Octavia's War

by Beryl Kingston

  For the next six days Edith and Dora and Emmeline took it in turns to visit. It was the Easter holiday and Octavia was around to look after the children, although as she pointed out, she would be away herself on Saturday, attending Mark Meriton’s wedding. Whatever else, Johnnie’s injuries had put that event into perspective. She knew now that it really didn’t matter whether his family approved of her presence there or not. It was a wedding and a chance to celebrate and be happy and she was glad to take it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mark Meriton’s wedding was a study in Air Force blue. It was a delicate April day, the sun shone tentatively, there was lilac blooming in the neighbouring gardens and yet the little church in St Albans was sober with uniforms. For a bemused second Octavia wondered whether they’d come to the right place. Then she saw Mark and Matthew standing together at the altar rail and realised that the church was full of their RAF friends and, while she was looking round to see if there was anyone there she recognised, a young boy in a very white shirt came up to ask Tommy if they were ‘bride or groom’.

  ‘Father of the groom,’ he said, beaming.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the boy said. ‘Major Meriton, isn’t it? If you’ll come this way, sir.’ And he escorted them to the front pew where they found Lizzie in a very pretty dress and a blue straw hat, and beside her a familiar face who turned out to be Tommy’s younger brother James, there with his wife Laura and their two dumpy daughters. There was a difficult moment when Tommy introduced Octavia to Laura as ‘an old family friend’ and she was given a look of such sneering animosity that she felt quite upset, but then the organist began to play the wedding march and she was rescued by the arrival of the bride and the congregation settled down to follow the service.

  When it was over, she and Lizzie left the church together.

  ‘They’re just horrible inverted snobs,’ Lizzie said, glaring at her cousins who were following their mother in the opposite direction. ‘They were picking on me all the way here. Why didn’t I have my hair permed? And didn’t I find high heels uncomfortable? I mean, I wouldn’t wear them if I did. And was a straw hat suitable for my brother’s wedding? On and on. And do you know what they said when I told them I was going to St Hilda’s? You’ll never believe this. They said it was a waste of time because I’d only get married. Only! That’s all they know.’

  Octavia took her by the arm and steered her out of earshot. ‘No Ben?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s on manoeuvres,’ Lizzie said. ‘Mark said it would be all right to bring him but the army had other ideas.’ She was still glaring at the departing backs of her aunt and cousins. ‘I don’t know which of them I like least,’ she said. ‘Aunt Laura’s always sneering at someone or other. Nobody’s ever right. Except her. I mean fancy saying it’s a waste of time to go to Oxford? I bet they wouldn’t say it if it was them.’

  ‘Exactly so,’ Octavia said.

  ‘Uncle Jim’s all right,’ Lizzie said, smiling at him as he passed. ‘He went out of his way to pick me up at Downview. When Pa said he was driving up from Wimbledon, he said I couldn’t travel by train and he didn’t mind coming to get me in the least. I thought that was really nice of him. But the others! Words fail me.’

  ‘Your father can drive you to the reception,’ Octavia said, as Tommy strolled up to join them. ‘Can’t you, Tommy?’

  ‘Can’t I what, old thing?’ Tommy said.

  ‘Drive Lizzie to the reception.’

  ‘Naturally. Pretty wedding, I thought. Like the hat, Lizzie.

  Nice to see old James again.’

  The photographer was calling for the ‘immediate family’.

  ‘That’s us,’ Tommy said. ‘Come on, you two.’

  Lizzie went off happily holding his arm but Octavia contrived to slip away and hide herself among a group of very tall and very friendly airmen. After what she’d just heard about James’s wife and daughters, she felt her presence in such a public family photograph would be a provocation and she had no intention of provoking anybody if she could help it. But she rejoined them at the reception because it wasn’t a sit-down meal so she could eat sausage rolls and cheese straws and pretend to sip a rather revolting cordial and wander about the room, talking to as many people as she liked and keeping out of Laura’s way, which was far more satisfactory. Now and then she and Lizzie passed one another in the crowd, and once Tommy came to find her because he wanted to introduce her to a man he called the Wing Co, and once brother James appeared at her elbow to tell her he did so admire what she was doing ‘at that school of yours’. So the afternoon passed pleasantly. Mark made a charming speech, the bride blushed, toasts were drunk, everything went according to the old established pattern.

