He was forever the gentleman, but with a sparkle of cad in his eyes. Always impeccably dressed in a suit and hat, often to be seen drawing on a cigarette as he leaned outside the hotel waiting for a car to pick him up. He stayed at the hotel for weeks at a time but was then often gone for weeks with no prior hint, sometimes appearing to leave in a rush, before he would return calm and natural weeks later. Occasional messages arrived that appeared to put him in two places at once and these only served as dry tinder to the already smouldering rumours. Whisperers at the Grandchester pinned him as a spy; the hotel girls had painted him as a mysterious yet heroic man, destined to win the war single-handedly, and swooning a little under his gaze; the gents drenched him in admiration, a man about town, yet claiming him to be one of them (or maybe, fancifully, them as one of him), always happy to hand out a cigarette, shake a hand, offer a tip in thanks. But most definitely and without a doubt, a spy; for the ladies it meant romance and thrill, for the men adventure and derring-do.
Jane liked him and tried not to get involved in gossip but wondered whether, on some level, the rumours might be true.
Jane's reverie was disturbed by the appearance of Piers Henderson and his beautiful, graceful wife Maria. Maria looked like a finely painted china faced doll, almost transparent in her delicacy. Piers' hand rested in the small of his wife's back as he guided her to breakfast in the dining hall. They were a quiet and pleasant couple. He worked somewhere in the city and would leave after breakfast, always parting from his wife in the lobby, kissing her farewell and leaving for the day. Maria Henderson would either return to their room or wait in the lobby for one of her numerous girlfriends. If it was the latter, they would be gone for most of the day, returning with purchases or overheard giggled tales between them of the delights they had discussed or planned over lunch. Not many could afford such a life and, once more, there was speculation. The Henderson stories weren't as colourful as the folklore that had been written amongst the hotel staff for Hugh Callaghan. The Hendersons were 'weekers', as the hotel staff called those guests who resided with them from Monday to Friday and then left for home; although, if the amount of time spent somewhere dictated where home was then the hotel was more home than the sanctuaries the weekers left London for. In the case of the Hendersons, home was a large 18th century pile in Sussex, the farmland around which currently provided an ample income to add to Mr Henderson's probably substantial city wage.
Jane was stirred by the ringing of the telephone and answered it immediately. As she did so her eye was caught by Mariana Jack. Ms Jack, something in the art world that no-one could quite pin down, floated down the stairs in a filmy Bohemian blouse which swept past her hips to her knees. Her legs were stockinged and her spiky little heels tapped on the marble tiles as she waved melodramatically towards the front desk. In her hand she carried a cigarette which dripped a little ash as she passed in a cloud of expensive perfume and cigarette smoke. Jane wondered if she might be a friend of Florence's unconventional aunt.
Life was not dull at The Grandchester.
'Hello? Is that Jane?' asked the voice on the other end.
'Yes, yes Sir, this is Jane.'
'Jane, it's Hugh Callaghan. I need you to do something for me.' He sounded hurried and the line wasn't terribly clear, as though he wasn't in the hotel but somewhere else.
'Of course Mr Callaghan. How may I help?'
The conversation that followed intrigued Jane only a little and she didn't hesitate to do as Mr Callaghan asked, jotting a few notes down on the pad of paper in front of her as the instructions were given; fresh linen, laundering of all clothes, provision of evening meal in his room for the next week. Jane had become accustomed to Mr Callaghan's hotel requests and his occasional instructions to field calls or take delivery or ensure the safe collection of something.
Unexpectedly, Will turned up at The Grandchester a short while before Jane was due to finish. He was at the desk before Jane noticed him and felt a proud pleasure when she turned to find him there, absentmindedly putting her hand up to check her hair as he greeted her.
'Are you free to come on an outing with me?' he asked without preamble.
'Uh, yes, I suppose so.' Jane spoke quickly for fear of being seen chatting. 'What sort of outing and when?' She visualised another picnic. Will tapped the side of his nose theatrically. 'Wait and see.' Before she could prise more information from him, Hugh Callaghan had also appeared at the desk and Jane immediately turned her attention to the guest. She knew he wasn't the kind to complain about her chatting but he was still a hotel guest and therefore had to receive her full attention first.
