‘And you must be grieving,’ he says.
‘Grieving?’
‘For your marriage. At least that’s what I remember. Not so much for the reality of it, but for the idea. We all go in expecting it’s going to be perfect and forever. And when it’s not, it’s like a death. Something we loved is gone. And so we grieve.’
‘Maybe that’s what I’ve been feeling,’ says Clara. ‘I’ve been up one day and down the next.’
James nods.
‘That sounds like it,’ he says. ‘I hope the thought that I’m here whenever you need me … I hope … maybe that helps a little. I hope so.’
‘Oh James, you know it does. I don’t think I’d have had the courage to do it without you.’
‘And how is your boss’s boss doing?’ asks Clara, changing the subject.
‘He’s not happy. He’s like a bear with a sore head. And gone quite in on himself. Brooding on everything that’s happened. What he needs now are a few chums to take him out, get him inconsolably drunk and tell him he did the best he could.
But he’s a solitary cove and so he won’t do that. Instead he’ll continue to brood. He blames himself. Reckons he failed. Of course he doesn’t say that. No, he keeps saying that the only people who could have prevented war were the Germans. I suppose if he says it often enough, he might end up believing it himself. In actual fact, in those dark hours of the night when we lie awake, I’m certain he keeps wondering if he could have done something different and, if so, that it might have turned out differently.’
‘And could it?’
‘Fact is, my dearest Clara, I think it could. Right at the beginning if he’d made clear where Britain stood, then I don’t think it would have come to this at all. Of course, he’ll argue that he couldn’t because the Cabinet was divided or that Parliament hadn’t approved this or that or something or other, but damn it all, look what was at stake. Even if he’d acted without Cabinet backing or the approval of the House, even if it had destroyed his career. I fear we’re all going to pay a very high price for the man’s prevarication. And you know what the worst thing is?’
‘What’s that?’ asks Clara as she sees that James is smiling.
‘It looks like it’s going to be some considerable time before you and I get to go to France.’
Chapter 49
Wednesday 12 August 1914
Henry and Mary spend the night of Tuesday the 11th in a hotel. Earlier that morning, when Henry told Clara he would be staying up in town, she replied, ‘Of course, dear.’ Her face told a different story – quite the most withering, disdainful, disgusted look that Henry had ever been on the receiving end of.
‘Bitch!’ he muttered to himself as he headed out the door carrying his overnight bag. He soon puts all thought of Clara out of his head as he anticipates the night ahead with Mary.
And indeed it turns out to be quite perfect.
He is starting to get used to her now and, in some ways, it feels like they are already married. But it is not the tired marriage he has with Clara. Rather it is alive and vibrant and everything he imagines a marriage should be but hardly ever is. This may actually be the best thing that has ever happened to him, Henry finds himself thinking, while they are eating a quite magnificent dinner.
Mary seems to be completely happy and is full of fun, as he finds out later, when they get back to the hotel room. They get hardly any sleep that night. Henry wakes in the morning with a vague memory of Mary having asked him, ‘So how do you like your first night of continuous sex?’ The fact is Henry liked it very much and hopes there will be a lot more of them.
When Mary wakes, all Henry wants to do is to talk about the night they have just passed. But for some unfortunate reason, Mary becomes colossally angry with Henry. Who knows why this should happen? Perhaps the closest we can come to an answer is that, hard as steel as Mary may appear to be, she is just like the rest of us. She just wants to be happy and with Henry seems to have found that happiness. However, she now fears that it will be snatched away from her. She is terrified that he does only want to bed her and that all this talk of solicitors and divorce is only stringing her along. After all, he could pretend to go to a solicitor and pretend that the legal things have been put in train. The legal profession is a byword for doing things as slowly as possible. It could be months. It could run well into 1915 before she suddenly woke up to the fact that he had been stringing her along all this time. And then he could drop her like a hot potato. And then where would she be, having invested all this time? A year older. Her body a year older. And nothing to show for it.
