If I Were You

by Lynn Austin

  Every now and then Audrey would recognize a broken bit of furniture or a fragment of a rug or a vase as workers shoveled debris into the street, and she had the crazy notion that if she could just gather up all the shattered pieces and put them back together again, everything would be all right. Mother would be all right. She imagined her mother emerging from the rubble, strong and proud and beautiful, dusting dirt from her sequined dress and sniffing at all the fuss—then frowning in displeasure at Audrey’s tears of relief. Audrey wished she could cry but she felt strangely numb as she fought to hold herself together. It was what Mother would have wished.

  Shortly before noon, the workers found two bodies. ARP wardens laid the lifeless forms on stretchers. As Robbins went forward to identify them, one of Mother’s cigarette holders rolled out of the ruins at his feet. Audrey saw his expression and knew the answer before he spoke a word.

  “NO!” The scream rose up from deep in Audrey’s soul before she could stop it. It couldn’t be true. Mother couldn’t be dead. She was larger than life, a proud, beautiful woman who held Audrey’s world together. She’d never been the mother Audrey longed for, but she was the mother she needed—now more than ever. How would she navigate the rituals of the aristocracy without her? There were rules and customs she still needed to learn, standards one must live up to, the right people to meet. For as long as Audrey could remember, she had clung to the hope that if she managed to do everything right, married a suitable husband, socialized in the proper circles, perhaps Mother would finally love her. Because in spite of Mother’s aloofness, in spite of the dark truth of her infidelity, Lady Rosamunde was her mother. And Audrey loved her.

  Eve’s cries were as soul-deep as her own as she wept alongside her. Audrey turned to her. They shared an unimaginable loss. But Eve stepped back. “This is your mother’s fault!” Her face twisted with anger and grief. “She was too selfish to go into the shelter where it was safe. She wouldn’t leave London, so my mum had to stay here, too. She didn’t think of anyone but herself!”

  Eve’s anger stunned her. But the accusation was true. “I know. I know what Mother is like . . .” What she was like. Mother was dead. A chasm of grief opened before Audrey, and she covered her face and wept as hours of pent-up fear and sorrow overflowed. Eve turned away from her into the cook’s arms. None of the servants moved to comfort Audrey.

  14

  WELLINGFORD VILLAGE

  Eve gripped Alfie’s hand as she watched George and Robbins and Williams—men who had been like fathers to her—lower Mum’s coffin into the ground behind the village church. The villagers she’d known all her life surrounded her, sharing her grief, murmuring about Mum’s tragic death. Throughout the long hours of the wake, the funeral, and now the burial, Alfie and Audrey had remained by Eve’s side, holding her up, helping her through these terrible days, even though they were also grieving. Lady Rosamunde’s funeral would be tomorrow at Wellingford, once Mr. Clarkson returned home.

  “If there’s anything I can do,” Rev. Hamlin said. “Anything at all . . .” Everyone had loved Ellen Dawson. Her fierce loyalty to Lady Rosamunde baffled the villagers as much as it did Eve. She still blamed Lady Rosamunde for Mum’s death. If not for her stubbornness, Mum would be alive. The Anderson shelter had kept the others safe. Yet Eve tried not to direct her anger at Alfie or Audrey. It wasn’t their fault. They’d suffered from Lady Rosamunde’s selfishness, too.

  Tears blurred Eve’s eyes as Mum’s coffin came to rest at the bottom of the hole alongside Granny Maud’s grave. The two people she loved most in this world were gone. When Granny died, Eve thought the ache in her heart would never heal. Her life had changed that day, yet the world spun on, the sun rising and setting. “Rain or shine, just take the day the Lord gives you,” Granny Maud taught her. With Mum to console her, the painful wound of grief had slowly healed. This time, Eve’s grief seemed bottomless, swallowing her alive, blocking off the sunlight.

  How could she live her life without Mum? Who could she confide in when she fell in love? Who would share her hopes and dreams, her joy on her wedding day? Who would teach her how to be a mother? Mum had worked so hard, sacrificing so much to raise Eve to adulthood and now she would miss the rest of Eve’s life. And Eve would miss the warmth of Mum’s arms, her gentle words of advice, her love. It wasn’t fair! Her grief was a wound too deep to ever heal.

