The Orphan Twins

by Lesley Eames

  ‘We’re pleased to help.’

  ‘I’ve saved a table by the window.’ Lily led them towards it.

  She’d made a special effort to make it look nice, dressing it in a new tablecloth and adding a specially made flower arrangement of ivy mixed with sprigs of yellow jasmine. Celia seemed not to notice. She sat down but with another glance around that made it clear that Lily’s Tea Room fell well short of her usual standards.

  Elsie brought over tea things and a tiered rack of sandwiches, scones and cakes.

  Artie introduced Elsie as Lily’s friend. ‘Delighted to meet you,’ Celia said politely, but her voice was flat.

  ‘Enjoy your tea.’ Elsie walked away without meeting Lily’s eyes.

  ‘Shall I pour?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Oh, certainly.’ Celia’s delicate shoulders shrugged.

  ‘I hope you enjoy afternoon tea?’

  ‘Oh, yes. We have it at home, and Mother often takes us to tea when we’re shopping. Fortnum and Mason is our favourite, but we also like Selfridges.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve tried either,’ Lily admitted.

  ‘Really?’ Celia sounded surprised.

  ‘I don’t go shopping much. I assume you enjoy shopping because your clothes are lovely.’

  Celia looked pleased then seemed to decide that good manners required her to pay a compliment in return. She studied Lily’s plain black dress, apron and cap, and floundered.

  ‘I need to dress plainly for work,’ Lily explained. ‘It doesn’t trouble me, though. I love my little tea room.’

  ‘How nice.’

  ‘You give the most wonderful teas, Lily,’ Artie said. ‘Do tuck in, Celia.’

  She smiled up at him and Lily began to understand why he was so taken with her. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful but because the smile she had for him was warm, feminine and ravishing.

  ‘What do you suggest, Artie?’ Celia asked.

  ‘I think you might enjoy one of those cucumber sandwiches.’

  She blinked her heavenly eyes at him then took a sandwich and nibbled the edge of it.

  ‘You don’t go out to work, I understand,’ Lily said.

  ‘Goodness, no. I don’t know where I’d find the time even if I wanted to work. I rarely have time to feel bored. If we’re not shopping or visiting, I have dress fittings and piano practice. I also help Mother by embroidering handkerchiefs to sell to raise funds for charity. Mother says it’s important to be seen to help the poor and unfortunate.’

  ‘I’m sure it is.’

  Artie’s sunny charm kept the conversation going for a while longer but eventually Celia studied her watch. ‘Look at the time, Artie. Mother is expecting me at home.’

  Artie pulled a sad face. ‘We have to leave, Lil.’

  They wouldn’t see each other again before he returned to the front.

  ‘I’ll just say goodbye to Mr Bax and the others,’ he said, and Lily suspected he wanted to leave her alone with Celia for a moment so they could get to know each other better.

  An awkward silence followed. Lily tried to fill it by enquiring about Celia’s sister but, not getting much of a response, decided to fill it with action instead of words. ‘You must let me give you some cakes to take home to your family.’

  ‘Oh, no! No, thank you. Not that your cakes aren’t delicious but Mother doesn’t know… She isn’t expecting me to take cakes home today. They’d go to waste.’

  Lily’s instincts tingled. Celia had almost said something else before changing her mind. Mother doesn’t know what, exactly? That Celia was out with Artie today? If so, what did that mean? That Mrs Grover didn’t want Celia spending time with young men in general? Or that she didn’t want Celia spending time with Artie in particular because he was almost penniless and just a member of her father’s staff?

  Lily hoped it wasn’t the latter. She didn’t want his heart to be bruised. Neither did she want Mr and Mrs Grover assuming he was seeing their daughter behind their backs.

  Artie returned then and Celia jumped up with barely concealed relief.

  They all walked towards the stairs. ‘I’ve something for you,’ Lily told Artie, slipping into the serving room for a box packed with food, socks and other things.

  ‘Thanks, Lil. You really are the best sister a chap could have.’

