Yet a shadow was gathering over Europe, and the talk in the Tradesmen’s Arms echoed its menace.
‘What d’you make of it, Eddie?’ asked Tom Munday. ‘They’re holding a special service in St Peter’s on Sunday, to pray for peace – that things’ll settle down and the old kaiser’ll stop banging the drums o’ war.’
‘I can’t see it coming to anything, myself,’ replied Cooper. ‘Don’t know what it’s got to do with us, anyway.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said Tom, frowning. ‘Ernest’s friend Aaron Pascoe is doing his best to persuade his parents to leave Germany and come over here. His father’s English, but the mother’s German, a sister of old Mr Schelling that Ernest works for. They’ve got a very nice place out there, and I don’t suppose they fancy leaving it all and coming to live with her Jewish relatives in London.’
‘You can hardly blame them! Why does their son want them to?’
‘Ernest says that if there was a war, they’d be on the wrong side, wouldn’t they? That’s reason enough!’
‘Get away with you, Tom, things aren’t that bad. And your Ernest always was a worrier!’ Eddie smiled as he drained his glass. ‘Havin’ another?’
‘No, thanks. And don’t be so sure. The British Regular Army’s being mobilised, and young Cedric Neville has gone to join his unit in the Territorials. Before we know where we are, they’ll be calling up the young, single men – and that could mean Ernest and young Pascoe. It’s all right for you, Eddie, your little lad’s only a tiddler.’
Eddie thought a change of subject was called for. ‘How’s that daughter o’ yours getting on? The one that’s moving to London to be near her curate?’
‘Storey’s a vicar now, with his own church, and they’re both determined to be married, whatever his bishop says,’ answered Tom with a half-smile, for he sympathised with the couple. ‘He’s coming to stay a couple o’ days with us next week, and I won’t be saying no to them, Eddie. Violet’s against it, of course, and says Isabel’s much too young. I think she’s worried that the girl could have a couple o’ kids before she’s twenty-one – before she’s had any life of her own. But if it’s what they want, God knows they’ve waited long enough, and I won’t stand in their way.’
Eddie nodded. ‘I think you’re right, Tom. If my Mary had the chance of a decent man like him, I’d give ’em my blessing, though so far she’s been happy enough with the Yeomanses, in fact they’re more like parents to her than I am.’
‘I’ll tell you what, Eddie, I’d be a jolly sight more worried about my Grace if she hadn’t got this nice little job at Mrs Brangton’s, a sensible woman who keeps an eye on her. You never saw such a change in a girl, and it’s a big relief to her mother and me, I can tell you!’
While the threat of war drew closer, Grace Munday had never had so much fun in her life as now. When Mr Coggins’s summons came to her at Stepaside, she at once pulled off her frilly apron and cap, and tossed them into Mrs Brangton’s office.
‘Sorry, Mrs B, but I’ve got better things to do!’ she called out happily. ‘Say good-bye to Mrs Bentley-Foulkes for me!’ And she literally ran all the way from the high-class tea rooms to the Railway Hotel, where her expectations were fully justified. On every hand there were smiles and complimentary words for the pretty young girl tripping daintily between the tables crowded with officers off to their regiments, sailors going to rejoin their ships, and men on their way to enlist. The fact that she did not report her change of employer to her parents was simply to avoid an unnecessary rumpus, and she intended to wait for an opportune moment. A spirit of adventure filled the air, and Grace soon learnt that a large number of the Railway Hotel’s new clientele was actually hoping for war and the chance to play their part in it.
Neither Ernest Munday nor Aaron Pascoe felt any desire to respond to all the excited talk of a call to arms. Aaron’s fears for his parents and their younger children in Elberfeld had dominated every other issue, and having discussed the matter with his uncle, the whole Schelling family, supported by their rabbi in London, had brought all their influence to bear on Aaron’s father, Victor Pascoe, to persuade him to bring his family over to England and settle with the strong second-generation Jewish community in Tamarind Street, Whitechapel.
