‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand?’
‘Why should you?’ Robyn looked down at her overpolished shoes. ‘I think Eddie’s father was the love of Aunt Cicely’s life.’
Caro’s heart sank as she realised that it was quite possible that Robyn was thinking herself into Aunt Cicely’s shoes, first joining the Nursing Yeomanry, and now, obviously to bring everything neatly into a joined-up circle, falling for the son of her great love. She had heard this could happen to people, that they could become obsessed with the past.
‘Don’t you think maybe you’re—’
‘No, as a matter of fact, I don’t.’
Robyn stood up abruptly and, going to her jacket, she plucked out a packet of cigarettes.
‘I’m leaving for London later, once we’ve finished putting up the blackout in the offices, which is appallingly difficult because the windows are stone and nothing sticks – but let me know if you want to come.’
Caro, already unnerved by the prospect of her test, was now more unsettled. Everything was changing so fast, it made her feel odd, as if she had fallen down a hole and would soon bump into the Queen of Hearts. Indeed, she would not be at all surprised if a mouse didn’t stick its head out of the canteen teapot and start to go on about treacle.
Later, after Caro and Edwina had not just taken their tests, but passed them with flying colours – Edwina managing to change the wheels on her vehicle in the fastest ever recorded time – she put her titian-coloured head round the common-room door and smiled sweetly at Caro.
‘Come on, Shorty, we’re wanted, sharpish. And from what I’ve heard I think we’re going to be moving on, so better start learning some regimental songs.’ She stopped. ‘Do Fanys have any regimental songs? What they do have are pretty smart uniforms but, if the rumour is true, where you and I are going, dotey dear, we’re not going to be allowed to display our pretty little pink lanyards no more; nor indeed the perky little straps on our caps, that make us so awfully distinctive. Ooh, no, our new guvs, the Auxiliary Territorial Service will be frowning on them. Rumour is we’re going to be absorbed by them, doncher know?’
‘What is happening? What have you actually heard?’
Edwina put her head on one side, her expression solemn.
‘The new rumour is that we’re being sent to the Outer Hebrides to ferry fishermen back and forth from their islands, so all these driving tests we’ve been so busy passing are going to be completely useless, and we won’t even get to know all those lovely handsome officers about whom we have dreamed for aeons upon aeons, most especially those of us who hail from across the Irish Sea. So how are your rowing skills, Miss Garland?’
‘Oh, I can row all right,’ Caro reassured her. ‘But I’m not quite sure how all right when it comes to the North Sea, and whatnot.’
Edwina laughed. ‘You don’t frighten easily, do you, Caro Garland? Sure, wasn’t I teasing you in as cruel a way as I could think of? No, the rumour actually is that we are both being sent back to London, with our motor cars, to drive officers, just as our fond mammas had hoped, because that way we will meet young men from a beautiful background who will show us respect … I don’t think! Now, what kind of sacrifice is that?’
Caro stared at her, hope dawning, because much as she was ready and willing to do whatever was necessary for her country, rowing around the Hebrides sounded a bit out of her league, not that she would have let on, least of all to Edwina.
‘Is this true?’
‘If this be not true then no woman ever bought a lipstick, nor put on silk stockings, nor dabbed French perfume behind her ears. Of course this is true. Have you ever known a rumour around this training camp not be true? Besides, I have a friend, or, since she drives such a hard bargain, some might call her a fiend, in the office, and in return for two packets of cigarettes, not to mention a pair of my best silk stockings, damn her, she let me know our orders-to-be, and London it is.’
‘This is such good news. I’d much prefer to be in the thick of it.’
‘Oh, I know, dotey,’ Edwina drawled. ‘And so much nearer for the nightclubs … not to mention the Dorchester and the Ritz, and you know, everything that is just so much more us. Now let us set fair to go like Dick the Whit with his cat to Londinium town, where your dearly beloved friend Robyn Harding is already about to hasten. And I do believe if we hurry she might just have finished her cigarette, and we can cadge a lift in the auld Bentley.’
At that Caro held back.
