Until We Meet Again (14 page)

‘And look, Aunty Tilly; there’s even a little lavatory and a bath!’ Amy exclaimed. ‘And look at the kitchen! All those tiny pans and plates and a kettle. I think they need a cook, don’t you? That’s what posh people have, and I think they’re a posh family. I’ve called them Mr and Mrs Jones,
and the boy’s called Johnnie, and the girl’s called Jane.’

‘You’re a lucky girl, Amy,’ said Tilly, with one eye on the door.

In a few moments Dominic and her parents returned. Tilly could tell by their faces that they were all pleased with the outcome of their talk. Her mother came over to her.

‘William and I are very happy for you, dear,’ she said. ‘We like Dominic very much and we know how fond you are of one another.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘Of course you are both very young, and in normal times we would have advised you to wait a while. But we both realise there would be no point in that…’ Faith’s eyes started to brim with tears, and she hastily brushed them away. ‘William will tell everyone later, if that is what you want?’ Tilly nodded and so did Dominic who had joined them.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We want to share our good news with everyone.’ He turned to Tilly. ‘And then you can start wearing your ring, can’t you, darling?’

‘For a few days anyway,’ replied Tilly. ‘When I go back to the hospital I expect I shall have to wear it on a chain around my neck. Jewellery is not allowed except for wedding rings. But I shall keep it near to me all the time.’

Nobody was really hungry at teatime but
they managed to eat a few turkey sandwiches – prepared by the younger women – and a morsel of Christmas cake, just as fruity and succulent as the pudding. Then William said he had some news to share with everyone. Some may have wondered why the sherry glasses had been brought out again, although some would no doubt have guessed.

‘Listen, everyone,’ began William. ‘Tilly and Dominic are now engaged to be married!’ There was a chorus of ‘Oh, what a surprise!’ and ‘How lovely!’, and William’s eyes as well as Faith’s were bright with unshed tears of joy.

‘Well, we will be as soon as Tilly starts to wear her ring,’ said Dominic. Once again he slipped the ring onto her finger, then kissed her on the lips, but rather more chastely than usual.

Everyone clapped and cheered and raised their glasses as William declared, ‘To Tilly and Dominic… May they always be as happy as they are today.’

It would be pointless to say any more. But the same thoughts, no doubt, were in several minds. For how long? What would the future hold for them? And the same heartfelt prayer; Please God, let it be over very soon.

Chapter Thirteen

‘S
o that all went very well, didn’t it?’ said Dominic, putting his arm around Tilly as they left her home a couple of hours later. ‘They were all delighted at our news, weren’t they?’

‘Yes, they all seemed really pleased,’ said Tilly. ‘I was very touched at all their good wishes and everything, although I don’t usually like being the centre of attention, as you know. What about your parents? I haven’t had a chance to ask you yet. They didn’t raise any objections, did they?’

‘No…oo,’ said Dominic, a trifle cagily. ‘Well, Mother shed a few tears. You know – about her only son going off to fight for King and Country, and then when I come back I won’t be hers anymore. The usual stuff that I might have expected. But my father was much more practical and down-to-earth about it. He said he wasn’t
surprised, and he reminded Mother that they both like you very much, Tilly. They do, you know, my darling. So don’t worry; there’ll be no sign of any disapproval when you see my mother. She knows how to behave properly; Father will make sure that she does.’

‘Are your aunt and uncle still there, and your cousin?’ asked Tilly.

‘Yes, but they’ll probably leave before eleven o’clock,’ said Dominic. ‘Uncle Cedric and Aunt Maud don’t like to overdo things, not even at Christmastime. I think they’re frightened they’ll be turned into pumpkins if they’re out after midnight. Poor Priscilla! I don’t know how she stands it. You haven’t met any of them before, have you, love?’

‘No, I’m looking forward to that pleasure,’ said Tilly with a sly grin. ‘I’ve caught a glimpse of your uncle in the office now and again. Rather…er… corpulent, isn’t he, with ginger hair? Not much alike, he and your father, are they – in looks, I mean?’

‘No,’ Dominic laughed. ‘They couldn’t be more different. But then there’s no reason why they should look alike. They’re not brothers, you know. Uncle Cedric is my mother’s brother, although he’s not much like her either. The two men seem to work well together though, in the business, and
that’s the main thing. My father was very pleased to deal with the contract for your parents for the purchase of the next-door property. I understand it’s all progressing well with the convalescent home.’

‘Yes, they hope to open in the spring,’ said Tilly. ‘Mother wants me to get a transfer there, you know.’

‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘Mmm…mixed feelings, to be truthful,’ Tilly admitted. ‘I thought I’d be very homesick when I went to Bradford, and I was, just at first. But now I’ve got used to my independence – not having to rely on my parents for everything, I mean. I’ve discovered I’m quite self-sufficient, and that has surprised me. I miss them all, of course…and you more than anyone. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I should hope so,’ laughed Dominic.

