Emma's War

by Rosie Clarke

  Now that we were back in London, Jon was more like the man I had known before we were married. Whatever part of him I had glimpsed during our time in the highlands was now safely hidden. He was his usual polite, smiling self.

  True to his word, Jon took me to the theatre two nights running. He also took me and my son to the park. We watched the horses parading past the palace, and Jon helped my son to sail a boat on the lake, then bought us all cream cakes and tea, most of which James managed to get all over his clean sailor suit. We were just like any other family on a day out.

  This was how I had always thought family life should be. It was what I had longed for, and it made me so happy.

  The night before Jon was due to return to camp, I clung to him after we had made love. I was crying, but trying not to let him see it.

  ‘Don’t, Emma,’ he whispered against my hair. ‘Please don’t cry. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it that I may never see you again …’

  I leaned over him, my hair brushing his naked shoulder. For one terrible moment his soul was as naked as his flesh. I could see his fear, almost touch it. He was afraid of losing all that we had, all that we meant to each other.

  ‘It isn’t that I might die,’ he said, his throat caught with emotion. ‘We all have to die one day …’

  ‘What then, my darling?’

  ‘If something should happen … if you have reason to believe I am dead … don’t waste the rest of your life, Emma. I want you to be happy. More than anything else, that is what matters to me. I think I could face death if I knew that you would go on … that you would live for me.’

  ‘Oh, Jon …’ I could not hold back my tears now. ‘I can’t bear the thought that …’

  He kissed me. ‘Forgive me, darling. I just want you to be happy.’

  ‘I am happy, here with you.’ I bent to kiss his face. I touched my lips to his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and then his mouth. ‘I never want to be with anyone else,’ I vowed. ‘I love you, Jon. You’ve given me so much – and I don’t mean material things.’

  Jon smiled, reaching up to stroke my cheek. ‘I’m a fool, Emma. Take no notice. I have dark thoughts sometimes, but they are just bad dreams. I love you. I can’t die. I have too much to live for, my darling.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ I said. Then I began to kiss his body, tiny, teasing kisses that made him moan and throb with desire. I laughed as I moved lower, knowing what I was doing to him. ‘Just so as you remember exactly why you have to come home to me …’

  I didn’t go to see Jon off at the station the next morning. He wouldn’t let me.

  ‘Stay with James,’ he told me, kissing me goodbye. ‘He needs you, Emma. He needs you as much as I do. You mustn’t forget that, my darling. I know you enjoy your work, but make time for James. Think about me, my darling, and about the way it will be for us when all this is over. We shall be a family then. You, me and James …’

  ‘Yes, of course. I always do think of both of you.’

  I was a little hurt that Jon should think I would neglect my son. I spent as much time as I could with him, but perhaps it wasn’t enough.

  Watching him with Margaret later that day, I realized he went as easily to her as to me. For a moment I felt a pang of regret. James was very precious to me. I had never intended to neglect him, but perhaps I had without realizing it.

  Jon was so observant, so thoughtful. Damn this wretched war! I wished so much that we could be together as a family, that we could have our own home, live as we pleased … but I was not alone. All over the country women were wishing for the same thing, hiding their tears as their men went off to war, perhaps never to return.

  I held James on my lap after I had bathed him that evening, rocking him in my arms before putting him in his cot, my cheeks wet with tears.

  For a little while, a precious fragment of time, I had forgotten reality. I had believed in Jon’s paradise, but now the shadow of war loomed large. Until this moment, I had not really seen it as more than a nuisance, as an excuse for the government’s petty restrictions – but quite suddenly I realized how terrifying it was.

  The dangers of training seemed puny against those Jon would face once he began flying missions for real.

  ‘Come back to me, Jon,’ I prayed. ‘Please come back – for both of us. We both need you.’

  I smiled as I touched my son’s head, stroking the soft downy hair. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as I laid him down.

