If I Were You

by Lynn Austin

  “Listen, Eve—”

  “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. The last thing I need is your pity. I’ll figure something out.” She left the tins on the counter and fetched her coat from the hook by the door, shoving her arms into the sleeves.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the park. I do my best thinking when I’m around trees.”

  “Shall I come with you?”

  “Please don’t. It’s time we got used to being apart. There’s going to be an entire ocean between us before long.” The lock clicked as the door closed.

  Audrey worried that she’d made a mistake in deciding to go home to Wellingford so abruptly. With thoughts of Robert and the baby occupying her mind, it hadn’t occurred to her that Eve would be left all alone. Yet Eve made friends so quickly. She always had. Dozens of girls from the ATS would love to share this tiny furnished flat with her. Besides, it was too late—Audrey had given her notice at work. She glanced around the room, deciding what to pack, already homesick for Wellingford Hall.

  Eve’s trousers were growing tight around the waist when she learned in late January that her job was ending. She would be let go on the first of February. Her boss promised sterling references, but what chance did Eve have of being hired as a typist once the bump in her middle gave away her secret? Still, she had felt the first fluttering of life and didn’t regret her decision to let her baby live.

  All around her, Londoners picked up the pieces of their lives and rebuilt from the rubble of war, marrying sweethearts, starting new jobs, repairing damaged homes. She must do the same, even though she felt scoured to the bone, stripped of everyone and everything that might provide a foundation to build upon. She had tried to formulate a plan while riding back and forth to work on the Underground every day, but without success. She had walked for miles through St. James’s Park and nearby Green Park—the sheep were gone now that the war was over—trying to decide what to do. In the end, the only person she could turn to for help was Audrey. That meant returning to Wellingford Hall. Eve would go there and beg for a job, not for her own sake, but for her child’s. Her baby was the only family she had left, the only link to the people she loved—to Mum and Granny Maud. And to Louis. Eve cleared off her desk on the final day of work, packed everything she owned, which wasn’t much, and rode the train to Wellingford.

  The once-familiar landscape seemed alien as she walked down the road to the manor house with her suitcases. The plowed fields were deserted and overgrown with weeds, the road rutted and scarred from Army jeeps, casualties of war just like her. Like her child. Eve had walked this road with Mum to begin work as a scullery maid. She had left on this road to become a typist, then an ATS driver. She never had imagined that she would return as a servant. But she would do it willingly if Audrey allowed her to stay.

  She halted inside the open gates for a moment, setting down her suitcases to catch her breath. She looked up at the imposing stone facade with its mullioned windows. They stared back at her in cold silence, offering no welcome. Wellingford Hall revived memories of Alfie. She’d said goodbye to him here—and goodbye to the foolish dream of becoming his wife and the lady of Wellingford Hall. It also brought back memories of Louis.

  Eve sighed and hefted her suitcases again. Mum had worked so hard to make sure Eve had a better life, far from Wellingford. Eve understood now why Mum had stayed, why she’d sacrificed everything for the child she loved. Eve would do the same.

  She walked around to the servants’ door, back to where she’d started.

  Audrey sat at her desk in the small sitting room, trying to describe to Robert the soft brush of the baby’s movements inside her. They feel like feathery angels’ wings, she wrote. She wished she could tell him in person, but the bureaucratic paperwork that would allow her and thousands of other war brides to come to America moved at a frustrating pace. Some of her fellow “wallflower wives” protested outside the US Embassy in Grosvenor Square, others outside the hotel where Eleanor Roosevelt, the former president’s wife, stayed. Audrey missed Robert terribly, the ache of loneliness nearly unbearable at times. His letters offered the only bright spots in her long days of waiting.

  She heard a knock and turned to see Robbins in the doorway, a hint of a smile on his face. “Someone to see you, Miss Audrey.” He stood aside and there was Eve, looking cold and weary in her worn wool coat. Audrey hurried forward to embrace her.