  After the funeral luncheon, after the last of the villagers and servants had consoled her and wept with her, Eve returned to Wellingford with Alfie and Audrey. She had no other place to go besides her flat in London. She would sleep in her old room tonight.

  “Let’s go out and get drunk together,” Alfie said as they climbed Wellingford’s front steps.

  “I can’t do it, Alfie. Getting drunk won’t help. That’s not how I grieve.”

  “Are you sure? It always helps me forget. For a little while, anyway.” Did Alfie know about his mother, how much she drank? About the men in her life? This wasn’t the time to ask.

  In the end, Alfie ordered the servants to build a roaring fire in the sitting room—one of the smaller of Wellingford’s rooms—and he and Eve cuddled together on the brocade sofa until well past midnight. Audrey joined them for part of the time, and when she finally went to bed, Alfie doused the lights and opened the drapes so they could gaze at the windswept November sky. “Aren’t you worried that the ARP wardens will fine you for opening your curtains and letting the firelight escape?” Eve asked as he settled beside her again.

  “I’ll give them a piece of my mind if they try.”

  He’d opened a bottle of his father’s whiskey, but he was the only one drinking it. Straight from the bottle. Eve liked Alfie better during the first part of the evening when he was still himself, before the drink turned him into someone else, someone acting the part of a happy man. She leaned against his shoulder, dreading the thought of saying goodbye, the thought of him returning to war. Would God take Alfie from her, too? Was He that cruel?

  “Thanks for helping me get through today,” she said, exhaling. “My entire family is gone now. I’m all alone.”

  “How can I cheer you? I miss the lively girl you were before the war. You were always so vibrant and . . . untamed. So full of life. I used to think you could have fun in an empty room.”

  “This war changed all that. It destroyed my hope of ever having a future. It seems like the war will just go on and on until there’s no one left on either side.” She paused. “And now you’re going off to fight again, too.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Alfie lifted the bottle and took a swig. He wiped his mouth. “But it has to be done.”

  Eve leaned away from him and waited until he looked at her. She would say what she longed to say, no matter the outcome.

  “I want you to know that I love you, Alfie. I do. With all my heart. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and you’ve set the bar so high I don’t think I could ever love anyone else as much as you.”

  He pulled her close. Held her tight. “I have a confession to make. I’m in love with you, too.”

  “Y-you are?”

  “Mm. I have been for a long time. I’ve met plenty of girls, but none even comes close to you, Eve Dawson.”

  She pulled free to look at him, searching for the truth in his eyes. They shone with tears in the firelight. “That’s the first time you ever told me.”

  “I know. I never told you because—” He stopped. She waited. “Because I’m afraid to love you, Eve. Afraid I’m going to hurt you. I don’t believe in marriage after the way my parents’ marriage turned out. It’s safer for both of us if I don’t give away my heart. If I don’t have any expectations for myself or for you. We can just be together, having fun.” He started to raise the bottle, but Eve held on to his arm.

  “I don’t know what a marriage looks like, either. My daddy died before I was even born.”

  “See? I couldn’t bear the thought of loving you, finding joy and happiness with you—and then losing you.
That’s why . . . this . . .” He waved the whiskey bottle.

  “You hide behind it, Alfie. What if you decided not to hide and you were just yourself?”

  “I don’t think I would like what I saw if I had to face myself sober.”

  “Why? You’re a wonderful man.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I’m shallow, Eve. I like money and nice things. Fast cars. Loud parties where I can get lost among all the other shallow people. I’m like my mother in that respect. I would lose that life if I married you.”

  Eve closed her eyes and looked down as an arrow of pain pierced her heart. Alfie loved her. He thought about marrying her. But he never would.

  “See?” he said, lifting her chin. “I’ve already hurt you. And that’s the last thing I ever want to do.” He set his bottle on the floor and took her hand, holding it between his. She wanted to pull away yet she wanted him to hold it forever. “I’m sorry, Eve, but that’s the truth about me. Father wants me to marry into an aristocratic family. He’s been working toward respectability all his life, and the fact of the matter is that I’ll lose my inheritance if I don’t please him. And I don’t want to lose it.”

