about the war in Vietnam and would make one or two relevant remarks culled from The Times or from Tom’s conversations with Jeff. This caused Richard to remark to Annette later that Cass was quite an intelligent girl but that it was a pity her formal education had been so much neglected.
Cass and Tom would shriek with laughter after their guests had gone, feeling that little glow of complacency that sheds such a warm retrospective light on generous actions that have—supposedly—brought excitement into other rather dull little lives. They would clear up and go happily to bed, having drunk enough to feel pleasantly sexy and to enjoy themselves thoroughly before falling asleep. Neither was of the temperament to feel the least interest in exploring their own or their guests’ reactions in depth. Enough to pass another evening in convivial company where they themselves were the hub and to look forward to the next time.
Before too long, however, Cass began to find her social diet lacking in spice. As the winter, cold and harsh on this east coast, closed in she longed more and more for the temperate climate of the south and the company of her old friends and the potential stimulation of some new ones.
KATE HAD BEEN DELIGHTED to learn that she and the twins would be going to Devon and had suggested that she and Mark hire a car and go to look around in the hope of finding a hiring or, if not, to look at the quarters. She had heard that one didn’t have to live in Devonport and that there were actually quarters in a village called Crapstone on the edge of Dartmoor. The thought of living near or on Dartmoor had fired Kate’s imagination and she hoped that Mark might be persuaded to take a weekend to explore. This, it seemed, was too much to expect: he was busy, they couldn’t afford it, it would be difficult with the twins. He would apply for a quarter and see what came up. Devonport came up: there were no quarters available in Crapstone. By this time Mark had gone on ahead to join the boat, which had just come out of refit and was on ‘work-up,’ a testing process to make sure that all was in order before she went to sea, and Kate was left to follow with the twins as best she could. First, however, she would be obliged to go down to Plymouth to view the quarter before she was allowed to accept it. When this news was relayed to Cass, and Tom told her how much Kate would hate living in a small flat in Devonport, Cass told Kate to hold her horses and had then telephoned her father and apprised him of the situation.
‘Dash about,’ she told him, ‘there’s a duck! See if you can’t find something they could rent near you. I just don’t see poor old Kate stuck in a city with the twins. She’d love it on the moor. She’s used to all that wildness after Cornwall!’
Accordingly, the General had dashed and finally, through the grapevine, had found a place on the outskirts of Dousland not much more than ten minutes away from his own village. The retired owner and his wife were planning an extended visit to New Zealand where their eldest daughter lived. They would be delighted to let the big colonial-style bungalow to a naval couple for eighteen months. An affordable rent was finally agreed after a bit of a tussle—but only after Kate had agreed to move out without demur should the owner or his wife return before the eighteen months expired—and a moving-in date was fixed.
‘They’re not a bit worried about the children,’ the General assured her. ‘I’m sure you’ll like it.’
So was Kate. A roomy bungalow sounded like heaven after the cramped conditions that now prevailed in the flat. They didn’t have too many possessions: their clothes, some china, linen and books but no furniture apart from the twins’ cots and pram. There was too much to cram into a car but not enough for a furniture removal van. Kate’s brother, Chris, came to the rescue. He hired a small van and, driving up to Gosport, packed everything into the back, including the twins propped up comfortably in their huge pram just behind the seats, put Kate into the front and drove her down to Dousland.
The General was waiting at the bungalow, the rooms dusted and aired and one of Mrs Hampton’s casseroles ready to be popped into the oven.
‘What do you think?’ he cried, helping Kate from the van and assisting her up the front steps. ‘It’ll do, won’t it? Do you like it?’ Anxious for her approval, he hurried her from room to room. ‘There’s a wonderful garden and the moor’s just behind you. Two minutes’ walk—no more. What d’you say? d’you like it?’
‘I love it. Oh, I just love it.’ Kate gazed around with eyes already dazed and enchanted by the spectacular trip across Dartmoor. ‘It’s perfect. How clever of you to find it. Imagine! I could have been stuck in a gloomy little quarter in Plymouth. I simply can’t thank you enough.’
The General exhaled a great breath of relief. ‘Tea!’ he declared. ‘I know that women are always desperate for a cup of tea at times like this. Kettle’s on. But first,’ he led her back to the sitting room, ‘wait here a moment.’
Kate, still bemused by the day’s activities, wandered to the window. The twins were sitting in the pram on the lawn in the sun gazing at their new surroundings.
I must get them in and feed them, she thought. Where did I put the nappies? Oh, how wonderful to have a garden. I can’t believe my luck!
A tiny doubt assailed her. It occurred to her that Mark would have been happier to be close to the base and to the shops and cinemas of Plymouth. She did not really know his views on the countryside. He had been perfectly happy to walk along the beach at Stokes Bay in the evenings but had showed no enthusiasm for the idea of actually living in the country. Of course, with no transport . . . Kate felt a real anxiety at the realisation that it would not be easy for Mark to get to the base when the boat was in. There were buses from the end of the road, she had checked that, but they weren’t too frequent. On the other hand, there were plenty of naval people around and she knew from experience that they would be only too happy to give him a lift. Kate sighed. She also knew that Mark detested being under any obligation to anyone. He had used an old bike at Dolphin rather than accept favours. She would have to organise the lift for him before he returned, pretend that someone had offered and that it would have looked churlish to refuse.
She felt guilty and then her gaze fell on the twins, mesmerised by a friendly robin on the lawn. Her spirits rose again and she felt confident that she would be able to sort something out. Mark had a knack of viewing problems as though they were a direct result of Kate’s incompetence or because she asked too much of life—or of him. The familiar look, a sullen stiffening of the features and a slight drooping of the eyelids, was enough to make her heart race. His tongue could be cruel and his temper frightening. She made every effort to sidestep scenes by dealing with problems herself rather than sharing and consulting, assuring herself that it was only whilst he was finding his feet and growing up a bit. It never occurred to her that she was in exactly the same situation—as well as being nearly two years younger—but without a book of naval rules and regulations to fall back on nor an experienced Wardroom all ready to help. Mark had been quick and clever enough to lay several things on the line from the start. No whingeing about his being away was the first thing: he got six weeks’ leave a year, anything else was a bonus.
No complaining about having to manage alone: the old naval joke ‘if you can’t take a joke you shouldn’t have joined’ seemed to sum it up. When he did come back home from sea he would be tired: it was no good expecting long lists of jobs or other problems to be dealt with—that was her department. And Kate, in the first flush of enthusiasm and with no yardstick to consult, had taken his rules to heart as if they had been written on tablets of stone. Now, as she turned away from the window, she was determined that her first task would be to resolve the transport problem. It shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, Mark seemed to be home so seldom and they already had a tidy sum saved towards a car . . .
First Friends Page 5