The FitzOsbornes at War (26 page)

We’ve had air raids almost every night for more than two months. I’m amazed Montmaray House is still standing. Even Kensington Palace took a direct hit last month. And it’s not just London – it’s going on
everywhere
, from Scotland to Cornwall. All the ports have been attacked, every airfield across the country, any town large enough to contain a factory or a power station or a gasworks (or that’s simply unlucky enough to be located under a flight path). Coventry is a wasteland now, with so many hundreds of unidentifiable bodies that the authorities want to dig a communal grave and hold a mass funeral. The situation is so bleak that I can’t see how the Foreign Office could
possibly
manage to convince Spain that we’re going to win this war. I said this to Veronica, but she shook her head.

‘I know it seems dire at the moment,’ she said, ‘but really, the situation is much better than it was even a few months ago. Then, there was a real fear we’d be invaded. But to do that, the Germans needed to knock out the RAF, and they’ve failed dismally at that.’

‘Thanks to our fighter pilots,’ I said. ‘Thanks to all those men who . . . who sacrificed themselves.’ I was suddenly close to tears.

‘Anthony
didn’t
die in vain,’ said Veronica fiercely. She reached over and grasped my hand. ‘Sophie, I
promise
, Germany is going to lose this war.’

‘That doesn’t mean we’ll
win
,’ I said, blinking hard. ‘How can we? We’ve already lost so much.’

‘We just have to stick it out a bit longer,’ she said. ‘Germany can keep bombing us and trying to cut off our supplies, but sooner or later, America will join in on our side.’

‘But what about what Mr Kennedy said?’ I protested. ‘“Democracy is finished in England”, that’s what he said in that newspaper interview. He thinks we’ve already lost!’

‘Kennedy!’
said Veronica, with unmitigated scorn. ‘He won’t be Ambassador much longer, I can tell you that. President Roosevelt doesn’t pay any attention to
him
. Kennedy’s career is finished now. The Americans
will
help us, it’s just a matter of time. They’ve already introduced conscription over there, you know.’

So depressing, to think of all those poor American boys being forced to register for military service. As though there aren’t enough people dying already.

Now I feel even worse than I did before my distraction.

30th November, 1940

T
ODAY HAS BEEN RATHER TUMULTUOUS.
Not because of the air raids, but . . . Well, I ought to start at the beginning, I suppose. Veronica is still in Spain, so Toby managed to get a weekend pass and came down to London to visit me.

‘I really don’t think you should be here by yourself, Soph,’ he said, dumping his bag on Veronica’s bed and frowning at the window panes, half of which have had to be replaced with plywood. ‘Aunt C would have a fit if she knew you were waiting out the raids alone in that cellar.’

‘Then don’t tell her,’ I suggested. ‘Have you had luncheon? Do you want a cup of tea or something?’

‘I mean it, Soph,’ he insisted. ‘Can’t you go and stay with that girl from work? Or at least go to the public shelter?’

‘Anne doesn’t have any space – she shares a tiny bed-sitter with a friend – and that public shelter down the road smells absolutely disgusting. I’m not sleeping in
there
. Anyway, the ARP warden always comes round to check on me in the morning if there’s been a raid. It’s nowhere near as frightening as it used to be, and there haven’t been any really big raids for ages.’

‘There
will
be,’ Toby said, with the grim conviction of one who’d spent the past three months studying the Luftwaffe at terrifyingly close range. ‘It’s just that they’re busy blitzing the north at the moment. You wait, they’ll be back in deadly earnest any day now –’

The telephone rang to interrupt this cheerful conversation. It was Mrs Timms.

‘Sorry to bother you,’ she said, ‘but I’m going over to Bristol to stay with my daughter-in-law for a couple of days, and I can’t get hold of Mr Rupert, and I hate the thought of leaving poor Lady Whittingham here by herself.’

‘Julia?’ I said, surprised. ‘But I thought she was with her mother at Astley?’

‘No, no, she’s here and won’t barely leave her bedroom, either. Crying her eyes out most of the time, too.’

‘Let’s go,’ said Toby, snatching up his car keys. So we drove straight around to Julia’s Belgravia house, where Mrs Timms met us at the front door in her coat and hat.

‘She’s in the sitting room,’ said Mrs Timms, nodding over her shoulder. ‘Poor dear, I’ve left her dinner in the oven, not that she’s eating anything much nowadays. She ought to be with her family at a time like this . . . But I do feel easier, now you’re here to talk some sense into her. Well, I’m off.’

We found Julia hunched over on the sofa nearest the fire, huddled inside a brocade housecoat that seemed far too large for her. I was horrified to see how ill she looked – her face greenish and drawn, with dark hollows under her eyes. She’d combed her hair and put on some lipstick, but this gave the impression of having been achieved with great effort.

‘Darling, what are you
doing
here, all alone?’ said Toby. ‘Why aren’t you at Astley?’

‘Oh,’ she said, making a feeble attempt at a smile, ‘you know how Mummy gets, fussing away. It all got a bit much for me . . . But what are
you
doing in London, Toby?’

I suddenly thought how dreadful it must be for her, to see Toby fit and well in his RAF uniform, when all that remained of Anthony was that photograph on her desk. But Julia barely seemed to notice what Toby was wearing – in fact, she seemed to be having difficulties concentrating on anything at all, possibly because she was so undernourished. There was a slice of dry toast with a few unenthusiastic bites taken out of it, sitting on the side table beside a glass of water. If
that
was all she’d been ingesting, no wonder she looked so thin and tired. I offered to go downstairs and make some sandwiches, but she shook her head violently.

‘I couldn’t face it,’ she said, then she clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, no. Back in a moment,’ she mumbled, and she hurried out of the room.

