My parents were delighted to have me home.
“I only wish Dorabella was not up there,” said my mother. “Those wretched bombs are worse than the other kind, it seems to me.”
I spent a lot of time with Tristan. Nanny Crabtree was inclined to treat me like an invalid and attempted to “fatten me up,” but there was no doubt of her joy in having me back in the fold.
I did not want to be idle and so I helped my mother in her work with the various organizations in which she was involved.
There was a great deal of discussion about the progress of the war, which seemed to be going well in spite of certain setbacks; but clearly the end was not going to come as quickly as we had hoped.
I thought that, if Jowan were a prisoner of war and the Allies were advancing, it might be that they would come to where he was held, and free all the prisoners. Every day I waited for news with mounting hope. It would go first to Mrs. Jermyn, of course, but she would inform me immediately.
My mother knew this and was afraid for me. I guessed that in her heart she did not share my optimism.
She said to me one day: “Violetta, you still believe that Jowan will come back, don’t you? It is four years now.”
It was one of those days—they came now and then—when my hopes seemed to fade. It was a long time. Sometimes I wondered if he would be the same man when he came back. People change. Would his love still be as strong for me as mine was for him?
I hesitated and she was aware of this.
“Time is passing,” she went on. I knew what was in her mind. I should be twenty-five in October. I was no longer very young. She was wondering whether I was going to spend my life mourning a lost lover. She had known a friend who had been engaged to be married to a young man who was killed on the Somme during the last war. My mother had spoken of her occasionally. It was not only that she had missed marriage and family, but she had spent her life mourning for a man she had lost when she was eighteen. She did not want a similar fate for me.
She said: “I am sure you are better here than in Cornwall. I wonder if Richard will have to go overseas. Gordon is lucky. Not that he isn’t doing an excellent job. They couldn’t have done without him on the estate. Oh, I do hope this wretched war will be over before Richard has to go out there.”
I could read her well. She was thinking: here were two good men, either of whom, with a little encouragement, would be ready to marry me, and yet I went on mourning for someone who might never come back.
There was a telephone call from Richard. My mother took it and when she came to me she was very excited.
“Who do you think has just telephoned? Richard. He’s got a little leave and wants to come for the weekend.”
“And you said you would be delighted to see him, I am sure.”
“I did.”
“Is this leave because he is going overseas?”
“I asked him that. He said no, they can’t make any decision about that. He said the wound is playing up a bit and they won’t let him go while he is in that state.”
She looked pleased and excited. I knew she was hoping.
Richard arrived. My father was delighted to see him and my mother was more pleased than she had been for a long time because my brother Robert had leave too, though I feared that might mean that he would soon be going with his regiment to the Continent.
Richard arrived in the evening on Friday and would have to leave on Sunday afternoon to be sure of being back in the barracks by the appointed time.
He looked a little strained, I thought.
We sat round the dining-room table and talked about the progress of the war, and I was not alone with Richard until the following morning.
He suggested we take a ride and we went off together in mid-morning, telling my mother that we would have lunch out at some inn on the road.
Richard was able to ride with ease, in spite of his leg injury, but as we rode through the roads which I had known all my childhood, I sensed a certain restraint about him.
We found an inn, “The White Stallion,” with a sign depicting a splendid-looking horse over the door.
Over the food, Richard blurted out what was on his mind.
He said: “Anne is going to divorce me.”
“That is what you both wanted, isn’t it?”
“She is determined to do it her way.”
“She came to see me.”
“What!”
“Yes. It was when I was at the Ministry. I came out of the building and there she was, waiting for me.”
He stared at me in astonished dismay.
“I couldn’t understand it,” I went on. “There didn’t seem to be any point. She talked about my friendship with you. She asked about the flat.”
“The flat!”
“She said I would know it well.”
He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath which I could not hear.
“I’d better tell you right away. She is going to divorce me on grounds of adultery.”
“Oh,” I said faintly, “I see.”
“My adultery … with you.”
I stared at him. “How can she possibly? It isn’t true.”
“That won’t concern her. I think she has been having the flat watched. It is known that we were there together. Then, of course, there was the raid. It was late in the evening and we were there alone together. It may be that will be considered evidence enough.”
“Oh, but it can’t be.”
“She’s tenacious. When she wants something she goes out and gets it. She had put off acting because she thought I might be at the Front and the chances of survival would not be great. That would have been a smooth and easy way to end the marriage. But I’m here and she believes the war will be over before I am sent out, that I shall stay on in comparative safety and her nice easy way of being rid of me will be denied her.”
“Do you really believe she is as calculating as that?”
“Calculation is second nature to her. I know her well. This is amusing her. She used to laugh at me … the virtuous barrister, she called me. So it will amuse her to see me caught up in an unsavory divorce.”
“Oh no!”
“It is what she has in mind. This is the quickest way to end the marriage and that is her aim; she is tired of it and she wants it ended and to come out of it in the best possible way herself. The bored wife who wanted to divorce her husband who was serving his country would not be viewed with sympathy. But if he is unfaithful to her, she has every reason, of course.”
“But it is so false. We were just good friends. It was only natural that I should go there and cook something for you.”
“Not to her. She knew we were friends in the past. She knows how I felt about you. She will stress that.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing. Just wait.”
“When … when will it start?”
“I don’t know. Anne will have been working on it for some time. It was the air raid which made her see she had a good case. These things take time, you know.”
“I must tell my parents.”
“Would you like me to be with you?”
“No … no. I will tell them when you have gone. I think that would be best.”
My hand was lying on the table and he leaned forward and pressed it firmly.
“I am so sorry that you have been brought into all this,” he said. “It is wretched for you.”
“For you, too.”
“Me? Oh yes. But I have brought it on myself. One must pay for one’s acts of folly. But that I should bring it on you … that worries me. I would have done anything to have avoided that. You see, Anne is well known in some circles. Her exploits are recorded. When we were married it was reported in certain papers. There may be some publicity over the divorce, and it is possible that your name will be mentioned.”