by Rosie Clarke
‘Gwen has other trinkets. It is not very valuable, Emma, but I have enjoyed wearing it. I would like you to keep it … to remember me by. We have not known each other long, but I have become fond of you.’
‘And I of you,’ I assured her. My eyes stung but I blinked away my tears. ‘I shall never forget you. I don’t need the brooch to remind me of you, Grandmother – but I shall always treasure it.’
She nodded. ‘Give me a kiss then, child – and now it’s time for our supper. I am ready for my bed.’
My visit was over all too soon. I was thoughtful as I drove home. It was likely that I would not see Grandmother Robinson again. I would have to consider what best to do for Gwen. She was determined to find work. She had told me that she would not accept the ten pounds a month after her mother was dead.
‘You have been more than generous to us, Emma. I shall manage when I don’t have Mother to worry about. I’ll find work of some kind.’
But what kind of work could Gwen do? She was not trained for anything other than looking after an elderly relative.
I knew she wanted to be independent. She would not accept an offer to come and live with us and help out at the showroom, but I believed she would find it difficult to support herself without help.
Something must be done to enable her to earn her living – but what? It was quite a puzzle, but one I was determined to solve. I liked Gwen and I believed her life had been hard. I would find a way of helping her somehow, a way that did not rob her of her pride.
It was 7 December 1941 and the news had shocked us. Sol handed me his paper and I stared at it in stunned silence. We had heard the announcement on the radio but could hardly believe it, now here it was in print. The Japanese had bombed the American Navy in Pearl Harbour, destroying nineteen ships and over two hundred planes.
‘What does this mean?’ I asked at last. ‘What is going to happen now, Sol?’
‘It means that the bloody Japs are idiots and Britain has just got lucky,’ Sol said, a huge grin replacing the shock on his face. ‘The American isolationists have been pulling most of the strings up until now, Emma, keeping Roosevelt from doing as much as he wanted to help us – but they won’t be able to stop him now. America will be in the war and that is good for us. It’s what we’ve been praying for.’
‘Yes …’ I looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Does this mean that Jack Harvey will be called up?’
‘I doubt it very much, Emma.’ Sol’s eyebrows gathered as he looked at me. ‘Worried about him? You needn’t be. He’s too important. His government won’t want him getting his head shot off … money and power, Emma, that’s Jack’s middle name.’
‘I see …’ I smiled at him. ‘I suppose I always knew that. He has never said very much …’
Jack had been here again in the summer, just after that terrible night in May when London had been devastated by one of the worst bombing raids ever. It had been a night that almost took the heart out of the city, shocking even the most hardened Londoners.
Like many others, I had wept to see the wanton destruction of our beautiful city. Westminster and the Chamber of Commons was hit, as was St. Paul’s, but they were only a few of the many areas destroyed by the five-hundred-odd German planes that had rained fire and vengeance on us – vengeance for the raids our bombers had made on their towns.
‘Don’t cry, Emma,’ Jack had said to me then. ‘The bastards will pay for this, I promise you. One of these days they will get such a kick up their rears they won’t know what’s hit them.’
Jack and I had become real friends on his last visit. I had tried to give him back his pearls, but he wouldn’t let me.
‘They were a gift,’ he said. ‘No strings attached, Emma. If you’re really my friend, you won’t insult me by trying to give them back.’
How could I refuse after that? Jack was a good friend. He had shown me a sheaf of reports relating to the search for Jon, and I knew it had cost him a lot of time and money to set all this in motion.
If he wanted me to keep the pearls, then it was the least I could do. Now, despite Sol’s reassurances, I was worried that Jack would be drawn into this terrible war, a war that was robbing so many women of their loved ones.
I had not heard from him for some weeks, and I wondered where he was and what he was doing …
I was in the showroom two days later, going through the rails to check on our stock levels when the front door opened. I did not immediately turn my head, because Janice was dressing the window and would call me if I was needed.
‘Busy, Emma?’
