Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy)

by Payne, Mary Christian

  “That’s perfectly all right, Dr. Hausfater. I am always glad to hear from you, although I must admit to being puzzled. There’s nothing amiss, I hope?” The table was a very dark wood, polished to a high sheen. Before either of us could speak again, a waiter appeared and took our order, which consisted of a pint of bitters for him, and tea and biscuits for me. While he was ordering, I studied him. He was certainly not a young man, nor even middle-aged. His long face was heavily grooved, and craggy in appearance, topped with eyebrows that seemed to grow in a continuous line. They stretched across his very dark eyes and hawk-like nose, thereby creating a perpetually brooding look.

  “No, my dear. Nothing amiss. So, Sophia, how have you been?” he enquired.

  I was still somewhat embarrassed at the memory of the dreadful scene at Willow Grove Abbey, and Dieter’s unspeakably rude remarks to Dr. Hausfater. “I’m been quite well, thank you, Sir. Keeping busy, what with our permanent move to London. We’ve finally settled in.”

  “And your little girl? Is she happy in London?”

  “Oh, yes indeed. Isabella is happy anywhere, as long as she has people to dote upon her, and there is never a shortage of those,” I laughed.

  “Yes. She is a beautiful child.” There was a pause as the waiter brought our order. “So, yes, what are your plans now?” he asked in the quaint way he had of expressing himself, with his lingering German accent.”

  “I’m hoping that I’m going to be able to return to my work, assisting you, Sir, as I do plan on resuming my classes at University soon. Now that I am actually living in London, it will be so much easier than in the past, when I had to travel back and forth. Have you been keeping busy, Sir?”

  “Very much so. There is the excitement of a new project for me. This is the primary reason I brought you here today, so that I might have the discussion with you about it.”

  I placed my cup of tea back onto its saucer. “Really? And what would that be Professor?”

  “Sophia, I come directly to the point. I would like to work in the partnership with you of the textbook writing.” He made the statement in such a straightforward, but convoluted manner, and I wasn’t certain that I understood what he meant.

  “Are you saying you want me to help you with the research on a textbook project?” I asked.

  “No. No. I want you to be my collaborator. My co-author. It will be an Adolescent Psychology text. ”

  “Me? You want me? To collaborate on a textbook with you? Oh my, Dr. Hausfater, I’m extraordinarily honored, but, well, Sir, I know nothing about Psychology. Only that which I’ve learned in your courses at University. I scarcely think that qualifies me to write on the subject.”

  “You are more the expert than you know, my dear. I fear you have lived the subject.”

  I was mortified. Obviously, he was referring to my mother, and the rage he had witnessed.

  “Are you speaking of my mother’s periodic odd behavior?” I asked, looking down at the table, as I felt color rise in my cheeks.

  Sophia, I do not ask that you reveal the matters of personal nature. We have spoken enough about the subject. I know what you have lived. I just mean to say that you know more about matters of a psychological nature than you think you do. Naturally, I was there, present, when your mother displayed her remarkable lack of coping mechanisms, so yes that adds to the meaning of my comments.”

  I hadn’t any idea at the time what ‘coping mechanisms’ meant, and told him so.

  “It is simply meaning that your mother has not ever learned to handle the stressful situation, and she loses all control. Sophia, I know the subject of Psychology up and down. However, you have a unique ability to speak to your peers. You have the marvelous ability to write, and this, I am certain, would make you an invaluable working partner.”

  “But, Sir, I’ve only just turned twenty-one. Surely you cannot believe that someone of my young years would be taken seriously?”

  “And why not? My credentials are impeccable, and I am convinced that you have the rare gift for self-expression. You are going to do great things in life, Lady Sophia Winnsborough. Of that I have no doubt. As for your age, you may be merely twenty-one, but there are parts of you that are older than time. You have what I like to call the ‘old soul’.”

  Oh, Goodness. He was saying almost the precise words Spence once spoke to me. Was there really something to what he was saying?

