Willow Grove Abbey (49 page)

“What could bring on a tantrum on one’s first day of marriage,” I asked.

“I wanted to make love to her. I awakened before she did, and I lay there looking at her, and admiring her beauty. Finally, I leaned over and kissed her, and put my hand under her night dress. She roared up out of the bed and shouted “Let’s get one thing straight, right now. There will be none of this
shit
in the mornings! Sophia, I had never heard a lady use such a foul word. I called her on it …told her it was most unbecoming … and she threw herself onto the floor, kicking and screaming. That was the beginning of over thirty years of pure Hell.”

“
Papa. This is amazing. You mean to tell me that Mummy has another daughter somewhere? That she was married before? It practically sounds as though her father
bought
her a husband. Surely they knew that she threw these ghastly tantrums. That must be why they were anxious to get her married quickly, before any poor man learned the truth. Why did you stay with her? Surely there must have been grounds for divorce.”

“It wasn’t at all easy for a man to obtain a divorce in those days. Really, it would have been her word against mine. She was so terribly peculiar.
Occasionally, at night, she seemed to enjoy sexual relations. But, never, never in the daytime hours. At any rate, before I had a chance to even think about the whole mess and how I should handle it, she became pregnant with Blake. I would never have left a child of mine. Never. I should have been stronger with her. Should have forced her to grow up. But, I’ve never been a terribly strong-willed person. So, I just tolerated her behavior, and went my own way, when it came to finding affection. It was easier that way.”

“Well, this certainly explains a lot, Papa. I’m sorry you spent so much of your life in such a sad way. No wonder you worried about who I might end up marrying.
But, none of this explains to me why you did foul things to me. As you just said, if you wanted or needed affection, I’m sure there was plenty of it to be had.””

There was silence again.
With a sigh, he stood and said he would be sleeping in one of the guests’ bedrooms. “Thank you for listening to me, Sophia. I’m glad you’re here. We’ll get through this, you know. Everything will be fine.”

I stood too, and kissed hi
m on the cheek. “Yes, Papa, we’ll get through this,” I replied, sighing deeply. He turned back to me before he left the room.

“Sophia, you asked
me why, of all the women in the world, I chose Edwina?”

“Yes, Papa. I did. I’ll
still never understand it.”

“Perhaps it was because it was the closest I could get to you.” He left the roo
m, and I could hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. There was total silence.

Suddenly, it all
made perfect, if completely irrational, sense. And it was very, very sick.

***

Mummy refused to let go of the affair with Edwina. It was as though it had a hold over her. She had draped herself in a mantle of martyrdom, from which she couldn’t escape. There was a wounded look in her eyes. Whenever I found myself alone with her, every iota of information regarding the affair was gone over with a fine-toothed comb. It was pure torture, because I had to keep straight in my mind the story that Papa had told her. I had to be mindful not to say anything that might signal that I’d had knowledge of the affair before her interception of the letter. She carried the list of telephone calls with her wherever she went. It was always in her pocket or handbag. She loved to study it. I occasionally wondered what had become of Edwina and Kippy, although I never asked. I was certain that my father knew, and was undoubtedly still in communication with her. Doing so, however, had to be extremely difficult with Mummy monitoring all of his telephone calls, as well as his correspondence. Still, he
did
have to travel occasionally, and there were also the Somerville offices in London through which correspondence could be routed. I knew that where there was a will, there was a way. I also knew that, at least on Edwina’s part, there was
very
strong will. I had almost no opportunity to speak with my father about Edwina, since he pointedly avoided me like the plague. I believe he was apprehensive about what the conversation might turn to if the chance for a private chat presented itself. He very much wanted to avoid any such discussion. I also thought that he strongly regretted saying what he had to me about the reason he’d succumbed to Edwina’s charms, as well as his involvement with other women, and his reasons for marrying Mummy. It was probably one of the very few times in his life that he was honest with me.

Blake returned to his RAF base. I knew that he corresponded with
Papa, but I never heard a word from him. Nor did he attempt to communicate with Mummy. As far as Mummy was concerned, Blake had been permanently erased from the family, because of assistance rendered to Papa after he checked out of hospital. Of course, that was foolishness, but then so was a great deal of what went on in our family. Susan, by extension, was also ex-communicated by Mummy
. I
didn’t know what Blake had told her, but I stopped receiving letters from her as well. They had two children of their own by then … Gabrielle and Emma. It hurt the most not to hear from Elizabeth’s two children, Blake Jr. and Pippin. I truly loved them dearly, and would never have done anything to destroy my relationship with them. Susan or Blake must have told them that I was a liar, or crazy, or God knew what. Their loss nearly broke my heart. I wished that I could have turned the clock back to a time before I’d blurted out the intemperate comment about Papa’s behavior. I could have cut my tongue out for having lost control. Nevertheless, it was too late for self-recrimination. What had been said, had been said, and in spite of my remorse, it was the truth. I knew that there was no way Papa would
ever
own up to it, and defend me. After Papa had told me the entire story of his marriage to mummy, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. But, it sickened my heart that the father I had always adored, in spite of his behavior, had never really loved
me
in a healthy manner. I hated to spend time thinking about it, as it could make me very angry. I felt as though I’d been victimized in a cruel fashion, and that I was being re-victimized again by a conspiracy of silence. Therefore, I decided to pick up and move on. Papa could have solved all problems by admitting the truth to everyone, but he chose not to do so. I
did
hear from Drew, and it was apparent that he did not yet know of the confrontation between Blake and me. I hoped it stayed that way. Because he was a minister of God, the entire family tended to keep unpleasant subjects from him.

