We decided that if Dorabella was happy, that was all that mattered. We would take care of the future when the time came.
The following weekend James Brent came to Caddington. My parents had not met him before and they were favorably impressed. Captain Brent was urbane, much traveled, and an expert in many matters. He knew something about estates as his family owned one on the West Riding of Yorkshire, and before the war he had helped to run it.
My father obviously liked him and there was some interesting talk about the war, though guarded on the captain’s side, which made it the more exciting.
He said that there would have to be a landing on the Continent, and that now the enemy was in a weakened state, in his opinion it would not be long delayed.
They discussed the wedding. There was no reason for delay. I gathered that he expected, when the invasion of the Continent began, he would go overseas. There was a feeling of urgency in the air and we understood that, before the great battle started, he wanted to be sure of a little happiness with Dorabella.
Before the weekend was over, my parents’ doubts were diminished and they were caught up in the excitement of the preparations for the wedding. It should be a quiet affair and take place within the next few weeks.
Tristan liked Captain Brent from the start, and it seemed that everything was working out in the best possible way.
They were married in a registry office at the end of April; several others were married on the same day—men in uniform with their smiling brides.
Naturally I thought of Jowan and could not help the pangs of envy which beset me.
There was a small reception afterwards in a hotel in Kensington and I asked the girls from the Ministry to join us.
My mother was eager to meet the people of whom she had heard so much. Florette was rather flamboyantly attired, as became the great star; Peggy looked like a mournful puppy watchful for a home; Marian was at her most graciously refined and was very impressed to converse with Sir Robert and Lady Denver.
Afterwards my mother said: “They were perfect. Just as you described them. It was lovely to meet them in the flesh.”
And then a radiant Dorabella and her very attractive husband went off to spend a brief honeymoon at Torquay.
Richard had two days’ leave. I met him as usual and he was rather excited because a friend of his, who had a little service flat just off Victoria, had offered it to him to use at any time he cared to. The friend had been sent off to the north of England so the flat would be vacant and Richard might find it useful during his occasional leaves.
“Of course,” said Richard, “I could always go to the family, but I think that puts a burden on Mary Grace, without much help in the house.”
“I am sure she is always delighted to have you there—your mother, too.”
“There are times when one has a fancy to be on one’s own. It’s a pleasant little place, and easier to get to than going out to Kensington. In any case, I’ve accepted. I wonder if you would like to come along and look at it?”
I said I would and we went.
It was certainly an attractive little flat. There was one bedroom, a small box-room, a sitting room and kitchen, which was large for the size of the flat, and, being at the top of the building, was light and airy. The kitchen cupboard was stocked with tins of soup and food’—wartime variety, of course.
“I’m to take what I want and of course I can replace it when I go.”
Richard was enthusiastic. Often he had only one day off and he liked me to go there with him. I would select something from the array of tins and we would enjoy preparing a meal together. Richard said it was more comfortable than going to a restaurant.
The girls were aware of this and I guessed they talked about it when I was not there. I think they had decided that I was going to marry Richard, and of course my going to the flat would give rise to more speculation.
They were all dreamers, especially Florette, of course, who lived in a world of spectacular theatrical success, whereas Peggy, who had very little hope of achieving her ambition, was ready to dream for others. As for Marian, I was convinced that she lived in an atmosphere of perpetual apprehension that some fatal secret from her past would be discovered. Mary Grace, I knew, would be delighted if I married into the family.
I was not in the least discomfited by any significance they might assume in my going to Richard’s flat and cooking meals for him. I talked freely of Jowan to Richard and he understood my feeling. He was practical, full of good sense, and I think he had decided long ago, when we drifted apart after I had declined his offer of marriage, that we were not completely suited to each other. But that was no reason why we should not be good friends, and that was what we were.
So I looked forward to those days when I was able to experiment in the kitchen of the little flat, and how triumphant we both were when I made a good meal from the material at my disposal.
Spring was on the way. In September it would be five years since the war had started. Everyone was saying, it won’t be long now.
Richard was cautious. He thought the landing would not be successfully accomplished in a few weeks. There was a good deal of fighting power left in the Germans and they were a formidable race.
Dorabella returned from her honeymoon deliriously happy. She had the gift of being able to live entirely in the present. Impressive events were about to burst upon us, but she paid no heed to that. And so the days went by.
Marian had a win on one of her horses and we went to the Café Royal to celebrate. The nights were light now, which was a blessing, for traveling through the black-out was a tedious business.
We sat with our glasses of sherry before us and were very merry.
“This is lovely,” said Florette. “This is where they always came in the old days. All the old stars. Marie Lloyd, Vesta Tilley … and the mashers would meet them here.”
“What’s mashers?” asked Peggy.
“Come on, Peg. Don’t show your ignorance! You know the mashers … the stage-door Johnnies. Always hanging around after the actresses. They’d be in the theater every night, picking out their favorites. Those were the days. No war then.”
“There was one in 1914,” I reminded her.
“Oh that! That was nothing compared with this.”
“I expect it was rather awful while it lasted,” said Mary Grace.
“It wasn’t the same. Won’t it be fun when it’s over? I reckon there won’t half be some goings-on.”
“People don’t take things as they used to,” commented Marian. “In the old days …” She sighed. “There was the Queen’s Golden Jubilee. There was a day’s holiday from school. There she was … a little old lady in a carriage. She was a queen, though. Anyone could see that.”
Suddenly she stopped and a look of panic came into her eyes.
“Do you feel all right, Marian?” asked Mary Grace.
“Oh yes … yes, I’m all right. Just felt a bit strange for a moment.”
“It’s the sherry,” said Peggy.
“I don’t know. It just came over me.” Her hands were shaking.
“You were telling us about Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.”
“Oh no … no. I didn’t mean the Golden Jubilee … it was the Diamond.”
“Sit quiet for a bit,” said Florette. “Then you’ll feel better.”
Marian did so and closed her eyes. We all watched her in consternation, but after a few minutes she opened her eyes and smiled at us.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Just a bit of a turn.” Then she started to talk about some horses she fancied for a coming race.
“It’s all a matter of form,” she said. “That’s what you have to study.”
We understood. She did not want to talk about the “bit of a turn.”