A House Divided: An Easterleigh Hall Novel (37 page)

Potty blew on the ash of his cigar. ‘Walk with me to the tree. It seems to have the wisdom of years, which it has inherited from the one before, I suspect.'

He waited until they were there, safe beneath its branches, looking at the soft light streaming from the windows of the Hall, and listening to the music. Potty said, ‘Please God the lights do not again have to go out over Europe. I did think, for one moment, that Sir Anthony was going to confess all to the assembled company, and I'm pleased he didn't. There would then be no way back, and he's a good old cove. I am working to find a way that he can honourably face what is left of his life.'

‘Does he know he's blown?'

‘Not yet. We are using him to our advantage and I hope that in due course, when it is time to haul him in, that will serve to expiate him in his own eyes. He is clearly aware of the murky waters in which he's paddling, but we can't throw him a lifebelt yet, or we will be unable to save his name. We have to work carefully and patiently and hope to God he doesn't blow the gaff before we are ready.'

‘Using him to our advantage, you say?'

Potty laughed slightly. ‘Yes, but, dear heart, the world is short of good men.'

It was a relief to be able to talk freely with Potty. Besides, he liked the man. ‘What about me? Am I blown?' He wanted Potty to say, Yes, never go again, it's too dangerous, because he'd received a letter from his mother, wanting the original of the letter or Heine would be forced to take steps. What those were, he had no wish to know.

Potty said, ‘We're fairly sure you are safe. We did
lose our man on the ground in Berlin, but no-one seems to have made a connection with you, or registered that Dieter and Bernat were the Gerbers. We feel that it is thought they are roaming free, somewhere on the continent.'

‘So, at some stage you will be sending me to Germany again?' He barely breathed, waiting for the answer.

‘Possibly, old tosh, though I feel that the time will come when you are of more use working within Britain. There will be agents here to be turned, or exposed, such as the Lady Margarets of this world, who could take their infatuation with the master race into the realms of treason, if she has not done so already. Penny has potential also, one feels. An asset, though not in the way she would wish.'

‘She is just a young woman,' Tim protested.

‘One who is a rabid anti-Semite, who, in her own words, insists that Germany is not a dictatorship but a system that is merely simplifying democracy, to enable them to march into the East, the West and wipe the place clean of sub-humans. I quote verbatim.'

Tim objected, ‘She's a stupid young woman who hasn't seen all that we have, and is parroting her mother. You can't manipulate her in that way, it's too damned cynical.'

‘Bless you, dear boy. She has been to Berlin several times with her mother, and rather enjoys the incidents of persecution. Oh, did you not know? I have
several rather interesting photographs of her, one of which portrays her clapping when an elderly Jew is made to sweep the pavement with his hands after his shop window was heaved in by a few of Hitler's finest. I gather the cuts were rather severe. That photographic evidence is by no means the worst. What say you to that?'

Tim leaned back against the tree, his hands in his pockets. He fingered the mezuzah case. ‘Bridie would rather clean the pavements like that herself, than allow it to happen to anyone else. What's more, she'd tell them all the time what bastards they are, and get herself killed.'

Potty laughed, loud and long. ‘Oh yes, I do believe you are right. She'd be a fat lot of good in our game.' He looked up through the branches. ‘She loves you.'

Tim jerked upright. ‘What on earth makes you say that? She hates me.'

‘Of course she does. She wants you as you were, because your supposed politics make her love impossible. You are right, she's a stubborn little baggage, too honest for her own good, too strong, and in too much pain to ever be nice to you as things are. I've always had a soft spot for our Bridie, and for the whole family, come to that.' He looked at the Hall. ‘It's a special place, with special people. I hope against hope that it doesn't end up being a hospital again. Though if it does, they'll be lucky buggers, the ones that make it this far. So, for the moment, life is back to normal for you, young man.'

Tim said, ‘Almost. I have the long weekend training session north of London soon, in spycraft, or somesuch.'

‘Indeed, dear heart, but that is your normal, from now on. Be aware, it could save your life.'

‘Now, that's a thought to conjure with,' Tim murmured. They both laughed.