I had a daughter and
husband who needed me, and there was a war on, which seemed to grow more intense and widespread every day. I lay awake far into the nights, thinking and wishing that Isabella and I were far away from
Willow Grove.
That, of course, was impossible. If the Luftwaffe hadn’t still been bombing London day and night, I would have returned to Sumner Street, but there was no way I could place Isabella in harm’s way. My thoughts were continually with Spence. I wondered where he was each moment. Later I realized that if I’d truly known the answer to that question, I might not have endured. At nearly the exact time that I was thinking of Spence’s whereabouts, on an evening in May, 1941, he was in a Spitfire, somewhere over the Channel Coast of France. I didn’t know that at the time. Later, I learned that his aircraft, while engaged in a dreadful skirmish with a German airplane, literally exploded in mid-air. It fragmented into a thousand pieces. Spence was ejected, unconscious into the skies. When he awakened, he was on the ground, his open parachute beside him. That was only the beginning of the worst nightmare ever. I had no knowledge of this until much, much later, when I was able to obtain further details. A wire was received from the War Department three days later, informing me that Spence was missing in action. I was absolutely beside myself. Such dire news served to return a semblance of normalcy to
Willow Grove,
as attention turned to attempts at obtaining additional information. Since Papa was influential in government, I assumed that he would have access to information the average airman’s family did not have. I badgered my father unmercifully to contact anyone who could tell me something … Anything. Unfortunately, my assumption was incorrect. There was absolutely no way that he was able to garner any information about Spence’s whereabouts, or even if he was alive or dead.

I alternated between being certain that Spence was dead, to absolute belief that he had survived and was, even then,
making his way back to England, with the help of
the underground. None of my fantasies came true. Day after day, week after week, month after month, I prayed, and hoped that I would receive some word about my darling husband. But, it never happened. It was as though he had evaporated into thin air. I continued with my volunteer work at the Red Cross, and the canteen, but my heart was not really in it. Nothing much mattered to me anymore, except Isabella, whom I told the truth to about her father, and each night we made our trip to the chapel, lighting candles and saying prayers for Spence. In those days, none of us had any idea how long the war would last. The RAF had done such a spectacular job trying to gain air supremacy over the skies of London, and the Germans had turned their attention to bombing other major cities in the country, including Birmingham, Bristol, Bath, Manchester, and of course, Coventry. Everyone said that their plan was to soften up our airfields and beaches, before they made their supreme effort … to invade England with infantry troops. We all lived in deathly fear of coming face to face with a German. There were always rumors floating about that a German had been cited parachuting into a small village, or on the property of some estate. Thus far, all had proven to be false. However, in August of 1941, we experienced a very frightening occurrence.

M
ummy was in her bedchamber, with the lights turned out, and all of the blackout curtains in place. Papa was not at
Willow Grove Abbey,
as he was on a short trip to London. Of course Isabella and I were there, as well as the servants, but we had all retired for the night. Mummy awakened in the darkness, at about two o’clock in the morning. She heard sounds in her room, and slowly opened her eyes. There, not ten feet from her bed, was a man … a German Parachutist, we were later to learn … rifling through her jewel box, which sat atop of the dresser. Amazingly, she did not fall to pieces, and she did not scream. Instead, she slowly, and soundlessly, scooted across the bed and reached for a cane that was resting next to Papa’s side of the nightstand. Papa did not use the cane very often, but occasionally he had difficulty with lumbago, and so it was always at the ready, to help him get around when he arose in the mornings, stiff and in pain. Mummy grabbed hold of the wooden cane, and then slowly crawled out of the bed. The German soldier’s back was to her, and by now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she was able to see that it was a German. No one and nothing infuriated Mummy like the presence of a Hun! Particularly a Hun in her own bedchamber! She must not even have thought for a moment of the fact that the soldier was surely armed, and that her life was in danger. Her volatile temper had once again taken control of all reason.

Creeping bravely up behind his erect back, she hit hi
m squarely on the head with the cane. Whack! He roared in pain, and went down on the floor. He’d had a pistol in his hand, but when he was hit, he dropped it, and it flew across the room. He was a large man… at least six feet two inches, and broad shouldered. But, that didn’t stop Mummy. As he went to try to pick himself up, she began to beat him unmercifully again with the cane. She battered him all over, from head to foot. Each time he made a move to steady himself, he received a whack in the head. All of the while, Mummy was shrieking in a tirade. “Just who do you think you are, you disgusting Hun, showing up in a Lady’s bedchamber at this hour? Only a dirty Hun would do such a thing.” Whack! “There, how do you like that? One of your kind killed my dear brother in the last war. Don’t think for one moment that you will get out of here alive.” Whack! “I’ve waited a lot of years to avenge my brother’s death. Well, now is my chance.” Whack. Whack. Whack. Finally I heard the uproar, and I was immediately wide awake. I threw on a robe, and ran to Mummy’s room. There in the corner huddled into a ball, like a fetus, was the German soldier, trying to shield himself with his hands, as Mummy continued hitting him. As I walked in, she was whacking him in the crotch, and he was howling like a wounded dog.

“
Mummy, I screamed. “Stop. I’m ringing the police. They will take care of him. If you continue on, you will kill him.” His face was bruised black and blue, and there were several teeth missing. One arm hung at his side, as though it was broken.

“I fully intend to kill hi
m. That is my wish,” she screamed. Whack! Another hit in the crotch. Now he was begging her for mercy. I quickly rang the police, and in no time at all they were with us in the bedchamber. I suspect that no German had ever been so happy to see an English policeman in his life. The police took him away, and as he was being led out of the doorway, Mummy screamed “There! Now you go back to your filthy country and tell your Hun friends that this is what they’ll face if they ever try to mess with a British Lady.” Truthfully, we were all rather proud of Mummy. She was only disappointed that they wouldn’t let her finish him off. “Damn! I wanted to kill him, she shouted.