by Lesley Eames
‘Thank you,’ Lizzie said, then, anxious to turn the attention elsewhere, she added, ‘It’s my last night so we should have some music.’
She forced herself to be lively for the rest of the evening but when she went to bed, she lay wishing she wasn’t ending her visit feeling she’d introduced a kind of awkwardness into her friendship with the Warrens. The thought kept her from sleep for hours.
Everyone hugged her when she was on the point of leaving the next morning, including Matt. She was touched, though she still felt uncomfortable. ‘Thank you so much for having me to stay. I’ve enjoyed it immensely.’
‘We’ve loved having you here,’ Edith assured her. ‘You must come again.’
‘I’d like that.’ Lizzie really would like that. It might give her a chance to make up for turning this visit sour. ‘I’ll see you when you’re next in London?’ she asked Matt.
Once she’d had a few days to let her feelings settle back into the old familiarity, she’d be desperate to see him again and know that all was well between them, though it grieved her to think that his presence in London would mean his return to the war.
Matt nodded. ‘I hope so.’
With that she had to be content. She climbed into the cart, Joe clicked his tongue at Hector and the cart rumbled off. Lizzie waved until the Warrens were out of sight then turned to Joe. ‘It’s kind of you to take me to the station.’
‘It’s no bother.’
He wasn’t the sort of man who needed to talk all the time and, after a few observations on the scenery they passed, Lizzie was relieved to be able to lapse into quietness.
‘’Til next time,’ Joe said, when he left her at the station.
Lizzie spent the journey wishing she could start her visit to the Warrens again and manage it differently. Unfortunately, life didn’t offer the chance to go backwards.
Back at home Lizzie wrote to Edith to thank her for her hospitality, sending friendly messages to all the family, not least Matt. She duly received a letter in return, including equally friendly messages, not least from Matt.
But Edith’s next letter struck a pang of dismay into Lizzie: We were all so sad and worried to part from Matt. Did you manage to see him on his way back to the front?
Lizzie hadn’t seen him because he hadn’t looked her up. He hadn’t even let her know he was returning to the war.
Had she offended him by keeping quiet about her engagement? Lizzie couldn’t believe he’d hold a grudge over that. Which left another, more mortifying, possibility. Matt had sensed that moment of attraction after all, but said nothing about it to spare them both from embarrassment. Perhaps it had even disgusted him, especially once he’d learnt that she was engaged to another man. Whatever his precise feelings, it appeared that he wanted to let their friendship drop.
Lizzie had never regretted a foolish moment more.
33
The postcard featured Bournemouth Pier. I have a date for the next show, Jack had written on the back. December 10th, which means we can make it a Christmas show. I hope the date is convenient?
Running out of space, he’d continued along the side. Could you write and let me know?
After checking with Margaret and Polly, Lizzie wrote back to confirm their availability. She was relieved to have the show on her horizon. She needed to keep busy in order to take her mind off the Matt-sized hole that had opened up in her life and the guilt she felt over darling Harry, twin hurts that she was keeping to herself.
Two weeks later Lizzie picked a letter off the doormat and felt a jolt to her heart as she recognised Matt’s handwriting on the envelope. Had he written to confirm that he no longer wished to be her friend? She tore the envelope open and pulled the letter out.
Dear Lizzie,
As you can see, I’m writing from France. Unfortunately, my train into London broke down and I had to spend the night in a siding so my plan of making time to see you evaporated.
It was a real pleasure to see you at the farm, however…
A broken-down train? Lizzie read the letter multiple times, trying to reach through the words to Matt himself. She supposed the story of the train might well be true, but the feeling that there’d been an alteration in their friendship wouldn’t shift.
So why was he writing? Was it because he’d decided that it would look strange to his family if he dropped the friendship suddenly and he didn’t want to explain his reasons? Matt might have lost his respect for Lizzie but he was too good a man to wish to humiliate her. The thought of it made her want to weep.