  I would spend more time with my son, even if it meant cutting down my hours a little at the workshop. And I would go to visit Mrs Reece when I could. I owed Jon that much.

  As I went downstairs, the telephone rang. I answered it.

  ‘Emma …’ Jon’s voice came to me sure and strong. ‘I just wanted to tell you … I’m all right. Last night, it was silly … all the chaps feel the same when they’ve been home. But I’m back now and it’s all right. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes, of course, darling. I felt the same. It’s just the thought of saying goodbye.’

  ‘I’ll be home when I can,’ Jon said. ‘Just a few hours next time, but this damned war can’t go on forever, can it?’

  ‘No, of course it can’t,’ I replied, knowing that this was what he wanted me to say. ‘Don’t worry about us, we’re all fine. I’ve just put James to bed. I read him a story, and he’s fast asleep. He looked so sweet, Jon, all warm and pink and soft …’

  ‘Good – that’s how I shall think of you,’ Jon promised. ‘Sitting by his bed, your hair glinting with gold in the lamplight …’

  ‘My hair is a mousy brown,’ I said, laughing. ‘You ought to write poetry, Jon. You see everything with a rosy glow.’

  ‘You don’t see yourself the way I do,’ he replied. ‘Sometimes your hair looks like silk … and you are beautiful, whatever you say.’

  ‘Flatterer!’

  ‘Take care, Emma. I’ll telephone you again soon, my love.’

  ‘Yes, please do. I love you, Jon.’

  ‘Bye …’

  I replaced the receiver. My hand was shaking. Jon had not told me, but I knew he was going on his first mission that night …

  Chapter 3

  ‘I think that film will be interesting,’ Margaret said and handed me a newspaper with a report of the record-breaking box office takings in America. ‘Three hours and forty-five minutes – and Vivien Leigh won an award for it. After everyone said the role should have gone to an American actress.’

  ‘Gone With The Wind,’ I said. ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it – that’s if we can get tickets. Everyone is going mad for them.’

  Margaret nodded. ‘Now, Emma dear, about the reception this evening …’ She sighed, brushing a hand over her eyes. ‘I honestly don’t think I can go.’

  ‘Sol will be so disappointed …’

  ‘Not if you go with him,’ Margaret said. ‘He has to attend, Emma. It is expected of him. You know he’s worried about all these new laws. An official reception is where he makes his contacts, finds out how everything is going to work – if he knows what’s in the wind, he can make contingency plans …’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ I bit my lip. ‘It’s just that I’ve never mixed with that sort of people … important people. I’m afraid of letting Sol down. Supposing I don’t know what to say to them?’

  Margaret laughed. She looked so much younger at that moment. I’d thought she had been feeling better recently, but her tiredness was worrying.

  ‘You will think of something, my dear. Please – to save me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I could not refuse her such a small request. ‘What shall I wear?’ I reviewed my dresses anxiously in my mind.

  ‘I have something you might like,’ Margaret said. ‘I bought it for a similar reception years ago and never wore it. It’s French, made in Paris, dark blue velvet and a classic style that doesn’t date. Would you like to try it on, Emma?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’m not sure I have anything
of my own that would be suitable.’

  ‘Come with me …’

  I followed her up to her bedroom; it was a pretty room furnished with beautiful antique pieces and decorated in muted shades of green and gold. I knew that she and Sol had separate rooms. That had bothered me at first, but Margaret had told me she was a restless sleeper. Sol would be kept awake most of the night if he shared her bed, and he needed his rest. I did not doubt the love between them, even though the intimate side of their marriage might be over.

  The dress Margaret showed me was quite simply stunning. It was long and had a rather medieval look, the skirt slender over the hips yet flowing out to a little train at the hem. The neckline was scooped and plain, the sleeves long and cut to a V over the wrists.

  ‘You wear it with this girdle,’ Margaret explained, showing me a narrow rope of metallic gold threads. ‘Do you like it, Emma?’