Again, ahead of Jane being able to greet him with an offer of assistance Mr Callaghan beat her to it.
'Hello Jane,' he smiled, then turned to Will and offered his hand in greeting. 'And you are…'
'William Batten.' They shook hands.
'Hugh Callaghan; pleased to meet you.'
It couldn't have gone unnoticed now the two men were just inches apart that they bore a striking resemblance to each other. Each man's build, colouring and facial features were hugely reminiscent of the other although Mr Callaghan's slightly greater count of years gave him an air of importance that he seemed unaware of himself.
'And you sir,' was Will's genial reply.
'And you're a friend of Jane's?'
'That's right.'
'Splendid. And where do you hail from?'
'Sir?' asked Will, clearly unsure of the response to give.
'Do you work here?'
'Oh, no. No, I don't. I'm an actor. Currently at the Majesty. Well, until I'm called that is.'
'Ah, yes of course. Well, they're working through the list. You might see the year out before the brown envelope lands on your mat.' He patted Will on the shoulder jovially. 'Anyway, good show young man. Keep the nation's spirits up until then eh?' And with that Mr Callaghan left the hotel with no mention of his earlier telephone call.
'Good to meet you,' Will called after him, before turning back to Jane and raising his eyebrows. 'Something a bit strange about him, but nice enough.' He shrugged and the foyer fell silent for a moment. Will leaned against the counter and turned the rim of his hat round between his fingers. 'So, when do you finish?'
'Give me an hour and I'll meet you out the front if you like.'
'Yes, I like.' Will smiled and left, looking a little like the delayed shadow of the previous person to exit the hotel.
Jane's surprise trip was a ride on Sunbeam for over an hour, after which they pulled up in the yard of a farm. Jane was intrigued by their location and was soon introduced to Mr and Mrs Hall and their children Sylvie, Jacob and Daniel. Their oldest son Harry, serving somewhere undisclosed in Africa, was the point of connection between Will and these friendly and welcoming people.
After a filling meal of sausage cottage pie and ample vegetables, Jane and Will were sent off for a walk.
'What lovely people.'
'They certainly are. It's a shame you can't meet Harry, but next time he's home I'll make sure you do.'
'I'd like that.'
Will explained that he and Harry had been friends since childhood. When Will's family moved to Scotland at the behest of work, Will (then fifteen) had stayed behind and lived with the Halls. Now Will was frequently found at the farm, helping out in Harry's place. Sylvie and Jacob being ten and twelve were still at school but Daniel, at sixteen, helped his dad on the farm. Mrs Hall, Maggie, was the epitome of warmth and motherhood and on arrival had immediately ushered the two visitors into the large warm kitchen where she hugged Will warmly and then did the same to Jane.
As they walked away from the farmhouse after their meal, Mr Hall called out 'Will, need any TVO top up while I'm in the shed?' at which Mrs Hall was heard to say 'Jack, leave them alone.'
'No, I'm alright for now, thanks Jack,' Will shouted back, smiling.
'TVO?' asked Jane.
Will laughed. 'Tractor Vaporising Oil. Mix it a pint to a gallon with good o
ld petrol and it means I get more mileage now petrol's in short supply. It's a different story on a farm as you probably know; no issues with fuel. I could run the old girl purely on TVO, but that gets a bit more complicated and mechanical. Mixing it is good enough for now; my petrol goes further and that's enough. I generally get sent away with food, socks or TVO; or all three.' Will smiled affectionately on talking of his second family's generosity.
As the evening drew in, from their vantage point on a small hill miles away from the city, Jane and Will watched the lights of London go out.
'Bloody war eh?' Will mused in the darkness.
'Yes, bloody war.' Jane said.
Will was a little startled at Jane's concurrence with a matching cuss word and he laughed.
'So where are your family Jane? Are they in London?'