‘Anyway, I may well see what I can do about it when I’ve been in Bradford for a year,’ Tilly continued. ‘To please Mother – I know she wants it to be a real family concern. Oh…we’re here, aren’t we?’

They had arrived at the double gates of Dominic’s home in an avenue off the esplanade, which ran parallel to the one where the Moon family lived. This, also, was a large residence, much too big really for the three occupants. A
Daimler car stood in the driveway outside the front door. Tilly guessed it belonged to Dominic’s uncle; she knew his father drove a Renault, as did her stepfather.

Mrs Fraser opened the door quickly when the chimes of the door bell rang. The little maid, Lily, was nowhere to be seen. Tilly supposed that she had been given leave to spend some time with her parents, it being Christmas Day.

‘Hello, Tilly, my dear.’ Martha Fraser kissed her briefly on the cheek. ‘Oh dear, you do feel cold. Come along in and get warm; we’ve got a good fire going.’

‘Hello, Mrs Fraser,’ said Tilly. ‘A Happy Christmas to you.’

‘And to you too, dear.’ Mrs Fraser inclined her head graciously. ‘Dominic’s father and I… we were pleased to hear your news.’ She did not sound overly enthusiastic, but then Tilly had not expected her to.

‘Yes…thank you,’ she replied dutifully.

‘It’s a pity Dominic has to go away again so soon, and you may have to wait a while before…’ She did not finish the sentence but shook her head sorrowfully. ‘But that is the way of it, I’m afraid.’

They took off their coats, hanging them on the ornate hallstand, then Mrs Fraser ushered them
into the sitting room. As Tilly had observed before, the room was furnished in the style of a Victorian parlour rather than the more modern lounge that most ladies preferred nowadays.

A log fire burnt in the grate of the mahogany fireplace and the warmth of it hit them after the coldness of the night air. The curtains at the windows were of deep maroon velvet, matching the cushions of the horsehair settee and armchairs. Occasional tables of dark mahogany were dotted around the room, most of them displaying glassware, porcelain vases and silver photograph frames with family portraits; and on the largest table stood a huge glass dome covering a display of artificial flowers and shells. Fortunately there were no stuffed birds, the sight of which had always made Tilly shudder when she had seen them in other such displays. A whatnot in the corner held an aspidistra, and in another corner there was a display cabinet filled with Staffordshire figurines depicting notable personages of the recent and not so recent past: Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Robbie Burns, Charles Dickens, Dick Turpin, William Gladstone and John Wesley, the Methodist preacher. A motley crew, Tilly always thought, having looked at them before in some bewilderment.

There was a piano standing against the back
wall, an important feature in many Victorian parlours, although Tilly was not sure if it was ever played by anyone now. Mrs Fraser said that she had done so in the past, and Tilly had been persuaded to play on a few occasions. She guessed she might be called upon tonight to accompany a few Christmas carols.

Dominic took her arm, introducing her to his aunt and uncle. ‘This is my fiancée, Tilly,’ he said with some pride. ‘Tilly – my Aunt Maud and Uncle Cedric.’

‘Ha, another redhead!’ declared Cedric Fortescue, seizing her hand in a firm grip and pumping it vigorously. ‘Very pleased to meet you, my dear.’

‘How do you do, Mr Fortescue,’ she said, somewhat abashed. ‘Yes… I’m afraid I am a redhead.’

‘Nothing to be ashamed of,’ he replied. ‘You’re a very pretty lass, and your hair is a beautiful shade, not like my fiery mop.’

She smiled a little shyly. ‘I’m not ashamed. I’ve got used to it now. I was called Carrots at school. I expect you were too?’ His hair, indeed, was the most vivid orange she had ever seen on a middle-aged man, though greying a little at the temples, with a bushy beard and shaggy eyebrows to match.

‘Aye, so I was,’ he agreed. ‘But I could always give as good as I got.’

‘Take no notice of him, my dear,’ said Dominic’s aunt, shaking her hand. ‘He doesn’t care what he says; I’m always telling him. Yes, we are very pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear. Dominic has been telling us all about you.’

Maud Fortescue was a plumpish woman, dressed not very suitably in an emerald green dress that clung tightly to her ample curves. It had tasselled fringes to the sleeves and bodice which bobbed up and down against her bustline as she moved. Her husband, also, was rather garishly clad in a brown tweed suit in a loud check design. By contrast, the Frasers were as elegant as ever; Mr Fraser in his black suit and his wife in a stylish blue gown, a colour she often favoured.

‘How do you do, Mrs Fortescue,’ said Tilly. ‘I am pleased to meet you all at last.’ She looked enquiringly towards the dark-haired young woman who was rising uncertainly from her chair and whom she assumed was Priscilla.

‘And this is Priscilla,’ said Dominic, putting his arm around his cousin and giving her a friendly hug.

‘Hello, Priscilla,’ said Tilly, smiling warmly at her and holding out her hand. ‘Dominic has been
telling me about you, and it’s very nice to meet you.’

