A Family's Duty (5 page)

The service ended with the National Anthem, and the congregation trooped out as Philip played the ‘Trumpet Voluntary’.

On the Monday after that memorable weekend, Councillor Mrs Tomlinson was at the council offices in Everham, sharing mid-morning coffee with Sir Cedric Neville. When he asked her how she felt about the news, she put her head on one side like a thoughtful old bird.

‘I wish I felt as reassured as the Prime Minister, poor man,’ she said after consideration. ‘If ever there was a peace-lover and a peace-maker, a man of principle, an English gentleman, that’s Mr Neville Chamberlain. And that’s why I’m worried, Cedric. Is he the right man to deal with a cynical megalomaniac like this strutting dictator? And if Hitler
does
march his troops over the Czech border, who is there to stop him?’

Cedric was silent, having no answer to give, while Mrs Tomlinson waited. Suddenly he wanted to argue against her, reprimand her for ‘spreading alarm and despondency’ – the old military charge came back to mind – refuse to listen to her, scold her, stand her in the corner.

But he had no words to contradict her.

‘Adolf bloody Hitler hasn’t even waited a week.’

The high-backed bench seat in the Tradesmen’s Arms had been moved from its summer position below the window to its winter place near to the log fire. Several of the regulars were in, and a young couple, when Tom Munday sat down beside Eddie Cooper, already halfway into a pint of bitter.

Voices around the bar all spoke on one subject.

‘Less than a week after Chamberlain came back, and he’s marched into Czecho-czecho-whatever’ – ‘yeah, but it’s a long way from ’ere, I’d just let ’em get on with it’ – ‘they say he’s got his eye on
us
an’ all’ – ‘who says so?’ – ‘don’t believe every rumour you hear’ – ‘and the way he treats the Jews’ – ‘yeah, but they’re Jews, ain’t they? I don’t trust ’em’.

‘Doesn’t sound so good,’ said Tom heavily. ‘Grace and Rob are hoping it won’t come to anything. Their Jack’s eighteen and says he wants to go into the Royal Air Force.’

‘Got no sense at all, have they?’ said Eddie. ‘Twenty years since the last lot, and these young idiots are looking for another scrap.’ He took another drink from his glass, and wiped his mouth. ‘I say, look at Don Juan over at the bar there, talking to that little minx from Seabrook’s. Who is he?’

‘He’s the younger o’ the two boys from the Rectory. Wonder if mum and dad know where he is this evening.’

‘More to the point, do the Seabrooks know where
she
is,’ said Eddie. ‘Look at him, thinks he’s Clark Gable, and that’s the third port and lemon she’s knocked back. She’d better watch her step, I reckon, or she’ll end up like—’ He stopped speaking and shrugged.

He means like his Mary, thought Tom. Poor Mary Cooper, married off in haste to Sidney Goddard, and now
being elbowed out by that lout Billy Yeomans since he’d got himself a wife.

‘Your young granddaughter, Tom, now there’s a nice girl. Must be about the same age as that one over there, but behaves herself better.’

‘Oh, ah, Doreen’s a homebody, helps Grace in the house, no trouble at all.’ Tom gave an imperceptible sigh.

There was a burst of laughter from the young couple who then took their leave, letting in a chill October wind through the open door.

‘Not a care in the world, eh?’ said Eddie.

‘No, it’s only parents who worry,’ muttered Tom, ‘and them with Jewish relatives out there,’ adding under his breath what he’d heard at the bar when he came in, ‘He didn’t even wait a week, the lying bugger.’

The Reverend Alan Kennard preached on the following Sunday, and his sermon was in chilling contrast to the rector’s at the previous Morning Worship.

‘We must indeed still pray for a true and lasting peace, but we must prepare ourselves for war,’ he said to gasps of surprise. ‘The German Chancellor has gone back on his word not to invade eastern European countries, and our hearts go out to the people of Czechoslovakia at this time. We trust that Almighty God will protect them from the invading enemy, especially those of the Jewish race. We have to face the truth of their persecution, because we cannot afford to ignore it.’

There was an uncomfortable stirring among the congregation, and the Reverend Allingham’s face registered furious disapproval at this contradiction of his own sermon,
so full of thanksgiving and hope for the future. The Reverend Alan Kennard would be severely reprimanded at the earliest opportunity.

At Hassett Manor the curate’s words were the chief topic of conversation, and Cedric experienced a sensation close to relief at Alan Kennard’s recognition of the dangers that might lie ahead. Facing the truth, however unpalatable, was better than living in a fool’s paradise. Some Members of Parliament evidently thought so too, accusing Chamberlain of ‘selling out to the Fascists,’ and the First Lord of the Admiralty had resigned.