She spent a lot of time on the letter she wrote in reply, trying hard both to entertain him and to persuade him that she was still the Lizzie of old. Matt wrote again and their letters settled into a regular pattern.
Yet the unease persisted. Something had changed. Or appeared to have changed. Lizzie longed to see both Matt and Harry again so that everything in her world could fall back into its proper place.
In the meantime, she had other responsibilities – Margaret, Polly, her pupils, the sick and wounded servicemen she entertained… In navigating difficult times, discipline would be her friend.
*
Jack’s next postcard featured the castle at Hastings. The message on the back was a hastily-written scrawl. I’m making a flying visit to London on Wednesday and will call in the morning. I hope this will be convenient.
Wednesday was today. Lizzie told Margaret that Jack would be visiting then rushed to the Post Office to telephone Polly at old Mrs Bishop’s house. ‘Can you come?’
Unfortunately, Mrs Bishop was struggling with her arthritis and Polly felt obliged to stay with her. ‘You’ll tell Jack I’m sorry to miss him?’
‘I certainly will.’
Margaret was giving a lesson when Jack arrived. ‘No Polly?’ he asked, obviously disappointed.
Lizzie passed on Polly’s message. Did he believe it, though? It was frustrating as Polly had shown a lot of interest in Jack’s postcards over the weeks of his absence and Lizzie had been hoping the interest extended to Jack himself.
He’d come to share the programme he’d drawn up for the Christmas show and to ask a favour. Would Lizzie mind overseeing the production of the leaflets and posters as she was on the spot in London and he’d be travelling around? ‘I’ll be glad to help,’ she told him.
They talked about the show for a while longer but soon Jack had to rush off to another appointment. Having seen Amy’s name in the list of performers, Lizzie hoped he wasn’t meeting her. ‘Polly really is sorry to miss you,’ she said.
Jack smiled, but it was the sort of polite smile that suggested he imagined Polly was missing him no more than any absent friend.
He was giving up on her, just as Lizzie had feared.
Lizzie stood in an agony of indecision as she watched him walk away. It was one thing to hope that love blossomed between Polly and Jack. It was quite another to interfere. But Lizzie hated to think of her friend letting a chance for happiness pass her by. Talking to Polly herself still felt like a mistake, but perhaps Lizzie might do some good from a different direction.
‘Jack!’ She ran to catch him up.
‘Did I forget something?’
‘No, it’s just…’ Oh, heavens.
‘Just what?’
‘Polly had a… disappointment. Her childhood sweetheart broke off with her when he went to the war and she needs to come to terms with that. Be patient with her, Jack. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but—’
‘It’s helpful! So Polly had a childhood sweetheart. Did you meet him?’
‘He was a friend when we were children.’
‘But you think he was a fool to let Polly go. Of course you do. This war is doing strange things to people. They think they’re going on a glorious adventure for King and country but the reality is… different. Even so, to disappoint Polly…’
He made it sound as though disappointing Polly was beyond his comprehension. ‘You think I have a chance with her?’
‘There’s no doubt about my feelings. It’s Polly’s feelings that are uncertain. But you’ve given me hope and I’m grateful. You’re worried you’ve overstepped the mark in telling me about Polly’s past, but I see it as trying to help a friend. You can be sure of my discretion.’
‘Thank you.’
Still unsure if she’d done the right thing, Lizzie returned to the house. ‘It’s up to you now, Poll,’ she muttered under her breath.
*
Jack returned to London from his tour looking bright-eyed and energetic. He threw himself into the arrangements for the show and was full of praise for what Lizzie, Polly and Margaret had planned, from Christmas carols to hats decorated with winter foliage. ‘The Penrose Singers will do me proud,’ he said.
‘The Penrose Players and Singers,’ Lizzie corrected, not wanting Margaret to feel her playing was being undervalued.
‘Oh, no,’ Margaret said. ‘The Penrose Singers is… catchier, I believe is the appropriate word.