Whatever the reason, Mary starts shouting and Henry shouts back. The end result is that he storms out of the room, goes downstairs, is too angry to take breakfast, pays the bill and goes off in the direction of the office.
Fucking women, he thinks. That bitch at home waiting for him and that other bitch never seems to be happy no matter what he does for her or what kind of lengths he is prepared to go to. And here he is working like a dog so that they can enjoy the high life. Well, fuck them. Fuck them both. Fuck all women.
Henry is in this frame of mind when he walks past a post office and his eye is caught by a large buff-coloured poster in the window. He stops to read it. The Royal Crest is at the top and then it says in huge type, ‘YOUR KING & COUNTRY NEED YOU.’
‘A CALL TO ARMS,’ it goes on in slightly smaller type. And then it continues, ‘An addition of 100,000 MEN to His Majesty’s Regular Army is immediately needed in the present grave National Emergency. LORD KITCHENER IS CONFIDENT THAT THIS APPEAL WILL BE AT ONCE RESPONDED TO BY ALL THOSE WHO HAVE THE SAFETY OF OUR EMPIRE AT HEART.
TERMS OF SERVICE. General Service for a period of 3 years or until the war is concluded. Age of Enlistment, between 19 and 30.
HOW TO JOIN. Full information can be obtained at any POST OFFICE in the kingdom or at ANY MILITARY DEPOT. GOD SAVE THE KING.’
Henry is twenty nine. It’s a sign!
He wonders where the nearest military depot is. Looking around, he sees a policeman and asks him.
‘I don’t know where the closest one is, sir, but there’s certainly one off Whitehall in Great Scotland Yard.’
Henry strides off in the direction the policeman indicated. He begins to imagine the scene when he walks in tonight and tells Clara what he has done. He pictures telling Mary. That will serve the bitches right. Perhaps now that it’s going to be taken from them they’ll realise what they had and what they should have been so damn grateful for.
When Henry turns into Great Scotland Yard, he is stopped in his tracks. He had been imagining that, on a weekday morning like this, he would encounter a handful of likeminded souls at the recruiting office. Instead, from where Henry stands to an overhead sign that reads ‘London Recruiting Offices,’ the street is thronged with men. Police, including several on horseback, try to keep the crowd of men on the pavement but it is so great that it keeps spilling onto the cobblestones. A car turns into the street and the police try again to move men out of the way. There is a cheer from the crowd as the car pulls up outside the recruiting office. Somebody gets out and hurries inside. Another cheer. It all seems terribly good humoured – even the police are smiling and are exchanging banter with the crowd.
It takes several hours for Henry to reach the door of the recruiting office and slowly snake his way up the steps and inside. But by lunchtime, he is a soldier. They explain to him that he will earn army rates of pay and his wife will get a Separation Allowance. He’s told that they have no uniforms or weapons or barracks or anything else at the moment, so for the present he is to continue living at home. But he will be getting a letter from them in the next few days and then he will begin his training.
Henry can’t wait to begin telling people. But first he goes to a pub for lunch and a few pints with a couple of men he met in the queue. After that, remembering that nobody at the office knows where he is, he decides he’d better go there. He buys some peppermints to cover the smell
of alcohol on his breath. He is not drunk by any means but feels a great sense of bravado. He will ask to see Mr Faber, but when he arrives, he is told that Mr Faber is already asking to see him.
Of course he is. Well, Henry’s got a surprise for him.
When he is ushered into Faber’s presence, Henry is left standing while Faber sits, head down and pen scratching on a piece of paper. He is well aware that Henry is there but pretends not to notice. It’s common knowledge that Faber has no other interest except work – no wife, no children, no friends – only business acquaintances, no hobbies. He takes no holidays and works all of the public holidays.
After several minutes, without looking up and continuing to write, he says, ‘I believe you were missing this morning, Kenton. And no message sent or reason given.’