  “How do you mean I have an old soul? I don’t understand Dr. Hausfater.”

  “I mean that you have wisdom to go beyond your years. I do not think that you have tapped into it yet, and undoubtedly still see yourself as a child, but you are already facing happenings in life that many people never do. One day you will develop the insight to know what I say. Trust me for now.” He reached across the table, and patted my hand, in a fatherly gesture.

  I was truly stunned. I wanted so badly to grasp such an opportunity. Dr. Hausfater was the first person in my life who had ever professed a strong belief in my capabilities. Besides, of course, for Spence. Here was a distinguished man of Letters, a well-respected Professor, offering to make all of my dreams reality. However, I was engaged in a powerful internal struggle. I could almost hear Mummy’s voice admonishing me not to make a fool of myself.

  Nevertheless, after a few moments of internal struggle, I took a deep breath and said “All Right, Sir. I shall have a go at it. I won’t pretend to feel confident, and I am not at all certain that I won’t turn out to be a disappointment to you. Nevertheless, I shall try very hard. It’s a terribly exciting challenge, and I would be foolish not to pursue it.”

  He smiled broadly, and the single eyebrow gathered in the middle. “I’m very pleased. You have made the wise decision. I quite understand your fears, but in the final analysis you will see that I am correct.” I too smiled, although my insides were quivering.

  “Of course there is the matter of remuneration, he continued. “It will not be a large sum, but I have been awarded the grant of money from the private foundation for this project, so naturally you will receive the stipend.”

  “That never even crossed my mind,” I gasped. “Just the privilege of working with you is compensation enough. I wouldn’t dream of taking money”

  He grinned openly. “My dear lady, you must learn to accept what you are entitled to. Of course, you will accept payment. I shall arrange for a bank draft, and a contract to be drawn up, so that everything is kept neat and tidy.”

  “Oh how extraordinary.” I brought my hands to my cheeks, which were now flushed deep crimson. “Thank you so much. I cannot put into words how delighted I am. How pleased and honored. ” I had never actually earned any money in my life. I don’t believe any ‘Somerville’ female had. What a lovely feeling it would be to actually be compensated for one’s work.

  “I have no idea of your schedule, but I should like to begin on the preliminary planning as soon as possible,” he continued. I have compiled a file of notes with which you will need to acquaint yourself. I think they will provide a broad overview of subject matter I am wanting to cover. Then, I should be interested in your suggestions and opinions on an interesting format in presenting the material. I want this to be a readable text, Sophia. Not dry and boring, as so many are. Could you be so kind as to ring my office next week? We should be able to arrange to begin our work together by the end of the month. I shall have prepared for you by then. You will have the little space to call your own. ”

  “Do you mean I’ll have an office?”

  “Yes, Sophia, with a typing machine, telephone, and private door to shut out the world.”

  I was beyond exuberance. I couldn’t wait to share the news with Edwina. And just for a moment, I wished I could share it with Spence. I knew he would be proud of me. Also, like a moth to a flame, I harbored my childish instinct to win approval from my parents. To prove to them that I had talent. To have them praise me. As soon as I arrived at the flat, I did ring them and told them of my wondrous good fortune. Mummy wa
nted to know what motive Doctor Hausfater might have for making such an offer, and Papa told me that he thought the money was a ludicrous pittance. I should have known what to expect, and I probably did, but it never mattered. At no time in my life did I stop trying.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Spring, 1938

  A Salutation

  However detached my parents may have been from my joy over the offer to work with Dr. Hausfater, I knew that in the blink of an eye, my rather mundane existence had taken on an entirely new dimension. The work actually began in April, 1938 and it thoroughly captivated me. It consumed every spare moment. Together, Dr. Hausfater and I had decided upon a format which would include actual feature stories written by me, to accentuate the various disorders that were being discussed. I researched people who were hospitalized, or had recently been released, and then interviewed them, and wrote their stories for publication. One thrust of the book was an appeal for improvement of the Psychiatric system in general, and particularly for adolescents. And a total cessation of the word ‘crazy’!

