“I see. I should be branded as a loose woman, I suppose. That is what you mean?”
“It would be expected that we should marry when I am free.”
“Richard, you know …”
“… that you are waiting for Jowan’s return. But when, Violetta, when? Soon you will have to decide. When Europe is liberated … and suppose he does not come back?”
I was silent and he went on: “I shall be waiting. And, Violetta, don’t worry unduly about the divorce. These things are a nine days’ wonder.”
“Perhaps Anne is just threatening.”
“I do not think so. She wants a divorce quickly and she sees this as the easiest way to get it. It may well be that she wants to marry again and is eager to be free to do so. That might be very likely. It is clear that she is regretting our marriage as much as I am.”
“I can see I’ve been very foolish,” I said. “I should never have come to the flat as I did.”
“Don’t say that. Those little suppers were wonderful. I can’t tell you what they meant to me. I looked forward to them so much. Well, whatever happens … in time I shall be free … and when …”
He meant when I was sure Jowan would not come back. But I could not contemplate that. Since the Normandy landings, my hopes had been high.
I said: “I think we should go now.”
He called for the bill and we left.
It was difficult to get through the rest of that weekend. Fortunately my parents were preoccupied with Robert, who was eager to talk about life in the army and the prospects of going overseas shortly, which seemed to excite him but naturally had the opposite effect on my parents.
We all went to the station to see him off. He left in the late morning of Sunday. Richard stayed until the early evening.
When he had gone I felt exhausted. I kept thinking about Anne as she had been when I had met her—so elegant, so cool, so sure of what she wanted. She would be formidable. I could see how she had attracted Richard. That cool acceptance of superiority, just the wife to be an asset to a rising barrister; he no doubt had visualized her at the head of his table entertaining the Lord Chancellor. I was sure she would have done so in perfect style. So Richard had been lured into committing that act which he now called folly.
Somehow it endeared him to me a little. I had thought him so sensible; to find him vulnerable made him more human. I did not blame him as he blamed himself. I just wished that I had not become involved.
My mother had guessed something had happened and, that night, just as I was about to retire, she came to my room. She sat on the bed and surveyed me.
“Well,” she said. “What is bothering you?”
It was no use trying to keep anything from her. I had decided to tell her in any case.
I said: “Richard is married.”
The shocked expression on her face turned to dismay. She had decided that Richard was the man for me and eligible in every way.
“Has he just told you?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“He told me in London. It was the night of the air raid. It was a disaster. She is going to divorce him on the grounds of adultery … with me.”
Her expression changed to one of horror.
“It is quite false,” I said quickly. “There has never been adultery … I think not with anyone, certainly not with me.
I explained about the flat and the suppers and how he had always known I was waiting for Jowan. I left out nothing; I told her about his wife’s visit to the teashop which had puzzled me at the time, though now I knew why she had come.
“Good heavens!” my mother cried. “I don’t believe this of Richard. He is the last person …”
“People often do unexpected things.”
“I should not have thought Richard would. But … er … when it is over, Richard will be free and …”
“He has asked me to marry him then.”
“It would be best,” she said. “Mind you, there wouldn’t be much talk about this. In wartime these things are trivial.”
“Richard says she is a socialite and that her actions are reported in the gossip columns so there could be some publicity.”
“I see. And you might be mentioned. Well, these things happen. If you marry him it would not seem so important.”
“I wouldn’t want to marry him just because …”
“No, of course not. Well, we shall have to wait and see. I shall tell your father. He would know more about these things than we do. I saw that Richard was very upset.”
“He is, of course—mainly because he has involved me.”
“How do you feel about him, Violetta? You like him, don’t you?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“And if it were not for Jowan …”
“I can’t think of that. I still feel he will come back.”
She sighed, then smiled suddenly.
“Half the things one worries about never happen,” she said. “This divorce, it might pass quietly. People are not as interested in that sort of thing as they used to be. There’s a war on and we are not living in the Victorian age when everyone was so prim and prudish. Don’t worry. You’ve been through enough lately. I think this may be like a storm in a teacup. I am sure your father will agree with me. I’m glad you came home for a while. It will all come right, I am sure. So try and get a good night’s rest.”
“I certainly feel better now that I have told you,” I said.
She kissed me tenderly and waited until I was in bed. Then she tucked me in, as she used to when I was very young.
My parents were wonderful during those days. Dorabella came for weekends, which was helpful. There had been no news of Richard’s divorce and Dorabella said: “That sort of thing is happening all the time. I doubt we shall hear any more of it.”
Richard was still declared unfit for active service and the war was progressing satisfactorily for the Allies.
Paris had been liberated and General de Gaulle was now there. General Montgomery, speaking to the men in northwest France, said the end was in sight and we must finish it off in record time.
It was August and we had had almost five years of war. Surely, I thought, if Jowan were alive I should have heard something by now?
I knew my mother was most concerned about my future and I guessed it was the main topic between her and my father. They had both been dismayed to hear that Richard had made a hasty wartime marriage which was in the process of being dissolved. It was out of character for him, but they had both decided that he was the best husband for me, though they had considered Gordon. Gordon was an honest, upright man, but he had a mad mother; also he was something of an enigma. So they had set their hearts on Richard, for I was sure they had long ago made up their minds that it was unlikely that Jowan would come back.
Even I was beginning to wonder. The time was passing. The invasion of France had begun in June and it was now nearly September. Hope was beginning to fade. Should I be one of those sad women who lose their lovers during the war and spend the rest of their lives grieving?
It was the third of September—the fifth anniversary of the war. Everywhere the Allies were triumphant and this was a day of prayer throughout the country.
We were dining early because Dorabella was with us and would return to London that evening. My father was saying: “It cannot last much longer. Our forces are only forty miles from Brussels and the French and Americans are in Lyons. This is great progress.”
Then the telephone rang. Dorabella was on her feet first. “I’ll get it,” she said.
In a few seconds she came back.
“It’s Mrs. Jermyn from Cornwall. She wants to speak to Violetta.”