My heart jerked and I spun round in surprise as I heard Jack’s voice.
‘Jack!’ I cried, feeling pleased to see him. ‘When did you get back? We weren’t expecting you for months. We weren’t even sure you would come back … I’m so sorry about what happened, Jack.’
He nodded, his mouth tight and grim. ‘We were caught with our pants down, Emma. It’s a lesson learned the hard way.’
‘Yes … I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. I sensed he did not want to talk about it. ‘So what brings you here then?’
‘I decided to spend Christmas in England. Do you think Margaret will invite me for dinner on the big day?’
‘I’m sure she will,’ I said. ‘Oh, this is nice, Jack. It’s so good to see you!’ I leaned towards him impulsively, kissing his cheek.
‘That alone was worth crossing the Atlantic,’ Jack said, grinning at me. ‘I’ve no need to ask how you are, Emma. You look beautiful, as always.’
‘And you talk nonsense!’ I retorted. ‘I’m not beautiful, Jack. You must need to get your eyes tested.’
‘Same old sweet tongue,’ he murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘So, with spectacles I’d see that you’re just a plain, ugly old woman – but I like my eyesight the way it is, thanks all the same.’
‘Are you ever serious, Jack?’
‘Not unless I’m forced.’
I shook my head at him, but I had to admit I was pleased to see him. Far more pleased than I would have expected.
‘How long are you here for this time?’
‘A few weeks … it depends.’
‘Things to do, people to see? Lots of big deals on the cards?’
Jack nodded, amused. ‘Something like that. There was a time when some Americans didn’t really want to know about this war, Emma. Roosevelt has always been on your side, of course, but certain business people simply didn’t want to risk being involved. I’m glad to say the tide was turning even before Pearl Harbour, now of course we are in for the duration.’
‘But even before that it was people like you who were keeping hope alive for us … helping us in all sorts of ways we didn’t even guess … selling us weapons that were supposed to be surplus to American requirements – and perhaps a few that weren’t?’
‘Who told you that?’ Jack’s gaze narrowed. ‘Has Sol been telling tales out of school?’
‘He didn’t have to, Jack. You gave yourself away with those parcels you sent. You have to be someone important to send silk stockings by way of diplomatic channels!’
Jack threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘That appealed to you, did it? I knew I would get to you one day, Emma.’
‘You have the devil’s own cheek, Jack. I dare not think what else you get up to.’
‘You don’t want to know, Emma.’
‘No, I certainly don’t!’
I had no doubt that Jack was making a profit out of this war. He was not a man to fail. When he set out to achieve something, he did not do it by half measures. So he was certainly making a great deal of money somewhere along the line, but he was also helping our poor, beleaguered country. Some people would have condemned him for the profiteering, but I was enough Harold Robinson’s daughter to know that people expected to be rewarded for their work. Business was one thing, generosity on a personal level was quite another.
Jack had been generous to me. I hadn’t asked him if he had news of Jon. I’d kno
wn the answer from the moment I looked at him. He would have been full of himself if he’d had something good to tell me.
‘Would you come out with me this evening, Emma? I’ve got tickets for a play … Blithe Spirit. You may have seen it?’
‘No, I haven’t been to the theatre for ages. We usually stay home and listen to the radio these days, Jack. I suppose with the bombs … but yes, I would like to go. It would be really nice to go out again …’
I wore a new dress to go out with Jack that evening. I had bought it just before rationing came in and put it away at the back of my wardrobe, saving it for a special occasion. It was a deep midnight blue, made of a soft wool and very flattering to the figure.
‘I like you in blue,’ Jack said as we walked home from the theatre. ‘I shall never forget the dress you were wearing the night we met … you looked so lovely, standing there on your own. Like a medieval lady …’
‘A damsel in distress?’ I asked, teasing him. ‘So you rode in to the rescue – my knight in shining armour.’
Jack smiled. ‘Something like that. Unfortunately for me, someone else had got there first …’
‘Don’t Jack … please. You know I love Jon. You’ve always known.’
