by Anne Douglas
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got a celebration planned for Sunday at my place. May’s going to do lunch for us and you’re all to come. Right?’
‘As though we’d say no!’ cried Vi, and everyone laughed as Jinny said she’d make the usual tea, which would have to stand in for a celebration for the time being.
It was while she was making the tea that Allan told her quietly that if she wanted to bring Viktor on Sunday, he’d be very welcome.
‘Oh, but what about Dad?’ whispered Jinny. ‘We wouldn’t want to cause trouble.’
‘Ask Viktor first and see what he says, then we’ll speak to your father.’
It sounded such a wonderful idea, Jinny couldn’t believe it the next day when Viktor said he was most grateful but he really didn’t think he should come. Just as Jinny herself had feared, he didn’t want to cause trouble on her sister’s lovely day, but he sent his congratulations and wished her every happiness.
And so do I, thought Jinny sadly. My lucky sister, May.
All she could hope was that she and Viktor would be happy too. There was no alternative she could bear.
Thirty-Four
As the wet, dreary summer progressed, May’s happiness was all that cheered Jinny. She and Viktor still met when off duty, going around together to cinemas, cafés and so on, just like any couple who might soon be ready to declare their love to the world. Except that Jinny never felt they were like other couples in that way at all.
She knew how things had been for her and Viktor before his country had been annexed by Germany, and could tell the difference between how he’d been then and how he was now. He’d been so happy in those early days, running to meet her, his blue eyes shining, desperate to spend time with her. Whilst now, though he still wanted to be with her – yes, she was sure of that, sure he still loved her – now a change had come over him, cancelling out that delicious anticipation and making him seem preoccupied with a world that was outside theirs, a world she couldn’t know.
They had stuck to their plan of waiting until November before telling the world of their love, but how were they to know now how their love would be affected by what had happened to Viktor’s country? Or by the anxiety caused by Hitler over possible war?
In spite of all this, she had to believe that when the time came they would still be able to marry and that she would go to Vienna, for even if the international situation worsened, she was determined that she and Viktor would be together. How it would all work out, she didn’t know, but if they loved each other, which they did, it would work out somehow. Whatever change had come over Viktor, of that she was certain. The important thing was just to keep going as normally as possible and see what happened. Just what everyone else was doing, no doubt, in Great Britain and in France.
In August, though, things took a turn for the worse. Reports came out that thousands of German soldiers were massing on the Czech border, and though no action was taken, there was a feeling in the air that trouble was simmering and might soon come to the boil. In September, Hitler made a speech at the huge Nuremberg rally, guaranteed to stir the pot by calling Czechoslovakia a ‘fraudulent state’. It was after this that the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, asked for a personal meeting with Hitler, which was granted, and on the fifteenth of September he arrived at Berchtesgaden, Hitler’s home in the Bavarian Alps. The people of Europe held their breath.
‘What do you think will happen now?’ Jinny asked Viktor, whose face wore its usual look of strain.
‘Nothing good, I’m afraid.’
‘Why do you say that? We’ve got a great empire and Mr Chamberlain’s our prime minister – why shouldn’t Hitler listen to him?’
‘He might listen, but he’ll still do what he wants to do. And he won’t care about your empire, except to conquer it.’
‘You used to say he wouldn’t be interested in attacking us!’
‘That was before he took my country,’ Viktor said bleakly.
There was nothing left to do but wait to see what the papers said after Chamberlain had returned home, and when they appeared, it seemed that there might be some hope of a settlement. But it was not to be. Though Czechoslovakia had eventually agreed that parts of the Sudetenland could be returned to Germany and Hitler had seemed to be satisfied, only a week or so later he demanded all of the Sudetenland. After another trip to see him, Chamberlain admitted that the stage looked set for war.
Gas masks were being issued, air-raid shelters were being built, and everyone was beginning to fear the worst, but there was one last hope. Mr Chamberlain, it was reported, had left for yet another meeting with Hitler, this time in Munich. If it were to fail, well, the abyss might be waiting, but no one cared to think about that.