Any doubts that still remained about the intentions of Herr Hitler were shattered by the news of a savage all-night attack on the Jewish community all over Germany; so many windows were smashed, including shop fronts, that the Germans themselves jokingly referred to it as
Kristillnacht
because of all the broken glass that littered the streets afterwards. Ernest and Devora Munday now expected Jonathan and Ella Pascoe to leave Germany with their children forthwith, but to their utter dismay, Jonathan refused to flee. Things weren’t so bad in a semi-rural area like Elberfeld as in the big towns and cities, he said, so Devora was left to fret and her husband to lose patience with the Pascoes in the face of such terrible danger.

At Yeomans’ Farm that Christmas Dora had come to a decision. Billy sneezed and streamed with a cold, two farm hands were talking of going to join the territorials, and Sidney worked from dawn to dusk, seven days a week. Old Mrs Yeomans said she could no longer keep the farm accounts
due to failing eyesight, and asked Dora if she could take over the record keeping, which Dora saw was in a chaotic state. She therefore went to Billy and said she would give up commercial college to become farm secretary and
bookkeeper
, and give some assistance on the farm. He grudgingly accepted, even agreeing to pay her a minimum wage.

‘But Dora, you
can’t
give up your training,’ Mary Goddard protested, but Dora’s mind was made up.

‘I’m not going to see you and Dad working yourselves into the ground,’ she said, ‘and you won’t hear any more about Bailiff’s Cottage from now on. Even
he’s
got to admit that the Yeomanses can’t manage without the Goddards!’

Even so, Christmas dinner was a subdued affair, with Billy coughing loudly and Pam complaining of continuous backache at six and a half months into pregnancy.

‘Without us, Mum, they’d have had no Christmas fare at all,’ said Dora grimly.

Valerie Pearson had saved up to buy John Richardson a gold tie-pin and matching cufflinks, and shyly presented the little wrapped parcel to him on the day before Christmas Eve when he breezed into Thomas and Gibson’s to see his father. He kissed her on the cheek and said he was overwhelmed by such generosity, but that it was very naughty of her. In his father’s office, he grimaced and said he’d have to rush out to buy a box of chocolates for her.

‘I hope you haven’t been playing fast and loose with that girl,’ said his father with a frown. ‘She’s not a giggling young miss, but a respectable young woman of twenty-seven, a conscientious worker, and I wouldn’t like to see her upset. What have you been up to – flirting? Kissing her?’

‘Only the once, on the “peace in our time” weekend, Dad, when everybody was a bit over-the-moon, and – er, I’d been celebrating the peace treaty at Page’s before I came over. She didn’t make any objection, though of course it didn’t mean anything, and hasn’t happened again – only little pecks on the cheek when I pass through the shop, really quite innocent.’

‘It would only be innocent if you intended to follow it through,’ said Mr Richardson firmly. ‘Are you genuinely fond of Miss Pearson? You could do worse.’

‘Oh, no, Dad, she’s a sweet little thing, but such a mouse! And two years older than I am – and lives with that old dragon of a mother – oh, no, it was never intended to be serious.’

‘Well, show her some respect, then, and as I say, you could fare a lot worse. Otherwise don’t let the poor girl get any wrong ideas about your intentions.’

‘No, of course not, Dad,’ said John sheepishly, because he knew by the unconcealed adoration in her eyes that she already had.

March brought an increase at Yeomans’ Farm; but when Tom Munday sat down beside Eddie Cooper, his old friend irritably cut short his congratulations.

‘Properly worn out, my Mary was, after two nights on the trot without sleep, at the beck and call of Billy’s wife who’s been having backache since before Christmas. She started the proper pains on Tuesday evening, and Billy went to fetch Nurse Howie, who came and said it was early as yet, and she ought to try to get some sleep, then went home again. Old Mrs Yeomans sat with her until about midnight, and then Mary heard a crash and a scream – went into the room
to find the old lady nodding, young Mrs Yeomans on the floor, and the chamber pot overturned. My Mary took over, but the silly woman wouldn’t settle, kept saying the baby was coming – but when Nurse Howie came back at around ten on Wednesday morning, she said there hadn’t been much change, but the bowel needed emptying, and she gave her an enema – that’s a pint of soapy water up the back end.’

‘Oh, heck!’ Tom sympathised, trying to keep a straight face. ‘And did it work?’