It really is an outrageous way to treat a manager, Henry thinks. It’s the kind of thing you would say to a junior clerk. Now Faber puts the pen down and looks up, sitting back in his chair and joining his hands. Henry reckons he is in his fifties but looks much older, with grey, papery skin. Does he ever get any sunlight? Henry wonders.
‘I presume you do have a reason, Kenton.’
There’s an expression Mary is fond of using – ‘a face like a smacked arse’ – and it pops into Henry’s head now. He smiles at the thought and says, ‘I do, sir.’
He lets the suspense last a few moments longer.
‘Well, come on, out with it, man. I’m intrigued to know what could have kept you from us for most of the day and without a word by way of apology or excuse.’
‘Well, I hope you’ll approve, sir. I’ve enlisted.’
The change that comes over Faber is remarkable.
‘My dear fellow,’ he says, standing up. ‘Let me be the first to shake your hand.’
And with that Henry is asked to sit down.
He is probably in Faber’s office for half an hour. When he emerges it is all very satisfactory. His job will be kept for him for when he returns. They will pay his salary until the end of the month whether he is available for work or not, and then give him an extra month on top of that. Add to that his holiday pay and any other entitlements.
Henry wants so much to tell Mary, so he calls down to New Policies to arrange to see her after work. When she sees him coming through the door, she indicates with her eyes that he should go back out. He does so, stepping back into the corridor. She follows him out.
‘I’m so sorry about this morning,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what came over me. You’re so precious to me and I think I’m just afraid of losing you. Please – can you forgive me?’
Henry realises that it is the first time she has ever apologised to him. What a good feeling that is.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Think nothing of it.’
Henry had intended to ask her to meet him after work and to tell her then but he knows now that the news of his having enlisted will go through the office like wildfire. He has to tell her straight away, right here and now.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he says. ‘I’ve joined the army.’
Henry does arrange to meet Mary after work. As he waits for her he reflects on how she reacted as he broke the news to her. It was like he had kicked her in the stomach. It was such a satisfying moment.
When she arrives, it is clear that she has been crying. She doesn’t want to go to a café or any place where there are people so they just walk. She goes on about how devastated she is and bursts into tears several times. She keeps asking him why and Henry responds with wonderfully patriotic sentiments which in no way calm Mary, nor are they intended to. It is nearly eight before they part, and by then Henry has given her plenty of ‘who knows what the future holds’ and ‘as long as we have each other’ and ‘making the most of each day – and night!’ He reckons there won’t be a peep out of her for the next few months. Indeed, they should be quite splendid indeed.
The war will be short. This was the firm view of everybody he spoke to today, even the recruiting sergeant. Henry will spend a few months as a soldier. He may not even see any action. Then the war will end, he will come home a hero whether he is involved in any fighting or not. And then he will decide what he wants to do about Mary. His feeling is that there will be plenty of Marys interested in returned heroes. But that will certainly not be a worry for this year. Now, for the rest of 1914, he sees a fretful Mary anxious to satisfy him in every way. And his fun is only half over. He still gets to tell Clara.
Clara lies in bed unable to sleep. Henry is snoring beside her. It is several hours since he told her he joined the army. She still can’t quite believe it. He will be here for several more weeks, was what he said, and then he’ll be going away. She will have the house to herself. She’ll be able to do as she pleases. She’ll be able to see James as often as she likes.
And even though she tries not to let it, another thought loiters on the edge of her consciousness trying to force its way in. Supposing he weren’t to come back at all. Maybe she doesn’t need to have that meeting with the solicitor tomorrow. Maybe she can just spend the time with James. They’ll probably only have a couple of hours. Why spend it in some dusty solicitor’s when they could just be together?
And there’s no fear of James having to enlist. He is thirty-four so he’s over the age. Everything has turned out so perfectly. Clara can hardly believe how her life has so utterly changed in a few short weeks. She is so happy. So very, very happy.
