The Very Thought of You (45 page)

‘I have no idea,' said Frances with a grin, and then turned her head towards the door.

There was the sound of cars coming up the drive and Beau put down his drink. ‘I'd better get my coat and direct them, and you lot must get a move on and change.'

It was when they were walking to the barn that Frances asked Catherine what she and Guy were doing earlier with her father.

‘You'd be surprised,' said Catherine, with a conspiratorial smile. ‘And that's all I'm going to say.'

The barn was full. Not only had the village turned out in force, but several rows of seats were taken up by the military convalescents. Beau's family sat on the front row with Lord Parnell, who looked as nervous as if he was one of the performers. Johnny was sitting on a hay bale, with Maggie beside him. ‘Mummy!' he called, pink with excitement, as she stood by the stage, and she gave him a little wave.

Then Beau stepped to the front of the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,' he announced, ‘some of you may know that I have been running a touring show. We play to factories and dockyards and to the military. Recently we came back from France, where we played to the brave soldiers at the front and to those in the field hospitals. It was an uplifting experience and also had its dangers. Sadly, one of our number was very badly injured and can't be with us tonight, but the rest of us are ready to give you an evening to remember.'

He turned and nodded to Catherine, and as she walked on stage, Tommy struck up with ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes'. Her voice lilted over the barn, sweetly filling the place with melody, and soon the audience was singing along with her. Frances could see her father staring at Catherine with his mouth open, and Beau's father, Rolly Bennett, goggled at her and yelled, ‘Bravo, little lady,' when she'd finished and, ‘More!' before getting a fierce look from his wife.

Then Colin did his turn, which went so well that the audience howled with laughter. Frances could see Johnny on his feet jumping up and down and squealing at the fun, until Maggie grabbed him and put him on her knee.

Godfrey sang his favourite, ‘On the Road to Mandalay', which everyone knew and loved, before Tommy played his medley.

‘It's us next,' Frances said, suddenly nervous at singing in front of people she knew. ‘My God, I'm scared.'

‘No need to be,' whispered Catherine. ‘You know you can do it.'

She could too, and stood beside Catherine as they sang ‘Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree'. It missed Della's verve and her high soprano voice, but they sang in harmony and the audience loved it and cheered them to the old rafters. So much so that dust floated down, giving a hazy atmosphere that made the lamps that were strung over the tree and across the beams twinkle more softly.

They had a break then and Beau had arranged for a barrel of beer to be brought in with glasses borrowed from the pub. The men and women in the audience eagerly lined up for that, and some of the nurses who had come with wounded brought glasses back to them.

John Parnell caught up with his daughter at the back of the stage. ‘Fran, my darling girl, you were terrific. I would never have guessed.' He bent and kissed her cheek.

‘Pa,' she asked, ‘what were you and Guy talking about earlier?'

‘Oh,' he said, rubbing his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, ‘I think he should tell you that.' He looked beyond her. ‘He's on his way now. I'll see you afterwards.'

‘Frances.' Guy was standing behind her.

‘Hello,' she smiled. ‘I haven't had a moment to speak to you. What are you doing in England?'

‘I've come to see you,' he said, ‘but first I have to tell you that I'm going away for six months.'

‘Six months? Where?'

‘To the Pacific. To the French colonies.'

‘But you can't,' she said. ‘The Japs are fighting all over the Pacific.'

‘Ah, but, you see, they have never attacked the French colonies. They meant to, but they were stretched too far. My government has asked me to go there to assess what these islands need. I think they have been starved of supplies. So I have agreed.'

‘I didn't know you were part of the government,' she said, astonished.

‘A very small part,' he smiled. ‘But before I go, I have a question to ask you.'

‘Yes, what?' She was amazed when he got down on one knee.

‘Frances,
ma chérie
,' he said, ‘I love you. Will you marry me?'

‘What?' she said again, glancing around quickly to see if anyone was watching. Quite a few were, including Catherine, who was smiling like the Cheshire cat.