  But when the guests were gathered outside the hall to wave their newly-weds goodbye, Tommy made a serious mistake. The bride had thrown her bouquet at the crowd in the traditional way and had clapped with the rest when it was caught by one of the WAAFS and James had turned to his brother and said, ‘One thing leads to another, eh, Tommy?’ with quite a roguish gleam in his eye.

  ‘Could well be,’ Tommy said. ‘How would you fancy another wedding in the family?’

  James nodded his head. ‘Young Matt, is it?’

  ‘Well actually…’ Tommy began. But he was pre-empted by his daughter, who held out her hand to her uncle so that he could see her ring.

  ‘No, Uncle James,’ she said. ‘It’s not Matthew, it’s me.’

  ‘Well, congratulations, my dear,’ James said. ‘Is your young man here?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Lizzie told him. ‘He’s on Salisbury Plain on manoeuvres, otherwise he would be. He’s in the tank corps.’

  ‘Ah,’ James said. ‘That accounts. So when is this wedding to be?’

  This time it was Lizzie who was forestalled. ‘Not for years yet,’ Tommy said. ‘She’s got to get her degree first, haven’t you, Lizzie. It’s not something to rush. Only fools rush in, eh, Lizzie?’

  ‘Well actually…’ Lizzie said, but her father was turning his brother aside.

  ‘Have you met the Wing Co, James? No! Oh, you must.’ He moved them both into the crowd, talking as he went. ‘Stout feller. Thinks the world of young Mark.’

  It was more than Lizzie could bear. To be cut by your own father, at your brother’s wedding, where she couldn’t contradict him or even answer him was so painful it was as if he’d punched her. ‘How can he do this to me?’ she said to Octavia. ‘I thought he was supposed to love me.’ And then she caught the sneering expression on her aunt’s face and the tears began to flow. She put her hands to her mouth, turned and ran away from them.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Octavia said, and followed after her, walking as quickly as she could without actually running. She found her behind the hall, leaning against the wooden wall and sobbing like a child.

  ‘How could he do this to me?’ she wept. ‘How could he?’

  It was time to take action. Talk could come later. ‘Stay there,’ Octavia commanded. ‘Don’t move. I’ll just go and make my farewells and then we’ll go home.’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘To Downview.’

  ‘How can we do that?’ Lizzie wept. ‘I’m not going in his car. Or Uncle James’s. I couldn’t bear it. Not after this.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Octavia said. ‘We’ll go by train. Stay there. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  As she was. Lizzie had only just dried her eyes when she brisked round the corner, with her handbag over her arm and the most determined expression on her face. ‘Come along,’ she said.

  It was a long journey and a very tiring one, for they missed their connection at Waterloo and both the London termini were suffocatingly crowded. It wasn’t until they were alone in an empty carriage on the Woking train and heading out of the city that Lizzie had a chance to talk and then what she had to say was urgent and alarming.

  ‘The thing is, Miss Smith,’ she said, ‘Ben’s going to be sent to Africa. They’re waiting for their embarkation leave.
That’s why he couldn’t get away for the wedding. He says they’ll hear any day. Only the thing is, he wants us to get married before he goes. I was going to soften Pa up at this wedding and ask him to arrange it but he won’t, will he? Even if he hadn’t lost his temper. The fact is, he doesn’t want me to get married and he won’t give his consent and if he won’t give his consent I can’t get married. My poor Ben’s been planning our honeymoon and everything and now what am I going to tell him? I don’t know why Pa has to be so hateful. Anyway, I can’t ask him. Not now. Not after cutting me like that. I’d only get my head bitten off. So I’m stuck, aren’t I?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Octavia said, thinking hard. ‘Let’s see if we can get this into some sort of perspective. Presumably you’d marry Ben if you could. That goes without saying.’

  ‘Yes. I would.’