  “Eve! What a surprise! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” And it was good—wonderful, in fact. Audrey had missed Eve more than she’d imagined she would. “Robbins, please take Eve’s coat. And will you bring us some tea, please?”

  “Yes, Miss Audrey.”

  “Come through and sit down, Eve. Tell me what brings you here on this cold winter day.” Eve didn’t reply. Instead, she rested her hand on her middle. On a bump the same size and shape as the one Audrey had. Audrey backed up a few steps and sat down on her desk chair in astonishment. “Eve! A baby?”

  “Yes. A baby.”

  “But who . . . ? How . . . ?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “How could you do such a thing!”

  The words slipped out before Audrey could stop them. She and Eve had heard so many stories during the war about girls who’d gotten into trouble. They’d listened to so many dire warnings about the consequences of having a baby out of wedlock that Audrey believed Eve too wise, too self-confident and ambitious to end up in this condition. Besides, Audrey was with Eve throughout the war. She didn’t have any boyfriends besides Alfie. The child couldn’t possibly be his.

  “I need your help, Audrey, not your condemnation.”

  “I’m sorry . . . It’s just such a shock! I never imagined you would do such a thing!”

  “Because you wouldn’t? Oh, that’s right—you always follow the rules. And you never make mistakes, right?”

  “Eve . . . I’m sorry . . .”

  “I came to ask for a job as a servant here at Wellingford Hall. There aren’t a lot of other options for women in my condition. Will you hire me or should I apply elsewhere?”

  Audrey’s reaction had hurt her. She could only imagine how much pride Eve had swallowed in order to come here. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Please forgive my stupid outbursts. Of course you can stay, Eve, of course. Please, sit down.”

  Robbins returned a few minutes later with the tea tray. The tension had a chance to defuse as he arranged a table between them and filled their cups. Eve looked as uncomfortable as she had the first time Audrey invited her to tea upstairs in the schoolroom. Eve didn’t reach for her cup or for the tea biscuits.

  “Tell me what else I can do to help,” Audrey said after Robbins left. “What will you do after your baby is born?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “I can talk to the vicar about arranging an adoption. It would be the best solution, for you and the child.”

  “I have a few more months before I need to decide. For now, I would be grateful for a job and a place to stay. I’m willing to clean, do laundry, and I can cook, of course. I was Tildy’s assistant before the war, remember? And if you need a scullery maid . . .”

  “Of course you may stay. I’ll arrange some work for you. And we have plenty of rooms. I’ve been putting them back in order now that the Americans are gone. I’ll have Mrs. Smith fix one for you.”

  “I would prefer my old room on the third floor. To be honest, it feels the most like home. And I can make up my own bed.”

  “Of course. I know you can. I just thought . . . well, you’re my friend, and I would rather think of you as my guest than—”

  “I need to work, Audrey. At the very least to pay my room and board. And I need to save money for the future.” She rested her hand on her middle again.

  Audrey sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Remember during the worst of the war, when we couldn’t imagine the future? It didn’t seem like it would ever come.”

  “And this isn’t what either o
f us imagined, is it? You off to live in America and me with a fatherless baby?”

  “No. It isn’t.” Audrey lifted her cup and took a sip of tea. It rattled against the saucer as she set it down again. She wanted to ask who the father was, but Eve would tell her in her own time.

  “So when do you leave for America?” Eve asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  “I don’t know. I hoped our baby would be born over there, but if the paperwork takes much longer it’s going to be difficult to travel in my condition. There are so many other war brides waiting along with me, more than sixty thousand, they say, in Britain alone.”

  “Those American GIs were busy while they were here.” Eve said it with a smirk. Audrey didn’t see any humor in her comment.

  “I was encouraged when the first boatload of British brides landed in New York earlier this month. More than 450 women and another hundred or so children. Hopefully, I’ll take my place in the queue soon.”

  “Starting a brand-new life.”