Catchier? Margaret really was moving with the times.
Jack arranged for two rehearsals at the Merriment again – a general rehearsal, with a dress rehearsal one week later. Gathering together for the first rehearsal, Lizzie was pleased to meet the new performers – Sheldrick Rhodes, a flautist (‘My real name is Stan Roberts, but it doesn’t have the same ring,’ he confided), Ernesto and Katerina who were opera singers, and Svetlana and Stefan who were dancers. She was also pleased to see the familiar faces of The Tierney Tenors, but not at all pleased to see Amy’s predatory features, her jealous gaze following as Polly charmed her fellow performers with sparkle and sweetness.
In a break in the rehearsal one of the Tierney Tenors taught Polly some dance steps then spun her around at speed. When she almost overbalanced Jack caught her and set her upright. Polly looked up at him, laughing, and Lizzie was sure she saw something – a spark – pass between them. Certainly, Polly’s cheeks glowed prettily pink and she spent the rest of the rehearsal looking as though she’d been struck by a revelation that made her feel happy, shy and thoughtful, all at the same time.
‘Jack’s fun, isn’t he?’ Polly remarked on the way home.
‘A good person too,’ Lizzie said.
Polly came to Margaret’s house twice over the following week. Laughter burst from her in merry bubbles of joy and she moved with elastic lightness. She was quick to break into song too. Lizzie was delighted to think her friend might be climbing out of her rut at last.
Jack sent Lizzie a hopeful, enquiring look when he saw Polly again at the dress rehearsal. Lizzie sent him an encouraging smile in return but, wisely, Jack bided his time, letting Polly explore her changing feelings without pressure.
The show – called Christmas Cavalcade – was duly performed and Lizzie felt it was even better than the summer event. ‘A superb evening,’ Cordelia declared, coming backstage to leave champagne but declining to stay to drink it. ‘I won’t impose on your party and I have guests of my own to look after.’
More audience members came to congratulate them and Charlie Sparrow strutted like a contented turkey as he handed round glasses.
‘I’m going to take this hat off before I have a drink,’ Margaret announced.
The hats were not only cumbersome but also liable to be damaged so Lizzie and Polly followed her into the dressing-room to take their hats off too. Margaret put her hat into its bag with a satisfied sigh at no longer looking what she considered to be ridiculous. She didn’t bother straightening her hair because it was scraped away from her face anyway, but strode straight off to the party. Lizzie and Polly lingered, having softer styles that needed attention.
Polly opened her bag to find her comb. ‘Oh,’ she said, then brought out an unopened letter. ‘The post arrived just as I was setting out but I forgot all about it.’
She stared at the envelope as though trying to decide if she should open it now then said, ‘I’ll read it later. It’s from my mother and I doubt she has any urgent news.’ And the party was waiting.
She was returning the envelope to her bag when she paused, squeezing it between her fingers as though struck by its unexpected thickness. Mrs Meadows found writing difficult and rarely wrote more than a single page. Obviously curious now, Polly tore it open and pulled out both a letter and another, smaller envelope that made her grow pale and still.
‘Poll?’ Lizzie questioned, but Polly didn’t appear to hear.
She opened the smaller envelope, read the letter that had been folded inside it then put a hand to her chest as though her heart was beating frantically.
‘Polly?’ Lizzie said again, worried now.
But when she turned to Lizzie at last, Polly’s face was excited. ‘It’s from Davie. He says he made a terrible mistake in letting me go. He hopes I can forgive him and give him another chance.’
Lizzie realised someone was standing by the open doorway. Jack. He sent her a sorrowful look and walked away.
34
‘Terrific party,’ Sheldrick called as he half-walked, half-danced past Lizzie on his way to fetch another drink.
‘Isn’t it?’ she said, though the enjoyment had gone out of it for her.
Poor Jack. He was trying so hard to be the life and soul of the evening but Lizzie could see that he was struggling. Polly was trying hard too but would clearly have preferred to be at home with her thoughts.
