A Family's Duty (22 page)

Inevitably there were consequences. Lady Neville found herself the butt of ridicule from a group of older children on their way home from school at Everham.

‘Look, there goes Lady Mussolini!
Buon giorno,
Signora!
She has the Eye-ties up for dinner at the Manor, and her daughter goes with—’ whisper, whisper, followed by giggling.

Isabel was somewhat shaken, but ignored them, and continued to offer invitations to the POWs to join her and Cedric for Sunday dinner. He privately wondered what would happen if Paul suffered death or injury in the Italian campaign.

Rebecca’s experience of mockery came from two land girls she overheard talking, quietly but just audible enough for her to hear.

‘Yes, she’s been seen carrying on with a couple of them! Honestly, you’d never have thought it of
her
, of all people!’

Unlike her mother, Rebecca had an almost irresistible urge to shout a reply, ‘What’s so surprising? What did you expect of the bastard daughter of a prostitute and a brute?’

She managed to keep her mouth closed, but the effort made her tremble all over.

One morning Mario and Stefano caught a glimpse of Rebecca cycling past their field on her way to visit a neighbouring farm. Mario laughed softly and murmured,
‘Mi piacerebbe fare l’amore con lei nel campo d’orzo!’

To his amazement, Stefano rounded on him in fury. ‘
Zitto!
You will not speak with disrespect of her, or you’ll regret it!’

Mario assumed a blank expression and said no more. After all, he’d only been joking about making love in the barley field …

By Christmas the monastery of Monte Cassino was still held by Germans; fog and relentless rain hampered the Allies, so Storey and Richardson endured a seemingly endless stalemate. Prayers were said for them at St Peter’s, also for Wing Commander Lester Allingham, lying wounded in an RAF Hospital in Buckinghamshire. The Allinghams went to visit him just before Christmas, and came back with the news that he had a suppurating wound which gave him a high temperature, and he was very weak. His parents insisted that he was too ill to receive any visitors other than themselves, and Mrs Allingham told God that if her remaining son recovered, she would start going to church again. Meanwhile the parish was exhorted to pray for his full recovery.

The new year dawned on a cold, grey world, and Nurse Pearson was not sorry to be back at The Limes after a short break for Christmas which had been more frugal than festive. Mrs Pearson had coughed and sneezed with a streaming cold, and Valerie feared that she might catch it and pass it on to the children, though her mother said she thought it had been brought from The Limes. They had attended church on Christmas morning, though Mrs Pearson hadn’t wanted to speak to anybody afterwards, only to get back home to the roast shoulder of lamb, then to settle down in her favourite armchair with a hot water bottle at her back, and listen to the King’s speech. Valerie had gone out for a brisk walk, to fill her lungs with fresh, cold, untainted air, hoping to escape the infection; but on her return to The Limes she found that half the children had coughs and colds, needing to be dosed up with Gee’s Linctus and a honey and lemon mixture that
soothed sore throats and was kept in the medicine cupboard.

During her brief lunch break she dashed out to buy a birthday card for one of the children who was three years old that day. As she searched among the small selection, she heard a pleasant male voice behind her.

‘Miss Pearson – Valerie – I’m very pleased to run into you!’

She turned to see Philip Saville with a bundle of official notices from the council offices to be posted. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’

‘Hello, Mr Saville – yes, it was rather quiet, but quite nice. How was yours?’

‘Splendid. Lady Neville invited us – my aunt and Nick and myself – to coffee and mince pies at the Manor. She was looking for you after church, but you disappeared into thin air!’

‘Yes, my mother wanted to go straight home as she had a streaming cold, and shouldn’t really have come out.’ She turned down the corners of her mouth in a little grimace. ‘And it didn’t seem appropriate to wish everybody a merry Christmas, did it?’

He gave a wry chuckle. ‘I’ll wish you a happy New Year, then, you and your mother. But I still want to see you, Valerie. I’ve been talking to Lady Isabel, and she suggested that we take the children to the pantomime at the old Everham Hippodrome. I think it’s
Aladdin
this year, but they’re all the same, aren’t they? Plus jokes about old Hitler and his henchmen – he’s taken the place of the Demon King these days. Anyway, Lady Isabel said would you like to come with me to lend a hand, as we did for
Pinocchio
. I told her I was willing if you were. I couldn’t cope with them on my own! So what do you think, Valerie?’

She felt a pleasant little tingle run down her spine. ‘Well, yes, of course, I’d love to – only it would have to be a Saturday matinee when I’m not on duty at The Limes.’

‘That’s what she suggested. Which Saturday would suit you best – this coming one, or the following week? If I let her know, she’ll order the tickets.’

‘I think the following one would be best,’ she said. ‘Who will be coming?’

‘Same as last time, Lily and Jimmy, plus Kenny and Danny from the Rectory – the Perrin boys and my Nick – remember they’ll be three years older, so hopefully not too difficult to manage. So, shall I let her know?’

‘I’d love to go, Philip – it’s very kind of Lady Isabel.’

