“You will always be welcome when you come back, but much as I should like to see you, I believe it is best for you to stay where you are.
“Don’t forget. The first hint of news and you shall know it.”
They were right, of course. I did feel better away from those places where Jowan and I had been together.
A letter came from Mary Grace.
My mother was so interested to hear about our weekend. She wanted to know every detail. She is always saying how much she would love to see you both. It would be fun if you came up. There is still a great deal to see and be done in London now that we are only getting the occasional air raid. I talked to Gretchen about it. She said how pleased she would be if you came and stayed with her. I think she is rather lonely at times. She has only one maid living in who is a great help with Hildegarde, but it does mean that Gretchen can’t get about very much and she hasn’t all that many friends. She would simply love to have you.
When I showed that letter to my mother, she said: “Yes, I do worry about Gretchen. It’s not easy for her. That business back in Cornwall upset her a lot. Poor girl. She was not wanted in her own country and here … well, there’ll always be that tinge of suspicion. I wish she would come and stay here, but she wouldn’t be near enough for Edward’s brief leaves.”
“I think we should go up and see her,” I said.
The idea certainly appealed to Dorabella. She would be on the spot to see Captain Brent at short notice. As for myself, I should like to be with Gretchen for a while.
“Well,” said my mother. “Tristan will be all right. He’ll have his grandparents and Nanny.”
So it was arranged that we should spend a week with Gretchen in London.
Gretchen was delighted to see us. She hoped Edward would get leave so that he could be with us, if only briefly. She was comfortable in the house they had acquired before the outbreak of war. The maid was very useful, both in looking after the house and Hildegarde, but even so Gretchen was fully occupied. I knew she brooded constantly on the plight of her family; she might never know what had become of them. It was touching to see her pleasure in our being there.
Dorabella was full of high spirits. She was delighted that her love affair with Captain Brent was continuing; I think the nature and secrecy of his work added to the excitement of the romance.
We were very soon invited to the Dorringtons’ house where Mrs. Dorrington greeted us warmly and, during the evening, Richard arrived unexpectedly.
“When I heard who your guests were,” he told his mother, “I did a lot of contriving … and it worked. How are you enjoying wartime London?” he asked us.
“Enormously,” cried Dorabella.
“And Violetta?”
“The same,” I replied. “Particularly this evening.”
There was a great deal to talk about and everyone was in a merry mood.
Richard said to me: “If I can get the time off, would you come to a theater with me one evening?”
I said we should love to, and when the evening was over, as Edward and Gretchen lived only a short distance away, we walked back through the blacked-out streets.
The next day there was a telephone call from him. He could get away on Thursday. Were we free?
Dorabella answered it. She always dashed up when it rang, expecting Captain Brent.
She said: “Richard is asking us to the theater on Thursday.” She looked a little sly. “I can’t make it,” she said into the mouthpiece. “Another engagement, but I know Violetta is free.”
I said to her afterwards: “Have you a date on Thursday?”
“What does it matter? He was hoping I had. I couldn’t disappoint the poor man.”
“How do you know?”
“Of course I know. The trouble with you, sister, is that you have no finesse. He wants to be with you … not the whole family. I can see what is before my eyes, if you can’t. The role of chaperone or unwanted guest is not for me.”
“You are an idiot.”
“I may well be in some respects, but in matters like this I am a sage.”
That was how I came to be at the theater with Richard that Thursday night.
I don’t recall the name of the play. It was a light comedy, but I did remember that the theater was full of uniformed men who laughed heartily at the jokes, however feeble, as though they were determined to enjoy the evening at all cost.
During the second act a man came to the front of the stage and announced that the sirens had started and any of those who wished to leave the theater should do so quietly so as not to disturb those who wished to remain.
No one left and the play went on as before and in about forty-five minutes the man came back to say that the all-clear had sounded.
After that we went to supper. We sat in the darkened restaurant and there I found the same air of determined merriment which I had noticed in the theater. We had been shown the table almost deferentially, which was due to Richard’s uniform. Everyone was much aware of what we owed to the airmen, soldiers, and sailors of Britain.
We talked about the war, the hopes of a not-too-distant victory, of my parents, his mother, and Mary Grace.
He said he would never forget what I had done for his sister. She had changed when she did that miniature of me. Did I still have it, he wanted to know?
“I gave it to Dorabella,” I said. “And I have one Mary Grace did of her. They are very good indeed.”
“Yes, I fancy she is quite an artist and none of us realized it until you pointed it out. She changed from then on. She gained that confidence which she had always lacked before. You did a great deal for her and now she seems quite to enjoy being at this ministry. It was a good day for us when Edward introduced you.”
“I worry about Gretchen.”
“Poor girl. It’s sad. I fear she constantly broods about her family. It’s natural, of course.”
“What could have become of them?”
“I do not like to think. The fate of the Jewish people in Germany sickens me to contemplate. If there ever was a reason why we should fight this war, that is it.”
“We must succeed in the end.”
“We will, but at what a cost!”
I liked Richard. He, too, had changed from the man I had known before the war. Then he had been sure of himself in a rather self-righteous way. Now he seemed different. I hesitated to apply the word vulnerable to him but it came into my mind. There were times when I thought he was about to tell me something … something important which was bothering him. It was almost like a cry for help, which surprised me since Richard was always so self-sufficient.
When we parted, he said: “I can’t get any more leave this week … and then you will be going back to Caddington.”
“Well, it is not so very far away.”
“You’ll come up again? There is room at our house and Mary Grace would be delighted to have you. Shall you go back to Cornwall?”
“I am undecided … my mother does not want me to. She thinks I am better with them and the occasional visit to London. I had my work in Cornwall, as you know.”
“You could do something up here.”
“I suppose so. There has been no difficulty in finding replacements for me.”
“You must consider it. Cornwall is a little tucked away and travel is not easy in wartime. It has been such a pleasant evening for me.”
“For me, too.”
“We must do something like it again.”
“That would be enjoyable.”
“It is a promise, is it?”
“Of course.”
He kissed me lightly on the cheek and I went in. Dorabella was waiting up for me. She looked expectant.
“Well!”
“Well what?”
“How did it go?”