Edwina was given a similar suite of rooms, in the same wing, and she was quickly able to settle with Kippy and her maid, Helen. Martha went to work unpacking Isabella’s and my luggage, and the few boxes we’d managed to bring along. I took a long bath, although there was rationing in effect, regarding the level of water allowed. Then I changed into gray, flannel trousers and a cardigan sweater. My hair had grown quite long again, and I swept it up on the sides, securing it with combs, into what was known as a Victory Roll. Then, I went down the hallway to Edwina’s rooms, to make certain that all was in order, and to offer any assistance that was needed. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. I knocked on the doorway, and Edwina appeared at once. I couldn’t help but be reminded of another time I had knocked on a door, waiting for Edwina to open it. That was on my first day at Ashwick Park. So much had happened since then. Who would ever have dreamed of the muddle that I was embroiled in?
Edwina was also dressed in trousers, but hers were topped by a bright blue tweed jacket with three pocket flaps at each side of the chest, and two below the waistline. It was nipped in at the waist, and I recognized it as a Jacques Helm original, which I’d seen in a fashion magazine. Edwina had no intention of letting a war interfere with her haute couture appearance. Her hair was longer too, and worn in a vamp style, with a deep wave over one eye, and a sleek page-boy in the back. She was bustling about her suite as I entered. Kippy was in his cot, and Helen was giving him a bottle.
“Thank goodness we’re away from that horror,” Edwina exclaimed, as she folded lingerie and placed it into a drawer. “Lord, Sophia, whoever would’ve dreamed the world would come to this?”
“I don’t know, Edwina. It’s all so frightening... and sad. I wonder what will become of all of us.”
“Dear heart, we’ll survive this, and look back to laugh about it,” she answered lightly.
“Do you really think so?” I replied. “Somehow I don’t think we’ll ever laugh about this. We are living through a world changing event, Edwina. This war will change the course of history.”
“Well, yes, I should imagine so. Wars generally do. But, life always goes on, doesn’t it? People adapt to the changes. That’s what we’ll do. And, being here at Willow Grove isn’t so very much different than our life has always been, but for these ugly blackout curtains”, she said, pointing at the windows.”
“Edwina, people are being killed. We can’t just sit here in our insulated, privileged world and pretend that isn’t happening.”
“Well, what do you want to do? Roll bandages, or join the Women’s Army Corps?” she said, with a brittle laugh.
“Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea. If I thought I could help, I’d consider it,” I answered. “But, I also have a child to consider, and if, God forbid, her father doesn’t return, she’ll need me more than ever. I do intend to volunteer time to the Red Cross.”
“Do you really?” Edwina answered, as if that were a novel idea.
“Aren’t you in the least concerned about Kippy’s father? I know that he’s German, and an enemy, but how do you intend to explain to your son that you simply abandoned him? Don’t you think Kippy will want to know about his father?”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes. I certainly wasn’t going to sit in Paris, waiting for Dieter to come to the realization that he had a wife and child. And, I wasn’t going to go to Germany. You know I never loved him, Edwina. I made a dreadful mistake. I’m just happy to have that behind me, and to be back in England safely with Nigel.”
“But, Edwina, it isn’t behind you. You have Dieter’s child. And, how could he have come to the realization that he had a child, when he didn’t even know you were pregnant?” You’re still married to him. What do you intend to do about that?”
“I haven’t thought much about it. Things have a way of working themselves out.” She sounded irritated by Sophia’s questions. “Anyway, don’t you think you might be just a bit hypocritical, considering your own past?” she continued.
I was aghast. “My own past? You mean Owen? First of all, I didn’t simply leave him, and didn’t have his child. I told him the truth, and worked out what would have been an amicable solution to the whole mess. I wasn’t having an affair with a married man... My best friend’s father, no less. The circumstances were entirely different. The only comparison I can see is that neither of us loved our husbands. We’ve already had this conversation, Edwina. Why do you persist in saying things that you know are untrue, and are certain to upset me?”