‘No, I’ll drive us in the Fraser Nash. Robyn won’t want us trailing after her, not once we get to London.’ As Edwina looked at her with sudden interest, Caro lowered her voice. ‘Eddie Napier, you know, he has passionate leave. He might want to go for a drive with her, stay the night somewhere, and then we’d be without a lift. Besides, we don’t want to go around trailing after her, feeling like lumps of unwanted cargo, do we?’
‘No, of course not, being a gooseberry is only for fools!’ They both laughed. ‘But Eddie? Are you sure? Really? The Eddie you told me about? Really? So they really are going to make music, you think?’
Edwina entwined two elegant fingers, looking both amused and quizzical at the same time, which, because it was obviously going to be all too true, only succeeded in irritating Caro.
‘None of our business—’
‘Don’t be such a hypocrite, Shorty. It’s all of our business!’
‘At any rate, it doesn’t make any difference. The other reason to take our own motor is – is, well, for my money, Robyn drives too fast in the Bentley. So, all in all, I’d really rather drive myself in the Fraser Nash.’
‘Very correct, Shorty,’ Edwina said, but she still looked both quizzical and amused. ‘I will therefore be most pleased to accompany you, because I myself have no Eddie at the moment and, what’s more, none in mind. Besides, I drive dreadfully when I’m tight, and as I intend to be very-nicely-thank-you all weekend, I will willingly leave my dear motor behind and travel in yours.’
‘I just can’t wait to have some decent food.’
‘We must try not to be late back on parade, as we were last weekend; most of all we must try not to fall in love with the chaps with whom we dine and dance. Mind you, no risk of that with the Algernon I was landed with last Saturday night. However, now the dear old balloon has really gone up, love, as in falling in love, as in songs and such like, well, when you think about it, I think we should be well advised to avoid it. It is truly not practical.’
This was so much the opposite to what Robyn had said to her that Caro, who had been following Edwina at a fast trot down the corridor, instead overtook her, forcing her to come to a sudden halt.
‘What do you mean by that?’
Edwina gave Caro a bored look.
‘Well, now, Shorty, what do you think I mean by that, forsooth, if not fifth sooth? War, young men, love? Short-lived affairs are on the agenda from now on, but no time for Great Love. Dost thou twig now, or dost thou not twig? Pretty soon one will just be lucky to have a man, pretty well any man, to go out with, and that is the plain truth and nothing but the truth. In fact I am certain that in a very short time indeed, we will be grateful to go out with a fifty-year-old bus driver, let alone some poor Algernon de Montmorency, home on leave.’
‘Mmm, perfectly understood,’ Caro muttered, dropping her eyes.
‘Never give all the heart, that is the message. If we allow ourselves to fall in love we will be sure to break our hearts, whereas if we just love, as in making love, it will be much easier.’ Edwina shrugged. ‘If we just love and send the men on their way, even if they don’t return they will have something beautiful to remember, namely us, my dear. If we hang on to our hearts, we will not become useless to everyone and everything, for that is what happens when one loves and loses. One becomes useless, believe me, I know, because my mother told me, and she knew, if anyone did. Useless, hopeless and helpless, that is how one is left if one loves and is the one who is left.’
After which Ed
wina moved neatly past Caro, leaving her as always to follow, hurrying after her, for not only was Edwina a great deal taller than Caro, she was also more athletic. Edwina did not walk, she did not hurry, she did not stride, she loped. Tall, elegant and seemingly carefree, she loped ahead of her new shorter friend. Except from what she had just said, perhaps Edwina was not quite as carefree as she appeared to be.
Once they were in London, the three Fanys hurried round to Aunt Cicely’s flat, so convenient for the London hotels, which, it had been announced, would soon be serving only five-shilling menus, as ordered by the law. The shops were already being prepared with tapes and blackouts, and they knew not what, for the exigencies to come. It momentarily lowered Caro’s spirits to see all the preparations for war. Nevertheless, it was heaven to discard their uniforms and shimmy forth once more in civvies.
Caro stared at herself in the yellow suit, with the double collar of linen and black velvet in which she had originally travelled to London, and into which she had just changed. It was still stylish, and still very much Katherine. Well, why wouldn’t it be?
