Willow Grove Abbey (38 page)

Papa
had mixed himself a drink, and was scanning the headlines in the
Times.
He put the paper down, looked at the two of us, and smiled. “Right, this pleases me greatly. I can’t think of anything in the world I might enjoy more than sharing the evening with my two favorite women. ”I smiled, although it wasn’t easy.

“Oh Nigel, we’ve spoken so often of just such a thing. Isn’t it lovely?
Sophia, I
do
thank you so much for letting me stay here. It’s so good of you.”

“You were th
ere when I needed you, Edwina. I suppose it’s only right that I return the favor. ”

“That’s sweet,”
she answered. “Honestly, Sophia, I
do
know that this is difficult for you. It’s a strange situation. Of course I know that. But, it will all work out. I’m just certain of that.”

“I hope so Edwina. I just hope you both understand what you’re doing,” I said.

Papa stood up, and clapped his hands together in what was an obvious effort to change the subject. “What say we go out to a pub, have a few pints, and celebrate Edwina’s being back on English soil?”

“
Papa, Kippy is here and Martha is not. There would be no one to care for him.” I replied.

“Aah, yes. I forgot. Sorry.” He looked disappointed, but sat back down in his chair, and took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, Sophia what nonsense! Surely there must be someone we could ring and ask to stay with Kippy for a bit. He is a very good little baby…doesn’t much grizzle at all. It would be fun to get out, and to be around people, but we couldn’t go without you. If someone were to see us, it would be so much easier if you were in the party.” It was an unbelievably cheeky remark, but I kept still. I was growing rather used to cheeky remarks. I was a bit put out that they couldn’t stay at home for one evening, but conversely, I felt that I’d rather be out in public, than sitting in my flat trying desperately to think of something to talk about. So, I rang a friend in my building, who’d taken care of Isabella in emergency situations. She was only too happy to come up to Number 7 and watch over Kippy while we went out.

We took a taxi to the
Café de Paris
, a favorite haunt of London’s social set, but scarcely the pub Papa had spoken of so casually. Men and women were in full evening dress, wearing diamond bracelets, brooches and silk stockings. I felt sorely underdressed in a simple, classic summer ensemble, and also somewhat disgusted that there were so many people who didn’t seem to understand that England was at war. Edwina didn’t appear to mind her lack of formal attire, nor did Papa. When we entered, I saw several friends of mine from before my marriage. There were also persons I’d known during the time I was married to Owen. Some were those who’d made up the group with whom the former Prince of Wales ran. Lady Therese Furnett was one of them. She motioned for us to come to her table. She was older than I was, by several years, but very nice. I’d always liked her. We all walked her way. Of course, Therese knew Nigel, but not Edwina. Naturally, the fact that we had roomed together at
Ashwick Park
took care of any awkward moments. How fortunate for Edwina that they had me for a cover, for otherwise everyone in London would have been whispering the next day about the beautiful young blonde who’d been seen at the
Café de Paris
with Nigel Somerville.

‘
Sophia Winnsborough! How splendid to see you. Where have you been hiding? It’s been eons since I’ve seen you,” Therese gushed.

“Therese. How nice to see you. I’ve been busy with
my daughter and classes I’m taking at
The University of London
. I also have my school roommate visiting. She’s just been through the ‘Fall of Paris’ with her little boy.”

“How i
mpressive,” she smiled, referring to my classes. Then, turning to Edwina, she said, “You were at
Ashwick Park
with Sophia? I don’t recall having seen you in London before… Are you from here?”

“No,” Edwina replied sweetly. I’
m originally from Bury St. Edmunds, but I’ve been in Paris the last four years. I’ve only just returned, due to the ghastly happenings there.’

“Oh
my dear, isn’t it
too
perfectly dreadful? Are you married?”

“I
... ah... lost my husband quite recently. Edwina stammered, to my astonishment. “I have a two month old little boy.”

“Yes,
Papa chimed in. “Our family has known Edwina since 1932, when she and Sophia met at
Ashwick Park
. She’s like a second daughter to us. When her husband was lost, I helped her return from France. She’s going to become re-established here in London.” This was the first I had heard of Edwina’s settlement in London, and her supposed widowhood. I didn’t know if they had actually decided that she would settle in London, or if that was just a story. I assumed the widowhood story was invented to explain the possibility of someone seeing her with Kippy.

“Oh
my sweet girl,” Therese commiserated. “You are so young to be widowed... And to have a baby, as well. You poor, poor dear. I suppose we’re going to see a lot of this, now that the fighting has begun in earnest. Was your husband lost at Dunkirk?”

“Not at Dunkirk, but on the Continent,” she answered.
I had to admire her evasiveness. It
was
true that Dieter had been lost on the Continent. Nigel introduced her as Edwina Phillips, so it seemed obvious that she wasn’t going to admit to having married a German.

