Camomile Lawn (23 page)

‘Darling Polly,’ she wrote. ‘I haven’t told Pa and Ma that I am pregnant. They will want me to go home and I could not bear it. The fuss. The boredom. Help me. Tell them London’s safe, that I need to be near my doctor, something plausible. Love. C.’ She stuck the note in an envelope and put it on the hall table. ‘Come on,’ she said to the dog, who was sniffing at a pile of coats on a chair. She looked closer. R.A.F. caps, overcoats, gas masks. ‘The twins must be here, how lovely.’ She started up the stairs. Outside Polly’s room the dog pressed his nose to the door and snuffled. Calypso picked him up and walked in. Dim light slanted through the cracks in the blackout curtains. In the bed Polly slept, her dark hair covering one cheek, her face serene, long lashes on sunburned cheeks, sad mouth relaxed; on either side of her lay David and Paul, each with an arm across her body.

Calypso held her breath. They looked peaceful, beautiful. They moved gently, enjoying in their sleep a respite from grief and war. She stepped back, closed the door, tiptoed downstairs, clipped the lead on to the dog’s collar and let herself out into the street.

For the moment Polly was out of the question. She remembered the night she had come for Polly’s help and been interrupted by Richard. She had since been grateful to him. She glanced up at the curtained window, then started walking towards Helena’s house. If Polly had discovered what her life was about so, in her way, had Helena. A call was in order. She paced slowly, recollecting the night Oliver had walked her home, his anger, the aridity she had felt, her relief when she heard Hector crash into her bicycle, saving her from difficult talk. Now both were in the Middle East would they meet and speak of her? She put her thumb on Helena’s bell, wondering which twin Polly had slept with first. She was smiling when Max opened the door. He came out quickly shutting the door behind him.

‘Come on,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘I am going to the cinema, you come too.’ He started walking her along.

‘But I came to see Helena.’

‘In a bad mood. Better to leave her alone for a bit,
ja.’

‘But I don’t want to go to the cinema, I want—’

‘You want to see the Marx Brothers in
The Night at the Opera?’

‘I saw it with Hector. It was on in Leicester Square.’

‘Now it is in Kensington High Street. Laughter will do you good, you look like you need it. I need it severely.’

Calypso allowed him to propel her along at a brisk clip. ‘Why?’

‘Ach, Helena is in a foul mood. Your uncle comes to London, she does not want him, she has no talent for living her lives, she wants the compartments separate.’

‘So would I,’ said Calypso sharply, ‘in her shoes.’

‘You are grumpy, my Calypso.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Ach, you are pregnant,
nicht?
’

‘How did you guess?’

‘It shows in your eyes. Are you sick?’

‘I’m in a permanent state of nausea.’

‘It will pass. The child is Hector’s?’

‘Of course it is Hector’s.’

‘No of course. I might be honoured and who else, one asks? One sees you with others paying court, one hears-’

‘Pig.’

‘I am teasing. Is Hector pleased? He will now have his heir. In Hector’s boots I should be delighted. Did you know that at Harrods one can buy boots with rubber soles called “Desert Boots”? You should send some to the proud Papa.’

‘He’s got some.’

‘Well, then, he has an heir en route, he has boots, the brothers Marx will cheer up Mama, she will forget her nausea, we will go back sweet-tempered to Helena and her malaise.’

‘Is Uncle Richard coming to London to snoop?’

‘Nein.
He says he comes to buy clothes but I think there is something else, I do not yet know what.’

‘Aunt Helena will try to stop him.’

‘So. I shall succeed in stopping her stopping him. Come, jump on this bus.’

As the bus careered along Max shouted: ‘And Polly, have you seen poor Polly? She must mourn her brother, a lovely fellow, how will she console herself?’

‘She has her work.’

‘That will not be enough. We must rally round, as you call it, try to blunt the horrors of grief, keep her mind occupied with pleasant things. What can we do for her, what do you suggest?’

‘I—’

‘A lover is what she needs, a good lover to occupy her, but one does not find him just like that. We must—’

‘We must mind our own business,’ said Calypso tartly. ‘Were you going to volunteer?’

‘Oho, it is like that, is it,
das ist sehr interessant.’

‘You—’

‘I shut up.’ Max smiled wolfishly. ‘Come, we get off here for our healing laughter.’

In the cinema Max’s immoderate laughter proved infectious and Calypso laughed more than she had when she had seen the film with Hector. When the lights went up she found herself quite feeble and sat waiting for the cinema to empty.