The party ended at last. Looking pale but sincere, Jack managed to thank Lizzie, Polly and Margaret for taking part in the show then excused himself to bid farewell to other departing performers.
‘Tell me what you think about Davie,’ Polly urged, drawing Lizzie aside as they put on their coats.
‘It isn’t for me to interfere, Poll.’ Lizzie had interfered enough and probably cost Jack more pain by encouraging him to hope.
‘I just want to know what you think.’
‘I think you must do whatever makes you happy.’
‘You sound doubtful. Don’t you think Davie can make me happy again?’
‘I’m not saying that.’
‘You’re not jumping up and down with joy either.’
‘Davie hurt you before. I can’t forget that.’
‘He hurt me dreadfully, but he’s apologised and tried to explain why he let me go. He says he began to feel cowardly for working on the farm instead of fighting, and once he’d joined up he got to know men who thought life was for laughing and larking instead of slaving on farms. He let them persuade him that there was a whole world of adventure waiting for those who hadn’t tied themselves down too early. Not that he’s blaming them. He’s blaming his own weak-headedness. He says war does strange things to men. It twists their minds.’
Jack had said much the same thing.
‘Davie’s head is clear again now and he knows that what he wants is me and the life we always planned. He isn’t just expecting to pick up where we left off, though. He realises we need to talk before he can hope to put his ring back on my finger. Obviously, we’ll have to wait for his release before that’s possible, but until then he wants us to write to try to get to know each other all over again through our letters.’
This was a more thoughtful Davie than the boy of old. Maybe he really was the man to make Polly happy for the rest of her life.
‘If Davie can make you happy, then I couldn’t be more pleased that he’s come to his senses, though I’ll be sorry to lose you to Witherton again. That’s selfish of me, I know.’
‘You’re never selfish, Lizzie. You’re the best friend anyone could have.’
Polly hugged her then stood back and said, ‘Jack was quiet tonight.’
‘Was he?’
‘I’ve hurt him, haven’t I?’
Lizzie couldn’t deny it.
‘Does he think I led him on? Do you think I led him on?’
‘You’
d never mislead anyone deliberately, Poll.’
‘I hope not, but I still feel guilty. Jack and I were never walking out together. We never even talked about it. But I let him think we were going in that direction.’
Polly paced the dressing room restlessly. ‘I didn’t realise how much he liked me until recently. I expect you noticed long before then, but after Davie rejected me, I closed my mind to anything romantic. It was the only way I could cope. But it gradually dawned on me that Jack had feelings for me and, much to my surprise, that I was beginning to have feelings for him. I like Jack. I might have grown to love him. But Davie… It’s been Davie all my life.’
‘I understand, Polly. I’m sure Jack’s disappointed. But I’m also sure he doesn’t hold a grudge. He wishes you happy.’
‘I hope you don’t lose his friendship because of me.’
‘Jack has to do what’s right for him, just as you must do what’s right for you.’
‘I wish I’d received this letter before I started letting Jack think there might be something between us. It could have saved him some pain.’
Sadly, life wasn’t so convenient.
*
Lizzie told Margaret about Davie’s letter the following morning. ‘I’m glad he’s written if he’s the right man for Polly,’ Margaret said, ‘but Jack Lomax must be disappointed.’
It was her only comment, though a troubled look showed she felt Jack’s pain.
Lizzie’s concern for Jack prompted her to send a note to him, and just after Christmas they met over a cup of tea. Jack greeted her with a smile but she only had to see his bruised-looking eyes to know it had cost him an effort.
‘Please don’t think I resent Polly for preferring Davie. I could never resent her because I love her. I’m horribly disappointed, though.’
‘I’m sorry, especially if I—’
‘You did nothing wrong, Lizzie. You wanted Polly and me to be happy. I’m sure we would have been happy, if Davie hadn’t written. But he did write and now I have to learn to face a different future.’