“Because you always sound so judgmental, Sophia. I’d just appreciate it if you’d stop being so critical.”
“Edwina, you’re staying at my family home, while involved in an affair with my father. The same home, I might add, where your affair began, while my mother was under the same roof. My mother is under the same roof again, acting as your hostess. I am critical of that. It’s beyond my comprehension. I’ve tried to keep quiet about my feelings. But, this is really over-the-top. I hope you and Papa have the decency not to engage in illicit acts this time, while here in this house.”
Edwina turned on me, eyes blazing. “It’s your father’s home. I think I’ll leave it up to him to decide how he wants this arrangement to proceed.” She turned her back, peering into the vanity, touching up her lip color.
I was livid. “I’m warning you, Edwina. If I learn of anything untoward happening during your stay here, I’ll not stand for it.”
“Don’t you threaten me, Sophia Somerville. If you make any trouble... and I mean any, it won’t be me who’ll be in danger of being put out. It will be you. Your father knows what he wants... And what he wants is me. So, deal with it.”
I literally couldn’t find words to voice what I was feeling. How could Edwina possibly have been my dearest friend? I didn’t even know the person standing in front of me. It was at that moment that I knew our friendship was not going to survive such madness. I realized, in the blink of an eye, that I needed to start protecting myself. That Edwina meant to stop at nothing to get what she wanted. And what she wanted wasn’t just my father. She wanted everything that being the Countess Somerville represented. Mummy’s lifestyle, her riches, her name, and even her home. Edwina was single minded in the pursuit of her goals, and anyone or anything that got in her way would live to regret it. It was obvious that I had been a fool for a long, long time. It was clear that Edwina had been jealous of the Somervilles for a lengthy period. Perhaps from the very beginning of our friendship. Perhaps she had convinced herself that she was in love with Papa, but it wasn’t just Papa she wanted. Without the trappings of wealth and power surrounding him, he wouldn’t have been her soul mate. There was no doubt in my mind that she was correct about one thing. My father was totally under her spell, and talking to him would be of no use. For the first time since I’d learned all of the sordid details, I was absolutely certain that someone was going to be terribly hurt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
September 1940 to 27 December 1940
“Until Death Do Us Part”
Papa had always harbored an interest in gardening, albeit roses were more to his liking. However, I vividly remember the next project undertaken by most of us, after our return to Willow Grove. It was the planting and tending of a garden. The government launched the 'Dig for Victory' campaign in 1940, and encouraged the cultivation of gardens and allotments. Everyone in England was asked to grow as much food as possible for the nation, to supplement the wartime food rations.
We began with great enthusiasm, and soon had a large plot near the duck pond. Papa enlisted the aid of everyone, but particularly Isabella, who became his most avid helper. We could all hear her marching around the garden area, pushing a small wheel barrow and singing the campaign song, by now very familiar to all English people: She had her own version.
“Dig! Dig! Dig!
Feel your muthles getting big,
Keep on puthing in the thpade,
Potatoeth, carrotth, beethroot and oniont
h,
Cannot thprout without your aid,
Never mind the wormth,
Just ignore their thquirmth,
And if your back achths, laugh with glee,
And keep on digging,
Till we give our toes a wigging,
Dig! Dig! Dig! To victory”
We couldn’t’ help but laugh at her earnest efforts. She pronounced many words with th instead of‘s’, due to her lisp, and the word ‘foes’ became ‘toes’. But she was a little trooper, and the garden did, indeed take shape. Nan was terribly happy at the prospect of having all of those homegrown vegetables, and as rationing became more stringent, the garden really did become a Godsend.
Dr. and Mrs. Hausfater settled into the old caretaker’s cottage, so they had a small place of their own. Thus, they were able to live their lives outside of the main house. I looked forward to visiting them in their cottage in the afternoons, where Dr. Hausfater and I continued with our textbook project, in spite of the fact that our lives had been up-ended. It was healthy to have something to concentrate upon, and to use my mind for something other than worry about Spence, my brothers, Edwina, and Papa. I never told the Hausfater’s of the drama unfolding within the walls of the main house. I wouldn’t have known where to begin.
