A Family's Duty (7 page)

When Isabel passed on this information to Sally Tanner, she also confided that she would take Geoffrey Bannister aside and tell him that Rebecca had been adopted at the end of the Great War, when so many desperate single mothers had been forced to give up their misconceived babies.

‘And it won’t make a ha’porth o’ difference to him,’ Sally replied.

Lester Allingham was incredulous, not to say dismayed, to discover that Barbara Seabrook was not willing to meet him clandestinely after her parents’ prohibition. She had been so deliciously flirtatious on their outings over the past few months, actually encouraging him to take liberties with his hands on her delightful curves, and though he had not yet managed to explore below her waist, he was confident that he would reach his desired objective before the year was out – or before he received his call-up papers. He enjoyed a challenge, and had so far found most girls manageable, so he was taken aback when Barbara, who was old Seabrook’s daughter and had all of her father’s charm towards his customers, but also his hard head, had refused to give away more than was wise. While defying her parents, Barbara had not been deaf to her mother’s warnings, and did not care to be labelled as
fast
among her friends. She was also aware of Lester’s reputation, but when he told her he was called to serve his country in the Royal Air Force, her resolve wavered, and she might have agreed to one more meeting in the woods above the Blackwater valley; but because he could not
hide his annoyance towards her and her parents – and the looks her brother Robin cast in his direction – he lost his chance, and his pride suffered a severe blow.

Thomas and Gibson’s ordered a dozen bales of heavy black material and a hundred reels of black cotton for the women of North Camp to make black-out curtains for every home. Mrs Joan Kennard invited every member of the Ladies’ Hour to bring her sewing with her, and while listening to the song, recitations and speaker of the week, their hands were not idle. Mrs Kennard’s treadle sewing machine was put at the disposal of any lady who could use it, and those without one took lessons from the knowledgeable. There was silent sympathy for Lady Neville whose son Paul had gone to train as an officer, and Mrs Kennard began and ended every meeting with a prayer for all families with a son conscripted or volunteered into the armed forces. Her husband the Reverend Alan Kennard was the speaker one Wednesday afternoon in November, and although he could offer no guarantee that the conscripts would be protected from danger, his words were comforting. Councillor Mrs Tomlinson thought that some of the ladies would resent being offered comfort from a man, who, however kind and wise, had not got a son away defending his country.

At least one conscript was able to pour out his fears to Alan Kennard, and that was Howard Allingham, unable to confide in his father. Howard’s hands trembled as he took a cup of tea from Mrs Kennard who then left the study, and Alan listened to the rector’s son’s catalogue of woe, one of his problems being that he could not talk to his father, either about warfare or his unreturned love for Dora Goddard: his
regret that he had declared himself to her in the delirious but mistaken belief that there would be no war.

‘I felt liberated by Mr Chamberlain’s acceptance of Hitler’s promise, sir, and therefore able to tell her how I felt – to grab hold of her and kiss her without first making sure that my feelings were returned. I made such a
fool
of myself, sir, I cringe to recall it now, the look on her face, the way she drew back from me, almost as if she were afraid – and now that I have definitely to join the army, I can’t ask her to write to me – or to – to pray, sir. I have nowhere to turn, just when I need her most.’ The last words ended on a sob in his throat, and Alan Kennard put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Let’s stop saying
sir
, or I’ll start calling you sonny. My name’s Alan, and I feel for you, Howard, and honoured that you feel able to confide in me.’

‘My father would be so upset if he knew, but he’d never understand,’ muttered Howard.

‘Of course he wouldn’t, he’s of an older generation, but he doesn’t think any the less of you for that.’ Alan smiled but inwardly seethed against Allingham for making himself so unapproachable to this earnest young man. ‘Don’t blame yourself too much over Miss Goddard – she’s a sweet girl but very young as yet to know the ways of the world. Just behave normally towards her when you meet, as if nothing had been said, and who knows, she might learn to think more of you, especially as you’re going to be a soldier – very popular nowadays!’

‘I can’t ask her to write to me now, though.’

‘Perhaps not, but there’s nothing to stop you sending a postcard now and again – as long as you don’t say where you’re stationed or where you’re to be posted! She’ll come
to appreciate you in time – in fact we’re
all
going to change our views on a lot of things before this war’s over – and God alone knows and understands how you feel, Howard. Do you pray? Can you speak to Him?’