  Audrey studied Eve in her warworn dress and was uncomfortably aware that there would be no new start for Eve. Audrey found it frightening to give birth so far from her husband and couldn’t imagine doing it with no husband at all. Surely Eve would offer the child for adoption. Audrey cleared her throat and searched for something to say. “Robert was surprised to hear that our baby was coming so soon, but he’s happy. He sent me some brochures with plans for the house he’s going to build for us, but I can’t picture it yet. Would you like to see them? I have them right here.” She passed the glossy pamphlets with drawings of the little bungalow’s exterior and floor plans to Eve. The illustration showed a happy American family inhabiting the two-bedroom house: a smiling father, an aproned mother, two adoring children, and a grinning dog. Audrey couldn’t interpret the expression on Eve’s face as she looked them over.

  “Not quite Wellingford Hall, is it,” she finally said. “Where will your servants sleep?”

  Audrey’s face grew warm. Before she could reply, Robbins entered and refilled her teacup. Eve hadn’t touched hers. “Would you like anything else, Miss Audrey?” he asked.

  “No thank you.” She waited until he glided from the room again, then sighed. “You know me better than anyone else, Eve, so you must know how frightening all these changes are for me. I’ve never liked change, and now there will be so many of them—leaving home, starting such a different life.”

  “At least you won’t have to do it alone.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I couldn’t face any of it if I didn’t love Robert as much as I do. But I worry that his parents won’t accept me. They wanted him to marry Linda. Her parents were lifelong friends of theirs.”

  “You’re an earl’s granddaughter. Your father is richer than King George. It’s not like he’s bringing home a common servant girl like me.”

  “Robert says they don’t have a class system like ours in America. There is no aristocracy.”

  “Don’t believe it. Someone always wants to be on the top of the heap—and that means someone else has to be on the bottom.”

  “I’m going to miss Wellingford Hall. And you, Eve. We swore we would always stay together, remember? Like sisters.”

  “We might have been sisters,” Eve said softly, “if Alfie had survived.” She refolded the house plans and handed them back to Audrey. “It looks like your new home isn’t going to be as luxurious as what you’re used to.”

  “Robert says we’ll live a very ordinary life in America. I’ll need to learn how to cook and run a home.”

  “I thought Robert’s family was rich.”

  “They are. But we want to live on our own, apart from their expectations. You already know I can’t cook. Maybe you could teach me how.”

  “I suppose that’s one way we can stay occupied while we wait.” Eve managed a smile as she patted her middle again.

  “And I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby, do you?”

  “Not much. But if we can learn how to change tires on a lorry, we should be able to change nappies.” For the first time since she arrived, Eve smiled.

  “You haven’t touched your tea or the biscuits,” Audrey said, gesturing to the tray. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m famished. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  “Then let me ring for Robbins. I’ll ask Tildy to fix you a proper lunch.”

  “I have a better idea,” Eve said, pulling herself to her feet. “Come down to the kitchen with me and I’ll give you your first cooking lesson.”

  “We don’t need to start right away. You just arrived.”

  “I came here to work, not to sip tea with you. Now, do I have a job or not?”

  “Of course you do, but—”

  “The bride ships are setting sail, Audrey. You’d better learn how to cook for that husband of yours and to take care of that house he’s building. There’s no time to waste.”

  The midwife rode her bicycle out to Wellingford Hall on a warm June evening to deliver Eve’s baby. Audrey begged Eve to move to a more comfortable room, but she insisted on giving birth in her simple servant’s room on the third floor. She asked Audrey to stay beside her through it all. “I’ll show you how to do it,” she said with a smile, “just like I showed you how to drive a car and how to cook a chicken dinner for your husband.”

  “You taught me so much more than that,” Audrey said as she held Eve’s hand between contractions. “You taught me how to be brave.”

  “And don’t forget that I convinced you to tell Robert you loved him.”

