Octavia's War (41 page)

‘It's a terrible, terrible film,' he told her, ‘but I think we should see it. Particularly in view of all the things that the Mannheims have told us.'

It was even more terrible than she feared and expected, for it was filmed at a place called Belsen and Belsen was one of Hitler's death camps. She sat in the dark cinema smoking for comfort and watched as skeletal men in filthy striped shirts and tattered trousers were fumigated to get rid of their lice, and shuddered as desperately thin children squatted on the ground too weak to stand, or lay on their sides as if they were dead, their shaven heads and huge eyes made grotesque by starvation, and groaned with horror as piles of the most pitiful dead bodies she had ever seen were shovelled into the dark earth of huge communal graves. At the end of the film she wept with pity and anger because this was a cruelty obscene beyond belief. And that night she added a postscript to her book.

We have just lived through a war,
she wrote,
in which many ordinary human beings have shown amazing courage and fortitude under appalling conditions. But we must not forget that there have been others who have committed almost unbelievable atrocities, especially in death camps like Belsen and Buchenwald and Auschwitz. We need to look at these people and understand them if we are to prevent such terrible things from happening again. As teachers we know how much our pupils need to be appreciated, to feel that they are wanted and valued and to know that they are loved but, also as teachers, we should never forget that Belsen is what happens when people are taught to hate. The Germans were told in a steady drip, drip, drip of
 
poisonous propaganda that the Jews were a lower race, that they were responsible for everything that was wrong in the German state and that they deserved to be killed, and Germans who were already full of hatred for a variety of reasons and who needed someone they were allowed to hate found a hideous cause. After what was discovered at Belsen, we cannot avoid the knowledge that a deep-seated long-lasting hatred is powerful, self-justifiying and utterly cruel. Now, more than ever, we need to ensure that we teach our children in such a way that they know they are themselves loved, that they are loving to others and that they are allowed and encouraged to think things out for themselves. We cannot afford to do anything less.

Four days later, in a school house in Rheims, the German General Alfred Jodl surrendered unconditionally to General Montgomery and Eisenhower's Chief of Staff, General Walter Bedell Smith. The war in Europe was over.

It was such a glorious summer day, that day of the victory parade, a day of smiles and sunshine, with paper flags all along the route, fluttering like flowers, and roaring cheers rolling and echoing along the Mall, a day to be really happy, despite all the dreadful things that had happened in the last six awful years, because the war was over at last and although they knew the peace was going to be difficult, they would never, never, never have to fight another one.

Octavia stood on the pavement with her family around her and cheered with the rest as the long columns of servicemen and women marched past, Americans, black and white, chewing gum and wearing their tin helmets, Australians in bush hats, Sikhs in turbans and splendid beards, British sailors with their blue collars flapping in the breeze, British airmen in their distinctive air force blue, British soldiers marching in well-drilled precision, men and women from the ARP and the fire service, nurses in full uniform, capes and all, the parade was endless and every marcher in it was proudly applauded.

Dora was intrigued by the logistics of it. ‘It must have taken some planning to get all this lot into London just for this one day,' she said. ‘I wonder where they've put them all.'

‘In tents, duck,' the woman standing next to her said. ‘All
over all the parks they are. You should see 'em.'

‘Fancy,' Dora said and she looked round at the others. ‘Shall we go and have a look, when the parade's over? What do you think?'

Edith and the children were all for it and so was Emmeline but Octavia said she'd have to be getting on to the Albert Hall. ‘I mustn't miss the concert,' she told them. ‘The choir would never forgive me. And nor would my dancers.'

‘I thought you were going to some reception with Tommy,' Emmeline said. ‘You mustn't miss that.'

‘It's all taken care of, Em,' Octavia said. ‘He's going to pick me up at the Albert Hall when the concert's over and you know what a stickler he is for being on time.'

‘I'm glad to hear it,' Emmeline said. ‘You wouldn't want to miss the reception.'

Octavia wasn't particularly keen on this reception, and wouldn't have minded missing it, if she was honest, but she'd agreed to it because he'd seemed so keen for her to be there and she couldn't very well go back on her promise now. Besides it was a special day.

‘Here's some more Yanks coming,' Edith said, peering down the Mall. ‘I do like their helmets.'

When the last of the marching men and women had passed them by and the long parade was over, Octavia said goodbye to her family and took the Tube to South Kensington. Exhibition Road was swarming with happy people all going in the same direction and all in a state of chirruping excitement. It's going to be a very good concert, if this is the audience, she thought, and she quickened her pace.