The thirtieth of September was the day Mr Chamberlain was due back, and, like the whole country, staff and customers at Comrie’s were agog for news. Being a Friday and wages day, Jinny, as part of her routine, went with Terry as usual to the bakery, where of course her eyes instantly sought out Viktor.
He was at his work table, surrounded by layers of sponge cake and bowls of an elaborate egg and butter cream, seemingly completely oblivious to his surroundings as he poured caramel syrup over one of the sponge layers which he then set aside and called, ‘Bob!’
As Bob came hurrying over, Jinny moved forward, smiling. ‘Viktor?’
He looked up and for a moment stared, as though he couldn’t take it in that she was near him, then returned her smile. ‘Jinny! What are you doing here?’
‘Don’t expect Viktor to know it’s pay day!’ cried Senga, coming over from her work icing small cakes to laugh with Terry, who had sauntered along to join her. ‘He doesn’t have to think about it like the rest of us!’
‘Pay day, of course,’ Viktor only replied mildly. ‘Nice to see you, Jinny. Just wait till I get Bob to pour this caramel over another layer.’
‘We’re doing a Dobertorte,’ sandy-haired Bob announced proudly as he picked up a pan of caramel syrup. ‘That’s the Hungarian cake with layers, you ken, and the Devil’s own job to make – aye, and we’re doing two!’ He rolled his eyes.
‘Oh, yes,’ Jinny said hurriedly, nodding coolly to Senga before fixing her eyes on Viktor again. ‘It’s not just pay day today, though, is it? Mr Chamberlain’s coming back from Munich and he might have good news, Aren’t you excited?’
‘You bet,’ said Bob.
‘Sure,’ said Terry, ‘I’m walking on pins till we hear.’
‘Me, too,’ said Senga.
But Viktor’s blue eyes on Jinny showed no excitement, no shine, and after a moment he looked away. ‘There is no point in getting excited, as there will be no good news.’
‘You don’t know that!’ cried Jinny.
‘Whatever Mr Chamberlain brings back from Hitler, it will not be peace.’
He sounded so definite, and yet so defeated, they all stared at him in surprise, Jinny with a hollow feeling inside, as though she’d been expecting something good and been refused.
‘I don’t understand—’ she was beginning when she heard Mr Whyte’s voice calling to her.
‘Jinny, have you got the wage packets? How about coming to my office?’
‘On … on my way!’ she called, turning, then looking back at Viktor, at which he moved swiftly to her side. Disregarding interested eyes, he put his hand on her arm.
‘Jinny, may I see you this evening?’
‘We don’t usually meet on a Friday.’
‘I know, but I’d like to, tonight.’
At the urgency of his tone, the appeal in his eyes, she knew she could not refuse.
‘All right. I’ll ring May at the shop to say I won’t be home.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ll come to Accounts?’
‘Outside. Let’s meet outside.’
‘Till tonight, then.’
Now the appeal in his eyes had faded as his face took on its defeated look again, but Jinny had to move on, into Mr Whyte’s office, leaving Viktor to return to his table
.
At first he did not speak, only stared down into a bowl of butter cream, then raised his eyes to Bob.
‘Finished covering that top layer?’
‘Aye, I hope it’ll be OK. This is no’ ma favourite cake to make, you ken. Too fiddly.’
‘You’re doing very well, Bob. I am confident you will be able to take over from me when I leave.’
‘Oh, God, Viktor, that’s no’ yet, is it?’
‘We’ll just let the caramel on the top layers almost set,’ Viktor replied smoothly, ‘and then we can begin assembling the cakes. Six layers for each. Think you remember what we do?’
‘We fill the cakes with the butter cream, and just before the syrup sets on the top layers, we cut it into sections.’ Bob groaned. ‘And hope it doesna crack, eh?’
‘If you oil the knife it shouldn’t crack.’ Viktor smiled. ‘Well done, Bob. Don’t forget to ice the sides of the cakes with the butter cream and finish off the tops with a few twirls of icing.’
‘Don’t move away until I’ve done all that, eh? Cutting thae sections, it’s nerve-racking!’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,’ Viktor told him, clapping him on the back. ‘I promise you!’