‘Well done! We’ll be Auntie and Uncle again!’ He laughed. ‘Oh, and I’ve just had a thought – you know my aunt has got poor Doreen Nuttall staying with us while her mother’s not able to – er – keep her at home?’

‘Yes, it’s a sad business,’ Valerie said.

‘Well, wouldn’t it be rather nice to ask her to come too? It would be a real treat for her, making her feel she was helping with the kiddies. Shall I ask her if she’ll join us?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Valerie at once, though a faint, inexplicable twinge of disappointment accompanied the words. ‘Yes, that’s a very good idea!’

The Allinghams looked tired after the long train journey to and from the RAF hospital in Buckinghamshire, but Mrs Allingham was a little more inclined to talk to the curate’s wife on the following day.

‘He’s clearly very ill, that’s obvious, with a temperature that goes up to one hundred and four or even five degrees,’
she said. ‘He has to have the wound cleaned and redressed every day, and his poor bottom is black and blue from these injections they’re giving him. He’s got a long way to go before he’s better, but at least he’s not going out on those terrible air raids. The death rate among those poor, brave young men is appalling. Roland and I can at least sleep in our beds while Lester’s in hospital.’

Joan Kennard smiled and agreed.

‘Roland says he’s going back to full-time service as rector,’ his wife continued. ‘So your husband will be able to spend more time with his children. I must admit it’s reassuring to know that Mr Kennard is here to take over the parish visiting.’

And a good deal more parish business than that, thought Joan. ‘Alan will visit Lester one day next week,’ she said.

‘Oh, no, Mrs Kennard, you must tell your husband not to visit for the time being,’ the rector’s wife said hurriedly. ‘Above all Lester needs peace and quiet, and we don’t want his progress held up by well-meaning intrusions.’

Alan found this rather puzzling when he was asked to call at Hassett Manor where Lady Isabel handed him a sealed envelope addressed to himself and marked ‘
Private
’.

‘Lester Allingham enclosed it in an envelope addressed to me, and asked me to pass it on to you, Alan,’ she said. He thanked her and did not open the envelope until he was in his study.

‘Dear Mr Kennard,’ he read. ‘Will you please come to see me in this place, as I need to have a confidential talk. Do not let my parents or anybody else know I have sent for you, and I’ve told Lady Isabel I need to see a clergyman for personal reasons. My brother Howard told me that
you helped him before he went away, and I’m hoping you will also be able to help me. Best wishes, L.R. Allingham.’

Alan wondered if Lester wanted spiritual counselling and perhaps to make a confession: he made the visit a priority, and went by train to Halton the next day, telling Joan that he was going to see somebody in hospital, and would need to take the whole day. He regretted withholding the identity of that somebody from her, but knew she would guess.

Picking up a newspaper at the station, he read that in Russia there was rejoicing over the lifting of the two-year siege of Leningrad, although many of its citizens had died of starvation. With Stalingrad and Leningrad liberated, the Red Army was advancing towards the Crimea. It really did seem as if the tide was turning in favour of the Allies, though at home there was no let-up on rationing, and sporadic air raids still occurred. The siege of Monte Cassino continued, showing no signs of surrender by the Germans occupying the Benedictine monastery.

As soon as he set eyes on Lester sitting in a sunny verandah in dressing gown and slippers, certain suspicions deepened. The young man had lost weight and looked haggard.

As soon as he saw the curate, he got up and shook his hand.

‘Thanks for coming, Kennard, you’re a life-saver. Like to take a seat?’ He indicated a wicker armchair next to his own. ‘We’re on our own in here – I told the other chaps to give me a chance to speak with the Reverend Kennard undisturbed.’

‘I’ve come a long way to see you in confidence, Lester, and have told my wife a downright lie, so fire away,’ said Alan briskly.

‘You’re a brick, Kennard. Look, it’s like this. The powers
that be have said I can go home, but I have to attend a clinic each week for a check-up. The nearest clinic to North Camp is at Aldershot, an army hospital out-patients.’

‘Go on, Lester, I’m listening.’

‘Well, the fact is I don’t want to go back to North Camp, to be fussed over by my mother. There’s a small hotel a few minutes’ bus ride from this clinic, and I’d rather stay there.’ He looked at Alan with a question in his eyes, as if to test his reaction. Alan’s expression was blank as he waited to hear more.

‘The fact is that I don’t want the old dears to be unduly worried, so I’ll have to write to them as from this hospital, and they’ll write back to me here.’

‘I’m still listening, Lester.’

‘It’s like this, you see, Kennard, if I could use you as a sort of, er, go-between, I’d write a letter to them, stick it in an envelope and post it to you – and you could post it on to them. Then when they reply to this hospital, I’ll have asked for all my mail to be redirected to this small hotel. Do you follow?’

‘What about the postmark?’