“So, now you’re going to re-locate to London? Do you know where you’ll be, as yet?” Therese continued.

“I’ll need to take a flat. I’m to begin looking tomorrow.”

“I know just the place,” Thel
ma said, clapping her hands together. “It’s a town house in Mayfair. Really very smart, and perfect for a lady with a small child. The owners have removed to the country for the duration of the war. I know they’d like to let it, just to know there is somebody there to keep an eye on things.”

“Well
…That sounds splendid, Edwina replied. Is it terribly large?”

“No
…The usual. Three stories and narrow. Only three bedrooms, and a maid’s alcove, on the third floor. Enough for you and your child, and a servant, of course.”

Edwina glanced
at Nigel out of the corner of her eye. He smiled, and nodded his head.

“Yes, yes. That sounds exactly like what Edwina has in
mind. How would she go about seeing it?” He asked.

“I’ll ring the owners, and
make arrangements. Where are you staying, then”? Therese inquired.

“I’
m at Sophia’s flat at present. I can give you the number there, and you could ring me if that wouldn’t be too much trouble. Or I could ring you, if you prefer. Therese took a small gold pen out of her evening bag, and wrote a number on the
Café de Paris
cocktail napkin in front of her. She slid it across the table to Edwina, saying, “This is my number. Please ring me tomorrow afternoon. I expect to be home until evening.”

“
Right. I cannot thank you enough. This is so nice of you. I’m just so touched. This could solve all of my problems. Really, Lady Furnett, I’m terribly grateful,” Edwina went on.

“Not at all. I’
m glad to be of help. Would you like to join our party?” She added, as an afterthought.

“No, I don’t believe so, Nigel interjected. Thank you for asking, but these two,” he said, waving his hand in Edwina
’s and my direction, “haven’t had time to have a good chat, so I thought I’d give them that opportunity tonight,” he smiled.

“Of course, Nigel. How nice to have a reunion of school friends. And Nigel, how delightful for you to acco
mpany these two lovely, young ladies for the evening,” she smiled.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s always
great fun to listen to Edwina and Sophia reminisce.”

“Well, it was lovely seeing you
Sophia and Nigel, and meeting you Edwina. I’ll look forward to speaking with you tomorrow. Enjoy your evening,” Therese said, as she waved us off.

I
murmured the appropriate niceties, as we all did, and proceeded to our own table. I was simmering inside, as I
really
did not appreciate being used in such a manner, but then, what had I expected? That was exactly what made it so easy for my father and Edwina to be seen together in public. No one would think anything of it, because of the close friendship Edwina and I shared. Or had shared. It was shameful, but as ever I said nothing.

When we retur
ned to the Flat that evening, we wished one another a goodnight and I retreated to Martha’s room. It was horrifically uncomfortable, knowing that my father and Edwina were down the hall in my room. I turned on the wireless, to drown out any sounds, and readied myself for bed. Then, I sat down at the desk in the corner, and wrote a long, letter to Spence, telling him of recent happenings. How I wished that he were there with me. As I crawled into bed, and pulled the comforter up, a well -known, popular wartime song was being sung, and I began to weep. It so reminded me of the last time Spence had kissed me, on that night when he came to my flat in 1939, wanting to see Sophia. He had said words to me about how we would meet again. My life had become so complex. All I’d ever wanted was the happiness and peace that accompanied a good marriage and a home of my own. Now, I lay in my
own
home, and in my
own
housekeeper’s room, while my father was undoubtedly making love to my once best friend in my
own
room.

In the co
ming days, Edwina
did
take the house in Mayfair, and it
was
charming. There was no doubt in my mind about who was underwriting it. Edwina had no means of support, and certainly wasn’t about to contact Dieter. I supposed she might have had some funds saved, but doubted that they’d have been sufficient to engage a property in Mayfair for any length of time. I was certain that the cost was dear. She also hired a Nanny/Housekeeper, by the name of Helen, who seemed competent, and set about making London her home. She didn’t seek employment as a designer, and I didn’t ask why. I had never believed it was a particularly good time to be seeking such employment. Most women of our class, who
were
working, had some connection to the war effort. Papa returned to
Willow Grove Abbey
, and I didn’t see him frequently. I knew that he was in London often, as Edwina had no difficulty keeping me informed of that fact. Obviously, he stayed with her in Mayfair. It was very hard to speak with Mummy on the telephone during that time, knowing the many lies that were being told to her. It was equally hard to talk to Edwina, who didn’t seem to understand the pain she was inflicting. She simply treated the whole affair as though she were involved with someone whom I casually knew... Having a wonderful romance. Our conversations grew more strained as time wore on, and I became less and less able to tolerate such a duplicitous existence.