‘My mother’s very reluctant to leave the home they have in Elberfeld and cram themselves in with her London relations,’ Aaron told Ernest, ‘but with the situation as it is now in Germany, my father had no choice but to insist. They’re arriving sometime next week, and my uncle’s giving me time off to meet them at Southampton and then travel with them to Tamarind Street. I shall be so thankful to see them safely installed with my Schelling grandparents.’
‘And I’ll be thankful to know your mind’s at rest,’ Ernest answered fervently, for his friend’s strained and anxious eyes troubled him. ‘Just so long as you don’t decide to stay in London with them!’
Aaron laughed briefly. ‘No fear of that, they’re much too ambitious for me to take over Schelling and Pascoe at some future time! Come on, Ernest, let’s go and have lunch at the Railway Hotel today, and see what news we can pick up at first hand. I’m tired of newspaper conjecture, and if men are enlisting at the rate the papers say, I’d like to meet a few of them and hear what they’re saying.’
‘Yes, ask them if they really want to go abroad to fight and kill other young fellows like themselves,’ said Ernest with a shiver. ‘Leaving home, parents, families, friends, everything they hold dear.’
‘But it’s to defend those very things, old chap, don’t you see, that’s what’s firing them all to join up – come on, let’s go and see what we can find out!’
On entering the restaurant, the first thing Ernest saw was his sister Grace serving at the tables, and she saw him. She came straight over.
‘I’m going to tell Dad today, Ernest, really I am,’ she pleaded. ‘Mr Coggins, he’s the manager, simply begged me to come in and give a hand, they’ve got that busy! I can be so much more useful here than in that other silly little…that quiet little place.’
She glanced at Aaron, and saw him smiling at her brother’s discomfiture. ‘Honestly, Mr Pascoe, I have to work much harder here, and Ernest knows how tired I am when I get home from work,’ she said with a beguiling look. ‘Please, you must ask him to keep it to himself for the time being – our parents are so dreadfully strict!’
Ernest regarded her gravely. ‘I won’t tell on you, Grace,’ he began, but cut short her smiles as she clasped her hands together in gratitude. ‘I’ll give you the opportunity to tell them yourself. This evening. Yes, Grace, they’ll be hurt because you should have told them earlier, but if you tell them that you’re sincerely sorry, I’ll put in a good word for you.’
Grace’s smile faded, to be replaced by penitence. ‘All right, Ernest, as long as you let me tell them myself first, and I’ll say how very, very sorry I am.’ She turned to Aaron with a wink that her brother could not see. ‘And now, gentlemen, may I take your order?’
When she reached home that evening, artful Grace did not confess immediately to her mother, who she knew would be shocked and furious, but waited until her father came in, hot and tired after a day spent building a new chicken house at Yeomans’ farm. Grace waited until he had finished his supper, then gently tugged at his sleeve and, looking up demurely, whispered, ‘Will you come out in the garden, Daddy? I want to tell you something.’
Tom was at once alerted by being called Daddy instead of Dad, and her air of a worried little girl expecting blame. He gave her a reassuring smile as they went outside, thinking there may have been some trouble with a customer at Stepaside. But when he understood that Grace had been working for the last two weeks at the Railway Hotel without mentioning the fact, let alone asking her parents’ permission, he was truly stunned, and she saw that she was not going to get off lightly.
‘It was worrying me, Daddy, because I knew I ought to tell you and Mum, but the longer I left it the harder it got – and then today I k
new I couldn’t go on deceiving you any longer.’ She burst into tears.
‘Well, I must give you credit for owning up at last, Grace, though your mother will be very upset about the way you’ve deceived us.’
‘I know, Daddy, I know, and I’m so very, very sorry!’ she sobbed, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Will you tell her for me, Daddy?’
‘No, Grace, you’ll have to tell her yourself, and I hope you’ll feel thoroughly ashamed for causing her such a shock. I’ll have a word with her afterwards, but you must go indoors now, this very minute, and ask her to come to the parlour with you, to tell her privately.’