‘I doubt the old dears will spend much time poring over that.’ Lester’s face was flushed, and strands of hair stuck to his moist forehead. ‘Then it would be reversed, Kennard. They’d write an answer, it would come here, and be redirected to the hotel. I’ll tell them that I don’t want visitors,
any
visitors, until I’m better able to face them. It shouldn’t be that difficult, and I’d pay you, of course, starting with your train fare today.’

‘How long do you reckon this would go on?’

‘I don’t know quite how long, and perhaps we might have to think it through again at some point. You’ll do it for me, won’t you, Kennard?’

He stopped speaking, and his eyes pleaded with the curate. Then Alan spoke.

‘Whereabouts is this wound of yours, Lester?’

‘At the top of my left thigh – not a place where people would look.’

‘Your mother told my wife that you’ve been on a course of painful injections. Do you know what they are?’

‘Oh, these women and their tittle-tattle! Some new treatment they’re trying out, made from a mould, they say. Anyway, Kennard, can I rely on you?’

Alan looked into his eyes. ‘Is it syphilis or gonorrhoea, Lester?’

‘Bloody hell, you’ve been talking to the staff. Both. Oh, for God’s sake, help me, Kennard. It would kill my mother if she knew.’

‘So you want me to help you deceive the old dears, as you call your parents, by telling yet more lies? In my capacity as a clergyman, you expect me to practise deceit? And in any case, what you suggest would be bound to fail. Some official notice might arrive, from your bank, say, and your father might telephone this hospital. The idea is full of holes, and I’ll have no part in it.’

Lester swore and tears came to his eyes. ‘I just don’t know what to do, Kennard.’

Alan drew a deep breath. ‘Here’s my best advice, Lester. I agree that this knowledge would be a fearful shock to your mother, and might well break her heart, so I’d agree to letting her remain ignorant. But your father should know, and you’ll be better for telling him.’

‘Oh, no,
no
! I couldn’t bear it! Oh, God, help me!’ Lester was now openly sobbing, and Alan rose to put a hand on his shoulder.

‘All right, old chap, all right. You’ve got a few choices. You could tell your father alone, face-to-face, or I would be willing to be present when you tell him, or I would tell him first, to pave the way for you. Failing all of those, you could write it to him in a letter. Once he’s been told, he can work out a way of keeping it from your mother. Come on, Lester, these things are seldom as bad as we think, not if we’re honest and ready to take the blame for our own misdoings. Think about it. I shan’t tell a soul, and I’m sure the rector won’t either!’

Lester looked stricken. ‘I couldn’t face the old man – he’d go mad.’

‘I doubt that. Anyway, it’s time I left. Would you like me to say a prayer for you here before I go?’

‘No, thanks. If you won’t help me, there’s not much use in praying.’

‘Very well, I’ll pray for you and your parents in my private prayer times. Goodbye, Lester, and think about what I’ve said.’

The outing to the pantomime went well, and Doreen Nuttall felt very important as she helped to shepherd the children on and off the train, walked them along to the Hippodrome, and assisted Miss Pearson in taking the girls to the lavatory during the interval.

‘It was a good idea to bring her, Valerie,’ remarked Philip Saville while Doreen was on one of these necessary visits. ‘It’s doing her a world of good to recover a sense of self-esteem, and to feel she’s doing something useful, don’t you think so?’

‘Yes, and she’s enjoying the pantomime,’ agreed Valerie. ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’

She had noted the
double-entendre
when the princess leant
out of the palace window and looking to the left and right, wailed, ‘Three months gone, and still no sign of Aladdin!’ There were some knowing chuckles among the audience, but Valerie had kept a straight face, wondering if Philip had noted it.

When they arrived back at North Camp station, Lady Neville met them in the pony-trap, and took all the children except Nick back to their homes. Philip, Doreen and Nick saw Valerie home, then went off into the dark winter evening, Doreen hanging on to Philip’s arm, and chattering happily about the pantomime. Valerie told her mother it had been a great success – the children had all enjoyed it, and so had Doreen Nuttall.

‘How kind of Mr Saville to take her with you,’ said Mrs Pearson. ‘She seems to have settled very well with Miss Temple and that nice boy. You never know, it might prove to be the beginning of a new life for both of them! He’s a lot older than her, of course, but maybe that’s just what she needs, in the circumstances.’

But is it what
he
needs? thought Valerie, feeling strangely flat.

The stalemate at Monte Cassino had dragged on for week after cold and comfortless week. With the Germans commanding an all-round view from the summit, it was impossible to attack it without being seen, and lives had been lost in attempts to do so. Lady Neville was again plagued with fear for Paul, and Rebecca knew that the Italian POWs were anxious for their relatives and for the ancient beauty of the Benedictine monastery, now desecrated by enemy occupation; when Paolo, Mario, Stefano and other POWs came to Sunday dinner at Hassett Manor, the subject was firmly excluded from the table-talk. By mid-February a
decision was made by the generals and approved by the British Prime Minister Churchill, and the American President Roosevelt, and orders were given for bombs to be dropped directly on the monastery.

There followed the total destruction of an architectural treasure that had been turned into an enemy fortress.