On
22 June, France signed an armistice with Nazi Germany, and was divided into two zones. Winston Churchill recognized Charles De Gaulle as leader of the Free French on 28 June, and on 3 July, the Royal Navy destroyed most of the French Navy at Mers-el-Kebir, to keep the German’s from taking control of them. Then, madness reigned. On 10 July, 1940 the German Air Force began a massive bomber attack Temporarily, I stopped worrying about my father and Edwina, putting all of my energies into worry and prayer for Spence, and others engaged in the fight for their country, their lives, and their loved ones. Spence was in the thick of it. Every time the telephone rang, I jumped, my heart pounding with fear. I scoured newspapers, and listened to the wireless round the clock. Planes were lost and pilots killed by the score. I didn’t hear from him for weeks, which nearly drove me bonkers, but I understood that he had scarce time for writing.

On
7 September, the German Air Force switched strategies. They started to bomb London. It became known as the Blitz. On the first day, 430 citizens were killed and 1600 were critically injured. The German bombers came back the next day and another 412 died. Every night, all night long, the Germans bombarded us. First we would hear the wail of the sirens; then the hideous sounds of German planes flying in from the sea. On a clear day, I could see their airplanes high up in the sky. On those days, I could also see our own British planes flying up to intercept them. After the first siren, we were all supposed to go to the Anderson shelter. We were terribly afraid, and London took on a frightfully altered appearance. Eight Wren churches were destroyed in one night. Areas familiar to nearly everyone were unrecognizable. Streets were filled with burning buildings, broken, glass, and piles of rubble. On 10 September, I made the decision to leave London. I could no longer expose Isabella to such danger. It was apparent that we needed to evacuate to
Willow Grove Abbey
, where the war was more remote. The night before, innocent children asleep in their prams, and mothers with babies in their arms, were killed when a bomb exploded on a crowded shelter in an East London district. In one family, three children had died. The horror was unimaginable. I spoke with the Hausfater’s, who were living in continual terror, and asked them if they wanted to move to a safe-haven in the country. They literally jumped at the opportunity. I assumed that Edwina would take Kippy and flee to Bury St. Edmunds, but instead, she announced that she, too, was going to re-locate to
Willow Grove Abbey.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew that it had to have been my father’s suggestion, so I didn’t even try to talk to him about it. I knew full well that anything I said would be met with stoic, stubborn resistance.

I asked
Martha what her preference was. Did she want to leave Sumner Street and return to her own parent’s home, or come with us to
Willow Grove?
She’d become so attached to Isabella, and of course was considered part of our family. Martha quickly decided that she wanted to remain with Isabella and me. With the sounds of sirens plaintively wailing about us, I hastily packed. The delicate and fragile items in the flat were sent to storage, including the chandeliers, as I had no illusions that Sumner Street might be fortunate enough to escape damage from the bombing. I hastily scribbled a letter to Spence, telling him of my plans, which I knew would relieve him. I was certain that he was well aware of the devastation taking place in London. He was surely worried sick about Isabella. In the letter I told him that after waiting so long and suffering such anxiety about what might happen if bombing came to London, now that it had finally arrived, I found myself too busy worrying about what needed to be packed to go to
Willow Grove
, and what would go into storage, that I didn’t have time anymore for worry.

The
people of London were bricks. They went on with their lives, in spite of the horror, and I never saw or heard anyone lose their heart or courage. I was proud to be a Londoner. King George and Queen Elizabeth were such incredible examples of bravery. They refused to leave Buckingham Palace. On the very day I decided to pack and evacuate, Buckingham Palace was hit by a delayed-action bomb, which fell outside of the north wing. No one was injured in the ensuing explosion, but the windows of the Royal apartments were shattered. The palace attack was on 13 September. The day was very cloudy, and it was raining hard. Six bombs made direct hits: two in the front courtyard, two in the quadrangle, one in the garden and one in the chapel, which was destroyed. Yet, the Queen and King held tightly to their determination to ride it out with their people.

Joseph
drove up from the
Abbey.
He collected Isabella, Martha and me, and a separate car was sent for Edwina, Kippy and Helen. The Hausfater’s drove my little
Ford
the following day. We left early in the morning, when bombing from the night before had ceased. After another night of terror and noise, with very little sleep, we made our way from the flat on Sumner Street to the waiting car. I could hear the sound of broken glass being cleared away, as we made our way through heart- wrenching streets. We would pass a building which was no longer standing, but there would be two fireplaces straight up the wall. There was dust from brickwork in the air, and a strange odor from explosive materials which the bombs had contained. We could also smell domestic gas, seeping from broken pipes. My heart ached as I viewed the destruction. It was all so senseless. I knew that Spence would be actively involved in the battle. Britain was fighting for her life and all of the brave men who were defending her were struggling against horrific odds. The headlines in the
Times
kept everyone abreast of how many pilots and planes were lost. I prayed harder than I had ever prayed in my life, terrified that I would receive word that Spence was amongst those numbers.