‘Bit of a pessimist, young Viktor,’ Terry remarked when he and Jinny were on their way to Morningside. ‘According to him, we can’t win, whatever happens.’
‘If there’s no war, he’ll be pleased,’ Jinny declared. ‘I know he will; he couldn’t be anything else.’
‘Well, if he isn’t happy, the rest of us will be, that’s for sure. I reckon folk’ll go mad with relief if we get a promise of peace. I mean, who wants another do like the last one?’
Thirty-Five
Terry was proved right, for when the news came through that Mr Chamberlain had arrived at the airport declaring there was to be ‘peace for our time’, the BBC reported that the whole country appeared to be going wild. As he waved the piece of paper Hitler and other politicians had signed, promising that there would definitely be no war, the cheers for him echoed. He was called a hero; he was summoned to Buckingham Palace to meet the king and queen; he was cheered again in Downing Street, feted everywhere he went on the day that no one had dared to hope would ever come.
For Comrie’s, the news came before closing time and, like everyone else, staff and customers were hugging and shaking hands, some even shedding a few tears – Jinny, for one. As she and Mabel hugged Ross and shook hands with a beaming Mr Comrie, she felt her eyes smart, but she’d never been happier, for in the euphoria of the moment she was sure that Viktor’s depressing thoughts would not survive the really good news they’d all heard. ‘Peace for our time’ – what could be more wonderful?
Now the two of them could go ahead in the knowledge that the future held no fears, and Viktor would realize that her love for him was as strong as it had ever been.
Although Mr Comrie regretted that he couldn’t provide drinks for everyone, he declared that Accounts people at least should have a wee dram of his good whisky, or maybe sherry, if Jinny and Mabel would prefer?
‘I think I’d better have the sherry,’ Mabel said, giggling. ‘I’m sure to feel a bit tipsy, anyway.’
‘What better day than today to feel tipsy?’ asked Mr Comrie and, as Jinny also opted for sherry, Ross caught her eye and winked, indicating he thought Mr Comrie had already sampled his own whisky. Why not, though? For this was a very special day.
‘It’s so good to see you looking so happy,’ Ross whispered to Jinny as they moved to the windows to look down on crowds of shoppers stopping to shake one another’s hands. ‘All seems to be going right at last.’
‘Oh, yes, I couldn’t feel better, and I know Viktor will be feeling the same.’
‘No doubt of that.’ Ross drank some whisky. ‘This news will have special meaning for him.’
‘And for me, Ross!’
‘Yes, but I’m thinking of his country. Now it won’t be drawn into a war alongside Germany. And his country does matter to him, doesn’t it?’
‘Very much,’ she answered, looking into her glass. ‘Ross, mind if I use the office phone to ring May? I’m meeting Viktor instead of going home.’
‘Of course you can ring her. And I’m not surprised you and Viktor want to go out tonight. This is a time for celebrating.’
‘Will you be, too?’ Jinny asked with unashamed curiosity
‘Oh, yes! I promised that if we got good news I’d take Lorna out for a meal.’
‘Lorna?’
‘My cousin, you remember? Came up at Christmas with my uncle and aunt, but she’s on her own this time. A friend got married here last week and Lorna’s stayed on for a few days.’
‘Oh, nice,’ remarked Jinny, remembering the pretty redhead at the Christmas party. And she was genuinely pleased that Ross would be out ‘on the town’ that evening. Was he really coming out of his shell at last?
‘More sherry, Jinny? Mabel?’ asked Mr Comrie. ‘Another whisky, Ross?’
They thanked him but refused, as it was in fact already time to finish work. What a relief! Though even Mabel wasn’t tipsy on one drink, they really felt quite intoxicated with the events of the day and their avoidance of the abyss. Though they would all have to be back at work on Saturday morning, the evening was theirs to enjoy, and as Jinny began to run down the stairs she felt on wings, she was so happy. Until, suddenly, her steps slowed.