She knocked on the bathroom door where she could hear Edwina splashing and singing ‘The Mountains of Morn’ at the top of a considerable, and happily tuneful, soprano voice.
‘I’m just rushing off to the chemist’s for some nail varnish remover. Anything I can bring you, Edwina?’
Edwina turned off the taps and stopped singing.
‘Four thousand aspirins, please, for tomorrow morning.’
Next Caro went to Robyn’s bedroom door.
‘Need anything from the chemist?’
Robyn opened the door, and thrust a small white envelope at her.
‘Would you mind … ? Only I won’t have a chance to go myself later. Just hand it in to him, would you?’ she said, and quickly closed the door again.
Caro drove round to the well-known chemist’s shop Reading and Reading, a large establishment frequented by modish gentlemen and ladies, and according to Walter Beresford, supplier to the peerage of what had come to be known as ‘Coronation bottles’. The Abbey’s bathroom facilities being non-existent, the original and obviously obliging Mr Reading had had the foresight to invent a secret bottle, which, when positioned inside the lordly robes, helped relieve what might have been a quite insuperable problem for many a duke and belted earl.
Once inside the shop Caro made her own purchase, ordered Edwina’s aspirins and paid for them, before thrusting Robyn’s envelope at the grave-faced assistant, who, noting the poor young woman’s heightened colour, disappeared with it, then reappeared and returned the envelope and the order, discreetly parcelled up in brown paper. After which Caro paid, and hurried thankfully from the premises.
Although it was now September she was still driving the Fraser Nash with its dark blue roof folded down, still enjoying the fresh air, and the colours of late summer, while all the time feeling secretly guilty that she could enjoy anything at all, considering that the country was now at war.
She opened the boot, and put the parcel in to it, and then walked round to the driver’s door, which was when she saw it. There it was, curled up and over the steering wheel of the motor car, unmistakable in its bright colour, and its silk texture – the bright green paisley scarf that Katherine had always worn with the yellow suit that Caro was now wearing.
Caro untied the scarf and, without really thinking, she draped it around her shoulders while all the time looking around her for its true owner.
‘Katherine? Katherine?’ she found herself murmuring. ‘Katherine, please come out from wherever you are.’
Katherine had always been good at playing sardines, hiding in places where no one would have ever dreamed of looking for her, nearly always having to reveal herself because the rest of them couldn’t get on with their game if they never, ever found her.
Now it seemed nothing had changed, for even as she walked up and down that London street, Caro could have sworn that she could hear Katherine laughing, and she found herself hoping against hope that her beloved older sister would suddenly appear as if from nowhere, saying, ‘Here I am, you silly thing!’
But walk up and down as often as she did, no elder sister appeared, so that finally Caro drove off back to the flat, leaving behind a note tucked into the envelope that Robyn had given her, but which was now left sticking on the lamppost nearby.
‘Katherine! My number is Mayfair 342. Please, please ring me. Caro.’
Robyn opened the door before Caro could even put her front door key in the lock.
‘You’ve been gone long enough,’ she snapped, immediately taking the brown-paper parcel from Caro.
‘The aspirins are Edwina’s, and the nail varnish remover mine,’ Caro called after her.
She hurried off to her own bedroom, which, being double, she was now sharing with Edwina.
‘Where did you get that scarf, dotey? Never seen that before. It is heaven on earth, and stars in the sky too.’
Edwina was standing looking not unlike a titian-haired Statue of Liberty, draped in a long, fluffy white bath towel, her red hair caught up in a silk bandana. She reached out a dry hand and stroked the paisley scarf.
‘Perfect taste, well done,’ she murmured.
Caro looked away. Who to tell? Must tell someone. Not to tell someone would be unbearable, and Robyn was understandably a bit nervy just now.
‘Edwina?’
‘Yes, dotey dear?’
‘You see this scarf?’
‘Yes, dotey dear. That is why I remarked upon it, because I saw it, noted it and admired it. Dot, dot, dot.’