  Martha proved to be invaluable, for she kept things running smoothly on Sumner Street, freeing me to concentrate upon my work. Of course, I also spent as much time as possible with Isabella. I was always home in the mornings, when Isabella awakened, bathing, dressing and feeding her. At the end of the day, I made certain to be the one who tucked my little girl into bed, sang lullabies and read stories. In such a manner, we settled into a comfortable routine, and my life was as peaceful and as busy as it had ever been. I still thought of Spence constantly. It would have been hard not to do so, as I had a continual reminder of our love. Occasionally some man or other would invite me to the theatre, opera or dinner, but I had no inclination to meet anyone new. I was content to live my life with my daughter and a job I adored. I was probably living in a bit of denial during that period, because I didn’t ever think about what I would do once the textbook project was completed. I did want to complete my University studies and earn a degree, but that was about as far as I looked into the future. It never crossed my mind that I might re-marry. Overall, I was happy. Or as happy as I could be, with a heart filled with sad memories, and the longing I still embraced for Spence. No matter. That state of quasi-happiness continued for some time.

  I suppose I should have known that such peacefulness could not last forever. After a quiet and relatively happy summer, in August, 1938, Adolph Hitler started making outrageous statements, hinting that he was going to send the German Army into Czechoslovakia. Neville Chamberlain had become Prime Minister in 1937, and the British government began to look ahead to a war with Nazi Germany. Chamberlain asked Parliament to pass the Emergency Powers Act and it passed on 28 August, 1938, giving the government permission to enact legislation which would ensure public safety. Over the next five days, around one hundred new regulations went into effect. All military reservists were called to mobilize. Hitler promised at Munich on 30 September, 1938 that he would make no more territorial claims in Europe. There was guarded relief when that occurred, but most persons of my acquaintance were still very fearful that there was worse to come.

  The time between March and September of 1938 ended up being well remembered for a number of reasons. While everyone wanted very much to believe that all would be well…that peace would prevail…. there was a general feeling of impending doom among most people I knew. Working with Dr. Hausfater probably enhanced those feelings. He had grave anxiety about friends and relatives in the exact part of Europe which lay in the path of danger. Therefore, I was probably even more engrossed in what was occurring within the Third Reich than many of my acquaintances. Many still viewed countries such as Austria and Czeckslovakia as remote, distant, and far removed from our isolated island.

  Blake and Drew were not fools, and I knew that they worried, as did my father. Often I heard them discussing what they would do if war came. My brothers were of an age that meant, unequivocally, they would fight for their country. So was Spence. That thought frightened me enormously. Even though I had resigned myself to our never being together, I still had concerns for his welfare and happiness. The idea of Spence and my brothers fighting in some foreign land was enough to cause me overwhelming anxiety. Half of the summer months I tried to ignore the news coming out of Europe. The other half I was intensely concerned, which resulted in a sort-of limbo.

  Then, something else happened that profoundly influenced my world, changing it forever. It was a rain soaked Tuesday in late August, 1938, and Papa was in London, having just returned from a trip to Paris and Milan. He meant to spend a day in his London office, before returning to Willow Grove and Mummy. I always cherished the times when my father came to London alone. He was different when Mummy was not present. He spoke to me more about my life, and showed more interest in my thoughts and feelings. On that particular rainy morning, he rang me, said that he had arrived on the night boat-train from Paris, and was in a suite at The Grande Hotel. He wondered if we might rendezvous for a quick breakfast, before he rushed off to a meeting with his bankers. The timing was perfect. I had a meeting with a person whom I planned to interview for my textbook project, and it was just a block from the hotel. Papa and I made plans to meet in the dining room of the Grande at eight o’clock a.m. When I arrived, he was reading the Times at a corner table by a window, drinking a cup of tea. I shook out of my rainwear. I still remember that I wore a rain slicker with matching floppy hat and umbrella, all fashioned out of the same black oilcloth fabric, and sporting a bevy of brightly colored flowers. Papa seemed in good spirits when I joined him, in spite of the dreary weather. He asked if I preferred coffee or tea. I ordered a soft-boiled egg on toast, and a pot of Earl Grey. Then, I settled myself comfortably at the round table near the window. I could hear and see rain drops as they pelted the glass panes. We chatted about the weather, my book project and conditions on the Continent. I knew that he had been in Paris. Consequently, I inquired as to whether he’d found time to ring Edwina.