  In that moment she hated Alfie. Hated his brutal honesty as her hope bled away. “So given the choice between love and wealth, you’d choose wealth?” she asked, her voice stiff with anger.

  “I already confessed that I’m shallow, Eve. I’m sorry.”

  “And I’m very sorry for you. A simple life with someone you love can be every bit as wonderful as a life with . . . all of this.” She gestured to the opulent room. “Do you think your parents’ wealth made them happy?”

  “I know it didn’t.” He lifted the bottle and took a long swallow, grimacing as he lowered it again. “I know I can’t expect you to wait for me. But if you’re willing . . . if you let me remain a bachelor until I get my inheritance, then I’ll be free to marry you.”

  “What sort of man will you be by then?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like myself very much now, so what’s the difference? That’s why I need this.” He held up the bottle for a moment. “And it’s why I need you.”

  “If you need to drink in order to live with yourself, what good is it to be rich?”

  “You’re asking impossible questions. Just kiss me, Eve. I’m a better man when I’m with you.” She let him pull her close and kiss her, tasting the whiskey on his breath. And for a few beautiful, floating moments, nothing else mattered. She loved him. And Alfie loved her. She lost herself in the sheer joy of it.

  When the kiss ended, she caressed his face, loving the rough feel of his whiskers. They glinted like amber in the firelight. “You’re a better man than you think, Alfie.”

  He shook his head. “When I was in Belgium, every day seemed like my last. I was certain I was going to die. I watched so many others die, better men than me . . . The truth is, I don’t think I’ll survive this war.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “That’s why I’m determined to make the most of every day I have.” He set the bottle on the floor again and cupped her face in his hands. “My leave is nearly over. Can’t we share one precious night of happiness together?”

  “You mean sleep with you?”

  He nodded. Eve couldn’t deny the passion she felt for him, burning bright and hot like the coals in the fireplace. She imagined her joy in being engulfed in each other’s arms, each other’s love. So many people already had died in this war, and who knew if she and Alfie would survive it? Why not give this last night to each other? Oh, how she longed to! And yet she couldn’t. She shook her head. Tears slid down her face as she tried to explain. “All I have is myself, Alfie. I can’t give that to you or to any man unless I know I’m getting all of him in return. It wouldn’t be a fair exchange. I would give you everything—and I’d have nothing.”

  “It wouldn’t be like that.”

  “You just told me that you love something else more than you love me. You admitted that I don’t have all of your heart.”

  “Eve, listen—”

  “I need to go to bed, Alfie. I’m returning to London tomorrow.” She wiggled out of his embrace and stood. “I’m going to believe that you’ll change. That you’ll find yourself and choose love in the end, not money. For now, it’s enough to know that you do love me, even if I take second place in your heart.”

  He grabbed her hand to stop her. “Will you be at Mother’s funeral tomorrow with Audrey and me?”

  “I can’t. My mum died because of her. I already told Audrey I wasn’t coming. She understands. You need to be with her, Alfie, not me. She loves you so much. You’re all she has. Please be good and kind to her. Don’t start drinking until you get back to your Army base.”

  “So we’re saying goodbye now?”

  “Not goodbye—until next time.” She bent and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him as if it were the last time, praying it wouldn’t be. “I’m going to write to you every chance I get, even if you hardly ever write back. I love you so much, Alfie.”

  He didn’t try to follow her as she crossed to the door. She turned for one last glimpse of him and saw him lift the bottle to his lips.

  Audrey rose before dawn and dressed quickly. Eve was leaving early this morning, and there were things she wanted to say to her. Things she needed to say. She found Eve down in the basement kitchen having a cup of tea.

  “You’re up early,” Eve said.

  “I want to drive you to the train station.”

  Eve shook her head. “Thanks, but I would rather walk. I need time to think . . . and to say goodbye to this place.”