  ‘But you do want to go to Oxford? Or you would if everything else was equal?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose so. I haven’t really thought.’

  ‘Then think now.’

  ‘Well then, yes, I would. It’s a wonderful place. But it isn’t possible to have everything you want, is it?’

  ‘Well…’ Octavia said, smiling at her. ‘It all depends on how you go about it.’ The solution was obvious and entirely improper. It would infuriate Tommy if he heard about it, which of course he shouldn’t and wouldn’t. She would have to make sure of that. But it was the solution. Mischief rose in her as strong as a life force. ‘Let me tell you what I have in mind,’ she said. ‘I think you should go ahead with that honeymoon he’s planning and take it and enjoy it. You’ll have to wear a wedding ring of course, otherwise you’ll get questions, but I’m sure he’ll provide that, won’t he? And you’ll have to take care you don’t get pregnant. But if I’m any judge of your young man he’ll manage that too. You’ll have to be exceptionally discreet and not discuss it with anyone at all – and particularly not your father. And when Ben has been sent to Africa, you can go to St Hilda’s and study there while you wait for him to come home again. It would be a waste of your talents not to do it and there’s no need for anyone there to know what you are doing in your private life, providing there’s no baby to give the game away. If he gets leave during term time you’ll have to make some excuse to absent yourself from college for however long you’ve got. But I’m sure you’ll be able to think of something. It won’t be easy but it is all possible.’

  Lizzie listened with growing admiration and amazement. That the famous Miss Smith should be sitting there, calmly advocating an affair was so extraordinary she could barely believe it. But she was right. It was the answer.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Octavia said.

  ‘I’ll write to him tonight,’ Lizzie said. ‘As soon as I get in.’

  It was late by the time Octavia got home because, when Lizzie had trailed upstairs to her room, she went to find Maggie Henry to check on how her girls had been during the day. When she finally walked into the drive at Ridgeway she saw Emmeline standing by the dining room window and knew by the set of her shoulders that she’d been watching out for her. Not a good sign for it usually meant trouble. And sure enough, when she put her key in the lock her cousin was already in the hall, waiting for her and looking ruffled.

  ‘Where’s Tommy?’ she said. ‘I thought he was bringing you home.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Octavia told her. ‘Is there any tea? I’m gasping for a drink.’

  Emmeline sniffed. ‘Didn’t they have drinks at this wedding of yours?’

  Octavia registered the sniff. There was something up. ‘They had cordial,’ she said, ‘and it was undrinkable. I poured mine in the flower-bed.’

  Tea was produced. There was always tea. It was the one thing that wasn’t rationed. She and Emmeline and Edith and the girls sat round the kitchen table and had tea and a slice of apple cake.

  ‘So what have you all been doing today?’ she asked as she poured herself a second cup.

  ‘Mummy’s got a job,’ Barbara told her.

  ‘If you ever heard of anything so ridiculous,’ Emmeline said.

  So that’s what’s the matter, Octavia thought. ‘It doesn’t sound ridiculous to me,’ she said.

  ‘There’s no need for it,’ Emmeline said.

  ‘I have tried to explain,’ Edith said to her aunt. ‘Once Joanie’s at school I shall have to go to work. I shall be drafted. You know that, Ma. So I thought if I’ve got to go anyway, I’ll find something for myself and I have.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ Octavia approved. ‘What sort of work is it?’

  ‘Making parachutes,’ Edith told her. ‘They were advertising last week for machinists so I wrote in. GQ Parachutes. It’s in Maybury down by the infants’ school. They’re a jolly lot. They took me round and showed me what I’d have to do and they were ever so friendly. They make new parachutes and repair damaged ones. The place was stacked with them. It didn’t look too difficult, really, Ma, and it’s all treadle machines. They told me all sorts of things. There are two bosses apparently, Mr Gregory’s the brains and Mr Quilter’s the money, so they say. Anyway it’ll be nice to be earning my living. I know you don’t like the idea, Ma, but it will. I’ve been pinching and scraping long enough and if I’ve got to buy furniture, and God knows what when this lot’s over, I shall need some cash put by.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ Octavia said again but she was wondering why family life had to be so prickly and difficult. First Tommy trampling all over poor Lizzie and now Em laying down the law to Edie when she was being perfectly reasonable.