The great circular bulk of the Royal Albert Hall looked grubby and a bit battered, like every other building in London, but it was very definitely welcoming, as the crowds streamed
into the various doors and attendants took their tickets and showed them the way. And once inside the hall, the atmosphere was sizzling. The members of the London Symphony Orchestra were already drifting onto the stage as she entered, carrying their instruments and greeting one another as they moved to their places, and the massed choirs of London schoolchildren were taking their seats too, in long multicoloured ranks below the organ, chattering and excited and peering out into the vast auditorium to see if they could catch sight of their families. There was such a happy buzz about the place that it lifted Octavia's heart simply to hear it.

And the concert was everything that anyone in the audience could have hoped for, happy, inventive, musical and full of life. There were children performing country dances in the arena, bouncing and skipping with cheerful abandon – her own girls danced the sailors' hornpipe – and the choirs sang ‘Jerusalem' and ‘Land of Hope and Glory' and ‘Say not the Struggle Nought Availeth' and several of the songs that had kept people going through the war. At the end of it she clapped until her hands were sore. We've come through, she thought, as she applauded. Whatever happens to us now and whatever difficulties we have to face, we've defeated an appalling enemy and come through with our spirits high and that's something to be proud of.

She didn't notice that Tommy was at her elbow until the cheers died down.

‘Good?' he asked.

‘Wonderful.'

‘Car's waiting,' he said. ‘What a day it's been. Did you see the parade?'

She told him what she'd seen and how good it had been as they negotiated the curving corridors and found the exit
he wanted. There was a taxi waiting outside, which surprised her a bit because she thought he would be driving her to this reception in his own car, but she got in obediently and was rattled away as they talked. They drove along Kensington Gore and Knightsbridge, round Hyde Park Corner, along Grosvenor Place, past the high walls of the palace gardens, edging through the crowds that were spilling off the pavements and wandering in the road, and finally came 472to the end of Buckingham Gate.

‘We'll get off here,' Tommy said. ‘We can walk the rest of the way.'

‘Where are we going?' Octavia asked, when he'd paid the driver.

He took her hand, slipped it into the crook of his elbow and patted it. ‘Not far,' he said. ‘I know a short cut. Come on.'

‘Caxton Street?' she said, noticing where they were going. ‘Is that named after the famous printer or the famous Hall?'

‘Both I expect,' he said. ‘That's the famous Hall over there. See?'

It was a tall, rather forbidding building, and looked Gothic, with an imposing front entrance and very high windows. ‘That one?' she said. ‘Good heavens! Now that's not a bit how I would have imagined it.'

‘We could go in and have a look if you like,' he offered, casually. ‘It's rather nice inside.'

‘It won't be open,' she said. ‘Not today.'

‘Oh, I think it will,' he said and he looked decidedly mischievous. ‘Let's see, shall we?'

He's up to something, Octavia thought, noticing the look. I'll bet this is where the reception is. So they crossed the road.

The impressive door was open so they went in, he still
holding her hand in his elbow. A man in morning dress came forward to greet him.

‘Major Meriton,' he said, holding out his hand.

Yes, he is up to something, Octavia thought, watching as the two men shook hands. The mischief on Tommy's face was now too marked to be missed.

‘Allow me to introduce Miss Octavia Smith,' Tommy said.

The man said he was pleased to make her acquaintance and shook her hand too. Now what?

‘If you'll follow me, sir,' the man suggested and he gave the merest of bows and led them across the hall to a tall door and through into a room that was full of the scent of flowers. Too small for a reception, Octavia thought, looking at the table and the two high-backed chairs that faced it. Then she realised where she was.

‘This is the Register Office, isn't it?' she said.

His face wasn't simply mischievous now, it was devilish. ‘Yes, I believe it is.'

‘Where people get married.'

‘I believe it is,' he said and added, casually. ‘We could get married here if you'd like to.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘We could but it would take a bit of planning.'

‘Actually,' he said, ‘it wouldn't. We could get married now, if you'd like to.'

‘You're not serious, are you?'

‘I've never been more serious in all my life,' he said, while the morning-suited man edged discreetly away from them and seemed to be signalling to someone.

Are they going to throw us out? Octavia thought, noticing the movement. I wouldn't blame them. ‘You can't just get married on the spur of the moment,' she said. ‘Don't you have to call the banns or have a licence or something?'

‘We've got a licence,' he told her. ‘A special one. It's all arranged. All you've got to do is say yes. And you will say yes, won't you, Tavy? I've waited a very long time. And it's a perfect day for it.'

She found herself laughing. It was all so unexpected, so typically Tommy, so right. ‘Oh Tommy!' she said. ‘What am I to do with you?'

‘Say yes,' he told her. ‘That's all you've got to do. Just say yes.'

So she did. And a very happy ceremony it was.

Afterwards, when they walked out of the Hall arm in arm, there was a wedding car waiting for them by the kerb, hung about with white ribbons.