Toby and I exchanged looks. ‘Oh, Lord,’ he said. ‘You don’t think she’s . . .
Could
she be?’

I was still busy calculating dates when Julia came back in, looking slightly less green.

‘I always
think
I’m going to be sick, but I hardly ever am,’ she said, slumping back on the sofa. ‘I just feel queasy every single second of the day. I can’t imagine why they ever decided to call it
morning
sickness.’

‘Have you seen a doctor?’ said Toby.

She shook her head, frowning at her knees.

‘But Julia, you really must,’ he urged. ‘You look dreadful and it can’t be healthy, eating nothing but toast –’

‘I can’t!’ she cried, startling us all. Then she said, more calmly, ‘I can’t. He’s Mummy’s doctor, too, and he’d
tell
her. That’s why I came back to London, as soon as I started feeling sick all the time. So she wouldn’t work it out for herself.’

‘But what does it matter, whether she finds out now or later on?’ said Toby, sounding bemused. He put a comforting arm around Julia. ‘I know the timing isn’t . . . That is, it’s all very sad that it’s happened now, but your mother would be such a help for you. And Ant’s family will be so pleased when they hear –’ Toby looked over Julia’s bent head and finally caught my frantic head-shaking. ‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’m an idiot.’

‘Yes, you
are
,’ said Julia, but she sagged against him. I reached over and clasped her hand, and she gave a half-hearted squeeze back.

‘You poor old
thing
,’ said Toby. ‘But are you absolutely
sure
that it can’t be . . .?’

‘Certain,’ Julia said. ‘I hadn’t seen Ant for two and a half months before . . . before he died. And I’d just written to his mother complaining about how he never seemed to get any leave any more, and how I’d probably have to wait till
Christmas
to see him again.’ Her eyes filled with tears, but she swiped at them impatiently. ‘Anyway, I know exactly when it happened.’

‘Well, have you told . . . him?’ asked Toby. ‘I suppose he’s in one of the services?’

‘I only saw him once,’ said Julia, ‘and I never want to see him again. The whole thing was completely
mad
, I do realise that now, but at the time I was just so . . . numb. So
dead
, really. I wanted to feel alive again. It was after the memorial service, when I was travelling back to Astley and that wretched railway track got bombed. Our train just stopped, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, in the pitch black. The railway station wasn’t far away, but when we finally got there, I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting about for hours on that freezing platform, so I went looking for a taxi and . . . and that’s where I met him. Then the siren started up again and we could hear the planes coming back . . . Anyway, we went to a hotel, and he bought me a drink. Several drinks. And I felt so sorry for him. He was all alone, too . . .’ She glanced up. ‘You think I’m dreadful, don’t you?’

‘Of course we don’t,’ Toby said soothingly. ‘I go to bed with people I feel sorry for,
all the
time
. I think of it as doing my bit for the war effort – you know, boosting the morale of Allied servicemen.’

‘Toby!’ I said. ‘Be
serious
.’ But Julia had given an unwilling snort of laughter.

‘If only everyone saw things your way, Toby,’ she said. ‘But they don’t, of course, which is why I’m in such terrible trouble now.’

‘I still don’t see why,’ said Toby. ‘Really, how will anyone know that Ant isn’t the father? Unless . . . this man wasn’t from Jamaica or somewhere, was he?’

‘No,’ said Julia dully. ‘No, he was Free French. Probably. I don’t know, he could have been lying about that. He certainly lied when he promised me he’d be careful. Anyway, I’ve
told
you about not having seen Ant for months. His parents know all about that, they’d work it out straight away.’

‘Well, never mind,’ Toby said. ‘You can marry me, and tell them it’s my child. Actually, perhaps it
is
mine. I can’t say I remember doing anything of that nature, but I suppose I could have been drunk at the time.’

‘Oh, stop it, Toby,’ said Julia. ‘I’m trying to figure some way out of this horrible mess, and you’re just –’

‘I’m being completely sincere,’ he said, tightening his grasp on her shoulders. ‘Julia. Listen. Aunt Charlotte’s been trying to find me a wife for years, and I can’t keep putting her off forever. And if
you
had a husband, you wouldn’t have a problem, would you? I suppose there’d be a bit of gossip about how quickly you got married again, but Aunt Charlotte already thinks I’m madly in love with you, and everyone knows how irresistible I am. And we
do
love each other, don’t we, darling? We’ve always had fun together. Lots of married couples have far less in common than we have.’

Julia had been staring at him, open-mouthed, throughout this speech.

‘What do you think?’ he said. ‘Not that you have to decide this very second, but –’

‘Oh,
Toby
,’ she said.

Then she burst into tears and flung her arms around his neck.

‘Tea,’ he mouthed at me over the top of her head, as he patted her back. I gazed at him in disbelief, shook my head slowly, then stalked off to the kitchen.

‘This whole world has gone crazy,’ I told the cat, who was giving himself a vigorous bath on top of the draining board. I put the kettle on and sat down to have a think, but my mind was a whirl. Mostly I felt desperately sorry for Julia. I could only imagine her panic when she realised she was pregnant. And feeling so dreadfully sick all the time would make things seem even worse. Of course, I was shocked at the idea of her going off with some stranger like that – but then, she
was
a widow now. She hadn’t been cheating on anyone. Anthony wouldn’t have wanted her to spend the rest of her life in a nunnery – although I expect he’d have hoped she’d wait a bit longer than a
week
before replacing him. Still, it sounded as though she’d been rather drunk, and she’d
definitely
been under enormous emotional strain. Poor Julia! Being punished so severely for one bad decision – when that man, whoever he was, probably hadn’t felt so much as a twinge of regret.