‘Will you marry me? I don't want anyone else to step in while I'm away, because you are the one person I want to spend my life with.'

Frances swallowed and then said quickly, ‘Get up, Guy – everyone's looking.'

‘But you must answer,' he said.

‘Alright,' she laughed, ‘I will marry you. Now get up.'

‘Good,' he said, and kissed her. ‘I have spoken to your father. He has given his permission. Catherine did the translation … I am sorry that she knew before you, but' – he shrugged – ‘it was the only way. Also …' He put his hand in his pocket and drew out another velvet-covered box, smaller this time. It contained a diamond engagement ring. ‘It was my grandmother's and hidden down the well.'

‘I guessed that,' she said, and watched as he slid it on her finger. She looked into his face and felt happiness wash over her. ‘I love you,' she said, as Johnny Petersham's image finally faded into the background.

Soon they were surrounded by people coming to congratulate them. ‘A fine young man,' said her father. ‘Is that a real title, and has he money?'

‘Yes, Pa. A hell of a lot more than you.'

Beau came to give her kiss and said, ‘We must start the second half,' when there was a commotion by the barn door. ‘Oh my God,' he groaned, ‘who's this now? It can't be the police, can it? Have we broken some sort of bylaw? The beer, perhaps?'

It wasn't the police; it was Della. She was in a wheelchair with her broken leg stuck out in front of her. Dr Tim was wheeling her to the front and she was laughing with the excitement of it all.

‘Della!' Catherine and Frances screamed, and hugged and kissed her. Then the other Players had a go, while the audience watched in astonishment.

‘I wanted to come so much,' Della laughed. ‘I persuaded Tim to bring me here. In an ambulance!'

Beau got up on the stage and held his hand up for silence. ‘This brave young lady is Miss Della Stafford, one of our stars, who was blown up a month ago.' There was respectful applause and Beau held up his hand again. ‘And now we'll get on with the show.'

If anything, it was better than the first half. The audience cheered everything, only calming down when Catherine sang ‘
J'attendrai
', both in French and English.

Frances looked around the barn until she could see Guy, standing at the side next to Maggie, who was holding a sleepy child. She nodded to him, indicating that the words meant something to her. He put his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. He'd understood.

Beau came on then and the audience paid respectful attention as he declaimed Henry's speech from the Battle of Agincourt. However, as it went on, they became engrossed, and when he ended on a grand swell with St Crispin's Day, they exploded to the rafters.

After that, Catherine and Frances went on stage to sing again, but Della called, ‘Me too.'

‘I don't think so,' said Dr Tim, looking concerned.

‘I do,' Della replied firmly, and got him to manoeuvre her to the front and waited while the microphone was lowered and chairs brought for the other two girls. ‘What have you rehearsed?' she asked.

‘“Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,”' said Catherine. ‘Can you manage it?'

‘I think so,' Della said. ‘My chest is fine. It's the bloody leg that's holding me back. OK, let's do it.'

Frances nodded to Tommy and they sang. It was like old times. Della was fine, posing as well as anyone in a wheelchair could and waving encouragement to the audience. When they'd finished, everybody yelled their appreciation and the girls bowed and blew kisses.

‘I'm buggered,' Della whispered, and Tim wheeled her away to recover at the back of the barn.

‘You finish, Catherine,' said Beau. ‘Send them home happy.'

‘Alright.' She stood beside the piano and looked out over the audience as she started to sing ‘The Very Thought of You' and heard the groan of contentment that happened when audiences recognised a song they loved. She walked, still singing, off the stage and along the narrow aisle between the chairs and hay bales until she reached the back and came face to face with a man standing in the shadow. It was Robert. Her heart was turning over so fast that she almost missed a beat, but her professionalism kicked in and she carried on singing until she was back on the stage again.

It was a triumph. Congratulations rang out, and the Players had their hands shaken many times.

It was an hour before Catherine was free. They had gone back into the hall, where Maggie had done a buffet of game pie and baked potatoes, which the Players and their guests fell upon with delight.

