We'll Meet Again (22 page)

I wondered what he would have said if he knew his father had talked of our getting together. I believed that he did have tender feelings towards me, and sometimes I let myself imagine that Jowan did not come back and that I married Gordon. No, I thought. That could not be. And Jowan
would
come back. There were two of us—his grandmother and myself—who believed he would, though perhaps we forced ourselves to do so because we could not bear it to be otherwise.

In September Dorabella had one of her frequent visits to the Poldowns during which she was away for a longish time. I knew that she was with Captain Brent. She came back in a state of depression.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“James says he is leaving the area in a few weeks’ time.”

“Where is he going?”

“He’s not sure.”

She looked wretched. I could never be sure how serious was this attachment to Captain Brent. I had thought it was a light-hearted wartime affair which had come about because they both happened to be in the same place at the same time and liked each other.

But she was certainly downcast.

“What shall you do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Everything is so uncertain. James is in an important job, you know.”

“I guessed that. I suppose you will be hearing which part of the country he’s in. That won’t be a secret, will it?”

“He will let me know.”

“I suppose you will keep in touch?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Do you really care about him, Dorabella?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Have you talked … about the future?”

“My dear prosaic old Violetta, you don’t change. How does any of us know what our future will be?”

She was right in that.

Later she heard that he would be somewhere in the southeast, not far from London, and she was slightly less depressed.

Letters were arriving from our mother. Why did we not come home for a while? Surely they could do without us for a bit?

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could come to Caddington and bring little Tristan and Nanny Crabtree with you?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” said Dorabella.

“We have our work here.”

“We’re not indispensable. Mrs. Jermyn could find plenty of others to take our place. There are many women round here who would like to find some work to do … something that would help the war effort. Mrs. Pardell, for one, would give a hand.”

“I don’t think the men would find her a good replacement for you, Dorabella.”

“She would be very efficient, and they would be amused by her North Country frankness.”

“A little different from your flirtatious chat.”

“A change is always welcome.”

“Only if it is a change for the better.”

“Well, there is that Mrs. Canter staying at Seaview Cottage. She could get someone to look after her little girl. She goes to school most of the time anyway. Now she is flighty enough and Mrs. Pardell would make a nice contrast.”

“I see you are determined to go.”

“You’d love it too, Violetta, so don’t pretend the desire to see them all is one-sided.”

“Of course I’d love to go. But …”

“But me no buts. Will you explain to Mrs. Jermyn? It would be better coming from you.”

So I sat with her in the solarium as I had so many times, and over a cup of tea I said: “My family seems to think that Dorabella and I should go home for a little while. They think it would be good for us … for me mainly.”

“Yes,” she said. “I see.”

“Of course, we could not go unless we were sure there was someone to take our places.”

Mrs. Jermyn was silent for some moments, and I thought she was going to protest and say we could not possibly go.

But she said. “They are right. You should get away, Violetta, and I know how it is with you and your sister. Dorabella seems self-sufficient, but she depends on you … far more than you do on her. And Captain Brent has left. Well, I understand. And you, my dear, are not happy. How could you be? The memory is here all the time. I am selfish and should like you to stay, but your parents are right. You should be with them. You must go. I tell you this: if I have news of Jowan, I shall be in touch with you … instantly.”

“I know you will.”

“We are going to get that news one day. I feel sure of it. I have to feel sure of it, Violetta. It is that belief which keeps me going. We shall all be happy again … someday. Believe that, Violetta, and go to your family. Take an interest in what is going on there. It can’t be much longer, and we shall be happy again. Then these years will seem like a bad dream. Now let us consider the practical side of this. Who can take your places?”

“Dorabella suggested Mrs. Pardell and Mrs. Canter.”

“Mrs. Canter … well, yes, she’s bright and she should get on well with the men. Mrs. Pardell … a little grim, don’t you think?”

“But very efficient. I think she might be an asset. There are, however, one or two other wives on the estate with time on their hands. I think they would all be eager to do something useful.”

“There won’t be a great deal of difficulty, I’m sure. Of course, it won’t be the same. It has been a joy having you around, Violetta, and Dorabella has always been such a favorite with the men. But these things happen, and I know a respite from this place will be a help to you. What of Gordon Lewyth?”

“What of him?”

“What does he say about your going?”

“Nothing has been said yet.”

“He must know you are thinking of it. I am sure he will be rather sad if you leave Tregarland’s.”

She would have heard of the friendship between Gordon and myself. There was certain to be speculation.

I said as lightly as I could: “We shall be back. It is only a stay with our parents.”

She took my hand and pressed it.

“God bless you, Violetta,” she said. “I have a feeling that everything will come right for us one day.”

As we thought, there was no difficulty in filling our places. Mrs. Canter readily accepted and Mrs. Pardell hesitated only for a day or so. It was good work and she approved of it. There were, in fact, one or two who were piqued because they had not been asked. So the way was clear for us.

Nanny Crabtree was delighted.

“It’ll be like going home,” she said. “I’ll have my old nursery—I never really took to this place anyway. You’re almost falling in the sea half the time … and after all that’s gone on here. It’s no wonder my nerves get on edge … and you wonder what’s coming next.”

I must admit that my spirits were lifted at the prospect of going home.

My parents were at the station to meet us. There were hugs, kisses, and cries of delight. It was all wonderful. My mother could not stop talking; my father stood there smiling in that way I loved so much, and then his arms were round me.

“You’re home at last,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

What a homecoming that was! I said it was worthwhile being away for so long to get such a welcome.

“It is your home,” said my mother emotionally. “It always will be. And here is Tristan … hello, my little love. And Nanny. Welcome, welcome!”

Tristan hunched his shoulders to show his pleasure.

“It’s nice,” he said.