  That night, when she finally got to her bedroom and was writing up her journal, she returned to her wondering. I sometimes think it was just as well Tommy and I didn’t marry when we were young, she wrote. We would have had children because his heart was set on it and we would never have agreed about how to bring them up. I wonder when he will phone me. I must give him a day or two to recover.

  Lizzie was writing at that moment too, sitting in her window seat with her bedside lamp to light the page, while her two companions slept. It was the letter to Ben that she’d promised Smithie she would write and it was a long one. She’d already given him a description of the wedding and her father’s perfidious behaviour, and now she was telling him all about Smithie’s solution. Write soon and let me know what you think,’ she wrote. ‘I shall be worrying until I get a letter.

  He answered by return of post. Your Smithie is a giddy marvel. We’ ll do it. I will book us a room at Weston-super-Mare. That is the place, isn’t it? See you ASAP.

  So the new school term began. Joanie went to school and returned home with her shoes scuffed and an ink stain on her jersey saying it was OK and she was Joan now ‘’cos they don’t call you Joanie at school’, and two days later Edith started work at the factory. She found it a great deal more tiring than she was prepared to admit although she did her share of the cooking when she got home and was careful to clear the table and sweep the kitchen floor just as she’d always done. Emmeline grumbled to Octavia that she looked like a little ghost, but after a week she got used to her new lifestyle and began to pace herself better and didn’t look quite so drawn.

  Emmeline went on complaining nevertheless. ‘It’s never-ending change,’ she said. ‘You just about get used to one thing and another turns up. I don’t know how we’re supposed to manage.’

  ‘By taking it in our stride,’ Octavia said. ‘Isn’t that right, Edie?’ She was privately congratulating herself at how well she was striding over difficulties that summer. Only that afternoon she’d given Lizzie permission to be absent for the next ten days and now she was wondering how Tommy would take it when he found out about it – and rather looking forward to his anger.

  It exploded upon her in a telephone call the following morning.

  ‘I’ve just had a card from Lizzie,’ he said. ‘What’s all this nonsense about her going on holiday?’

  Octavia’s heart constricted. Surely she hasn’t told him? she thought. She wouldn’t
be so silly. Not after all I’ve said to her. Fortunately he was still complaining, which gave her a chance to catch her breath and think.

  ‘I left a message with that matron of yours. Said I’d be coming down on Wednesday, and what do I get? A postcard! A postcard! I ask you. Says she’s going on holiday with some silly friend. Do you know about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Octavia said, calmly. ‘I gave her permission.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I gave her permission.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Tavy. It’s not up to you to give her permission. She should have asked me. I am her father, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘And I’m her headmistress,’ Octavia said, thinking checkmate, ‘in case you’ve forgotten. In loco parentis.’

  ‘And what about her Entrance Exam? Or have you all forgotten that?’

  ‘She’s well prepared,’ Octavia told him, ‘and she’ll be back in plenty of time to take it. There’s no need for you to worry.’

  There was a pause and then he changed direction. ‘And where the hell did you get to after the reception? I searched all over the place for you.’

  ‘I was looking after your daughter,’ Octavia said. ‘I took her home. Do you have any idea how much you upset her?’

  ‘Don’t tell me how to treat my own daughter,’ he said furiously. ‘She had to be told. You can’t let your children do whatever they like. You ought to know that.’

  ‘She’s not a child, Tommy. She’s a woman.’

  ‘She’s a child.’

  ‘She’s the same age as we were when we met.’

  ‘You’re so bloody aggravating,’ he said and hung up.

  And you only know the half of it, Octavia thought, as she put the receiver back on its hook. There are times, Tommy Meriton, when you are really quite insufferable. It’s just as well I have to go to school or I’d have lost my temper too. And she wondered how Lizzie was, out there in Weston-super-Mare on her ‘honeymoon’.