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘It looks like something a thirteenth-century lady might have worn to court.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ she said, smiling at my description. ‘I hadn’t noticed that particularly. I just felt it was simple and classical.’

  ‘May I try it on?’

  ‘Of course. If you like it, it is yours.’

  ‘I’m only going to borrow it; it is your dress, Margaret.’

  ‘I shall never wear it. This gown was meant for a young and beautiful woman – like you.’

  I took the dress to my own room and put it on. The soft material draped over my body with a simple elegance that made me feel wonderful … like a princess! I had never worn anything like this before. It was something quite unique, made by an artist for a special woman. Even if I had been able to afford it, I could never have found anything to compare with this dress these days.

  Margaret smiled approvingly when I went back to show her. ‘I knew it would fit you,’ she said. ‘It becomes you well, my dear. It might have been made for you.’

  ‘Why did you never wear it?’ I looked at her curiously.

  ‘I bought that dress to celebrate something,’ Margaret said, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘I believed I was to have Sol’s child – but the night I should have worn it, I miscarried. After that, I put it away and forgot it.’

  ‘Oh, Margaret …’ I stared at her in dismay, feeling the depth of her pain, pain she had hidden so cleverly from me until this moment. ‘I am so very sorry …’

  ‘No, don’t be,’ she said, and the tears were gone as though they had never been. ‘I’ve been so lucky, Emma. Sol has always adored me, never reproached me for … besides, now we have you and James.’ She smiled at me lovingly. ‘You are the daughter I lost that night, and James is my grandson, the gift you brought to this house. I don’t think the dress will be unlucky for you, my dear.’

  ‘No, I’m sure it won’t,’ I said and went to kiss her. ‘I love it. It is beautiful and it will give me confidence this evening.’

  ‘You look lovely. Sol will be very proud of you. He – we are both very fond of you, Emma.’

  I accepted the gift of the dress. How could I refuse her? I knew it must have been expensive, far more than I would dream of paying for a dress. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I did not know the woman who stared back at me.

  I was someone different. Perhaps the Emma of the future?

  I was so thankful for Margaret’s dress amongst the wealthy, powerful and sophisticated people at the reception that night. Without it, I truly might have wanted to run away.

  It wasn’t so bad during the early part of the evening. We all had dinner, and there were speeches by important men from both government and business. Because I had listened to Sol, I understood more of what was being said than I would otherwise have done. The war was costing so much, becoming so much worse than anyone had imagined, that the government was on the point of taking drastic measures.

  ‘Does he mean that they are going to take everyone’s property away from them?’ I whispered to Sol as one of the speakers sat down. ‘Surely they can’t do that, can they?’

  ‘Almost,’ Sol replied grimly. ‘It seems as if they are going to take over the banks, business … everything will be under strict government control. They are not actually taking our businesses away from us, but they will tell us what we can do and how much profit we can make for doing it.’

  ‘That sounds serious.’

  ‘It could ruin anyone who wasn’t prepared for this …’

  I heard the harsh note in Sol’s voice and knew he was angry about what was happening. Like many others, he had been making considerable profits from his factory, and he was concerned about the future.

  After dinner, the men huddled into groups, their faces reflecting anxiety, anger and fear. The ladies were talking amongst themselves, most of them obviously friends or at least on nodding acquaintance. I felt lost, out of my depth, though one or two smiled a friendly greeting in passing.

  I held my head high as I went to the powder room, a pink and perfumed haven, where I touched a tiny puff to my shiny nose and applied a smear of lipstick. When I returned to the main reception room, there was no sign of Sol. I hesitated, wondering what to do next. Should I go in search of him, or wait for him to find me?

  ‘Hi there,’ a deep voice said from behind me. ‘Do you by chance feel as lost as I do in this company of worthy men and their rather dull ladies? You wouldn’t be American, I suppose?’

  I swung round, feeling a jolt of surprise as I gazed up into a pair of dark eyes. Surely I had seen this man somewhere before?

  ‘Sorry, I’m English,’ I said. ‘What made you think I might be American?’