The drive to
Willow Grove
Abbey was quiet. Each of us was terribly disturbed by the sights we’d seen. It was hard to leave, knowing that so many were left behind, to march on bravely. We all knew that there was more to come. And yet, I was so relieved to be escaping the horrible devastation. I wasn’t so naive as to think that there wouldn’t be bombing in the country, but it was far less dangerous at
Willow Grove
Abbey than in London proper. Isabella took it all so well. She was, after all, only four years old. She
did
show tremendous fear at the noise of the bombs, and the frightening concussions, but, Martha and I did our best to calm and reassure her that we were safe. I was extremely proud of the way my little girl displayed such bravery. We arrived at
Willow Grove
in the early afternoon, stopping only once for petrol and a quick pub lunch. Mummy was waiting in the Great Hall as we stepped out of the car, and made our way into the house. She seemed genuinely pleased to see everyone, and quickly set about directing us to our respective quarters. The
Abbey
was so immense, and there was certainly no lack of living space for additional numbers of people. Martha, Isabella and I were given a portion of one wing, consisting of a suite of rooms, which included a small parlor and two bedrooms with an adjoining loo. It was more than comfortable. Isabella’s room had been transformed into a duplicate of her room on Sumner Street. Her bed had been moved, and everything was in its place, exactly as it had been in her own home. I was grateful for that, as it lessened the trauma of the move. Everything was ready, with fresh flowers in each room, and large, fluffy towels on the warmers in the baths.

Edwina was given a si
milar suite of rooms, in the same wing, and she was quickly able to settle with Kippy and her maid, Helen. Martha went to work unpacking Isabella’s and my luggage, and the few boxes we’d managed to bring along. I took a long bath, although there was rationing in effect, regarding the level of water allowed. Then I changed into gray, flannel trousers and a cardigan sweater. My hair had grown quite long again, and I swept it up on the sides, securing it with combs, into what was known as a Victory Roll. Then, I went down the hallway to Edwina’s rooms, to make certain that all was in order, and to offer any assistance that was needed. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. I knocked on the doorway, and Edwina appeared at once. I couldn’t help but be reminded of another time I had knocked on a door, waiting for Edwina to open it. That was on my first day at
Ashwick Park.
So much had happened since then. Who would ever have dreamed of the muddle that I was embroiled in?

Edwina was also dressed in trousers, but hers were topped by a bright blue tweed jacket with three pocket flaps at each side of the chest, and two below the waistline. It was nipped in at the waist, and I recognized it as a Jacques Hel
m original, which I’d seen in a fashion magazine. Edwina had no intention of letting a war interfere with her haute couture appearance. Her hair was longer too, and worn in a vamp style, with a deep wave over one eye, and a sleek page-boy in the back. She was bustling about her suite as I entered. Kippy was in his cot, and Helen was giving him a bottle.

“Thank goodness we’re away fro
m that horror,” Edwina exclaimed, as she folded lingerie and placed it into a drawer. “Lord, Sophia, whoever would’ve dreamed the world would come to this?”

“I don’t know, Edwina. It’s all so frightening
... and sad. I wonder what will become of all of us.”

“Dear h
eart, we’ll survive this, and look back to laugh about it,” she answered lightly.

“Do you really think so?” I replied. “So
mehow I don’t think we’ll ever laugh about this. We are living through a world changing event, Edwina. This war will change the course of history.”

“Well, yes, I should i
magine so. Wars generally do. But, life always goes on, doesn’t it? People adapt to the changes. That’s what we’ll do. And, being here at
Willow Grove
isn’t so very much different than our life has always been, but for these ugly blackout curtains”, she said, pointing at the windows.”

“Edwina, people are being killed. We can’t just sit here in our insulated, privileged world and pretend that isn’t happening.”

“Well, what do you want to do? Roll bandages, or join the Women’s Army Corps?” she said, with a brittle laugh.

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea. If I thought I could help, I’d consider it,” I answered. “But, I also have a child to consider, and if, God forbid, her father doesn’t return, she’ll need
me more than ever. I do intend to volunteer time to the Red Cross.”

“Do
you really?” Edwina answered, as if that were a novel idea.

“Aren’t you in the least concerned about Kippy’s father? I know that he’s Ger
man, and an enemy, but how do you intend to explain to your son that you simply abandoned him? Don’t you think Kippy will want to know about his father?”