As she turns the bend and sees her home a few hundred yards away, she is suddenly aware again of that feeling from yesterday. It hasn’t taken her over like before. But it is as though it is lurking behind a curtain ready to jump and ambush her. Is she the only person in the world who feels like this? She can see how people who live by themselves could be lonely, but how is it possible when you live with three other people? She feels like she is going to cry. What is wrong with her?
Later, when she eventually sits down in the garden with a glass of lemonade and her newspaper, she finds that there is not much in it. The general feeling in Germany seems to be that, while a terrible tragedy had taken place, politically, little or nothing had changed. In Russia the view is that the dead Archduke was no friend of Russia and that any effect on the relations between Austria and Russia would be favourable rather than not. Despite the sunshine, her feelings of earlier return. It really is a grey world where even awful things like this have little or no effect. Things just go on. It seems to be the fate of everybody, the great and the humble.
She folds the paper, takes it into the pantry and hides it deep down in the pile.
In Vienna, the debate continues. Berchtold suggests demanding that Serbia disbands anti-Austrian societies and relieves certain officials of their responsibilities. Conrad continues to push for the use of force.
Meanwhile, that same evening in Sarajevo, the Archduke’s funeral begins. He and his wife have lain in state in the Konak, the same building where he died, surrounded by flowers and lit candles. Officers of the Austrian Army stand guard – what a pity they hadn’t done so two days earlier. Then, after a short service performed by the Archbishop of Sarajevo, the coffins are sealed and carried by non-commissioned officers and men of the 84th Infantry Regiment to two waiting hearses.
Accompanied by infantry, cavalry, clergy, the suites of the Archduke and Duchess and representatives of the military and civil authorities, the funeral cars make the journey to the railway station through streets lined with troops. (Sounds of stable doors being closed after horses have bolted.) Here the coffins are placed on a special train which leaves shortly after 7:00 p.m. for Metkovitch. As the train leaves the station, volleys are fired by the troops lining the streets, the band plays the Austrian national anthem and the guns of the fortress of Vratza thunder a salute.
From St Petersburg, the Tsar sends a message of condolence to Vienna.
In Berlin, Der Kaiser announces that he will be going to Vienna for the Archduke’s funeral.
Chapter 13
Wednesday 1 July 1914
The train carrying the bodies of the Archduke and his wife arrives at Metkovitch at 6 a.m. that morning. From the train the coffins are carried by sailors to the Admiralty yacht Dalmat. Then, preceded by a torpedo-boat, the yacht steams down the River Narenta, at the mouth of which an Austrian battleship is lying. A salute of nineteen guns is fired as the Dalmat comes alongside. After the coffins have been placed on the quarterdeck, which has been transformed into a chapel, the vessel weighs anchor and, with flags at half-mast, it sets a course northwards for Trieste.
In the House of Commons, impressive tributes are paid to the memory of the late Archduke and his wife.
In St Petersburg, the view is not quite so cosy. The general opinion is that the Archduke brought the misfortune on himself since – in life – he had been very anti-Serbian, anti-Russian – in fact, anti-all things Slavic.
In Vienna, it’s decided that there’s going to be a criminal inquiry into the assassination. Berchtold tells Conrad that Emperor Franz Joseph wants to wait for the results of the inquiry. So too do both the Austrian and Hungarian Prime Ministers, who are opposed to war. They believe that the criminal inquiry will provide a basis for a proper course of action.
Conrad continues to push for war and, in the end, it is his view that prevails. Serbia has to be taught a lesson – and quickly. There must be some military action but Berchtold insists that it must be a small, self-contained, localised war. He also tells the other Austrian leaders that they should take their holidays, just as they had planned to do, ‘to prevent any disquiet’ about what has been decided.
In Berlin, newspapers began to suggest that a match against Serbia is now definitely on the cards – ‘Germanism,’ they say, needs to make a stand. Some writers suggest that it is really Russia that is the team to beat. If you’re wondering why they’re saying this, perplexed reader, then I probably need to tell you about the issue of alliances in the Group of Death. No – don’t tense up. Not another boring history lesson. Relax – it’ll be painless.
There is at least one way that this Group of Death differs from a conventional one. In an ordinary Group of Death all of the teams are independent and just play on their own behalf. Not so in our Group of Death. In our Group of Death, some of the teams have formed alliances, so that, in fact, there are two camps. Germany and Austria form one camp, one alliance, while Britain, France, Russia form the other. Now, how are you going to remember this, dear reader, on top of all the other things you’re having to get used to?
Well, if you can just remember that Germany and Austria are allies, then you should be okay. Germany and Austria have a historical closeness. Remember that one of the acts preceding the Second World War was that Hitler annexed Austria to Germany on the basis that they were essentially one country anyway. So – Germany and Austria – allies in the Group of Death. And everybody else allied on the opposing side.
This is also the reason, I hope you can now see, why Germany’s Von Schlieffen Plan is about defeating France first and then Russia. France and Russia are allies. From Germany’s point of view, they ‘surround’ Germany – France to the west, Russia to the east. Hence the Von Schlieffen Plan.