‘Jon is dead, Emma. You’re going to have to face that one of these days. I’m sorry, my darling, but it’s true.’
‘You don’t know that. I accept that it seems that way, but we can’t be sure.’
‘No, we can’t be certain,’ he said, and stopped walking. He took my arm, turning me to face him. ‘How long are you going to wait, Emma? You know I care for you … want you …’
‘Please don’t,’ I whispered, my throat tight with emotion. When he looked at me like that it made me feel weak inside and I needed to be strong. ‘Don’t ask me to choose, Jack. If you do, I shall have to choose Jon. I can’t give up. I can’t just abandon him, forget him. Not yet. I have to go on believing, waiting …’
‘Yes, I see that. I thought perhaps … but you’re not ready to forget him. He’s a lucky guy, Emma. A lot of women stray five minutes after their husbands leave home.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘You want to bet on it?’
I shook my head. I supposed there were women who were so lonely they went with other men while their husbands were away fighting, but that seemed so cruel to me.
‘I love him, Jack. Don’t you believe in loyalty?’
‘Yes, I do.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I think that may be one of the reasons I fell for you, Emma. I respect you. I know you love Jon – but I think you feel something for me, too. Or am I kidding myself?’
His eyes seemed to bore into mine, seeking the secret places of my mind.
‘No …’ I couldn’t look at him. It was true that a part of me found Jack very attractive. He made me laugh, and I was beginning to look forward to his letters and visits. I was aware of an attraction between us, had been aware of it from the first. ‘No, you’re not mistaken, Jack. I am becoming fond of you …’
‘Fond, Emma?’
Before I knew what he intended, Jack reached for me, gathering me into his arms and kissing me in a way that left me breathless and shaken. I stood still within the circle of his arms, refusing to let myself cling to him, but when he let me go at last, I put my fingers to my mouth, staring at him in bewilderment. How could I feel this racing excitement inside me? How could I experience such wild, pulsating desire? I loved my husband. I loved Jon so much … and yet I had never once felt like this when he kissed me. This was something new … something I feared while it thrilled me.
‘Fond, Emma?’ Jack said again. His eyes were leaping with a mixture of excitement and triumph. He had felt my response, try as I might to conceal it. ‘I would say your feelings were a little stronger. I think you want me … almost as much as I want you.’
It was true. A wave of horror swept over me as I realized everything he claimed was true. I did want him. His kiss had aroused a huge, aching need in me, a need I had suppressed without knowing it through months of lonely nights.
‘No! I can’t … I won’t!’
I broke away from Jack and began to run along the pavement. I was angry, with myself and with Jack for making me face the truth. Yes, I wanted to make love with him. I wanted, needed the physical comfort I knew he could give me, but I did not want this to happen. It would be a betrayal of my husband. It would be like abandoning Jon, as if I had thrown dirt into his open grave.
Jack came after me. He caught my arm, swinging me round to face him.
‘No, Emma. I won’t let you run away from this … I refuse to let you go on hiding behind your grief.’
My desperate reply was lost as the sirens wailed.
‘Damn!’ Jack looked about him. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We head for the nearest underground,’ I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him with me. ‘It may be just a false alarm, but I’m not going to risk it.’
We joined hands and followed the general rush towards the nearest entrance to an underground station.
‘We’re going to have to talk about this, Emma. I’m not prepared to give you up.’
‘Yes, I know we have to talk,’ I said. ‘But not tonight, Jack. Please? Give me time. Let me think about this … please?’
There was a terrific roar somewhere close by, then a flash as fire shot into the night sky. Jack pulled me against the wall, sheltering me with his body as the ground shook and a building across the road came tumbling down. We had been standing in that very spot only a few minutes earlier, and the knowledge that we could have been killed was sobering. I buried my face against Jack’s shoulder as the shudders ran through me.
‘Jack …’
‘It’s all right, darling.’
