Coming Home (145 page)

‘I like that.’

‘What do you like?’

‘Clear intentions.’

‘I don't want to cling to you, Hugo. It was never like that. But I don't want to lose you either.’

‘How shall I find you?’

‘Phone book. Dunbar, The Dower House, Rosemullion.’

‘And if I ring you up, you promise you won't say, “Who the hell are you?”’

‘No. I don't think I'd ever say that.’

He stayed for a little longer, and they went on talking, about nothing in particular, and then he looked at his watch and said it was time that he was off. ‘I have to make some telephone calls and write a letter and present myself to the C in C in good working order, and five minutes before the appointed hour.’

‘When's that?’

‘Six-thirty. Cocktails. State occasion. Lord and Lady Mountbatten, no less.’

‘Will Moira Burridge be there?’

‘Heaven forbid.’

‘Send her my regards.’

‘If you don't watch out, I'll give her your address in Cornwall and say you can't
wait
to have her to stay.’

‘You do, and I'll shoot you.’

She went with him to the door, and down the steps to where his car stood parked on the baking gravel. He turned to her. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, Hugo.’

They kissed. Both cheeks.

‘It's been great.’

‘Yes. Great. And thank you.’

‘I am so pleased, so pleased, that it all worked out for you.’

She said, ‘It hasn't worked out yet. But it's begun.’

The Queen of the Pacific

Med.

Friday 12th October, 1945.

Dear Gus,

I'm sitting on a rather draughty promenade deck, surrounded by squalling children and distraught mothers, and a large number of very bored aircraftmen. Nothing to sit on, so we all squat around the deck, like a lot of refugees, getting grubbier by the day, because there are few washing facilities!

But I must explain. Easier to begin from the moment I said goodbye to you outside the Galle Face. I got home that day to be told by Bob (Uncle, Rear Admiral Somerville) that my little sister Jess had been found in an internment camp in Java. First you and then her! A day of miracles. Bob, with pheasant-shooting in mind, called it a Right and Left.

She is fourteen now. She flew back to Colombo from Jakarta in a USAF Dakota, and Bob and I met her at Ratmalana Air Station. She is skinny and sun-browned, and will soon be as tall as me. She is well.

So we had a week of tremendous organisation, the upshot of which is that we're both on our way home. I'm getting a compassionate discharge, and we'll go back to The Dower House together.

I have thought of you so much…perhaps by now you are already back in Scotland. I shall send this to the address you gave me, and post the letter when we get to Gib.

It was the most wonderful thing, finding you again and being able to spend a bit of time together. I was just terribly sorry that I had to tell you about Loveday being married. I quite understand that, perhaps for a bit, you won't want to come to Cornwall, because of her. But when you've settled back at Ardvray and picked up the threads of your life, perhaps you'll feel differently. When this happens, you know the most enormous welcomes wait for you. Not just me, but Nancherrow as well. Anytime. Just come. And bring your sketch-book!

Please write to me and let me know how things are going and what your plans are.

With my love,

Judith

The Dower House,

Rosemullion,

Sunday 21st October

TRAFALGAR DAY

My darling Bob,

They're home. Safe and sound. I hired a huge taxi, and went on Friday to scoop them off the
Riviera
at Penzance. The train came in, and there they were on the platform, surrounded by mounds of luggage. I don't think I've ever been more excited.

Both are looking well, if tired and a bit emaciated. Jess bears no relation at all to that fat, spoilt little baby girl who stayed with us that Christmas at Keyham. Except, those blue eyes are just as bright, and she has talked a lot about you and the little time she spent with you in Colombo.

The most touching was when she saw Phyllis again. As the taxi arrived at The Dower House, Phyllis and Anna, with Morag in tow, came out of the door to meet us. Nobody said anything to Jess, but she took one look at Phyllis, and was out of the taxi before it had even stopped, to cast herself into Phyllis's arms. I think Anna is a bit jealous, but Jess is particularly nice to her; she said that she spent a lot of time in the camps helping to look after the smaller ones.

Judith showed me the letter from that sweet Australian girl who looked after Jess when they were interned. What hell they went through together. I am sure that, sooner or later, Jess will begin to speak of her ghastly experiences. I am equally sure that, when she does, it will be to Phyllis.