Violet Munday was indeed horrified, not least because all their North Camp neighbours had been told of Grace’s favoured position at Stepaside; heaven only knew what they would say about the Railway Hotel, if they didn’t know already, and how they would laugh! Yet after a long talk between herself and Tom that night, it was decided that Grace might as well continue to work for Mr Coggins, seeing that she seemed to be settled there, and there being no chance of her returning to Stepaside. Violet had no choice but to agree, but she felt hemmed in by trouble on all sides: the Reverend Mark Storey was coming to stay for two days, from the Tuesday until the Thursday of the last week in July, and he had made it quite clear that his purpose was to discuss his marriage to their daughter Isabel.
‘He’s not sleeping here, not under this roof!’ declared Violet. ‘It would be most improper, and heaven knows what people would say.’
Tom did not attempt to override, for he felt sure that the young clergyman would be more at ease sleeping at another house, away from Mrs Munday’s cold disapproval.
‘There are plenty o’ kind-hearted people in North Camp who’ll be glad to put him up for a couple o’ nights, and I’ll write to tell him we haven’t got a spare room,’ he answered, even though Ernest had volunteered to give up his own room to Mark and stay with the Schellings, where the anxiety over Aaron’s family was growing by the day, and Ernest was affected by it on his friend’s behalf.
But the Mundays were in for a surprise. At church that Sunday the Rev. Mr Saville stopped them as they filed out and said that he and his wife were looking forward to having Mark to stay with them.
‘He’ll be back in his old room, and we only wish that he could stay longer,’ he said. ‘The problem will be that so many of our parishioners will want to see him again and speak with him – and of course he will be otherwise engaged, won’t he?’ He smiled at his own little pun.
Isabel was delighted and Violet astonished by this change of attitude since the banishment of the lovesick curate. It gave North Camp a clear message that Mr Storey had earned his right to marry pretty, popular Miss Munday, and that a local wedding was in the offing. It was also a signal to Violet Munday that she too would need to change her viewpoint and look kindly on her future son-in-law; it was much better to receive congratulations than condolences.
So Mark received a very cordial welcome when Isabel led him into the front parlour to meet her parents, who were at once impressed by his older appearance and confident air. There’s a man who’s chosen his path in life and is following it, thought Tom Munday, giving him a warm handshake, and Violet graciously offered him her hand. When Ernest and Grace arrived home from their places of work in Everham, they too greeted him with undisguised pleasure, and when Mrs Munday and Isabel announced that dinner was ready, the whole family sat down to a roast leg of mutton with vegetables from the garden, and Mark said grace on behalf of them all.
The conversation flowed fairly easily at first, and Tom admired Mark’s enthusiasm for his work, the genuine concern he felt for his parishioners, churchgoers and non-churchgoers alike.
‘Mr and Mrs Clements send their love to you, Isabel, and asked me to say that you’ll always be welcome in their house,’ he said, for Isabel had entirely won over Mr Clements and almost won over his wife during her recent short stay.
‘I shan’t need their hospitality for much longer, will I, Mark?’ she said, looking up at him with shining eyes, then turning to her parents, she told them of their proposed plans.
‘We shall be married here at St Peter’s, and Mark and I want it to be a quiet wedding,’ she said. ‘And we think that the middle of October would be a good time, so that I shall be there to help Mark at Christmas.’
There was a gasp, and the Mundays looked at each other in shocked surprise.
‘October?’ Violet could not hide her dismay. ‘So soon? Don’t you think you should wait another year or two, until Isabel’s at least twenty, and…and all this talk of war is over?’ She glanced at her husband for his support, but Tom had already guessed his daughter’s intentions, and nodded at Mark to hear what he had to say.
‘I can understand how you feel, Mrs Munday,’ began Mark courteously, ‘and your views are shared by my own parents to some extent, but it’s partly because of the uncertainties of the times that Isabel and I want to make a firm commitment to each other now, rather than later. None of us know what the outcome will be, but the signs are not hopeful, and—’
‘Mark and I know each other’s minds, and we’ve waited long enough,’ cut in Isabel, her voice firm and clear. ‘And until our wedding, I’m going to stay at the home of Mr and Mrs Clements—’
‘Oh, no, Isabel, no!’ cried Violet Munday. ‘You can’t leave your home so soon, you must stay with us for Christmas – shouldn’t she, Tom?’