So now this is where the alliances start to come into play. Austria wants to play against Serbia – and give them a good hiding for what they’ve done to the Archduke. Austria reckons this will be no big deal. On form, a match between Austria and Serbia would be a bit like a match between Real Madrid and Scunthorpe United (with all due respect). But because of the Britain/France/Russia alliance and because Russia backs Serbia, if Austria plays against Serbia, Russia will want to support its ally (Serbia) and so play the Austrians as well. And for the Austrians, that would be a horse of a whole different kettle of fish, as the (two) sayings go.
If Austria is going to end up having to play Russia, it (Austria) is going to need help. And there’s only one place it can turn to for help. It must turn to its one ally in the Group of Death – it must turn to Germany. The Austrians need to phone a friend. So now, before anybody does anything else, Austria needs to check if the Germans are onside. And for that they need to ask the German manager. Berchtold is going to have to check with the big boys. He’s going to have to check mit Der Kaiser.
Clara wakes with an idea. She will go back to St James’s Park. This sensation began there. Maybe she has to go back there to clear it, to end it.
She will have to work this out carefully. This is Wednesday. On Friday, Ursula will be on her school holidays. Clara has been looking forward to having the two girls around for the summer – and of course, there is their holiday in August in Devon – but now, suddenly she realises that the girls are going to be an obstacle to returning to St James’s Park.
She knows she has to go back to the park by herself. With the girls she won’t be able to clear whatever has to be cleared. And anyway, what if that terrible sensation comes over her again? Or something worse. No, she has to be by herself. So she will have to find a day when she can do that.
In theory, she could choose any day. All she has to do is to leave the girls with Mrs Parsons. But in reality, this won’t work. There are two problems. The first is that the girls will protest. She told them that the three of them would go into town. Their protests she could probably deal with, but their protests plus the fact of her going into town by herself for a second time is sure to attract comment from Henry. It isn’t that she never goes int
o town alone, but it is probably a once-a-month occurrence. For it to happen twice in as many weeks would be sure to excite his curiosity. It isn’t that she feels she is doing anything wrong. It’s just that this is a part of her life, a piece of herself, really, that she wants to keep to herself. She’s entitled to some privacy after all – even if she is married.
So she certainly can’t go again this week – that means it will have to be next. She looks at the little diary she keeps in her handbag. In it she keeps notes of birthdays, school holidays, when her periods start and stop (she uses a little code for that, so that only she can understand it), whenever she takes any kind of medicines or cures and any domestic things that she feels need to be recorded.
Monday is the sixth. She will take the girls into town on Monday. She unscrews the cap of the fountain pen that her father bought her when she first began to work in the shop. In the space for Monday, in blue ink, she writes slowly ‘Town – girls,’ dotting the ‘i’ thoughtfully. Clara likes her handwriting. It is the kind that people remark on. She likes the act of writing. The words aren’t just symbols on a page. They are people, ideas, incidents in her life.
Then, in the space for Thursday, she writes, ‘Town – just me.’ She considers this for a moment. Then she crosses out the ‘just,’ considers it again and smiles.
Henry is staying up in town tonight, so she will tell the girls tomorrow when he is back and they are all together at teatime. There will be a big, excited fuss about it. In the midst of all that she will mention that she intends to go into town herself later in the week on Thursday. If Henry raises an eyebrow or questions it in any way, she will say that Monday is for the girls – to buy some clothes for their holidays. On Thursday she will be buying some holiday things herself and also some ‘women things.’ That will probably be enough to end the matter.
That night, Henry does indeed stay in town. After work, just as they have arranged, he and Mary leave the office separately and then meet at the Bank Twopenny Tube station. They go from there and get off at British Museum, walking to the hotel that Henry booked yesterday. Henry carries a small bag with a fresh shirt and collar and his shaving tackle in it. Mary brings a small weekend case. She tells Henry that somebody at the office asked her what she was doing and where she was going.
‘And what did you reply?’ he asks anxiously.
‘I told them I was staying overnight at my sister’s house.’
Henry had worried that he would be nervous about the whole undertaking but he finds that he is not. On the crowded train, the two of them sit side by side, thighs pressed together and once again, Henry finds himself aroused. Every time he turns to look at Mary, she smiles that beautiful smile of hers. On one of these occasions, he reaches across, takes her hand and squeezes it.
They have a drink at the hotel and eat dinner. Henry would happily have skipped eating but Mary says she is hungry and so she must be because she clears her plate and orders dessert. Eventually they make their way up to the room.
I know that at this point, dear reader, you might have felt that the book merited a sex scene – and indeed, that you as the reader, deserved one. I have some sympathy with your point of view. You have sat through a certain amount of exposition of dull historical facts and, while I have tried my best to make them interesting and memorable – or at least not boring – there’s certainly nothing like a sex scene to get the pages turning.