I tried to maintain a facade that all was well between myself and Edwina, especially when Mummy was present. Otherwise, for the most part, I managed to ignore her. I didn’t know whether Edwina had related our nasty conversation to Papa. He acted as though everything was fine, but that was his proverbial nature. Edwina devoted most of her time to sketching fashion designs, and talking of the career she would again take up, after the war ended. It never seemed to cross her mind that she might do something to aid in the war effort. I volunteered at the local military canteen two days a week, taught at the village school, part-time, and volunteered for a branch of the Red Cross. Edwina said that she would have considered the Red Cross, but that she wouldn’t be caught dead in the ghastly shoes they wore.
Mummy was better than she’d been in a long, long time. She liked having a houseful of people, and of course, Papa was no longer running off on long, unexplained business trips. The war brought drama and purpose to her life. She seemed to dearly love having two small children to oversee. She’d always liked babies and small children…It was only when they developed their own identities that Mummy took umbrage. And so, the winter months fell upon us, and I waited with baited breath to see if Spence might receive a holiday furlough.
On 14 November, the Luftwaffe bombed Coventry, killing 380 people and injuring 865. The Nazi’s claimed it was the biggest attack in the history of the air-war. There were apparently some fires still alight when dawn came, and the German bombers flew away to end a night of cruel bombing. The famous Cathedral was only a skeleton. Two hospitals, two other churches, hotels, clubs, cinemas, public shelters, public baths, the police station, and post office were also nothing but rubble. Coventry was a most important place in England, for it was a major center for the manufacture of airplane motors. Coventry would be manufacturing no more engines for many months to come. I felt teary, as I remembered that Spence and I had once spent a day there, exploring the lovely buildings. Many people around the world, including the Americans, began to express doubts as to whether England could hold on much longer.
And where was Spence? I knew that Duxford had been placed in a high state of readiness and to create space for additional units, 19th Squadron had been moved to nearby Fowlmere. Then came Hitler’s attempt to dominate the skies over Britain. Duxford's first Hurricanes arrived in July with the formation of No.310 Squadron, made up of Czechoslovakian pilots who had escaped from France On 9 September, the Duxford squadrons successfully intercepted and turned back a large force of German bombers before they reached their targets. On the strength of this, two more squadrons were added to Wing No.302 (Polish) Squadron with Hurricanes, and the Spitfires of No.611 auxiliary Squadron, which had mobilized at Duxford a year before. Every day some sixty Spitfires and Hurricanes were dispersed around Duxford and Fowlmere. They were ready for action by 15 September, 1940, which became known as 'Battle of Britain Day'. On that historic day England twice took to the air to beat back Luftwaffe attacks aimed at London. That was right after we returned to Willow Grove. Thus, I knew that Duxford's squadrons had played a vital role in the victory, but since that time I’d had no real knowledge of Spence’s whereabouts, or of the action he was seeing. I had the occasional letter, but portions were always cut away by the censors, so they didn’t help to inform me of those unknown elements. The best purpose they served was to let me know that he was still alive, and was thinking of Isabella and me. I continued my daily writing, and fervently prayed for him.
One thing I liked about having returned to Willow Grove was my proximity to its attached chapel, and I began each day in that quiet sanctuary, with a morning prayer, and ended each day in the same manner. Isabella always accompanied me on those occasions. I began to realize that I wanted more faith in my life, and started reading and studying religion, as well as teaching it to my daughter. Since Spence was such a devout Catholic, I wanted to learn more about his faith, whether or not he and I ever had a life together. I bought every book I could find on Catholicism, and as a result, my belief developed enormously. I also read other books written by esteemed theologians, such as C.S. Lewis, and tried to turn my problems over to God, putting my trust in His mercy, believing that good would prevail over evil. I began to understand much more clearly why Drew had chosen to become an Anglican vicar. It was really quite amazing considering that he and I had shared the same faithless upbringing. After reading so much theology, I was utterly amazed that there had been a world of information out there that I’d had no idea existed.
