We were all miserable. Jowan could not bear to look at Lisette and every time he did so I could see the incredulity in his eyes. He had to accept the fact that it was possible that, in a moment of oblivion, he may have become the father of Lisette’s child, and yet he could not believe it.
It could have happened as Lisette said and there was to be a child. Nothing could alter that.
In the circumstances, we could not proceed with our wedding plans. We lived uneasily through those days.
It was difficult to know what steps had been taken.
In the midst of all this, I heard from Richard. The divorce had gone through. It had all been accomplished speedily and unobtrusively as no objections had been raised and it was desired by both parties.
I need have no fear on that score.
It seemed of no great importance now.
One morning a letter from Buster Brown arrived. Jowan showed it to me. It was written in a large scrawl.
Dear Captain,
Here I am and glad to get your letter at last. Must say, I’d like to see that home of yours. What a time we had, didn’t we?
I’m at Lark Hill now. They’re giving me duties at home for a while. I could come on Wednesday. Stay a couple of nights if that would be convenient to you. I expect you’ve got room for a little ’un.
It will be good to see you. Your humble servant,
Buster Brown
Jowan was cheered at the thought of seeing him, though I could see he was thinking about the difficulty of explaining the situation regarding Lisette.
He drove to the station on the Wednesday morning and came back with Buster.
I ran down to meet them. Buster was exactly as Jowan had described him—of medium height, rather wiry with dark hair and lively eyes, and a smile which appeared frequently and gave a comical and endearing look to his face.
“You’re Miss Violetta,” he said. “Have to say I’ve heard about you.”
We took him into the hall. He gazed at the vaulted ceiling and his eyes ranged around. He stared in wonder at the tapestries on the walls.
“Blimey,” he said. “Never seen nothing like that before.”
“They belonged to my ancestors,” said Jowan.
Buster was about to say something when Lisette appeared on the staircase. Buster stared at her and she at him. Buster opened his mouth, and I believe he controlled some expletive.
Lisette had turned pale.
Then I heard her say in a somewhat stifled voice: “Bustaire.”
She ran to him and flung herself at him.
“Here,” said Buster. “Steady.”
“Oh, Bustaire … Bustaire,” she cried.
Buster held her tightly and gazed over her shoulder at Jowan.
“Lisette is staying here,” said Jowan.
Lisette was crying and laughing, clinging to Buster.
“You ’ave come,” she cried. “I knew you come. You ’ave come for me.”
It was salvation.
Lisette had exhausted herself with emotion and we told her she must rest, for the sake of the child.
Buster explained to us what had happened.
“This is a real turn-up for the troops,” he said. “I come to see you, and find Lisette here.”
He went on: “You know how it goes? We was there and she was young and the fruity sort. It was natural that we took to each other. We got up to tricks. Just human nature, after all. Then you and me went off. I often thought about her. Nice kid. Needs a bit of looking after, and I’m tickled pink about the little ’un.”
I realized that Buster had difficulty in taking life seriously.
“You see, sir,” he said to Jowan. “This ain’t none of your business.”
Jowan explained how Lisette had arrived with English people who had brought her from France with them.
“They were determined that justice should be done and she had told them I was the father of her child.”
“Cor, what a nerve! You wasn’t never near her.”
“It was difficult. There were times when I had been unaware. There were times … Marianne …”
“She was a real one for coddling the boys. She had a way with her. Made you feel you was a little ’un again. She’d slip in beside you and give you a cuddle. True, she wouldn’t be above a little bit of fun. But Lisette, no … she kept an eye on her. We had to pick our times, I can tell you. And we did.”
Buster looked rueful.
“I reckon that kid’s mine,” he went on. “Do you know, I rather fancy a nipper—half Lisette … half me. I reckon that’s a mixture hard to beat. I’ve been thinking. It’s time I tied myself up with a bit of trouble and strife and now, well, there would be this nipper …”
I found myself laughing spontaneously for the first time in weeks.
During Buster’s two days’ stay he made up his mind. He was going to marry Lisette. He was fond of her. She was a “dainty little piece,” he said, and he’d look after her. Crafty little box of tricks, too.
“Coming over here like that and blaming you. Well, you can understand that. Just imagine how Marianne would have gone off when she heard. Frighten the life out of the kid. What’ll the priest say, and all that. It’s all right to have these little flings as long as there’s no result. Poor kid! She knew a lot about you. Remember how you used to talk? Lapped it up, she did. She’s told me, she didn’t know what to do. She never thought she could find me, so she hitched on to you. Well, I could do worse. I couldn’t sleep at night if I let her down.”
We could not make enough of Buster. Mrs. Jermyn took a great liking to him, apart from the fact that she regarded him as our savior from a really very uncomfortable situation.
“You must come and see us when this wretched war is over,” she told him.
“I’ll bring the wife and kid,” he said.
Mrs. Jermyn made rapid plans. They should be married from the Priory. They could put up the banns and be married in three weeks.
“Then,” added Mrs. Jermyn practically, “Lisette’s condition would not be so very noticeable.”
They could have their honeymoon at the Priory.
She was so grateful to Buster for appearing when he did—like the god out of the machine—that she wanted to shower him with blessings. She forgave Lisette for her deception because she knew what a desperate situation she must have been in, and it was so fortunate that that nice Buster had come along and sorted the whole thing out.
It was an incongruous relationship between her and Buster, but they seemed to understand each other and she was immensely entertained by his method of expressing himself.
As for Jowan and me, life had become wonderful again.
There was a double wedding in February of that triumphant year of 1945. Jowan and I were to have a week’s honeymoon in Devon while Lisette and Buster were guests of Mrs. Jermyn.
It was all rather amusing, and to crown it all the papers were writing about the final defeat of Germany and our Prime Minister was going to meet President Roosevelt and Marshal Stalin at a conference at Yalta.
It was a wonderful honeymoon, more so because of the ordeals through which we had passed to reach it. The weather was somewhat wintry but we were together. There was a new hope in the world. No longer did we have to listen to the warning wails of the sirens. In his inimitable manner, Field Marshal Montgomery had told his men that we had our opponent where we wanted him and he would now receive the knockout blow.
There was no doubt that the end of our tribulations, suffering, and anxiety was near.
In May of that year Lisette’s baby was born. Buster was very proud and excited. He and Lisette were in London now where they had set up house. Buster was still in the army, of course, but he was planning to resume his calling as an electrician as soon as he was free to do so.
They had a little flat and Buster was getting plenty of time off because he was a newly married man and no more men were being sent overseas. The war in Europe was over.
> They were very proud of their baby, a little girl who had been named Victoria. She was born in victory and it seemed appropriate.
I cannot describe the feeling of contentment which was with me at that time. Only those who have lived through those six years could understand that.
I shall never forget that day in May of 1945. People gathered in the streets and among them at Buckingham Palace we saw the King and Queen with the Princesses on the balcony. The Prime Minister, addressing the crowds in Whitehall, declared: “In our long history, we have never seen a greater day than this.”
Jowan and I walked back to our hotel together. The nightmare was over. The long days of waiting for Jowan were past. We were together and the future looked good.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1993 by Mark Hamilton as Literary Executor for the Estate of the Late E. A. B. Hibbert
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4804-0385-7
This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media
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