Outside she hears the first birds of dawn twittering. She’s so excited she doesn’t think she’ll get back to sleep now, but she doesn’t care. Life is so wonderful.
Chapter 50
Thursday 13 August 1914
‘All set?’ asks James, as he greets Clara. It is quarter to twelve and their appointment with the solicitor is at twelve.
‘I was thinking,’ says Clara. ‘Perhaps we don’t need to go today.’
‘Are you getting cold feet?’ asks James, and she notices the anxious tone in his voice.
‘No, it isn’t that. It’s just that … well, I have some news. Something’s happened.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Look – could we cancel the appointment, send a note or something. And maybe get some lunch and I’ll tell you.’
She notices for the first time that he doesn’t seem anywhere near as cheery as he normally is. His face is clouded.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says, touching his arm. ‘It’s a good thing. The most wonderful thing.’
James takes one of his calling cards and scribbles a note on the back. Then he calls one of a group of boys who are passing carrying a football and asks if he’ll deliver the card to a particular address. The boy says, ‘Righteo, guv,’ touches his cap and disappears with the note and the coin James gives him.
‘Sandwiches?’ James asks. ‘Or a café?’
‘Café,’ she says. ‘I feel like celebrating.’
As they turn in the direction of the nearest café, Clara can’t keep the news to herself any longer.
‘Henry has enlisted. He’s joined the army. In a few weeks he’ll be gone and then I can see you as often as we want. Maybe we could spend a night together,’ she says daringly.
She wonders if James will be outraged by what she has just said. He certainly appears very disturbed by it. It is not at all the reaction she was expecting.
And now she is alarmed. Has he just been going along with her and now that there’s the possibility that they could be together, he’s getting cold feet?
‘There’s something I have to tell you too, Clara,’ he says sombrely.
Oh God, she thinks. He’s married after all. It has all been a game for him. Oh no. Oh my God. Just when she thought she had been given everything she could have possibly wanted.
She hears James say, ‘Darling Clara, I have to enlist too.’
She feels herself flooded with relief. Silly old James. He’s obviously so caught up in his job that he doesn’t know about it being nineteen to thirty.
‘But you can’t,’ she says happily. ‘Don’t you know the age limit is thirty?’
He suddenly looks terribly weary.
‘It’s thirty now but that will change very quickly. This is going to be a terribly long war, Clara dearest.’
‘But you can’t go,’ she says. ‘What about your job? The work you do. It’s important—’
James smiles but it is a tired smile.
‘It’s not that important. And even if it was – we didn’t do a very good job, now did we? Look where we’ve ended up.’
‘But—’
‘I have to go. Don’t you see? Everything I hold dear is threatened. England. My beloved France. You, Clara, my darling. What if the Germans were to invade here? What would happen to you?’
‘The Germans won’t invade,’ Clara scoffs. ‘I may not know much about war but I know we have the biggest navy in the world. They’d never get across the Channel.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he says. ‘But I still have to fight for the things I care about. And anyway, in six months’ time, every proper man in this country will be in uniform. You’ll see. I’m not going to wait and then join because I feel guilty. No, Clara, I have to go. Don’t you see? Please tell me you do.’
‘But what about us?’ she asks.
‘When I come back,’ he replies. ‘Then we’ll have us.’
‘But suppose something happens to you?’
‘Nothing will happen,’ he says. ‘You and I will grow old together. You know this, don’t you?’
Clara shakes her head as she feels a tear slide down her cheek.
‘I had hoped so,’ she murmurs. ‘But now I don’t know.’
They stop walking and he turns to hold her. She is crying now.
‘I will,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t miss the rest of our lives for anything.’
Eventually Clara stops crying and takes James’s proffered handkerchief. She dries her eyes and blows her nose in it.
‘Sorry,’ she says, holding it in her hand and trying to smile.
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