“Well, if you both feel that way, it will be easier, I suppose.”
We heard the bomb fall, nearer this time; we sat listening to the sound of falling masonry.
Richard said: “That was very close. I think we had better get out of here.”
I rose, prepared to go down to the basement which was used as a shelter for the flat dwellers. I picked up my coat and handbag and we went to the door, but we did not reach it, for suddenly the earth seemed to open and I was falling. Richard was not there. My eyes and mouth were full of dust. I was lying down and then the darkness descended.
I awoke in a bed in an unfamiliar room. I noticed other beds. When I saw the girl in a nurse’s uniform, I realized I was in hospital. Then I vaguely remembered being in the flat and hearing the falling bombs.
Richard, I thought immediately. Where was Richard? We had been together on our way to the basement… and then this had happened.
The nurse came and stood by my bed.
“Hello,” she said. “Feel all right?”
“Where am I?”
“St. Thomas’s.”
“Hospital?” I said.
“That’s it. Nasty shock, was it?”
“We were bombed, of course.”
“That’s it … along with others. It was a bad night.”
“My friend?”
“Oh yes, he’s all right. I mean he’s here. He came off worse than you did.”
“Can I see him?”
“Not now, dear. See if you can drop off. A sleep will do you the world of good.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
She looked at the watch pinned on her blouse.
“Just on two.”
“In the morning?”
“In the afternoon, dear.”
“So all this time …”
“Now, you get some rest.”
“But I must know.”
“You’re all right. You’ve been lucky.” I could see she was not prepared to give me any more information.
I felt tired and dazed, unable to remember in detail what had actually happened.
I must have slept and when I awoke it was to see my parents at my bedside. My mother was watching me anxiously.
“Oh, she’s come round,” I heard her say. “Violetta … darling … it’s all right. We’re here, your father and I and Dorabella. We came as soon as we heard.”
“It was a bomb,” I said.
She sat there, holding my hand; my father was on the other side of the bed. I saw Dorabella and the concern in all their faces.
I felt too tired to think, but I was certainly comforted to know they were there.
The next day I felt a great deal better. My mother said I had been in shock. Apparently the bomb had demolished a house nearby and what we had felt was the force of the explosion. It had damaged the block of flats considerably; the roof had fallen in and the windows were all shattered. We were lucky not to have been nearer to the bombed house. Two people had been killed and a number injured.
I was told I could leave the hospital the next day.
Fortunately, I was able to see Richard before I went. Although he had suffered more than I had, I was relieved to see that he was not seriously hurt.
His face was grazed and he had lost a certain amount of blood through a wound in his leg, but nothing was broken and the doctors said that in a week or so he could leave the hospital, though the leg would undoubtedly need further attention.
My mother said that when he was well enough he must come down to Caddington. She was taking me off at once.
It was wonderful to be at home. I was greeted rapturously by Tristan and by Nanny Crabtree with a mixture of tenderness towards me and fury against “that Hitler.” She declared that if she could get her hands on him she would know what to do. There were tears in her eyes as she surveyed me.
“I never did hold with that going off to work in ministries. Well, you’re home now. We’ll soon have you fattened up.”
Nanny’s cure for all things was “fattening up.”
They were lazy days. After my ordeal I needed a rest. I did have one or two dreams in which I would be back in the flat, when I heard the crunch of the bombs and felt myself slipping down into darkness. I suppose the memory of that sort of experience stays with one forever.
I thought a great deal about Richard’s revelation. It was difficult to imagine his making a disastrous marriage. I should have thought he would have considered such a step very carefully before he undertook it. He had always seemed to me to be so prosaic, and practical in the extreme.
I supposed she had been very attractive. Lady Anne! He might have liked the title. Beautiful … seductive … poor Richard, he seemed to be unlucky in love. It occurred to me that one could never really know people. They so often stepped out of character and did the unexpected.
And now he was married to her. He must have been contemplating divorce seriously as he had suggested marrying me. I felt sorry for him. He had obviously not wanted it known that he had married unsuccessfully. Richard was the sort of man who would hate to be thought unsuccessful in any way. So he had kept that marriage a secret,
He must have thought he owed it to me to make his confession. He had to explain why he had not asked me to marry him. Those visits to the flat, I supposed, had been a little unconventional and he wanted me to know that he still cared for me. He was really hinting that, when he was free and I was sure that Jowan was not coming back, marriage between us might be possible.
It all seemed very sensible, put like that. Yes, sensible was the word I had always applied to Richard.
Dorabella was back at Caddington for the weekend. She was glad that I was home for a while. We had a pleasant weekend and when she went back I knew that my parents were uneasy. They did not like one of their precious daughters going into danger, and what had happened to me had enhanced their fears. One could be in danger, of course, anywhere in the country, but the capital was particularly vulnerable.
Dorabella was ready to face any danger to continue to live her exciting life; she took great pleasure in hinting that her fascinating husband was a man of great importance who guarded the nation’s secrets.
Richard was released from hospital and had a week’s leave before rejoining his regiment; he spent half of it with us, the other half with his family in London.
Then, finally, the tide of events turned. I remember that June day well. It was the sixth—a day never to be forgotten. There was expectancy in the air, and most people must have been aware that great events were pending. We all gathered round the wireless for news and listened eagerly.
And there it was.
“Under the command of General Eisenhower, Allied naval forces, supported from the air, began landing Allied armies on the northern coast of France …”
We all looked at each other, emotional, tense. The necessary invasion of the Continent had begun.
People could talk of nothing else. At the end of his leave Richard joined his regiment, though he was not considered fit yet to go abroad, and the following week I went back to London to resume my work in the Ministry.
There was an air of euphoria everywhere. People talked constantly about the landings. It was the beginning of the end, they said. We were coming out of the darkness which had enveloped us for the last five years and soon everything would be normal again.
This mood persisted, although the Prime Minister warned us against too much optimism. We had made an excellent start, but there was a great deal to be done. We eagerly waited for any news we could get. Several of the Channel ports were now in Allied hands. Nothing could convince us that the news was not good and we were on the road to victory.
Although I had been glad to be home for a period when I might recover, I was looking forward to seeing the girls again.