Willow Grove Abbey (25 page)

However det
ached my parents may have been from my joy over the offer to work with Dr. Hausfater,
I knew
that in the blink of an eye, my rather mundane existence had taken on an entirely new dimension. The work actually began in April, 1938 and it thoroughly captivated me. It consumed every spare moment. Together, Dr. Hausfater and I had decided upon a format which would include actual feature stories written by me, to accentuate the various disorders that were being discussed. I researched people who were hospitalized, or had recently been released, and then interviewed them, and wrote their stories for publication. One thrust of the book was an appeal for improvement of the Psychiatric system in general, and particularly for adolescents. And a total cessation of the word
‘crazy’!

Martha proved to be invaluable, for she kept things running smoothly on Sumner Street, freeing me to concentrate upon my work. Of course, I also spent as much time as possible with Isabella. I was always home in the mornings, when Isabella awakened, bathing, dressing and feeding her. At the end of the day, I made certain to be the one who tucked my little girl into bed, sang lullabies and read stories. In such a manner, we settled into a comfortable routine, and my life was as peaceful and as busy as it had ever been. I still thought of Spence constantly. It would have been hard not to do so, as I had a continual reminder of our love. Occasionally some man or other would invite me to the theatre, opera or dinner, but I had no inclination to meet anyone new. I was content to live my life with my daughter and a job I adored. I was probably living in a bit of denial during that period, because I didn’t ever think about what I would do once the textbook project was completed. I
did
want to complete my University studies and earn a degree, but that was about as far as I looked into the future. It never crossed my mind that I might re-marry. Overall, I was happy. Or as happy as I could be, with a heart filled with sad memories, and the longing I still embraced for Spence. No matter. That state of quasi-happiness continued for some time.

I
suppose I should have known that such peacefulness could not last forever. After a quiet and relatively happy summer, in August, 1938, Adolph Hitler started making outrageous statements, hinting that he was going to send the German Army into Czechoslovakia. Neville Chamberlain had become Prime Minister in 1937, and the British government began to look ahead to a war with Nazi Germany. Chamberlain asked Parliament to pass the Emergency Powers Act and it passed on 28 August, 1938, giving the government permission to enact legislation which would ensure public safety. Over the next five days, around one hundred new regulations went into effect. All military reservists were called to mobilize. Hitler promised at Munich on 30 September, 1938 that he would make no more territorial claims in Europe. There was guarded relief when that occurred, but most persons of my acquaintance were still very fearful that there was worse to come.

The
time between March and September of 1938 ended up being well remembered for a number of reasons. While everyone wanted very much to believe that all would be well…that peace would prevail…. there was a general feeling of impending doom among most people I knew. Working with Dr. Hausfater probably enhanced those feelings. He had grave anxiety about friends and relatives in the exact part of Europe which lay in the path of danger. Therefore, I was probably even more engrossed in what was occurring within the Third Reich than many of my acquaintances. Many still viewed countries such as Austria and Czeckslovakia as remote, distant, and far removed from our isolated island.

Blake and D
rew were not fools, and I knew that they worried, as did my father. Often I heard them discussing what they would do if war came. My brothers were of an age that meant, unequivocally, they would fight for their country. So was Spence. That thought frightened me enormously. Even though I had resigned myself to our never being together, I still had concerns for his welfare and happiness. The idea of Spence and my brothers fighting in some foreign land was enough to cause me overwhelming anxiety. Half of the summer months I tried to ignore the news coming out of Europe. The other half I was intensely concerned, which resulted in a sort-of limbo.

Then
, something else happened that profoundly influenced my world, changing it forever. It was a rain soaked Tuesday in late August, 1938, and Papa was in London, having just returned from a trip to Paris and Milan. He meant to spend a day in his London office, before returning to
Willow Grove
and Mummy. I always cherished the times when my father came to London alone. He
was
different when Mummy was not present. He spoke to me more about my life, and showed more interest in my thoughts and feelings. On that particular rainy morning, he rang me, said that he had arrived on the night boat-train from Paris, and was in a suite at The Grande Hotel. He wondered if we might rendezvous for a quick breakfast, before he rushed off to a meeting with his bankers. The timing was perfect. I had a meeting with a person whom I planned to interview for my textbook project, and it was just a block from the hotel. Papa and I made plans to meet in the dining room of the Grande at eight o’clock a.m. When I arrived, he was reading the
Times
at a corner table by a window, drinking a cup of tea. I shook out of my rainwear. I still remember that I wore a rain slicker with matching floppy hat and umbrella, all fashioned out of the same black oilcloth fabric, and sporting a bevy of brightly colored flowers. Papa seemed in good spirits when I joined him, in spite of the dreary weather. He asked if I preferred coffee or tea. I ordered a soft-boiled egg on toast, and a pot of Earl Grey. Then, I settled myself comfortably at the round table near the window. I could hear and see rain drops as they pelted the glass panes. We chatted about the weather, my book project and conditions on the Continent. I knew that he had been in Paris. Consequently, I inquired as to whether he’d found time to ring Edwina.

“Better tha
n that,” he smiled. “We were able to dine.”

“Oh
Papa, how lovely,” I exclaimed.

“Yes, all quite unexpected.
Edwina mentioned that she had spoken to you recently, and that you had told her of my forthcoming trip to Paris. Naturally, Edwina knows my habits, as well as any of you children. At any rate, she rang my hotel
,
and learned my arrival date. So who do you suppose was waiting in the lobby when I arrived to register?”