  Lily wrapped him in a hug. ‘Look after yourself and come back safely.’

  She turned to Celia. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘A mutual pleasure,’ Celia said.

  Lily supposed both of them were lying. She saw Celia and Artie out then climbed back up the stairs to the tea room where Elsie sidled up to her. ‘Well? Did you like the golden beauty?’

  ‘Artie seems taken with her.’

  ‘Isn’t she rather grand for the likes of us?’

  It certainly seemed so. Not that Celia had been hostile exactly. Lily wouldn’t go that far. It was more that Celia had appeared to think that she and Lily lived on different planets, each being alien to the other. Lily couldn’t see how she’d ever enjoy the old sort of closeness with Artie if he chose to live on Celia’s planet.

  ‘Mind you,’ Elsie added, ‘I suppose Artie’s a fair few steps above us on the grandness ladder too.’

  Was he, though? After the bumpy start to his life at Camfordleigh, Lily had thought he’d gained acceptance among people like the Grovers but was that actually the case? Perhaps Celia was keeping her interest in him secret from her parents because his education had in fact left him in a sort of No Man’s Land between social classes.

  But he was going back to the war and many months would pass before he was next home on leave. His interest in Celia might wane just as her interest in him might wane. The important thing was that he stayed safe.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Celia very much enjoyed meeting you, Artie wrote a couple of weeks later.

  Lily suspected the enjoyment had arisen more from spending time with Archie than with his sister, a girl whom Celia had obviously considered a strange creature. Still troubled by the suspicion that Celia had seen Artie in secret, Lily wondered if Celia was writing to him in secret too. Might his future job be at risk if Mr and Mrs Grover learned about it?

  Lily considered mentioning her concerns when she wrote back to Artie but was afraid of worrying him when he needed all of his wits about him simply to stay alive. After all, there were enemy snipers on the watch.

  She found herself wishing she could talk to Luke about the situation. Not only did he know what it was like to spend months away at the front, he was also in company with young and impressionable men like Artie all the time. He might have sensible advice to give about what, if anything, Lily should do.

  But Luke had no expectation of being granted leave soon as far as she knew, and she was reluctant to write to him about personal matters anyway. It would be one thing to mention her concerns casually in conversation if it felt right at the time. Writing about them assumed a level of familiarity that she wasn’t sure existed. Lily mentioned Artie’s visit in her next letter, but kept the tone light. Impersonal.

  It wasn’t until several weeks later that Pierre rushed into the bakery shop one morning shouting, ‘Luke just telephoned. He’s coming home! Merciful God, he’s coming home!’

  Luke arrived that afternoon. Dirty, unkempt but, judging from his smile, unbroken. ‘I didn’t want to walk past without saying hello,’ he said, calling into the tea room on his way to his own shop next door.

  Lily swallowed, fighting the urge to run to him. ‘Hello, Luke.’

  ‘I’m back as you can see, and in dire need of a bath.’ He rubbed a hand along his unshaven jaw.

  ‘You look like a pirate,’ Lily said, smiling to hide his effect on her.

  ‘You look like a flower of England.’

  It sounded lovely but was it the sort of thing he’d have said to any English girl just then? Or was there a softer-hearted meaning behind the words aimed only at her?

  ‘I still have
no drinking chocolate, but if you’d like coffee…’ she offered.

  Luke shook his head. ‘I’d drive your other customers away, looking like this. Besides, Pierre is expecting me.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll see you again soon, I hope.’

  ‘I hope so too.’

  Elsie burst in a few minutes later. ‘You’re invited to a feast. Pierre is doing that French thing of throwing his hands in the air, kissing Luke’s cheeks and promising a dinner fit for a king. Or at least as fit for a king as he can make it, given rationing and food shortages. You’ll all come?’

  Certainly they’d all come. Michael was welcome too, Elsie said. The more, the merrier.

  It was a lovely evening. Pooling their meat rations meant Pierre was able to get hold of a joint of beef which he cooked in wine with herbs, mushrooms and onions. He’d bought wine and beer to drink as well.