‘How do you do,’ said Priscilla, very properly, before going on to say, ‘Dominic has told me about you as well. He said you were a very pretty girl, and so you are.’

‘Priscilla, it’s very rude to make personal remarks!’ said her mother sharply. ‘You and your father…I despair of you sometimes!’

‘Sorry, Mother,’ replied Priscilla, with a half guilty but half defiant look at her mother. ‘I’m only saying it because it’s true, and you say I must always speak the truth.’

Mrs Fortescue gave an exasperated ‘tut’, then closed her lips in a tight line, refraining from saying any more.

‘Thank you,’ said Tilly to Priscilla, as though her mother had not spoken. ‘That was a very nice thing to say. I hope we will be friends.’

‘I hope so too,’ answered Priscilla, her deep brown eyes looking intently into Tilly’s, with just the slightest hint of a smile. She was a very intense young woman, not unattractive – she had well-defined features and a flawless complexion – but unfashionable in appearance. Her dark brown hair was drawn back from her face in a bun, although it looked as though it would curl if allowed to do so. Her eyebrows were dark and heavy in a
squarish face, and her dress, clearly an expensive one in fine brown wool with a beaded trimming, did nothing to enhance her colouring.

Tilly could see no resemblance to either her mother or her father. Priscilla was slim and quite tall, in contrast to her dumpy parents. Although possibly her eyes, shrewd and perceptive as Tilly believed them to be, resembled those of her father. Tilly guessed that Cedric Fortescue’s bonhomie was only skin deep and that underneath it all was a lack of compromise and a will of iron with which he tried to rule his family. It was doubtful, though, that he would get the better of his wife. Poor Priscilla, thought Tilly now, as she had often heard Dominic say. She felt, however, that the young woman needed only a little encouragement to persuade her to stick up for herself.

They all sat around the fire for a while chatting about light-hearted topics – the weather, the Christmas presents they had received, and a recent play,
Lady Windermere’s Fan
, which the elder Frasers and Fortescues had seen recently at the theatre in St Thomas’s Street – nothing that would impinge on the more serious events that were taking place in the world. Tilly shyly showed off her engagement ring and also a fob watch to wear on her nurse’s uniform which had been an extra present from Dominic. Her parents
had bought her a leather writing case filled with stationery and her sister and half sisters had joined together and bought her a stylish Parker fountain pen. Tilly’s present to Dominic had been a leather-bound book of favourite poems, including some of the modern poets – Siegfried Sassoon, Wilfred Owen, and Rupert Brooke, who had been killed in the war, not long ago – whose poems were coming to mean so much to the soldiers both at home and overseas.

And Tilly, overcoming her initial shyness, told them about her training as a nurse and of the ongoing work at the soon-to-be-opened convalescent home. When the older folk decided to have a round of whist, Tilly, Dominic and Priscilla withdrew to the back of the largish room to continue their conversation.

Priscilla had not contributed a great deal to the family discussions, but when she was left alone with Tilly – Dominic having disappeared for a few moments – she opened up considerably.

‘I do envy you so much, you know,’ she said to Tilly, looking at her with the same intensity that Tilly had noticed before. ‘I don’t mean that I’m jealous or anything like that but I do wish…I don’t think I will ever…’ She stopped talking, shaking her head a little despondently.

Tilly jumped to the conclusion that she was
referring to her recent engagement and she replied quickly, ‘Oh, Priscilla, don’t say that! I’m really very young, aren’t I, to be engaged. I know there are some who thought we should have waited awhile. And I’m sure that you will find someone who is just right for you…as Dominic is for me.’

Priscilla laughed, the first time Tilly had heard her do so. ‘Oh, good gracious me! I don’t mean that. I’m not envious of you getting engaged. I’m delighted for you and Dominic. I’ve always been very fond of Dominic, ever since he was a little boy. No, I meant that…I wish I could be independent and stand up for myself the way you have done… Although I daresay you have parents who are far more easy-going than mine,’ she added in an undertone, although it didn’t seem that the older folk were listening.

‘Mmm…’ Tilly nodded understandingly. ‘Yes, I think I can see what you mean,’ she replied, trying to be tactful. ‘Dominic mentioned that they are rather strict – with you being the only child, I suppose. His parents used to be the same, but Dominic seems to be able to exert himself now and get his own way. I was really surprised that they didn’t object more strongly to us getting engaged. Well…apparently his mother wasn’t too keen on the idea but your uncle over-ruled her.’

‘Yes…’ Priscilla smiled. ‘Uncle Joseph rules the
roost in that household. In my home it’s usually Mother who has the final say, although Father doesn’t like to think so. Don’t be taken in, by the way, by his free and easy manner. He likes to pretend he’s everybody’s best pal, but underneath it all he’s as hard as nails. He has quite a nasty temper too, at times, as I know only too well. It’s certainly true in his case what they say about red hair… Oh dear!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry; I didn’t mean…’