‘Thank you, Max, I loved it.’ She smiled at him warmly.

‘We should have brought Polly, perhaps.’

‘Perhaps not.’ Calypso grew sober. ‘Of course Walter would have adored it—’

‘We will go and tell Helena what she has missed.’

‘Did you ask her to go with you? I bet not.’

‘Mind you,’ said Helena to Hamish as they drove, ‘Max could be difficult. He used to go off on his own and not tell me what he had been doing. Once he came home from the cinema with Calypso, said he had met her there. I didn’t believe him. It was when Calypso was having her baby, she felt sick all the time.’

‘So she tells me,’ said Hamish drily.

‘It was you of course. One forgets. The baby was you, rather a pretty child you were, not that I like babies.’

‘Nor does she.’

‘She isn’t a pram drooler. Where was I?’

‘Max and Calypso at the cinema.’

‘That’s right. They had seen
A Night at the Opera
and came back to tea. Calypso told me she was pregnant; it was a surprise. Of course I was pleased for your father. I had a soft spot for him.’

‘He rather liked you.’

‘I believe he did. When Calypso told me I congratulated her. I remember it well, said I supposed she would go and live with her parents. D’you know what she said?’

‘No.’ Hamish kept his eyes on the road, intending to be punctual at the funeral.

‘She said, “Not on your Nelly, not bloody likely.” Max was surprised, too.’

‘Oh.’

‘Her parents, your grandparents, were dim and boring. That was one thing I agreed with Richard. Conventional, puritanical, rather badly off. They had no conception of how to treat a girl like Calypso. She had very little fun. All they ever did was repress and try to prevent her doing almost anything. Put ideas in her head, if you ask me. It was lucky for her she found your father. She might so easily, given her nature, have—’

‘What?’

‘Become promiscuous.’ Helena chuckled. ‘“Wild” would have been your grandparents’ euphemism. Anyway, she said she had no intention of being bored and did I know what her mother said when she found her reading T. S. Eliot?’

‘What had my grandmother said?’

‘She said, “Oh, reading that man who doesn’t write poetry.” Max went into fits. He cried with laughter. I didn’t see anything funny. He said of course Calypso couldn’t go to your grandparents, it would psychologically upset the baby. Your mother said, “It’s not the baby I’m worried about, it’s me.” Anyway, she stayed in London.’

‘Did nobody try to stop her? Surely it would have been sensible to go to the country.’

‘She called her mother philistine, she made T. S. Eliot an excuse. Mind you,’ said Helena, watching the wide ribbon of the motorway, ‘I couldn’t say much at that time. I hadn’t read Eliot either. I sneaked off to Harrods and bought his poems. That was one good thing about the war.’

‘What was?’

‘Lots of books. We couldn’t buy sanitary towels but there were plenty of books published. People like me took to reading our minds were loosened as well as our morals.’

‘It’s difficult to imagine you loose.’

‘Well-brought-up girls like Polly and Calypso had such opportunities and I became quite a butterfly.’

Hamish was silent.

‘I may look like a chrysalis now,’ said Helena angrily, ‘but in my forties I flowered. The war even inspired Richard. When he came to London he cramped my style. Your mother egged him on. If left to himself he would have bought his clothes and gone back to Cornwall, but she and Polly encouraged his wild ideas, they were mischievous, those girls.’

‘I wish I’d known you all in those days. I’ve seen photographs, of course.’

Helena snorted. ‘Photographs! Polly looking as though butter wouldn’t melt when she was selfish, greedy and flouting convention. She got away with it because nobody could believe what she was up to. Her parents would have put a stop if they’d been alive, or at least tried. Your mother did exactly as she pleased, turned a deaf ear to advice and encouraged Richard to make a fool of himself, said he needed a bit of fun.’

‘But what did he do? What was so awful?’

‘I felt his behaviour reflected on me. I was annoyed with those girls, your mother in particular, and really upset when Oliver’s mother took Richard’s side.’ Helena took another sip from the flask. Glancing sideways, Hamish surmised it held half a bottle of whisky and wondered what Helena would contribute to the funeral.

‘I used to take this flask to Max’s concerts; it helped me through many an evening.’ Helena screwed the top on tightly. ‘People thought I had a weak bladder, those constant trips to the cloakroom, ho-ho.’

‘When does Uncle Richard arrive? No, no sugar, thanks, Aunt, it makes me queasy.’