  ‘It was more a hope,’ he said, giving me a rueful grin. ‘And the dress, of course. It is fabulous. Where did you buy it?’

  ‘It belongs to a friend,’ I replied. ‘I believe she bought it in Paris several years ago.’

  ‘When it was all right to flaunt your wealth and style, before you all had to become patriotic. It looks wonderful on you,’ he said. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘By the way, I’m Jack Harvey … Have we met somewhere before?’

  I took the hand he offered and laughed as I suddenly realized why he looked familiar. ‘Well, sort of,’ I said. ‘I bumped into you one day in the street. I was reading a newspaper …’

  ‘Of course!’ He was still holding my hand, a look of amusement on his face. ‘Yes, I remember you. I asked you out for a drink but you turned me down. It was the dress that threw me for a start – but I never forget a face. Especially such a lovely face as yours, Miss …?’

  ‘Mrs Jonathan Reece,’ I said and laughed as he looked disappointed. ‘Emma to my friends. I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Harvey.’

  ‘Jack to everyone,’ he replied. ‘Unless it’s official business, of course. So how does one become your friend, Mrs Reece? How do I qualify?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said, feeling that I had been hit by a whirlwind, and rather bemused. ‘I suppose if we were introduced by someone we both knew … Why do you ask?’

  ‘Who brought you tonight?’

  ‘Sol … Solomon Gould,’ I replied. ‘As a matter of fact he has just come in. He is looking for me. Perhaps I should go …’ I saw that he was smiling as if very amused about something. ‘Why are you smiling like that – is something funny?’

  ‘It just so happens I know Mr Gould,’ he replied. ‘We were talking a moment ago. I think we have business together …’

  Sol came up to us then. His gaze narrowed as he looked at Jack Harvey. ‘So …’ he said. ‘You’ve met Emma …’

  ‘I introduced myself,’ Jack replied. ‘Mrs Reece is the most attractive lady in the room. I couldn’t pass up the chance to say hi … besides, we have met before. Just briefly, haven’t we, Mrs Reece?’

  ‘Briefly, yes.’

  Sol nodded. He seemed a little on edge about something. ‘Have you thought any more about what I asked you?’

  ‘I think we need to discuss it some more,’ Jack replied. �
��Perhaps we could meet somewhere … more private?’

  ‘Come for dinner tomorrow?’ Sol invited. ‘My wife would be pleased to entertain you, Harvey.’

  ‘Jack, please,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we need to stand on ceremony with each other. It seems likely we’ll do business, Sol …’

  Sol looked surprised but pleased. ‘That’s what I like to hear, Jack. You know where I live, of course. We’ll see you tomorrow then, at seven-thirty.’ He glanced at me. ‘Would you like to go now, Emma?’

  ‘Yes please, if you’re ready.’ I turned to Jack Harvey. ‘It was nice meeting you, Mr Harvey.’

  ‘And you, Mrs Reece.’

  I tucked my arm through Sol’s as we left the hotel together.

  ‘Who is he? What kind of business is he in?’

  ‘Mr Harvey is the business of making money,’ Sol replied. ‘His family owns a chain of fashion stores in America, but he’s more what you would call an entrepreneur … has his fingers in a lot of pies: he knows a great many influential people. I’ve been trying to establish an outlet with his family’s firm for my stock for years, but they’ve always turned me down flat. I offered Jack a deal this evening, but I thought he was going to turn me down again … something must have changed his mind. I wonder …?’

  ‘What kind of a deal, Sol?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just something that might protect our profits a little, Emma.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean?’

  ‘I want to invest some money with their firm,’ Sol said as he took me out to the car. ‘I have quite a bit of spare cash, Emma, money that I’ve been keeping out of the way. I knew things were going to get difficult in this country, and I didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket. If the war goes badly here, we could lose everything – but America will survive. I just need someone who is willing to take my cash out of the country and invest it in a business there.’