My prayers were answered, at least in part, because Spence came home for Christmas, 1940. Oh Lord, how happy I was to see him. I so desperately wanted to hold him, and to feel his arms about me, and yet it wasn’t possible, as he continued his polite, kind, but distant relationship with me. I found myself becoming irritated and a bit hurt, but tried very hard not to show my feelings. I knew that if I lashed out at him, it would only drive him further away. Isabella was delirious with excitement, and my own emotions mirrored my daughter’s. He sent a wire on December 21nd, informing me that he’d be arriving by train the next day. The entire family gathered at the station to welcome him, and I thought my heart would stop when he stepped from the railway carriage, dressed in his RAF blue uniform. He looked weary, and slightly thinner, but as handsome as ever. Isabella ran to him, and he swept her off the ground, holding her close to his heart. I so wished that he was greeting me in such a fashion.
“My darling, darling daughter... my Isabella. If you could only know how often I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he cried, kissing her over and over. He swung her high into the air, while she screamed with delight, yelling “Papa, Papa.” Then, with his arm about her, they walked to me, and Spence kissed me on the cheek, and gave me a nice hug. I wanted to grab hold of him and never let him go. The three of us walked on to my parents, who were waiting on the platform, as well. Papa threw his arm about Spence’s shoulder, while my mother gave him one of the most effusive hugs I’d ever witnessed. Edwina had stayed back at the house, for which I was grateful. There was so much to tell Spence about the entire beastly fiasco. He knew very little, as I’d not wasted precious space in my letters complaining of family strife, nor did I want to worry him about things he could do nothing about.
When we arrived at Willow Grove Abbey, he shed his uniform jacket, and Papa mixed him a drink. The house was decorated for the holidays, although not as elaborately as in times past, for the war was taking its toll in that arena. There were few decorations for sale in the stores, and no new ornaments were being manufactured. The tree, which had come from our property, and was technically against war regulations because of rationing on wood, was trimmed with strings of popcorn, cranberries and heirloom ornaments, which had
been in the family for generations. There were a few packages under the tree, but nothing like the Christmas’s I remembered from childhood. I’d spent the autumn and early winter months knitting a scarf for Spence, as well as an RAF blue sweater. Even my mother crocheted some lovely items. The wrapping paper was homemade, created and colored by Isabella, with added scribbling by Kippy. Bits of yarn acted as ribbon. Still, there was a wonderful fire roaring in the drawing room, and a giant wreath upon the door, as well as a pine garland wound about the stair railing. The Victrola was playing Carole’s.
Edwina made her appearance soon after we’d settled down and begun to chat. I heard her steps on the staircase, and looked up to see her enter the room, carrying Kippy in her arms. She looked beautiful, as she always did in those days. Dressed in a sky blue velvet dress, with a sweetheart neckline and three-quarter sleeves, reminiscent of a ballerina’s gown, she sparkled, and rather resembled the Madonna, as she held Kippy. On her feet were matching blue velvet shoes. I, by contrast, was wearing a white angora jumper over black velvet trousers, with my pearls. Edwina went directly to Spence. She kissed him on both cheeks, warmly welcoming him home for the Holiday. Spence was his usually polite and gentlemanly self, but I detected a look in his eyes that signified a bit of annoyance. He turned his attention, at once, to Kippy, whom he made a great fuss about. Kippy was an adorable child, and it was not hard for one to be genuine when exclaiming that he was a delightful little boy. Papa immediately stood and offered his seat to Edwina, and then fetched her a cocktail. She smiled sweetly and thanked him.
Willow Grove Abbey: A Historical World War II Romance Novel (The Somerville Trilogy) Page 33