Violetta brought her practical mind to bear on a solution. To have been picked up off our coast and taken to Grimsby was ridiculous, she said. If I were picked up by a fishing vessel, it would have been a Cornish one. I should have been known immediately and taken to the hospital in Poldown, and, lost memory or not, Tregarland would have been notified without delay.
The loss of memory would have to stay, but Violetta suggested I could have been picked up by a yacht, the owners of which were on their way home to the north of England. They had been in Spain. They did not realize immediately that I had lost my memory and, by the time they did, we were on the north coast. So they took me to a hospital there.
“It is not very good,” she said, “but it will have to do.”
She arranged it as she always did. My parents came down to Tregarland’s at once. They had to know the truth. No one else there did.
Violetta said we should never have got away with such a tale but for the fact that, just about this time, war was declared and people had something to think about other than the exploits of a wayward wife.
I had done my best to forget that incident with Jacques, as I did with all the unpleasant incidents in my life. It was a comforting habit I had developed.
And then … there he was, arriving on our shore, in the middle of the night, with a sister of whom I had never heard before.
VIOLETTA
Suspicions
THERE WAS GREAT EXCITEMENT in the Poldowns over the arrival of the French refugees. People welcomed them. They were our allies, escaping from German tyranny and eager to come over to us and help with the war effort.
I wished they had arrived somewhere else and not on our coast, for I could see what effect the advent of the lover whom she had left not long before was having on Dorabella. She was deeply disconcerted, though he was nonchalant enough, as though meeting up with a past passion was an ordinary event for him.
Gordon Lewyth helped in his practical way. He found out where Jacques could join General De Gaulle’s headquarters and very soon Jacques left us. Simone remained. She wanted to do some work and Gordon was looking round to find something for her.
By this time people were feeling they should all be doing something since, as the weeks passed, the situation was becoming more menacing. The Germans were now dropping bombs on England and London was attacked with particular ferocity. We all knew, even if the Prime Minister had not told us, that the enemy was attempting to destroy our air defense as a prelude to an invasion of our island.
We must be prepared.
I was seeing Mrs. Jermyn frequently, and we found a great deal of comfort in each other’s society. We shared our mourning for Jowan, as no one else could, and we both refused to believe that he was dead.
I used to go and sit with her while we had tea served by her maid, Morwenna, just as we always had, although the cakes now were made without butter and the tea was weak; but when we spoke of Jowan, it was as though he were somewhere over there and would come home to us in time. Mrs. Jermyn was not given to self-pity. She just kept herself—and me—convinced that he would come home one day.
When she heard about the arrival of Jacques and his sister, she invited them to come and see her, for she remembered that Jacques had come over for a painting holiday before the war.
She also asked Dorabella, who declined on the pretext of a previous engagement, for, of course, she did not want to be in the company of Jacques any more than was necessary.
We talked, of course, about the situation. Mrs. Jermyn understood why they did not want to live in France with Pétain, who had not only surrendered but was actually helping the enemy. She saw that the only thing they could do was come and join the noble de Gaulle.
“And you, my dear,” she said to Simone, “they tell me that you want to do something. What sort of thing?”
Simone replied that she would do anything needed to help. Perhaps she could go and make munitions somewhere. “Mr. Lewyth … he is very kind. Is he not, Jacques?” she said.
Jacques replied that Mr. Lewyth was a man of much knowledge and indeed he was kind.
“How do you feel about going on the land?” asked Mrs. Jermyn.
“The land?” said Simone. “What is this land?”
“It’s working on the farms. As so many men are going off to fight, girls are being recruited now. I heard they are shaping up very well. What of you?”
“On the farm …” She lifted her eyebrows and looked at Jacques.
“Would it be here … in these parts?” he asked.
“I think so. I know our manager, Mr. Yeo, is looking for someone to replace one of the men who has just been called up.”
Jacques said: “To work here … on this estate … on Jermyn’s … that would be very good, would it not, Simone?”
“Well, yes. If I can do … this land. I must have means to live … we could bring very little with us, you understand?”
“But of course. I tell you what we shall do. When we have had our tea, I shall send for Mr. Yeo. He was a little skeptical about landgirls, I’m afraid, but naturally he would be, wouldn’t he, Violetta? We will talk to him and then decide.”
“Soon it will not be for us to decide,” I said. “They are talking about calling up the women as well as the men. They will draft them into suitable occupations, I expect.”
“Well, Mademoiselle,” said Mrs. Jermyn to Simone, “you must see Mr. Yeo.”
It was amazing how well it worked out. Mr. Yeo was sure he could find a place for Simone and shortly after the Dubois had arrived on our shores Jacques had joined the Free French Army and Simone was working on the Jermyn estate.
Dorabella had admitted to me that she was relieved because Jacques was not staying in the neighborhood.
“Did you fear that he might revive your passion?” I asked.
I was alarmed because she did not answer immediately. She seemed as though she were going to confide something. Then I saw the look in her eyes. No use trying to explain to Violetta. She would never understand.
Then she said: “Oh no, nothing of the sort.”
But I continued to feel a little uneasy. I feared that, though she knew him for a philanderer and an inconstant lover, she was still attracted by him.
I was very glad that he had gone away.
The war news was becoming more and more depressing. It was heart-rending to hear of the terrible damage that was being inflicted on London. There were rumors of barges being constructed on the other side of the Channel in preparation for invasion.
It was amazing how people steeled themselves for the worst. I think what we dreaded most was to have the enemy on our soil. As a result, there was a general feeling of kindness towards each other. It was noticeable. The awareness of what could happen to us made us tolerant and want to help others.
We heard stories of the heroism of the people of London. Many of them had already sent their children away from home and now they faced bombardment with stoicism flavored by grim humor.
It was indeed a strange time to live and I knew that I should never forget it through all the days left to me.
And still there was no news of Jowan.
I was having tea with Mrs. Jermyn one day when she said: “Your family used to run that place in Essex. They made it into a hospital during the first war.”
“That’s so. It was my grandmother and my mother helped too. She has often told us about it.”
“I was thinking of this place. Not exactly as a hospital, but lots of those men will need somewhere to get over their illnesses and operations. I thought … with all this space, we could have some of them here. It would give them a rest … a sort of convalescent home. What do you think?”