‘Well, that’s just it, Edwina …’ Caro sat down on her bed, staring first in front of her and then up at Edwina.
‘What’s “just it”, Shorty?’
‘This scarf was always worn by Katherine, with this suit. And … and when she went, well, she left some of her clothes behind, including this suit, so everyone thought it perfectly all right to have it altered for me – the suit, I mean – because you know, she was, is, taller than me. So that’s what we did, we had it altered.’
‘So you did, dotey dear. And … ?’ Edwina smiled in what she herself would describe as a ‘kind-ish’ sort of way, although her foot was beginning to tap. ‘If you don’t mind hurrying the narrative along just a little, I am about to drift into the bathroom and apply a mass of makeup to my beautiful visage.’
‘But, you see, Katherine never left the scarf behind, this green paisley scarf which she always wore with this suit. She took it away with her, I know she did, but … well, I just found it wrapped around my steering wheel when I came out of Reading and Reading. So you see what this must mean?’
Edwina now sat down on the dressing-table stool, staring at Caro, all quips for once forgotten.
‘I think I do see,’ she agreed slowly. ‘Your bad-girl elder sister, who disappeared with her very bad fascist beau, must be somewhere around in London, still being bad and a fascist, no doubt.’
‘She must be! No one else could have seen me in this suit, this yellow suit, and left this green paisley scarf except Katherine. It is just not possible.’
‘What will you do?’
‘What can I do? What should I do?’
The expression on Edwina’s face was unusually solemn. ‘I would say you should report it to someone. After all, she must be considered a danger to the state with her leanings, surely? They will have to be told.’
‘But if they find her and David, maybe they’ll think they are traitors and put them in prison.’
‘So they will, dotey dear, and well deserved too, I’m sorry to tell you. They are both our common enemy now—’
‘Katherine could never be common,’ Caro put in quickly. ‘She is too stylish, too beautiful.’
‘No, but stylish or not, she is certainly our enemy,’ Edwina continued in a crisp voice. ‘And, sister or no sister, you will have to report that you know she is in London, as of now. I’m afraid it’s your duty, or mine,’ she end
ed firmly.
Caro stood up. ‘You’re right. I’ll go and tell Robyn.’
‘How will she help?’
‘She knows where to go; she’s been wherever it is already. Some friend or relative of her Aunt Cicely, an uncle or someone – he is the one everyone goes to, apparently.’
* * *
A few hours later Caro found herself, in full evening dress, calling round, but not at a Victoria address, for it appeared that ‘Uncle Max’ had moved on since Robyn’s visit to him. This time he was to be found at a discreet address in Dolphin Square.
She rang the electric bell and the door was almost immediately opened by a sober-suited gentleman, who closed it behind her with a worried look, having first peered into the corridor outside the front door, perhaps to ascertain that no one had seen her.
‘I quite understand that you were on your way out, but if anyone sees someone as glamorous as you visiting me, you might be followed. Do please sit down.’
The flat, far from being domestically furnished, was a series of rooms quite obviously functioning as offices. Certainly the room into which ‘Uncle Max’ led Caro was lined with official reference books and filing cabinets, leaving just enough room for a desk behind which he now sat himself, leaving Caro to sit opposite him.
‘So, as I understand it,’ he concluded after an exchange of dialogue that outlined the reasons for her visit and much else besides, ‘you found this scarf, which you know to belong to your sister, Katherine Garland –’ he looked down at his notes – ‘yes, Katherine, was Garland, possibly now Astley – a few hours ago, and it was, you say, draped around your steering wheel? And you now think that this proves that she and Astley, both known members of the British Union of Fascists and supporters of Hitler, are most likely still in London?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘And this was outside that good old chemist’s shop Reading and Reading at about four o’clock this afternoon?’ He looked at his watch. ‘They never do shut, do they?’ he observed inconsequentially. ‘I’ve been there for a hangover cure at four in the morning of a Sunday, you know, and one of them was still able to mix me his special cure with a smile and a joke. Marvellous fellows. They’ll be needed more than ever now, of course. Quite a few headaches on the way, I’m afraid.’
Goodnight Sweetheart Page 13