Life had proceeded with great calm at Easterleigh Hall over the summer, with David Weare taking much more of a role with the riding therapy and Estrella drawing closer to him. As June had turned to July, Matron and Sister Newsome seemed to finally understand that the young man was not about to have his heart broken by this young woman, who was not the flighty Jezebel they first surmised.

Bridie liked to think that it was because of her own heavy comments dropped kerplunk when the occasion allowed, but Matron had flapped her hands and told her it was because they had eyes in their heads, and had assessed the situation for themselves. It was no surprise to any of them when David Weare and Estrella Aiza announced their engagement as the sun beat down on the wheat, and the Stunted Tree shimmered in the heat.

Evie and Ver insisted that Easterleigh Hall would host the wedding reception as their gift. Aub, Richard and Harry put their heads together and offered David the position of second in command
to Bridie at the riding end of the Neave Wing. It was Bridie's suggestion, as she was finding it increasingly difficult to share both her cooking and riding duties.

‘Accommodation for the pair of them?' Bridie queried, as she walked with her parents towards Easterleigh Hall early one morning after the engagement announcement.

Her father raised his eyebrows, and sighed. ‘And you have decided – what?'

‘I've decided nothing, Da,' she laughed. ‘I just asked Matron and Sister Newsome to put their heads together to work out where the two of them can live. It's alright for our couples who come for a holiday to share a hotel room, but David and Estrella can't squash into one permanently, can they?'

‘Perhaps they're perfectly happy to squash,' her da objected.

‘Oh Da,' she sighed. ‘That's not nice.'

Her mam started to say, ‘I think it probably is n—'

Bridie held up her hand. ‘Please, don't say another word, either of you, and actually, I asked a friend of Harry's to draw up some plans to convert the far end of the third block into an apartment. That gives them some privacy but still easy access for David, as it has all the ramps and walkways. If that's alright with you, of course?'

She saw her da and mam exchange a look. Her mam said, ‘That wasn't a question, was it?'

Her da laughed. ‘Oh lordy, where have I heard all this before?' He stroked his wife's hair, as they
came to the end of the track demarcating the end of Home Farm land. Bridie looked away. He was going to kiss her mam, his love shining out like a beacon, and she felt inexplicably sad, because she was almost eighteen and most girls of her age had a beau. But the man she loved had put himself somewhere she wouldn't go.

She reached down and swept her hand through the long, dry, yellowing grass of the verge, hearing the quiet conversation her parents were having, envying the deep waters of their lives. They left behind the wheat fields, and now sheep grazed on one side, and cows on the other. Easterleigh Hall had its own pasture, its own wheat, a legacy from Uncle Richard's management of the land during the Great War. He and Harry still managed it. Overhead larks sang. She felt momentarily peaceful, as the pain of love settled, as it sometimes did.

The wedding was on 1 October 1938, just after Chamberlain had flown into Croydon Airport waving the Munich Agreement. The newspapers had quoted his words:
Peace for our time
. It seemed to Bridie that the agreement was a bribe, which gave Germany the right to reclaim the Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia in return for peace in Europe. At six in the morning, she listened to her mam and Aunt Ver as they praised the Prime Minister, while she wanted to slap him. She hurried up the stairs to the ballroom, lifting the muslin covering the wedding
cake. It was all her own work, and her mam was pleased, and so too was Mrs Moore. The glasses were ranged on a table along one wall, the buffet implements on another. The tables and chairs had yet to be arranged.

She slipped to the stables, because Fanny should have foaled yesterday but had not. Clive was in the stall. He shook his head at Bridie. ‘She always was a lazy girl.' He stroked her neck, as the bay mare guzzled her oats.

‘She looks about to pop,' James said from behind Bridie.

Clive grinned at Bridie. ‘You look pretty done in, lass.'

‘That's what comes of sleeping on a camp bed in the tack room, and waking every hour to check on the old bag. Her teats are waxed up, so she's thinking about labour.' Bridie leaned on the open stable door, listening to the chomping, the swish of the tail, the neigh from another stall. She called, ‘Alright Terry, we love you too, but you're not about to heave out a foal, so stop fussing.'

James came alongside. ‘How are we going to do the stable shifts during the wedding?'