Tom had also suffered a pang at the news of his daughter’s imminent departure from home, but he could only offer her his blessing, because she was as determined as Mark, and no amount of persuasion would change her mind.
‘I want to get to know as much about Mark’s parish as I can,’ she told them, ‘and then when I go into St Barnabas’ Church as his wife, I won’t be a stranger to them. You must try to understand, Mum and Dad, it won’t make any difference between us, I’ll always love you as much as I do now.’ Her voice faltered a little, and Tom reached out his hand to touch hers across the table.
‘We know, Isabel, we know, and your mother and I wish you well. I think you’re probably doing the right thing.’
Ernest felt that a few words were required of him, and smiled at his sister.
‘I…we shall miss you, Isabel, but knowing that you’re with Mark, we shan’t mind as much…as if…’ He could say no more, and for some reason his thoughts flew to Aaron; he looked down at his plate to hide his eyes, suddenly full of tears.
‘And I shall be bridesmaid!’ exclaimed Grace, clapping her hands together and beaming round the table.
The visit passed quickly, and all too soon, it seemed to Mark, it was time for him to leave North Camp; he and Isabel had not had much time alone together, but she was to come to Bethnal Green at the end of August, to stay with Mr and Mrs Clements.
‘But what about Miss Daniells and the children who need you at the school?’ asked her mother.
‘Surely you’re not going to leave them in the lurch?’
‘No, Mum, this is the opportunity Phyllis Bird has been waiting for,’ replied Isabel with a smile. ‘She’ll be taking my place in September, and she won’t be sorry to leave the Post Office, I can tell you!’
At some time before the wedding Mark planned to take Isabel to visit his elderly parents in Gloucestershire. Isabel knew that his father was a retired clergyman, and that his parents had their reservations at his marrying such a young girl, though they were prepared to give him their blessing.
When he returned to the vicarage on the Thursday evening, she walked with him as far as the thick, curving beech hedge, where they stopped just inside the gate, unseen from the house. He at once folded her in his arms.
‘Dearest Isabel, I am afraid that there may be war ahead, but God’s given me the greatest blessing a man can possess, so I don’t need to fear the future,’ he whispered, his lips against her hair.
‘I-I just hope that your parents will accept me,’ she whispered back.
‘When I take y
ou to see them, my love, they won’t have any more doubts, they’ll just marvel that such a wonderful girl could have chosen me!’
The sweetness of their kisses said more than any words, and Mark at last drew away from her, and said she must go back; he could not trust himself further.
When Ernest arrived at the office of Schelling and Pascoe on the Thursday morning, Aaron had departed for Southampton, and thoughts of him and his returning family filled Ernest’s head; no news came through that day, though the newspapers were full of alarming stories, including that the British Fleet was preparing to go to sea; there was nothing about a ship docking passengers at Southampton. At noon on the Friday the telephone rang in Mr Schelling’s office, and Ernest sat stock-still and with bated breath, waiting for the news it brought, if any.
‘That was Aaron, and he says they have arrived!’ shouted Mr Schelling, and Ernest exhaled a long sigh of relief. The rest of the day was spent wondering if the Pascoes had managed to get a train to London, for the railways were in a state of chaos, with long delays and cancellations. When the office closed that evening, there had been no further news, and Ernest was loath to leave Mr and Mrs Schelling who were clearly very worried.
‘You will take charge of the office tomorrow as usual, Mr Munday,’ said Mr Schelling, ‘and if there is no more news overnight I shall travel up to Waterloo by whatever train is running, to see if they’ve arrived at Tamarind Street or not.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Ernest assured him, though he felt helpless to be of any real use or comfort, and spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning, trying to pray for the safety of Aaron’s family – his parents Victor and Eva Pascoe, their son, Jonathan, and the girls Greta and Devora; he felt that he knew them personally, having heard Aaron constantly talking about them during the last month. His parents heard him groan out loud at one point in the night, and Violet wanted to get up and go to him.
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