‘It did. There was stuff all over the bed and on the carpet. Nurse Howie cleared off, and Mary and Dora had it all to clear up. Dora sent her mother off to rest while she took over, and all the time young Mrs Yeomans was hollering that the baby was coming.’

‘And was it?’ asked Tom.

‘Yeah, twelve hours later, after another night of it. Nurse Howie came back that evening, and Sid told her he’d take Billy downstairs for a drink, while my Mary and Dora spent the night waiting on young Mrs Yeomans and the midwife. Dora refused to go to bed while her mother stayed up – and around four o’clock Nurse Howie asked her to telephone for Dr Lupton. He came and said he’d have to use forceps to get it out; they were like a bloody great pair of tongs, Dora said, and Nurse Howie sprayed chloroform onto a square of cotton wool over the woman’s nose and mouth. Lupton pulled it out just after six – a huge great thing, ten pounds on the kitchen scales. Mary made tea and toast for everybody again, and Dora went downstairs to tell Billy it was born – only he was so drunk he couldn’t get out of the armchair. The mother fell fast asleep and didn’t wake up till midday, and the baby hollered until Dora fetched the bottle
and teat, and gave it cow’s milk watered down and warmed up. They’re calling it Samuel.’

By which Tom Munday assumed that the child was a boy.

‘Well, thank God for that, Eddie,’ he said, adding musingly, ‘Thank God it didn’t happen with bombs falling all around.’

‘D’you really think it’ll come to that, then?’ Eddie clung to the belief that peace would yet prevail.

‘Well, they’re talking about digging air raid shelters, and getting the kids out of the towns before it happens.’

‘For God’s sake, Tom, we
can’t
let that tinpot dictator drag us into
war
, surely?’

‘That tinpot dictator has entered Prague. Whatever he says, Czechoslovakia is an occupied country, and he’s rounding up the Jews there for God only knows what fate.’

‘The bastard.’

For a moment Eddie Cooper’s account of baby Samuel’s birth was set aside while the two old friends contemplated an unthinkable future.

‘Oh, Mother, here’s something to take our minds off this ghastly war talk!’ Rebecca Neville exclaimed over the weekly
Everham News
. ‘Guess what’s on at the Embassy all next week – the film of
Wuthering Heights
, with somebody called Laurence Olivier and that exquisite actress Merle Oberon – we just can’t miss it. When are you free? Would Sally like to come?’

‘Is there a matinee performance?’ asked Lady Isabel, looking up from her correspondence.

‘Wednesday.’

‘That’s the Ladies’ Hour, so won’t do.’

‘Let’s go Wednesday evening, then.’

Lady Isabel took off her reading glasses. ‘Look, Becky, I don’t really want to go, it can’t possibly be as good as the book. What a pity Geoffrey Bannister isn’t staying with us.’

‘Oh, Mother! I’ll have to go with somebody else, but who? Dora Goddard will have a male escort – I know, I’ll ask that poor girl in Thomas and Gibson’s, Miss Pearson. It would do her good to get away from her mother – I’ll pop into the shop tomorrow and ask her, and won’t take no for an answer. I’ll take the old girl some flowers to sweeten her up!’

At Yeomans’ Farm the new arrival was still bawling, as Dora wearily remarked, ‘Listen, Mum, I’m taking you out on Wednesday, and Pam can jolly well take care of her baby for a change.’

‘Oh, but—’

‘No, I insist. We’ll look around Page’s and have tea at that little café by the station – and then we’ll go to the Embassy Cinema and see this film that everybody’s talking about. It’ll do you good to dress up and put some of my lipstick on – and scent!’

Mary Goddard could not resist her daughter’s orders, and was both pleased and touched.

‘I’ll wear that flower-patterned dress with the frilly front,’ she said, ‘and treat myself to a shampoo and set. Oh, I’m really looking forward to it!’

It was Dora who answered the knock on the farmhouse door on Tuesday. Howard Allingham stood there, looking apprehensive but determined.

‘Oh – Dora,’ he said with a shy smile, ‘I’m glad you’ve come to the door, as it’s you I want to see.’

‘Hallo, Howard, how are you?’ she answered in some surprise. ‘I thought you’d gone to – er – theological college.’

‘Not yet, but perhaps September if the – if the news – but I’ve come to ask if you’d like to come to the cinema in Everham tomorrow, to see this film of
Wuthering Heights
.’

‘Ah, yes, it’s supposed to be very good,’ she said, her mind working quickly. Should she just decline politely without giving a reason – or could she accept in a friendly way, without encouraging him to hope for more than friendship? Yes! She
did
know of a way.