Bridie snatched a look at Clive, and said, ‘Clive's here during the service. You'll be here for the first two hours, then David's taking the next shift.'

James gripped her arm. ‘You can't, not the groom, not even you can do that.'

Clive burst out laughing, and Bridie shook her
head at him. ‘Ah, he's so easy, Clive. Just so very easy. No, then it's me, then it's you, and then – oh, have a look at the schedule. I have the canapés to check, the vol-au-vent cases to bake, the . . .'

James backed away, his hands up. ‘Fine, I've got it. I'll come with you, because I'm on furniture moving duty in the ballroom.'

They headed across the yard, James muttering, ‘Not sure about Chamberlain's damned bit of paper. We should be standing up to Hitler, not creeping around, playing nice. Everyone's forgotten what's happened in Spain, if they ever think about it at all. All that practising. I gather the International Brigade is leaving, now that Franco's won.'

The easterly wind was its usual cold self and Bridie pulled her cardigan around her. James continued, ‘At least I found Archie Leadbetter's address before the recruitment office closed, so I was able to write to his parents. They were pleased to know he didn't suffer. But I bet he bloody did.'

They headed down the steps. He said, ‘You're quiet?'

‘What can I say, when it's all a damned great bloody mess?'

They entered the kitchen and the dogs came for their stroke. She picked up Currant, while James lifted Raisin. Mrs Moore was making puff pastry. ‘Not sure about not knowing what to say, bonny lass. You're right, it's a mess, right enough, and I don't believe a word that nasty little man Hitler says, and
Chamberlain is a pushover. But the buffet is not about to make itself, so apron on, hands washed and get at it. James, you're wanted upstairs. Tim is helping too, and shouldn't you be at university, anyway? It's no good to keep putting it off.'

James disappeared out of the door. Mrs Moore and Bridie looked at one another. Bridie put Currant down on the armchair, and shrugged. ‘I don't know what his plans are, but Da is glad of his help for now.'

Mr and Mrs Weare and the rest of David's family and friends were in their pews, though Estrella's weren't, of course, because they'd been killed. Bridie shut off her mind. She sat at the back with her mother, Annie and Aunt Ver, because they all had to scoot off early, to put a dollop of creamy cucumber and dill on a third of the canapés, smooth pâté on another third, and soft cheese on the remainder. While they did this, Harry and Mr Harvey would sort the champagne. This would keep the ravening hordes quiet while the photographs were taken.

Just for once, it seemed, Edward was not wearing bicycle clips as he waited for the bride. James whispered, ‘Perhaps Aunt Gracie's had a word with him?'

Bridie laughed quietly as the organ struck up the wedding march. Her da was giving the bride away, and Maria and Helen, the housekeeper, had helped to make the wedding dress. Estrella looked quite beautiful as Aub walked her down the aisle to join David, who was waiting in his wheelchair. Edward
had suggested the couple should sit, and a chair was arranged for Estrella. Edward sat, as well. Bridie thought that was one of the most gracious gestures she had ever known, and typical of Edward.

It was one that Dr Nicholls would have appreciated, but he was unwell, and Matron had confined him, not to his house, but to the Neave Wing, as it was his spiritual home, she had confided in Gracie, now his wife was long gone. So here he would remain, to be a bloody nuisance, Matron announced. Bridie smiled fondly. He was so lovely, but so old. Sister Newsome had stipulated that a new doctor must be found, because it was too much for the silly old fool.

Halfway through the service, the door clicked open and Potty entered, bringing with him a possible replacement for Dr Nicholls. Or so he had written to Evie, who he considered General Brampton of the Easterleigh Hall hotel army. Bridie, her mother and aunt, Annie and Mrs Moore craned round, James too. Potty directed a couple who looked to be in their late thirties, thin but neatly dressed, she in a modest felt hat, into the row in front of the Easterleigh Hall women. He waggled his fingers at them, murmuring, ‘Morning, dear hearts, so sorry to be late. Trains, trains, don't let's even think of them.' They sat.

Bridie saw her mother look at Aunt Ver, and smile. That was the doctor sorted, then, Bridie assumed, grinning again.