‘Not as I once did, I’m afraid. I get doubts.’

‘As we all do. As St Paul did.
I
shall pray for you, and hope you’ll pray for me in my dealings with your father!’

He laughed wryly, and Howard looked at him in surprise before he too laughed.

‘How’s Lester, by the way?’ asked Alan.

‘He’s joined the Royal Air Force, and thinks it’s all a great lark.’

‘Good for him! Hard on your parents, though, to have both of you marching off to war. They’ll be doubly proud – it’ll be half a crown to speak to the Reverend Allingham!’

They stood up, and Howard said seriously, ‘I’m tremendously grateful to you, Alan.’

‘My pleasure. We’ll keep this little chat between ourselves, then,’ said the curate, adding with a wink, ‘Don’t forget – “Careless talk costs lives!”’

The old Everham Hippodrome was packed for the matinee performance of
Dick Whittington and his Cat
, with Dick himself leading the audience in a roof-raising rendition of the song that jeered at the Germans’ line of advance into France and Belgium. Rebecca Neville joined in, encouraging the six children to sing up. David and Miriam Munday were doing their best, though Jonny and Ayesha Pascoe had
not as yet learnt enough English, and in any case Ayesha looked alarmed at the noise; the twins Charlie and Joe Perrin were happily bawling their heads off, and Rebecca smiled apologetically towards Devora. This pre-Christmas visit to the pantomime was her treat for them all, and for Devora who looked tired but returned her smile and shrugged.

‘It’s going to be a long struggle, Rebecca,’ she had said earlier. ‘Ernest and I are a poor substitute for the mother and father they’ve lost and might never see again. We probably give them more time and attention than we give to our own – no, I mustn’t say that, they’re
all
our own now, for always.’

‘You’re doing wonderful work, Devora,’ said Rebecca seriously, knowing the story of Jonny and Ayesha, whisked out of Germany just in time to escape the fate of their parents.

‘Where do you find your strength – from your church? – oh, no, I mean your faith,’ she said quickly, remembering that the family had to travel a fair distance to the nearest synagogue.

Devora eyed her thoughtfully before replying, ‘We do it for Aaron, my brother and Ernest’s dearest friend, in fact they were closer than brothers. He was the love of Ernest’s life, and Ernest would never have married any other woman but me, Aaron’s sister. And we’ll both persist with gaining the trust of Jonny and Ayesha, however long it takes, for the sake of their parents and their uncle Aaron.’

Rebecca nodded, knowing that her grandfather, Tom Munday, had once said that it was perhaps for the best that Aaron had not returned from the Great War with Ernest, but had died of his wounds in France.

But now the curtain was about to fall on Dick Whittington and his faithful Cat, as big as himself; the lights went up
enough for the audience to stumble towards the exits, and into the deep darkness of the black-out.

‘It’s been a lovely treat for us all, Rebecca,’ said Devora gratefully, as the children held on to her and to each other. ‘Safe journey home!’

‘Come on, you two, let’s all keep together,’ Rebecca ordered the Perrin boys, but after walking a few yards she bumped into a man who immediately offered her his arm.

‘I’m so sorry – are you all right?’ asked John Richardson, and then exclaimed, ‘Rebecca! Is it really you?’

‘Oh, John, that was my fault,’ she apologised. ‘I’ve got two young men here, we’ve been to the pantomime, and now we’re on our way to the station to get the train to North Camp, and then walk to Hassett Manor.’

‘Good! Then I’ll come with you,’ he said, having waited for her to emerge from the Hippodrome with her charges, and then deliberately collided with her. ‘No, I absolutely insist, you’re not walking all the way from the station to Hassett Manor on your own.’

Faced with such insistence, Rebecca could only accept gratefully, but kept hold of Charlie and Joe. ‘They’re the sons of our groom Perrin, so they’ll be coming all the way with me.’ The darkness hid his expression of disappointment, but Rebecca was pleased to have the two young boys with her; it would prevent any romantic talk on the way, and she suspected, rightly, that Richardson was going to declare himself before leaving for army service; he had received his call-up papers, and she was not sure how she would answer, for she was not ready to commit herself to any man. The twins had saved her, and although John Richardson muttered under his breath while they bawled for the tenth time, ‘We’re gonna hang out the
washing on the Siegfried line!’ on the train journey to North Camp, he had to endure it without complaint. Off the train, Rebecca insisted that they held her hands, one each side of her, along the dark lanes to Hassett Manor while Richardson had to walk apart from them, hiding his frustration.