‘But we …’
‘I love you, Emma,’ he whispered against my hair. ‘I’m not going to lose you. I’ll wait for as long as it takes – but one day you’ll come to me. You won’t be able to help yourself. You will come to me, because we were meant to be together …’
‘Come on, Jack,’ I urged as I heard the whistling sound that struck terror into the hearts of Londoners. ‘Let’s get inside before another one falls …’
‘You were so late in last night,’ Margaret said to me the next morning at breakfast. ‘I had begun to think something must have happened to you.’
On the radio they were playing one of the popular songs of the year – Blues in the Night. I turned the sound down slightly.
‘I’m sorry if you were worried, Margaret. The sirens went as we were walking home after the play. We had to take shelter until the all clear went. I hope I didn’t wake you when we came in? I asked Jack in and gave him a brandy. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. This is your home, Emma. You can always bring your friends here.’
‘Thank you.’ I poured myself a cup of tea. ‘Jack has business elsewhere for a few days, but when he comes back … I thought we might ask him to dinner one evening?’
‘Yes, of course. Surely you know you don’t have to ask?’ Margaret looked directly at me. I felt myself blushing, because I sensed what was in her mind. ‘You know that Jack is very much in love with you?’ I nodded. She paused, then, ‘Did you know that when he returns to America he is planning to join the army?’
‘No, of course he won’t. Why should he? Sol said his government wouldn’t want Jack to fight – that he was too important …’ The thought of Jack risking his life was somehow too terrible to contemplate.
‘Jack is his own man,’ Margaret said gently. ‘He will do whatever he thinks is right. While his own country stayed out of the war he was content to make money and help us in whatever way he could – now he feels he should be prepared to do more.’
‘That’s silly,’ I said as the fear began to crawl down my spine. ‘He can’t … why should he? Anyone can shoot guns and get themselves killed. Jack can do so much others can’t. He is needed in other ways … I don’t see why he has to
fight.’
‘I suppose he needs to fight,’ Margaret said, her brow wrinkling. ‘Some men do. Forgive me if I’m wrong, Emma – but I thought you should know. I understand that you still love Jon, and you haven’t given up hope of his return – but don’t lose this chance to be happy. We none of us know how long we have. So far we have all been lucky. It sounds wicked of me to say this, my dear, but people were killed last night. It could have been you. Does it make sense to be faithful to a memory when you could be killed on the streets any day? Is it sensible to deny your own heart?’
‘Margaret – please don’t!’
‘Think about it, Emma. For your own sake, that’s all I ask – and for Jack’s. We all have just a few chances for happiness in our lives. They go by so quickly. If we miss them, they may not come again. Take what you can, my dear. You are too young, too alive, to waste your life in regret. I’m sure Jon would not blame you.’
‘No, he wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘He would want me to be happy. You are right, Margaret. I know that. It’s just that it feels like a betrayal … that I’m abandoning him …’
‘I know,’ she said and smiled at me in understanding. ‘But Jon loved you, really loved you. He would hate to think of you alone. He wouldn’t want you to go on grieving for ever. You must know that, Emma. Face the truth, my dearest – or you may regret it for the rest of your life.’
Tears welled up inside me. I turned away, my shoulders shaking. I had filled the past months with working, suppressing my grief, suppressing my loneliness, never letting myself think about my situation – about what I would do if Jon never came back to me.
My love for Jon had not diminished. I would never stop loving him, never forget him, but I was young. I was alive. I needed to live and to love – and I did love Jack. I loved him in a way I had loved no other man.
I thought of nothing else for the next three days. My conscience told me that I must not betray my husband. I had promised to love him, forsaking all others for the rest of our lives, and I had fully intended to keep those vows. Until the moment when Jack kissed me, I had not even thought of seeking comfort in another man’s arms. I had accepted my loneliness as a part of the price we all had to pay for this dreadful war, and I had consoled myself with the hope that at the end of it all Jon might somehow come back to me.