‘How long have you had this planned?' she asked as she climbed in.

‘Years,' he said, sitting beside her and putting his arm round her. ‘Planning's my forte, remember.'

‘You're the most artful man I've ever met.'

‘And if that's not the nicest thing a wife can say to her husband I'd like to know what is.'

‘Where are we going?'

‘To the reception.'

She'd forgotten the reception and it seemed a little out of place now. Not quite the sort of thing to be attending when you've just got married. ‘We won't have to stay there long, will we?' she asked.

‘Not if you don't want to,' he said.

She realised that she was being ungracious. ‘Just for a little while then,' she said. ‘To show willing.'

They seemed to arrive very quickly after that and from then on everything was sped up. They were out of the car and into the building in two steps, they were walking towards a door,
he was opening it and ushering her through and then there was an uproar of cheers and squeals and the air was full of rose petals and she realised that this wasn't the official reception she'd expected but a wedding reception and that they were cheering the bride and groom, they were cheering her and Tommy. Oh my dear good, God, he
has
planned this well.

Emmeline's face swam into focus from the crowd of people smiling in front of them. ‘Is the deed done?' she called.

He lifted her hand so that they could see the ring on her finger. ‘Signed, sealed, ship-shape and orderly,' he said and walked her into the crowd.

There were so many people there and all of them old friends. She walked from one to the next, gasping in surprise and pleasure. Emmeline rushed to hug her, followed by Edith and Arthur.

‘Good God!' Octavia said to him. ‘When did you get back?'

‘I've been here for ten days,' he said. ‘Edie couldn't tell you because of the surprise.'

She leant forward to kiss him. ‘How are you?'

‘Glad to be home.'

‘I'll bet.' And there was John, beaming at her, with Dora and David beside him. ‘Oh John, how good to see you.'

He was shy, of course, stammering, ‘C-congratulations, Aunt.' And now Emmeline was pulling another guest forward and it was Johnnie with Gwyneth beside him, prettily pregnant. ‘Johnnie, my dear boy! How did you get here?'

‘We flew.'

‘And so did we,' another voice said from behind her, and she turned and there were Mr Mannheim and his wife. ‘From Hamburg,' he said. ‘Courtesy of your husband.'

‘He must have been working on this for months,' Octavia
said, looking round for him. He was over by the table talking to Lizzie and Ben. And there were Frank Dimond and Mrs Henderson. And Janet, with two little boys. She never told us she'd had another baby. ‘Oh, it is good to see you all,' she said as she walked towards them.

‘A happy, happy day,' Mrs Henderson said, ‘and well deserved.'

‘And so say all of us,' Miss Gordon said, joining them.

‘Morag, my dear,' Octavia said. ‘This is so extraordinary I don't know what to say.' Then she noticed Phillida and Alice, and behind them Elizabeth Fennimore and Jenny Jones and Maggie Henry and Sarah Fletcher. ‘Oh, oh, my dears, are you all here?'

‘Naturally we are,' Joan Marshall said, striding into the group. ‘We wouldn't have missed this for worlds.'

Time passed in a blur of greetings and congratulations as she moved from one old friend to another. Mr Mannheim told her that he and his wife were working in a camp for displaced persons, helping them to find their way home and doing what they could to ease them away from the horrors they'd endured.

‘It is very hard work,' Mrs Mannheim said, ‘but we are glad to do it. It is the least we can do.'

Then Ben and Lizzie were rushing towards her and they both kissed her and Ben told her he'd been in the parade.

‘I didn't see you,' Octavia said.

‘I saw
you
,' he told. ‘Just after I'd spotted my Lizzie. You were only a few yards apart.'

‘I didn't see you either, Lizzie,' Octavia confessed. Now that they were standing in front of one another she was feeling unsure of herself, wondering what this dear girl must be thinking to see her headmistress married to her father.

‘Is it any wonder in that crowd?' Lizzie said. ‘I've never seen so many people.'

‘I expect this is a bit of a surprise,' Octavia said.

Lizzie grinned at her. Really she was so like her father sometimes. ‘No,' she said. ‘Not to us. We knew he wanted to marry you, didn't we, Ben?'

‘Really?' Octavia said, feeling very surprised. ‘Did he tell you?'

‘Good God no,' Lizzie said. ‘We just knew, didn't we, Ben? When we saw you together at our wedding.'

The question had to be asked. ‘And you don't mind?'

‘No. 'Course not. Why shouldn't you be happy together? Mind you, I'm not sure what I ought to call you now, but I expect we can sort something out.'

‘Why not “Smithie”?' Octavia said, laughing. ‘That's what you girls usually called me.'

Now it was Lizzie's turn to be surprised. ‘We thought you didn't know.'