‘I need to talk to you,' said Robert, and opening a door, led Catherine into the empty drawing room and took her in his arms.

He held her so tightly that she felt dizzy and knew something was wrong. She pulled her face away from him and said, ‘What is it? You're different.'

It was a long moment while she waited for him to speak. ‘I've been in France,' he said finally. ‘I've found Christopher.'

‘Oh.' Her hand went to her mouth. ‘You found his grave?'

He shook his head, his eyes drilling into hers. ‘No, my love, I've found him. He is alive.'

They drove along the same street, where, all those months ago, she'd sat miserably beside Guy, trying to take in the murder of her grandfather and the apparent loss of mind of her grandmother. Past the cafe where she'd been forced by Frances to eat up her omelette, and the market square, nearly empty this cold afternoon, for the citizens of Amiens had hurried away home through the flakes of snow that drifted in on an east wind.

‘Are you alright?' asked Robert, looking up at the street name and then turning off the main road into the narrow side street.

‘Yes.'

‘You sure?'

‘Stop asking me,' Catherine muttered. ‘You know how I feel.'

‘I'm sorry.'

Ahead, she could see the steps leading up to the convent door and thought of Della, cowed at first by the nuns and then, when they were leaving, giving them a rude gesture. Frances hadn't been cowed at all; she'd been determined, solidly brave and resourceful. How very strange it was to be coming back here.

‘We've found him,' Robert had said on that night after the show had finished and they were together in the drawing room at Parnell Hall.

‘Where?' she asked, her voice dull. She couldn't understand why she wasn't more excited. This is what she'd been yearning for. Christopher alive.

‘In Amiens. In the convent where you rescued your grandmother.'

‘What?' she breathed, staring at his face, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ‘He was there then? And I was so close to him,' she said wildly. ‘Oh God, I should have gone from room to room, yelling out his name. I could have brought him home months ago.'

‘No. He wasn't there then. Believe me, my love. He was at a hospital miles away being looked after, quite well, it would seem. He was moved to Amiens only a month ago, when they needed the space for acute injuries.'

‘But why didn't you know? Didn't anybody ask his name?' She looked at him with exhausted eyes. ‘Why didn't he tell them who he was?'

Robert had pulled her down onto the torn sofa and taken her hands in his. ‘Darling, Christopher has suffered a head injury. He has lost his speech and, it seems, the ability to write or communicate in any way. We think it happened when the prison was bombed. He must have had a severe blow to his head, for apparently he was unconscious for several weeks. He is conscious now; his eyes are open, but there is nothing …' He stopped, frowning, and she knew he was wondering how to go on.

‘Tell me.'

Robert took a deep breath. ‘It's as if he was still asleep.'

‘I must go to him.'

‘Yes, I know. I'll take you.'

And here they were, eight days later, in that cold, uncertain time between Christmas and New Year, pulling up in front of the convent steps, and Catherine could feel her hands shaking.

‘Please come in,' said the little porteress nun who had opened the door. ‘Reverend Mother is expecting you.'

It was the same walk along the icy corridor, the same timid knock on the door, and when it swung open, it was the same tall, imposing figure who rose from behind her desk.

‘Good afternoon, Madame Fletcher,' she said, her voice softer than Catherine remembered. ‘And to you, Major.'

‘I have come to see my husband,' said Catherine, trying to put some flint into her voice. She found that she was holding her breath. Would Mother Paul object like she had last time?

‘Of course.' The nun rose to her feet. ‘We have made him ready. Follow me.'

It was a shaky walk up the staircase and Catherine had to reach out for Robert's hand.

‘Don't be frightened,' he whispered.

Mother Paul stopped at the door to the day room where Béatrice had been. A nun who was standing against the wall beside the door gave Catherine a brief smile. ‘Lieutenant Fletcher is here, madame.' She reached out her hand to touch Catherine's sleeve. ‘Please do not expect too much. It is possible that he will not know you.' And she turned the handle and opened the door.