A memory of Viktor’s face as she had last seen it – so depressed, so defeated – flashed into her mind and drew her eventually to a halt. Supposing … Supposing, when she saw him, he appeared just the same? If, in spite of so much joy on every side, he hadn’t changed? No, it wasn’t possible. Now that there was a definite agreement for peace from all who’d signed Mr Chamberlain’s document, including Hitler, Viktor must be happy about it. He must be feeling as she was feeling … mustn’t he?
She moved slowly onwards, down the stairs as far as the door to the street. When she went through that, if Viktor was there, waiting, as soon as saw him she would know. Yes, just from his face, she would know. And sure enough, when she pushed open the door and saw him waiting in the street, she did.
Thirty-Six
As soon as she saw him waiting, wearing a light overcoat over his suit and a dark trilby hat over his fair hair, she knew he hadn’t changed. He hadn’t been won over by Mr Chamberlain’s paper. There would, in his opinion, be no peace. All this she knew from his face, though its look was different now, being neither depressed nor defeated, but unhappy – which did not deter her from deciding to argue the case for Hitler’s wanting peace as soon as she got the chance.
‘Viktor, you’re here already!’ she cried as cheerfully as she could. ‘Not getting wet, are you?’
‘I believe the rain has stopped,’ he replied, holding out a hand. ‘But do you have your umbrella?’
What were they talking about? Rain? Umbrellas? When the world might be righting itself around them and they should be celebrating?
‘Sorry, I never thought about it.’ She slipped her arm into his. ‘So, where are we going? Our usual place?’
‘I’ve booked at Ritchie’s in the Old Town. You said you liked it when we went before.’
‘Oh, yes, but it’s a bit smart. I’m not dressed for it.’ She looked down at her everyday blue coat and put her hand to her blue beret. ‘I see you’ve put on your suit.’
‘You look lovely, you always do.’
‘Ritchie’s is more expensive, too.’ Her face brightened. ‘Viktor, are you celebrating, after all? I should tell you, I’ve already had a sherry from your uncle.’
‘A sherry? What next?’ He laughed as they made their way through good-humoured Princes Street crowds towards a tram stop, though it seemed to her that his laughter was not quite natural. Or was she seeing things that weren’t there? Maybe, but she didn’t believe he was celebrating – at least, not in the way he should be. If she could only get him to believe what everyone else was happy to believe, how much happier
he’d be …
They were early at the restaurant but glad they’d booked for it was unusually busy, with many people deciding to dine out in recognition of Mr Chamberlain’s heroic act in saving the country from war. Wine was flowing and the talk was loud, but Viktor, ordering a bottle of a German wine he liked, said it was all to the good if people were noisy.
‘If we want to talk, no one will be listening,’ he explained, studying the menu as Jinny studied him. Though the restaurant lights were far from bright, she could see now that he seemed not just unhappy but also on edge, his eyes staying on the menu, evidently unwilling to meet hers.
‘Are we here to talk?’ she asked lightly. ‘Because I do want to say a few things myself.’
‘Oh?’ At last, he looked at her. ‘What sort of things?’
‘Well, I can tell that you’re not going to accept we now have peace, and I’m going to persuade you to change your mind. Be like everyone else, Viktor! Be happy that Hitler is sincere and doesn’t want war, and let’s get on with our lives!’
Very carefully, he laid down the menu and again rested his eyes on her face. ‘Jinny, please listen to me. It’s not true what you say about Hitler and it will do no good to believe it. I only wish it were otherwise.’
As Jinny opened her mouth to reply, a waiter appeared to serve their wine, followed by another, who asked if they were ready to order.
‘Are we?’ asked Viktor. ‘Any preferences, Jinny?’
They settled on a melon first course, followed by a poultry dish, and breathed a sigh of relief when both waiters had gone.
‘Now I can answer you,’ said Jinny eagerly, but Viktor held up his hand.
‘Let’s leave it for now. There’s a lounge here, if you remember, where we can have coffee and won’t be disturbed. That will be best.’
Suddenly she was afraid, with a coldness surrounding her heart that was not soothed by the wine she began to sip. ‘You really do want to talk to me?’ she asked hesitantly, keeping her eyes down when he said he did.