I
clapped my hands! “How typical of Edwina.” I thought it grand that she had surprised Papa in such a fashion. “How did she seem?” I inquired.

“Wonderful, as always” he s
miled. “She seems very involved in her work. Seems to be making good progress, and feels that her talents are being recognized. Of course, she
is terribly
talented.”

His co
mment about Edwina’s talent couldn’t help but scald me a bit. He had no difficulty proclaiming her
‘talented
,’ but when I’d announced the remarkable offer to co-author an adolescent psychology textbook, there had been absolutely no mention of my writing ability. No matter. I should have been used to it. “Did she speak of any new men in her life?” I asked.

“No.
Nothing of that sort. I do not suppose she would speak to me about such things. We did discuss her friend, the German chap.”

“
Dieter? She isn’t still seeing him?” I asked, appalled at the thought.

“
Apparently so, but I don’t believe there is any romantic attachment. She maintains that he feels beastly about the scene at
Willow Grove Abbey.
”

“I should think so.
I cannot imagine that she would want anything further to do with
him.
She hasn’t mentioned his name to me since her return to Paris, following that horrid evening.”

“I have the i
mpression that she believes she has managed to alter his views.”

“
Oh, surely that can’t be so? He doesn’t strike me as the sort who will ever be anything but what he is. A ghastly bigot.”

“Yes. Well, I daresay, I agree.
But, Edwina is a grown woman, so we must respect her choices.”

I
would have liked to pursue the subject further, but we finished breakfast, and Papa was in a great rush to keep his appointment. As it happened, his engagement was scheduled for half after nine o’clock, and mine was not until one hour later. It seemed absurd to travel back to my flat only to return to virtually the same locale in less than an hour’s time. Normally, I might have enjoyed a rare shopping expedition, but since it was pouring rain, I wasn’t inclined toward strolling Knightsbridge. The perfect solution lay in my waiting the three quarters of an hour or so in Papa’s suite. He was leaving for
Willow Grove
after his meeting, but would be returning to the hotel for his luggage, so would not be vacating the room until later. We rode together in the lift to his suite, and after he collected his attaché case and various papers, we said our goodbyes.

After his departure,
I found myself with little to do, save stare out of the window at the grey London morning. I watched the traffic creep its way through the narrow, wet, congested streets, while men and women scurried back and forth under mostly black umbrellas. I adored London even on such days, and never tired of looking across at the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, and Tower Bridge. Even so, I found myself restless after a bit. I wandered over to the bedside table, where there was a wireless. I fooled with the control knob for a bit, trying to find
some program of interest, but everything pertained to happenings in Germany, and I was not in the mood for depressing news. Then, I turned to walk back towards the window when I noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It was a standard sheet of business writing paper, and I was surprised that I’d not spotted it earlier, since it stood out starkly against the dark grey carpeting. Without actually thinking, I bent to retrieve it, meaning to place it upon the bedside table. Mummy’s teachings about tidiness and neatness were firmly ingrained. As I held the paper in my hand, I couldn’t help but glance at its contents. It appeared to be the salutation on a letter, and it was plainly in my father’s handwriting. There was only the beginning, followed by one, brief line;

‘
My Love,’

‘
No name. I learned that from you.’

How sweet
. Papa still writes Mummy love letters when they are apart. Of course, that was utterly ludicrous
. It was only a matter of seconds before I adjusted to the true meaning of that beastly piece of paper. The salutation was obviously not meant for my mother, but for some other unknown female in Papa’s life. I was stunned, shocked, and worried sick. Even though I knew that my parents’ marriage was far from perfect, I’d
never
contemplated the idea that Papa would
cheat
. That probably was silly. Certainly, I knew that they had problems, and yes, Mummy had
rages
, but Papa had always given the impression that he worshipped her. He seemed to have arranged himself to deal with her dark periods. Of course, I’d cut my teeth on the story of their glorious love story, and part of me desperately clung to that fantasy. Crumpling up the offensive paper, I deposited it in the waste bin by the desk, as if by ridding it from my sight, I could return to my safe world of denial. However, the words were etched into my psyche.

‘
My Love. No name. I learned that from you.’

Fro
m whom did he learn what? What did that cryptic sentence mean? Had she told him that whenever he wrote her a love letter, he should use neither her name, nor his own? Who was she
?

I
began to quiver from head to toe. I felt as though my entire world had turned upside down, along with everything I believed. I didn’t cry. Not then. I just continued the horrid trembling. Then I began to pace. I wanted desperately to talk to someone. However, who? My first and immediate thought was of my brothers. I suspected that they would be as surprised as I, at such a discovery. However, the topic did not seem the sort that I could simply ring up Blake or Drew about, blurting out the details. So, I continued to pace
. Edwina! I could talk to Edwina
. She had been part of my life since I was fourteen, and as dear to me as any sister. Edwina would definitely know how to handle such a shock. Even so, upon further reflection, I realized that Edwina would be at her workplace. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to talk for any length of time, especially about something so intimate. So, the quivering and pacing continued. In the course of my well-worn path, I wandered into the adjoining bath. Glancing at the ornate gold waste-bin under the washbasin, I saw another piece of the same sort of paper. I reached down, and retrieved it, smoothing it with both hands, so that I might clearly read the words written upon it. My heart was pounding so loudly that I could feel it in my ears. There, again, was my father’s handwriting, with nearly the identical words I’d seen only a few moments before. However, there was one, distinct difference. It began with a name.