This morning I went to church and said
THANK YOU.

Now, it's Sunday afternoon, a chilly October day, all leaves blown from trees, showers and a nippy wind. Judith has taken Jess to Nancherrow to have nursery tea with them all, and Loveday and Nat. They set off, walking, about an hour ago, bundled up in raincoats and rubber boots. At the first opportunity, we must get a bicycle for Jess. It's really an essential, because only a teaspoonful of petrol every week, and Judith's car is still on chocks in the garage and totally out of commission until she gets a petrol ration for herself.

In the house, we are a bit of a squash, but managing comfortably. Anna's moved in with her mother, and Jess has got Anna's room. But I think the time has come for me to fly this nest and start building another one for you and me. I saw a lovely house in Portscatho last week, three bedrooms and two bathrooms, not in the village but up on the hill, looking out over the sea. It's only half a mile from the village shop, and a couple of miles from St Mawes. (Mooring for your boat?) It's in good nick, and we could move in tomorrow if we wanted, so I think I shall put in an offer and get it. I spoke to Hester Lang on the telephone the other day, and she has promised to come and stay, and help me over the move. I want to be all settled in and ready for when you come home and we can be together again.

As for Phyllis, the great news is that Cyril has decided to stay in the Navy on a regular basis. He has done really well, is now a petty officer, with an excellent war record, and a DSM for gallantry. I think it is very important that we get Phyllis settled. With Molly gone, I feel a bit responsible for her, after these years that we have lived, quite happily, together. It will depend on how much of his pay Cyril has been able to save, but they must have a home of their own, somewhere for him to come for his leaves. Perhaps a little terrace house in Penzance. If more than they could afford, would we be able to chip in a little? I am sure Judith would help, but she's got Jess to think about now, and her schooling, et cetera. I'll have a word with her when some of the excitement has died down.

So that's about it. If I don't stop now I shan't catch the post. Think of me, splashing down the hill to push this letter into the letter-box. I shall take Morag with me for a little exercise. She is getting older now, but still keen as mustard if you breathe the word ‘Walkies’.

Darling Bob. How lucky we are. Now, I can't wait for you to come home. Don't linger too long.

My love as forever

Biddy

‘I'd forgotten how long this road is.’

‘We seem to be going on forever.’

‘It's because we're walking. On bikes it doesn't seem anything.’

The Nancherrow drive looked a bit unkempt, filled with pot-holes and puddles, and the verges on either side were beginning to encroach. The hydrangeas were long over, their flower-heads browned and papery, sagging with moisture from the showers which had been blown in from the sea, and continued, all through the afternoon. High above, the branches were bare, tossing in the wind, and beyond them the pale sky, scudded with grey, watery clouds.

‘The first time I ever came to Nancherrow, the drive was so long and twisty, I was sure the house was going to be quite spooky, when we finally reached it. But of course, it wasn't. It's quite new. You'll see. And then, when I read
Rebecca,
I was reminded of Nancherrow, and seeing it all for the very first time.’

‘I've never read
Rebecca.
’

‘You haven't had much chance. But what a treat you've got in store. Heaps of treats. I shall feed you books, like we feed Morag dog-meal.’

‘I had one book when I was little that I always remember. I got it for a Christmas. It was huge and coloured and filled with pictures and stories. I wonder what happened to that?’

‘It was put in store, I expect. With all our other stuff. Crates of it. We'll have to get it from the depository. Things that belonged to Mummy. Ornaments and bits of china. It'll be like opening Pandora's box…’

The trees were thinning. They were nearly there. Around the last curve of the drive, and the house stood before them, but a squall was driving in, hiding, like a grey curtain, the view of the sea. They stopped, and stared for a moment, raincoats dripping, mufflers blowing in the wind.

Then Jess said, ‘It's really
big.
’

‘They needed a big house. They had three children, and lots of servants, and lots of friends always coming to stay. I had a room of my own. The pink room. After tea, I'll show you. Come on, or we're going to get soaked again.’

They ran across the gravel, reaching the sanctuary of the front door just as the rain lashed down once more. There, they shed raincoats, toed off their rubber boots. Then Judith opened the inner door and, in socked feet, she and Jess went into the hall.