  “Oh, I’ll never forget that! I only wish . . .” She started to say that she wished she could help Eve find someone to love, but Eve’s groan cut off Audrey’s words as pain gripped her again. Eve still hadn’t told her who the baby’s father was. It wouldn’t matter once Eve gave up the baby for adoption, but she hadn’t agreed to that yet, either.

  “You’ll change your mind and go under ether at a hospital after watching me,” Eve said when the pain subsided.

  “If you can do it, then so can I.” But Audrey couldn’t deny her fear.

  Several long hours later, Eve gave birth to a baby boy. Her joy as she held her son in her arms erased all the lines of pain on her face. “I’m going to name him Harry after my father,” she said, kissing his tiny clenched fist.

  When the room was put right and the midwife returned home, Audrey pulled a chair close to Eve’s narrow bed. “Would you like me to take him so you can sleep?” she asked.

  “I’m too excited to sleep. Look at him, Audrey. Isn’t he perfect?” The scrunched red face made Audrey smile. She watched Eve stroke the baby’s ginger hair and realized with a shock who Harry’s father was. During all those wonderful hours that Audrey spent with Robert, Eve had been with Louis. Audrey had been blind to their affair.

  “Is Louis Dubois Harry’s father?” Audrey asked. She’d tried not to reveal her shock and disapproval, but judging by Eve’s angry response, it had leaked through.

  “Yes, Audrey. Of course Louis is his father.”

  “But . . . but Louis is married. He has a child!”

  “Well, surprise. Neither of those things stopped him from fathering another one.”

  “Oh, Eve. You must see that under the circumstances, the best thing to do is to give the baby up for adoption.”

  Eve pulled Harry close as if Audrey might snatch him away. “I can’t give him up.”

  “How will you live? He’ll grow up in disgrace.”

  “The war produced a lot of fatherless babies. Little Harry will have plenty of company. Who’s to say his father wasn’t killed in battle?”

  “But . . . what will you put on his birth certificate?”

  “I’ll make up a name.”

  Audrey exhaled in frustration. She had to stop her friend from making a terrible mistake, one that would ruin her son’s life as well as her own. “You’re making a very poor decision, Eve. You’ll be forced to lie to your son for the rest of h
is life. Wouldn’t it be better for him to grow up in a home with two parents?”

  “A home like yours, Audrey?”

  The words stung and brought tears to Audrey’s eyes. “Please take some time to pray about your decision.”

  Eve’s response was swift and angry. “Now, why would God answer that prayer when He hasn’t answered any of the others? I prayed that He would keep Mum safe, yet she died. Horribly. I prayed that He would keep Alfie safe—and so did you, I might add—yet Alfie died. Also horribly. This baby is the only family I have. Could you give up your child if you were in my shoes?”

  “I can’t say. I’m not in your shoes. But let me ask you this . . . what would your mum advise you to do if she were here? Or your granny?”

  “I don’t think either of them would judge me. They sacrificed everything for me. I didn’t have a father, but I always knew how much my family loved me. And I’m determined to raise Harry to know the same thing, even if I have to be a scullery maid to do it.”

  “But if the rest of society doesn’t accept him—”

  “You followed all the rules, Audrey, all your life. Society may have accepted you, but did you feel loved?”

  Audrey rose and left the room. She sat in her own bedroom, sickened, and discovered that she still envied Eve Dawson—as she had all her life. She envied Eve’s courage, her certainty, and most of all, the legacy of love that would help her become a loving mother. Audrey could have learned that from Eve, too, if she weren’t leaving for America.

  Her own labor pains started a few hours later. When the midwife arrived, Eve nestled her son in a laundry basket and carried him downstairs so she could stay by Audrey’s side. “I’m sorry I was unkind,” Eve whispered as she held her hand.

  “I’m sorry for what I said, too.”

  Audrey’s son was born the next day after hours of the worst pain Audrey had ever known. She remembered Eve’s question as she held little Bobby in her arms and knew the answer was no. She could never give away her son, no matter what.