  “Better than that,” he smiled. “We were able to dine.”

  “Oh Papa, how lovely,” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, all quite unexpected. Edwina mentioned that she had spoken to you recently, and that you had told her of my forthcoming trip to Paris. Naturally, Edwina knows my habits, as well as any of you children. At any rate, she rang my hotel, and learned my arrival date. So who do you suppose was waiting in the lobby when I arrived to register?”

  I clapped my hands! “How typical of Edwina.” I thought it grand that she had surprised Papa in such a fashion. “How did she seem?” I inquired.

  “Wonderful, as always” he smiled. “She seems very involved in her work. Seems to be making good progress, and feels that her talents are being recognized. Of course, she is terribly talented.”

  His comment about Edwina’s talent couldn’t help but scald me a bit. He had no difficulty proclaiming her ‘talented,’ but when I’d announced the remarkable offer to co-author an adolescent psychology textbook, there had been absolutely no mention of my writing ability. No matter. I should have been used to it. “Did she speak of any new men in her life?” I asked.

  “No. Nothing of that sort. I do not suppose she would speak to me about such things. We did discuss her friend, the German chap.”

  “Dieter? She isn’t still seeing him?” I asked, appalled at the thought.

  “Apparently so, but I don’t believe there is any romantic attachment. She maintains that he feels beastly about the scene at Willow Grove Abbey.”

  “I should think so. I cannot imagine that she would want anything further to do with him. She hasn’t mentioned his name to me since her return to Paris, following that horrid evening.”

  “I have the impression that she believes she has managed to alter his views.”

  “Oh, surely that can’t be so? He doesn’t strike me as the sort who will ever be anything but what he is. A ghastly bigot.”

  “Yes. Well, I daresay, I agree. But, Edwina is a grown woman, so we must
respect her choices.”

  I would have liked to pursue the subject further, but we finished breakfast, and Papa was in a great rush to keep his appointment. As it happened, his engagement was scheduled for half after nine o’clock, and mine was not until one hour later. It seemed absurd to travel back to my flat only to return to virtually the same locale in less than an hour’s time. Normally, I might have enjoyed a rare shopping expedition, but since it was pouring rain, I wasn’t inclined toward strolling Knightsbridge. The perfect solution lay in my waiting the three quarters of an hour or so in Papa’s suite. He was leaving for Willow Grove after his meeting, but would be returning to the hotel for his luggage, so would not be vacating the room until later. We rode together in the lift to his suite, and after he collected his attaché case and various papers, we said our goodbyes.

  After his departure, I found myself with little to do, save stare out of the window at the grey London morning. I watched the traffic creep its way through the narrow, wet, congested streets, while men and women scurried back and forth under mostly black umbrellas. I adored London even on such days, and never tired of looking across at the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and Tower Bridge. Even so, I found myself restless after a bit. I wandered over to the bedside table, where there was a wireless. I fooled with the control knob for a bit, trying to find some program of interest, but everything pertained to happenings in Germany, and I was not in the mood for depressing news. Then, I turned to walk back towards the window when I noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It was a standard sheet of business writing paper, and I was surprised that I’d not spotted it earlier, since it stood out starkly against the dark grey carpeting. Without actually thinking, I bent to retrieve it, meaning to place it upon the bedside table. Mummy’s teachings about tidiness and neatness were firmly ingrained. As I held the paper in my hand, I couldn’t help but glance at its contents. It appeared to be the salutation on a letter, and it was plainly in my father’s handwriting. There was only the beginning, followed by one, brief line;