‘Next week. I have asked Sarah to come up to see Polly. She can help, well, help with Richard. I’m so busy.’

‘I’ll ask him to take me out to lunch. I’ll take him off your hands.’ Calypso knew that her aunt knew she knew how unwelcome Richard would be in Enderby Street.

‘But you are at that office of yours all day.’

‘I’m leaving it this week.’

‘Don’t they want you any more?’

‘It’s not that. I’m sick all the time. They are getting a bit cross with me, say it wastes valuable war work time.’

‘Oh my dear, is it—’ Helena looked at Calypso in alarm. ‘I mean—’

‘It’s Hector’s,’ said Calypso stuffily. ‘Do I have such a wild reputation?’

‘No, no, of course not. I was going to say is it wise in wartime to have a baby?’

‘Hector wants one, especially if I can grind out a boy. That’s what—’

‘What a way to talk! Aren’t you pleased? Hector will be.’

‘Hector doesn’t feel sick all the time, he won’t swell up like a balloon. His part was easy, it’s a part he plays with enthusiasm, he—’

‘That’s enough, darling, not in front of Max, you’ll embarrass him.’

‘He doesn’t look embarrassed, he’s laughing. All right, let’s plan how to keep Uncle Richard out of your hair.’

‘Oh, Calypso.’ Helena began laughing too. ‘Richard will enjoy seeing you. He is so fond of you girls, he will be so glad to see you and Polly. Perhaps you could go with him to visit Sophy, I simply haven’t got the time.’

‘Oh.’ Calypso was unbelieving. ‘Really?’

‘I have joined the Red Cross, that takes up my mornings and—’

‘Why the Red Cross, isn’t it full of snobs?’

‘It’s useful for Max. Red Cross charity concerts advertise his name and names are what matter. It doesn’t matter if they can’t tell one note from another, I can’t either.’

‘I bet Max knows Sir Thomas Beecham.’

‘But not Lady Cunard. So you see, darling, I am busy.’

‘Aunt, you have changed.’

‘I just have more scope. More tea?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘She has asked me to call her Emerald.’

‘Oh my, you fly high. When does Uncle Richard arrive? I’ll meet him.’ Calypso watched Max liberally buttering a scone. ‘Where d’you get all this butter, Aunt?’

‘Monika sends a hamper on the train every week. I send it back empty. It’s a bit of a nuisance having to go to Paddington to collect it but it’s very useful.’

‘What else does she send?’

‘Cream, eggs, vegetables, fruit. She sent a lobster last week. She hadn’t tied its claws properly, I got nipped.’

‘Oh, Aunt!’

‘Not badly.’

‘Isn’t it black market?’

‘It’s my house, my garden, my produce. Monika is my guest.’

‘Grey?’ suggested Max.
‘Le marché gris.’

‘Nonsense, Max, you need the food.’

‘I like the food. I shall also meet Richard when he arrives, he will be bringing compôtes and such.’

‘I will come with you,’ Calypso volunteered.

‘I won’t have you raiding the hampers.’

‘What an idea, Aunt.’

‘You should show a bit of enterprise and get Hector’s people to send you grouse and venison and herrings.’

‘They would go bad.’

‘Kippers, then.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Richard arrived with several hampers and settled into Helena’s spare room, unpacking his ivory brushes, the photograph of his first wife, his toothbrushes, sponge and pyjamas, arranging them in orderly fashion in their new surroundings. Within half an hour he looked, thought Helena, ominously settled.

The following morning he limped out to make a preliminary visit to his tailor, then took a bus to the City and the East End to view the bomb damage.

‘Really most impressive,’ he said to Calypso, who had turned up at tea time. ‘I saw a lot of rubble in France but nothing like this. There’s no mud and no dead horses. Those A.R.P. chaps seem efficient at finding the bodies. One misses the smell, a sort of haunting odour of wet dead. What’s it been like round your way?’

‘I lost all my windows when Parliament was hit.’

‘That all? Have you seen the City?’

‘No.’

‘Good Lord, you live in London and haven’t seen it? I’ll take you tomorrow, you must see the Docks and the City. I’ll take you on a tour. The best way to see it is from the top of a bus. One should walk of course, but with my leg—’

‘Even your new one?’

‘Not the same as flesh and blood but it will not prevent me from dancing.’

‘Dancing!’ exclaimed Helena and Calypso in chorus.

Richard smiled with satisfaction. ‘I have, or rather Monika has, enrolled me in a course of lessons at a school in Soho.’