We walked into the ancient hall, which was not at all unlike Tregarland’s. The two houses had been built round about the same period. There was a fire burning in the great fireplace and flowers at both ends of the hall. A feeling of peace came over me. If I must go on mourning for Jowan, I could feel great comfort in those who had been left for me to love.

We went to our rooms.

“Just the same as ever,” said Dorabella, gleefully.

She put her arms round our mother and danced with her round the room.

“Steady,” said our father. “She’s not so young as she used to be!”

“Ungallant wretch!” cried my mother happily.

“It’s so wonderful to be home,” said Dorabella, and I could not help wondering if she was already planning some rendezvous with Captain Brent.

In the nursery Nanny Crabtree was, as she said, “settling in.” She was crowing with delight.

“That old cupboard!” She turned to Dorabella. “That’s where you hid one day … just to tease us and give us a fright. You were a pickle, you were. And those beds side by side. You remember, when you were little. Look, Tristan, this is where your mummy used to sleep … Auntie Violetta too, when they were your size.”

Tristan gravely examined the beds and it was clear that he found it difficult to imagine us his size.

Of course, it was wonderful to be home. My parents had been right to insist that we come. It would help me, not to forget, of course, for I could never do that, but to get through those days of waiting and to find some happiness in the love of my family.

At least I hoped so.

Dorabella had written to Captain Brent, who was delighted that she was near to London; we had not been at Caddington more than a week when he wrote to say that he could get away for a few days and could she come to London?

My mother suggested she could stay with Gretchen, who would be delighted to have her.

And so it was arranged.

Dorabella came back radiant, with presents for us all. Gretchen was well, she said, and so glad we were at Caddington. It was wonderful to know that we were nearer and in fairly easy reach of London. She was hoping to come down to see us sometime when Edward could get enough leave to make that possible.

“London has changed,” said Dorabella. “That ghastly blackout! One is more conscious of the war and there is that awful air raid warning going off at odd moments when it is wise to take cover. But it is still dear old London—always that little bit more exciting than anywhere else.”

A few days later, my mother said: “I’ve got a surprise for you. Who do you think is coming for the weekend?”

“I can’t guess,” I said. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Remember Mary Grace?”

“Mary Grace!” I cried. “How is she? What is she doing these days?”

“She’ll tell you all about it when she comes.”

“That will be wonderful.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.” She was smiling a little secretively, and I guessed something was pleasing her in addition to the reunion with Mary Grace.

At last my mother’s secret came out.

“It is possible that her brother may be coming with her. He’s Major Dorrington now, you know. He may … just may … be able to get a little spell of leave, and if he does, he knows we shall be pleased to see him.”

I must say I felt rather disturbed. Richard Dorrington had at one time been interested in me, in fact, enough to suggest marriage, and I must have liked him sufficiently not to give him a direct no. It had not worked out very satisfactorily. I had discovered my true feelings for Jowan, and Richard and I had seen nothing of each other since before the war. It would be strange to meet again. My parents had selected him as a very desirable husband for me and, like most parents, they had an urgent desire to see their daughter make a good marriage; Richard Dorrington was, in their eyes, a very sensible and reliable man. After Dorabella’s disastrous adventures in matrimony, naturally they hoped to see me safely settled.

I could always read my mother’s thoughts. She was very much hoping that Richard would be able to come and that we would reconsider our feelings for each other. In her heart she believed that Jowan would never come back.

On the other hand, to see Richard’s sister Mary Grace would be a great pleasure. I had always liked her, since her shy, retiring days when I had first discovered that she could paint exquisite miniatures. She had done one of me, which I gave Dorabella, and one of my sister which Dorabella gave to me. The miniatures were important to us not only because they were delightful but because of what they had done for Mary Grace, who, through the notice she had received for them, had been commissioned to do others.

The weekend was almost upon us and we were still not sure whether Richard would be with us. We had been told that he had leave but it could be canceled at the last moment. So it was in a mood of uncertainty that we went to the station to meet the London train.

It arrived on time and when Mary Grace stepped out, with her was the tall figure of her brother.

We hurried to meet them. Richard looked splendid in his uniform. He grasped both my hands and said with fervor: “Violetta, it is marvelous to see you again.”

We drove back to the house where my father was waiting to receive our guests, and he immediately expressed his delight that Richard was able to come.

“Everything is so uncertain nowadays,” said Richard. “But my luck was in. It is good to be here.”

We sat long over dinner that night. Everyone had so much to say. My father and Richard talked earnestly about the progress of the war.

“Everything has changed since Pearl Harbor,” said Richard. “Even the most pessimistic can’t doubt that we shall win.”

“Hitler must be growing very uneasy,” remarked my father.

“I think he made a mistake in starting up the second front. It is clear that he is not going to have an easy victory in Russia. I imagine he thought he would plough through as he did in Belgium, Holland, and France. He ought to have given the matter more thought. Lucky for us that he didn’t.”

“And now the Americans are in.”

“And it is only a matter of time,” Richard assured us.

“Meanwhile it goes on and on,” put in my mother. “It was supposed to be over by the first Christmas.”

“We were unprepared,” commented Richard. “Now the whole country is working all out.”

“Even I,” said Mary Grace.

She told us about her ministry. Everyone had to work, of course, who had not domestic commitments. She was looking after her mother to some extent, although they had a housekeeper who had been with them for years and was too old to be needed for war work. However, Mary Grace worked part-time. It was interesting, she said, and she enjoyed it.

“And your painting?” I asked.

“I am still doing that, too.”

Richard could, naturally, tell us little of his activities, but he did say that he would have to be ready to land on the Continent when the time came. We still had to see the outcome between Germany and Russia, and there was a great deal of activity in the Middle East. But the outlook was certainly more cheerful than it had been for some time.