  Luke had lost weight and gained fine lines at the corners of his eyes but he answered their questions about life at the front calmly, without dwelling on its tragedies. By unspoken agreement no one probed too deeply. It was a night for celebrating life instead and toasting the fact that women had been given the vote at last. ‘Only if they’re over thirty and have property, I understand, but it’s a start,’ Luke said. Then, ‘How’s the chocolate shop? How’s the tea room?’ he wanted to know, and so they told him, injecting humour and enthusiasm into their stories.

  ‘And Artie’s been home.’ Luke turned to Lily.

  ‘I was so pleased to see him,’ she said, but Luke must have sensed that something was amiss because he stared at her for a moment then nodded as though to suggest they’d talk about it another time.

  That time turned out to be later that evening when Luke invited Lily to go walking. ‘Just a little stroll around,’ he told her.

  They said little at first, settling into a steady pace and absorbing the feel of the damp twilight air and relative quiet. Luke looked up at the dark sky occasionally. At trees and building and gardens. Now and then he drew in deep breaths and let them out in sighs. ‘Are you reminding yourself what you’re fighting for?’ she asked, remembering the way Artie had wanted to store up memories of London’s landmarks.

  ‘Mmm, though I suppose what I’m fighting for isn’t just a place. Neither is it just about loyalty to King and country. It’s about preserving freedom from aggression. Freedom for everyone, however humble.’

  ‘You still don’t regret leaving Switzerland?’

  ‘Much as I love Switzerland, England is home. I don’t regret joining the army either. Fighting is hellish but war brings out the best of humanity too – courage, self-sacrifice, the gentleness of soldiers caring for wounded comrades… How’s Artie finding it?’

  ‘He’s managed well so far.’

  ‘So you’re anxious about him for another reason.’

  Lily told him about Celia. ‘I’m worried about what will happen to his job offer if her parents object to him courting their daughter.’

  ‘And if they don’t object?’

  ‘I’m worried he might rush into proposing to her. I’ve heard of other young soldiers getting engaged or even married in an incredible rush.’

  ‘The war seems to be making some people behave that way,’ Luke admitted. ‘I suppose it’s about feeling alive and making every hour count when the future is so uncertain.’

  ‘Would I sound like an interfering busybody if I said I think they need time to get to know each other before making any sort of commitment?’

  Luke smiled. ‘You’d sound like a sister who wants her brother to be happy.’

  ‘I do. If I thought Celia would make him happy, I’d be glad for him even if I couldn’t be part of his world.’

  ‘But you’re not convinced that Celia is the girl to make him so.’

  ‘She’s certainly beautiful and she might be a nice person too but I can’t imagine her keeping house on a small budget or supporting Artie through life’s ups and downs.’ Lily could imagine Celia being expensive, demanding and easily discontented.

  ‘Has Artie given even a hint that he intends to propose to her?’ Luke asked.

  ‘Do you think I’m foolish to worry about all this?’

  ‘I just wonder if you’re not getting a little too far ahead.’

  ‘My grandmother used to say that worrying too soon is like inviting a trouble in when it might otherwise pass by.’

  ‘Sensible woman. Artie’s spent the last years cloistered in a boys’ boarding school. It’s hardly surprising if he’s had his head turned by the first pretty girl to show an interest in him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t take the time to get to know her properly before making any sort of rash proposal.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘If you want to know what I think, it’s that you should trust Artie to figure things out for himself. He must realise it’s unlikely Celia’s parents will consent to their daughter rushing into a marriage or even a courtship with a man who’s yet to establish himself in work let alone secure a home that’s suitable for a wife.’

  Luke paused then added, ‘There’s another reason why the Grovers might object to the relationship. Some men are returning home with terrible injuries and will never be the person they used to be, physically or any other way. Celia’s parents might not wish their daughter to take the risk of being burdened with such a man for the rest of her life.’

  Lily winced at the idea of darling Artie ever being considered a burden. But she was his twin. Her love for him was deep and enduring. Celia’s affections might be shallower.