'No, mum's in Somerset.'
'How come you're here then?'
'Mum and Dad moved here when I was small because Dad worked for one of the banks. Dad died five years ago.' Will gently offered an I'm sorry as Jane carried on. 'Mum and I moved back to Somerset to be near family. I missed the city though; it's my home. So I moved back three years ago, much to Mum's disappointment. I lived with an old friend of my Mum's, Mrs Cavendish, so that eased the parting a bit. Mum knew I was in safe hands with her to keep an eye on me.'
'Will she want you to move down with her, now the house is gone?'
'Yes, absolutely. I've spoken with her several times and promised to visit and everything. I've reassured her over and over. It's not so much the issue of not having Mrs Cavendish watching over me anymore, but the air raids. Mum's had enough of me being here amongst it. It frightens her.'
'She's your mum Jane, it's bound to frighten her.' Will could see both views; a mum's protection versus a daughter's independence. Will also found a third view that he hadn't noticed until now. It was his. He felt his own contradiction of the two women's opinions. He wanted to keep Jane safe, but he also wanted her to stay near to him. 'You haven't thought of moving back with your mum, even temporarily? Maybe you should think about it. London will be here when you come back.'
'Yes, I've thought about it. Actually, no I haven't; not really. Well, I have thought about it, but not seriously. Even when I'm scared I don't really ever imagine I'll leave. But I've told mum that I will if things get too bad here and I tell her it's not as dangerous as it seems. She pretends she believes me and I pretend I don't know she's pretending.'
As they spoke a flash lit up the sky and, even though the sound it made was distant, Jane jumped. Will put his arm around her.
'You're brave Jane. Not many would have been buried under a house and not have run away.' Jane shrugged and leaned towards Will's warm body. 'Come on; let's go back into the warm.'
They stood and turned back to the farmhouse leaving London in the distance.
As the evening wore on, Jane was enveloped by the Halls and drawn into their kindness. The younger members of the family were delightful, providing fun and laughter as Mr and Mrs Hall soaked up news of Will's latest job and passed on a letter received from Harry. They were interested but not intrusive when it came to learning about Jane and all were genuinely sad when the time came for Jane and Will to leave.
'We've room for you to stay over,' Mrs Hall invited. 'You don't want to go back tonight in the dark and the cold, with the blackout and the bombs and everything. And with those silly things on your headlamps when you ride your motorcycle, Will, it's a wonder you can even find London.'
'Bless you Maggie, but we need to get back. Work beckons. It's been great as always.' Will kissed Maggie on the cheek and shook Jack's hand. 'Don't worry Maggie, I'm used to riding the Sunbeam with her eyes half closed. We'll be fine.'
'Thank you so much for a lovely evening.' Jane echoed Will, sorry to go.
'You're most welcome Jane, anytime at all.' She looked at Will. 'Bring Jane again soon Will.'
'Yes ma'am,' Will saluted.
'Oh get away with you,' Mrs Hall shooed him with her apron and they left the farmhouse.
Will carefully fastened the helmet under Jane's chin, apologising all the time. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think we'd stay into the dark. I said I wouldn't take you on her in the dark.'
'It's fine, honestly. I'll be fine, don't worry.' Jane found that, for a moment, she too was surprisingly good at acting.
The Halls stood waving from the kitchen door with the light and warmth of the house glowing behind them and children calling and waving from the yard. Will and Jane waved back as they sat aboard the purring Sunbeam before gently moving off into the darkness.
During daylight Jane's nervousness on the motorbike had been easily replaced with confidence by Will's sure and steady lead. But now in the darkness of the countryside at night and with only the very much obscured headlamps to offer guidance Jane held more firmly to Will as he navigated the lanes he'd ridden through a hundred times, closing her eyes as much as she dared.
Dawn
The warmth that had spread through Jane's body during the three weeks since she'd first met Will now coursed up to her lips and culminated in a smile that was clear for all, or so Jane thought. This suspicion was further fuelled by Mrs Cartlyn, who had stopped at the front desk to enquire about her post as she had received nothing for several days. Jane answered the abrupt query with her usual efficient and friendly approach, before Mrs Cartlyn continued.