  Audrey sat down beside her on a wooden chair. “I’m so sorry for the selfish choices my mother made. I know my words can’t change anything, but I am truly sorry. Please, stay here at Wellingford with me for a while, Eve. You need to get away from the madness in London and take time to grieve. We both need—”

  “I’m not going to run away and hide in the country.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Just stay for a few days and—”

  “We’re very different, Audrey. Your reaction is to scurry back to safety. Mine is to fight!”

  Audrey wanted to deny it but knew Eve was right. “I pleaded with Mother to come to Wellingford, where it was safe, but she refused.”

  Eve didn’t seem to hear her as she stared at her empty teacup. “War has taken everyone—first Daddy and now Mum. I have no one left. At least you still have your father and Alfie.”

  “Oh, Eve.”

  “Well, I’m fighting back! I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but now my mind is made up. I’m enlisting.”

  “I thought you already were volunteering.”

  Eve waved her hand as if canceling Audrey’s words. “I sit beside a telephone for the fire service. It isn’t enough! I’m going to join the ATS and drive an ambulance or a lorry or . . . or something! I’m not going to sit in an office and type all day, then huddle in a shelter all night. I need to fight!”

  Anger stirred inside Audrey, too. Her mother was dead, her town house in ruins. If Alfie and Eve could do their bit, then she could, too. Passing out blankets and bandaging cuts no longer seemed like enough. She could be courageous with Eve beside her. “I’ll enlist with you.”

  “Ha! That I’d like to see!”

  Audrey could forgive Eve’s disdain. Her grief was speaking.

  “I mean it, Eve. I don’t want to sit in Wellingford Hall all alone until the war ends.”

  “If it ever does.”

  “We’ve both lost our mothers. We both should fight back. Together. Like we did at Dover during the evacuation. And you aren’t all alone, Eve. You still have me. And Alfie.”

  Eve stared at her for a long moment. Then she pulled Audrey into her arms and they wept together. “I’m sorry, Audrey . . . I’m so sorry for the things I said . . .”

  “Never mind. We’ll get through this together. We’ll grieve together. From now on we
’re sisters. We’ll stay together no matter what. In the good times and the bad. Until the war ends—and forever after that.”

  “I can’t imagine an ‘after.’”

  “I can’t either. But whatever happens, Eve, we’ll face it together.”

  Eve’s mind raced with all of the things she needed to do as she walked to the village train station. Unless Audrey changed her mind, they would enlist together in the Army’s Auxiliary Territorial Service next week. In the meantime, Eve needed to resign from her job at the ministry and as a fire service volunteer, pack her meager belongings, and say goodbye to her flatmates.

  The train arrived, crowded with men in uniform. If only the Army would let women fight with real guns and weapons. Eve would be fearless like her daddy had been. After all, she had nothing left to lose.

  She was still thinking about her daddy as the train chugged into Victoria Station in London, and mourning the loss of his photograph in the rubble of the town house. Granny Maud’s picture of the Good Shepherd had also been destroyed along with any faith Eve might have had in Him. The ARP wardens promised she would be allowed to pick through the ruins but she wasn’t hopeful of finding anything.

  Eve had planned to take the Underground to her flat, but she rode to the Westminster station instead. Big Ben chimed the half hour as she emerged into the cold daylight and crossed busy Bridge Street to Westminster Abbey.

  She felt alone in the vast hall as she made her way to the Unknown Warrior’s grave. She gazed down at the dark slab, dry-eyed, emptied of tears.

  “You’re all together now, Daddy,” she murmured. “You, Granny Maud, and Mum.”

  She’d visited this grave often since moving to London and always sensed that her daddy was near, that he was listening. But not today. Today, the grave was merely a black marker in the middle of the vast stone floor. She was alone.

  15

  ATS MOTOR TRANSPORT TRAINING CENTER, DECEMBER 1940

  Audrey pricked her finger yet again on the sewing needle, drawing blood. She fought to control her tears. In the week that she and Eve had spent in the ATS training camp, Audrey was always fighting tears. She hadn’t imagined anything could be this hard. It was bad enough that on their first day in the Army they were marched into the latrine, six girls at a time, and given only sixty seconds to finish what they needed to do. But the snickers and lewd comments from the lower-class girls, who had pegged Audrey at first sight as an aristocrat, made the experience worse.