At the Manor Rebecca found Perrin waiting as arranged, and the boys duly thanked her for the treat, as did their father. Her mother came to the door and eagerly welcomed her in, saying that there was a surprise visitor for her in the dining room. She hardly noticed Richardson behind her daughter.

‘You’ll never guess – Paul’s friend – on embarkation leave,’ she began, but Geoffrey Bannister could not wait for a guessing game. He came out into the hall, and went straight up to Rebecca. They looked directly into each other’s eyes, and then, without a word, as if by mutual consent, they drew together in an embrace, and he whispered in her ear, kissing her cold cheek. Sir Cedric Neville came to join his wife, and raised his eyebrows at the scene.

Rebecca drew herself away from Bannister, and awkwardly indicated Richardson who was standing transfixed at the sight of this man who was clearly no stranger here.

‘Mr Richardson has kindly brought me all the way back from Everham, and I’m sure we’ve got some refreshment for him, Mother,’ she said.

‘Of course we have,’ said Isabel, always the perfect hostess. ‘Actually we were about to sit down to dinner, and you’re very welcome to join us, John.’

After removing their coats and visiting the bathroom, the five of them sat down, waited on by Mrs Tanner. A delicious fish pie was served with carrots and greens from the Manor garden, followed by stewed plums, also home-grown, with custard.

‘Great news about the
Graf Spee
,’ said Cedric. ‘That must have been a sight to behold, scuttling herself at the mouth of the river Plate surrounded by British ships. The captain must have decided to sink the battleship with all on board, rather than be boarded and the crew taken prisoners.’

‘It’s a fit payback for the
Royal Oak
,’ said Geoffrey, ‘but it brings it home to us that we’re at war and it’ll be worse before it gets better.’

‘You sound just like father,’ said Rebecca, but they all knew it to be true; Paul Storey had gone on an officer’s training course, and Geoffrey Bannister had completed his; he was going to join the British Expeditionary Force in France, and had come to North Camp to take leave of Rebecca. Arriving at the Manor while she was away at the pantomime, Lady Neville had taken him aside and told him that Rebecca had been adopted at the end of the war, and brought up as the Nevilles’ own daughter. And as Sally Tanner had predicted, it made no difference to his love.

‘And what of you, Mr Richardson?’ asked Lady Neville pleasantly. ‘Have you had your billet-doux from the War Office?’

‘Yes. I have to report at Aldershot straight after Christmas,’ he replied, and, glancing at his watch, said that he had better be off; he thanked them for their hospitality, and nodded towards Rebecca.

‘I’m glad I was able to see you home, Rebecca, and the two boys.’

‘Thank you very much for your kindness, John,’ she said with a smile, and rising from her chair, she saw him to the door and shook his hand warmly. For truth to tell, she was feeling a little guilty about him.

It had been a dark Christmas in every way. The Reverend Roland Allingham preached a solemn sermon on Christmas morning, exhorting the congregation to put their trust in God, and pray for the safety of the men from North Camp called to active service, and for their families, that they be granted strength and courage to bear their burdens of anxiety for their sons. Everyone in church that morning knew that the Allinghams’ two sons had been conscripted, Howard to the British Expeditionary Force and Lester to the Royal Air Force, which disarmed criticism of their rector.

Mrs Joan Kennard sat cuddling Josie on her lap, and wished she could draw closer to Mrs Allingham who had dismissed Joan’s words of sympathy.

‘Both our sons are patriotic, and put their country first, above all other considerations,’ she said loftily. ‘They saw their duty, and did not hesitate.’

‘Have either of them got a sweetheart?’ asked Joan with a smile, and Mrs Allingham rounded on her.

‘Certainly not. Howard’s not ready to make any serious commitment, and would let us know at once if he found a girl who was likely to be a suitable clergy wife. And Lester, thank heaven, has given up that brazen creature, what’s-her-name, the butcher’s daughter. She’s been pursuing him shamelessly all through the summer, but he’s at last seen through her and sent her packing!’