'I see. Well, it's still most strange. Like a lot of things around here at the moment. Comings and goings at all hours and sneaking about. It's distasteful to say the least.' Jane agreed without agreeing. Mrs Cartlyn started towards the lift, then stopped and turned back to Jane. Jane might have imagined it, but there seemed the slightest softening of Mrs Cartlyn's ice solid eyes. 'In these times, more than ever Jane, any new found joie de vivre that you may have should be tempered with caution.'
Mrs Cartlyn, for all her brusque abrasiveness, suddenly seemed intuitive and concerned. Jane had always known that Mrs Cartlyn had a kind heart and she saw more depth in her than the other staff gave the old lady credit for. She had indeed noticed the young receptionist's glow but Jane felt a little sad to think that, just possibly, a long past broken love affair had caused the old lady to recommend caution. Or maybe she hadn't registered any difference in Jane at all. After all, she'd also mentioned strange comings and goings and sneaking about, but Jane had heard nothing of this from anyone else in the hotel.
Mr Callaghan was now before her and crossed the foyer without turning as Jane put her hand out to answer the telephone. He carried a small bag and a briefcase and, thinking he must be off on another of his trips, Jane picked up the receiver.
Moments later, as Jane glanced towards the hotel door she saw a motorbike pass along the street and her mind moved back to an outing with Will a few days before. She told herself off for daydreaming and turned to the pile of post on the desk as she balanced the telephone between shoulder and ear. This man was occupying more of her thoughts than was healthy, surely. She'd even, for a split second, thought she'd seen him that morning in the hotel. Perhaps Mrs Cartlyn wasn't the only one imagining things.
The same had happened two days ago. Jane had glanced up from her work to see the back of a man briskly turn the corner at the top of the stairs. For the briefest of moments she'd had the strangest sensation of butterflies inside her chest; until she realised that the figure must have been Mr Callaghan, such was the similarity in the two men's build and gait. From a distance, they could indeed each be mistaken for the other. And in describing them, you could be forgiven for using the same words; tall and straight, broad shoulders, decisive gait, strong features, dark hair, grey eyes, handsome, kind, exciting… Where did a straightforward impartial physical description end and turn to something else? Jane mentally reprimanded herself and carried on with her work.
A familiar voice greeted Jane the next time she picked up the telephone that day.
'Fancy an evening under the stars Sunshine?'
Jane smiled
and looked around her in case anyone was to notice her indulging in a personal call which was strictly against the rules. She tilted the receiver a little closer to her lips.
'Sounds lovely.'
'Great, I'll pick you up at seven.'
Just as the smiling girl was about to respond, there was a commotion at the other end of the line. Muffled voices and movement could be heard but not discerned.
'Will? Will?' The line went dead and Jane spent the rest of her day wondering what had happened, innocently cursing the effects the war was having on even the most simple of things such as the telephone lines.
As Jane sat in her room at Mrs Foster's that evening waiting for the voice that would tell her Will had arrived, she worried. She wasn't sure what she thought might have happened but felt more unsettled the longer she mused over the abrupt end to the telephone call. She'd mentioned this to Dorothy when she'd met her for tea just an hour or so earlier. Dorothy was quick to reassure her and confirm her first theory; the telephone lines weren't what they used to be. Dorothy had also smiled knowingly and acknowledged Jane's very obvious concern for the gentleman of which they spoke.
'Sounds like this new friend means a lot to you Jane.'
'Do you know something Dotty? I've only just realised how much. He means an awful lot.' Dorothy's hand reached across the table to squeeze Jane's as she winked and smiled.
A gentle knock at the door startled Jane, so deep in thought was she. 'Your young man's here Jane,' came the voice.
'Thank you Mrs Foster, I'll be right there.' Jane stood up to get her coat and bag.
'Jane, may I come in a moment?' Jane was surprised to hear the landlady's request.
Sunshine Spirit Page 5