  ‘It’s an important consideration,’ Luke continued. ‘I’d never make any sort of commitment to a girl while I’m still fighting over there.’

  He wasn’t looking at Lily as he spoke but even so she wondered if he were sending her a message, warning her off because he’d guessed how much she liked him and either genuinely believed the time was wrong for romance or wanted to let her down gently as he didn’t feel the same. She was aware of a blush rising but kept her voice steady as she said, ‘Shall we cross the road to the bookshop? I’m always looking for books to send to Artie.’

  If Luke had intended a hint, then she’d received it and would save them both from embarrassment by treating him as just one friend among many in future.

  He gave no sign of wanting to avoid her in the two days that followed. He worked beside her in the tea room for half a day, appeared happy for her to be included in shared meals and even invited her to walk out again on his last evening. Lily took pains to ensure she neither said nor did anything that crossed the line of friendship, but whether they were talking about the war or admiring London’s buildings, it seemed to her that their thoughts and opinions sat comfortably together.

  ‘I wish the war was over,’ he said on that final walk.

  Their gazes met and his expression looked tender to Lily’s eyes but perhaps that was simply wishful thinking on her part. ‘It has to end one day,’ she said.

  He nodded. The moment passed and they walked back home.

  ‘Take care,’ Lily urged, because he was returning to the front early the next morning.

  ‘You too.’

  He kissed her cheek and Lily closed her eyes momentarily to savour his touch. But she opened them again as soon as his mouth left her cheek and even took a small step backwards as she smiled her final farewell.

  Lily was in no doubt now that she was in love with Luke. It was unbearable. But somehow she had to bear it just as she had to bear both Luke and Artie being in peril at the front.

  One week later a telegram came.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was Phyllis who brought the telegram upstairs. Phyllis who must have told Mr Bax of its arrival because he rushed up after her, bringing Elsie and Pierre from next door. They stood in the serving room as Lily tore the brown envelope open and scanned its contents with frightened eyes.

  ‘Sit down,’ Phyllis urged, pulling a chair forward because Lily’s legs h
ad gone weak. Then she took the telegram from Lily’s trembling fingers and read it out loud.

  ‘Missing in Action. That could mean anything,’ Phyllis said.

  ‘Lost in the confusion of battle,’ Elsie suggested.

  ‘Or captured,’ offered Pierre.

  ‘Or injured,’ Mr Bax pointed out, adding quickly, ‘Not necessarily badly, but he might be stuck in a field hospital somewhere.’

  ‘It’s much too soon to fear the worst,’ Phyllis said.

  Lily appreciated their efforts to console her but was much too distressed to speak. Missing in Action could also mean that Artie was… She shuddered.

  It was sometimes said that a mystical connection between twins meant they’d sense instantly if the other were in trouble but Lily dug inside herself and felt no instinctive awareness of what had happened. She felt only fear and a pain so acute she wanted to slide off the chair and curl into a ball on the floor.

  ‘We should close for the day,’ Mr Bax said.

  ‘No need for that,’ Elsie told him. ‘Pierre can manage next door so I’ll take over here. If that’s what Lily wants?’

  Lily stared at her. Every thought was like a block of granite she had to drag into place. She managed a nod which she hoped would convey thanks as well as agreement and got to her feet.

  ‘Do you want one of us to sit with you?’ Phyllis asked.

  Lily shook her head but squeezed Phyllis’s arm to show she was grateful for her thoughtfulness. Upstairs in her room, Lily sat on her bed and studied the telegram again. Missing. In action. Groaning, Lily lay back.

  Some time later Elsie tapped on the door then came in with tea and a small sandwich. ‘Would it be stupid of me to ask how you’re feeling?’

  Lily sat up. ‘Not stupid at all. Kind, in fact. But I think you know the answer.’

  ‘It really would be stupid to tell you not to worry. But I will tell you to stay hopeful. From what I hear about this war, there’s a lot of chaos over there.’

  ‘I’m staying hopeful.’