However, it’s equally true that there are far more bad sex scenes ever written than good ones. And remember too, that the book started out with a sex scene, so you can’t be feeling too hard done by at this stage. And so, my frustrated reader, you will have to settle for what I suppose could be described as a summary of the action. It goes like this:
Henry and Mary spend a passionate night. They get so little sleep that it will be remarked on to both of them the next day. Mary is an enthusiastic and generous lover, and Henry has two orgasms during their night together. Mary has one and then pretends to have three more, telling Henry what an amazing lover he is. Henry is surprised to find that she is not a virgin after all but he obviously cannot say anything about this to her. Where would he begin? What would he say? No, even though he wonders about it while she dozes, he eventually has to put it out of his head. In the morning, he wakes to find her up and looking at him.
‘I love you,’ she says simply, and with these words, Henry hopes that this will have been the first night of many to come.
Chapter 14
Thursday 2 July 1914
This morning Der Kaiser abandons his plans to go to Vienna for the Archduke’s funeral ‘owing to a slight indisposition.’ The newspapers report that he has a touch of lumbago after his morning ride. (It certainly has nothing to do with his upcoming boating holiday.) Instead he gives audiences as usual and is in thoroughly good form. There can only be one reason – matters nautical. On Monday, he will be heading for the sea yet again, this time for his annual cruise in the Baltic.
Another man who has things nautical on his mind is the Russian manager, Tsar Nicholas. That night he embarks on the Imperial yacht Pole Star – he has a couple of yachts – to witness manoeuvres by Admiral Beatty’s British fleet.
Also that night, in Vienna, while the moon is still high in the sky, the bodies of the Archduke and Duchess arrive from Trieste. Through lamp-lit streets, the funeral cars are escorted from the station to the Hofburg Chapel by Court officials and an imperial bodyguard of cavalry.
Meanwhile, at number 2 Ballhausplatz, Count Alexander Hoyos, Berchtold’s chef de cabinet is chosen to take a letter to Berlin to Der Kaiser seeking his support for the actions Austria is about to take.
‘Damn it all, Clara – some of us have to work tomorrow. If you can’t sleep at least maybe you could let the rest of us get some.’
Clara has been tossing and turning since she went to bed. She had hoped that Henry was asleep. He came home looking terribly tired and very grumpy, hardly acknowledging her when she announced she would be going into town next Thursday. He went to bed early and was deeply asleep when she came up. But now he sounds like he’s wide awake.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she says appeasingly. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ll go downstairs and leave you alone. Maybe if I read I’ll get sleepy.’
Henry says nothing. She puts on her royal blue dressing gown with the flowers down the front, goes downstairs through the kitchen and opens the back door.
It is a warm night – she thinks it might actually be warmer outside the house than in. She looks for the moon but remembers that she had seen it earlier, just before closing the curtains. It was setting then, about to disappear behind the roofs of the houses, gibbous with a cheesy light.
Thoughts of the moon suddenly remind her of paintings she once saw. It was during their honeymoon. They had gone to Yorkshire and happened upon an art gallery. Was it in Leeds? She thought that maybe it was. What was the artist’s name again? Grimes? No – Grimshaw. Atkinson Grimshaw. She remembers a suburban lane with a wall on one side, bare trees, welcoming yellow light in windows and the moon watching down. A hooded woman walks alone along the pavement bathed in the moonlight. Was she going towards one of the lighted houses? Or leaving it? Or did the houses have nothing to do with her? It was ambiguous.
As soon as Clara saw that painting, she thought, ‘I am that woman.’ She remembers she gazed at that one painting for ages until Henry came and asked if she was ready to go. Had she had the money that day she would have bought it, but it was so far beyond her reach.
She steps out of her slippers and walks down the cool stone steps onto the dewy grass. It is cold on her feet but refreshingly so. She listens to the night sounds. A dog barks. A door closes. Somebody who sounds drunk shouts and then goes silent.
Yes, she reflects as she stands in the warm velvety air, she is that woman – trapped, just as the woman in the painting is trapped, held there for all eternity.
Chapter 15
Friday 3 July 19
14
As Clara prepares breakfast, she can only marvel at the effect a good night’s sleep can have. She hears Henry upstairs in the bathroom. He’s whistling. She can’t remember when he last did that at this time of day. Her astonishment continues over breakfast. Henry leaves his newspaper unopened on the table as he chats with the two girls about what they might like to do during the weekend. (Henry has to work Saturday mornings but after that the rest of the weekend is free.) When he heads out the door, instead of the normal peck on the cheek or no kiss at all because he is ‘in a hurry,’ he kisses her, a long, slow, lingering kiss. As she closes the front door behind him, Clara shakes her head.
In Vienna, the bodies of the Archduke and Duchess lie in State for the day and the public is allowed to file past. In the afternoon, a funeral service is held. At ten that night the coffins are taken to the Western Railway Station. From there they go to Poechlaren and then across the Danube by ferry to Artstetten Castle, the summer seat of the Archduke’s family. Meanwhile, in the streets of Vienna, Austrian supporters clamour for a match against Serbia.
In Berlin, the German kit for the Group of Death is proving to be a problem. The new field service uniforms of the German Army are deemed to be unsatisfactory in both texture and colour. It is decided that the grey tunic material will have to be made in a different shade. In addition, all of the players, both officers and men, will have grey trousers. These can be worn both in peacetime and in war; in other words both on and off the field. Patterns of the new cloth will be ready in a month.
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