A House Divided: An Easterleigh Hall Novel (38 page)

After the photographs, more canapés were served, and more champagne. James took his shift at the stables, taking a plate heaped with chicken, quiche, fresh rolls, salmon, and heaven knows what, plus a bottle of wine. Bridie saw Uncle Richard take the bottle away and pour him a glass, grinning. James laughed. She heard him say, ‘Worth a try.'

Uncle Richard said, ‘Not while you're looking after Fanny, if you please.'

While the waitresses busied themselves, Bridie and her mam circulated, as did the rest of the family. Mrs Moore was chatting to Edward, as Bridie skirted around Lady Margaret, Penny and Sir Anthony. Lady Margaret had been invited because she and her daughter were spending a week with Sir Anthony at Searton, his estate near Washington. Aunt Ver said that at every wedding there was a cross to bear. Indeed, she thought, as she heard the wretched woman say, ‘So wonderful that the Führer has gathered up more
Lebensraum
, and quite right too. He's neutralised Britain, as well. Clever ma—' She stopped as she saw Bridie. ‘Hello, Bridie. Your course did you good. These canapés are an improvement on the others. Shame you didn't stay till the end.'

Bridie flushed, and moved on. She joined her mother, who was talking to Potty. ‘Charming couple,' he was saying. ‘Dr Gerber practised medicine until it became too – what shall we say – difficult, and he lost his patients. So here they are, in need of a calling,
and in need of a home. Naturally I thought of the Neave Wing, and my heart sang when I heard dear Dr Nicholls was at last hanging up his hat.'

‘Oh,' Bridie said, ‘he only decided a couple of days ago. Have you a direct line to our doings?'

It was a joke, but Potty looked flustered. ‘No, not at all. I can't think how I heard. Perhaps I bumped into Sir Anthony at the club.'

Evie was frowning at Bridie, her expression saying, will you
please
be quiet. She took Potty by the arm, leading him away. ‘Let's have a chat, and we'll bring Matron and Sister Newsome in on it, shall we? Now is as good a time as any before Matron throws her hat over the windmill and misbehaves.'

Colonel Potter guffawed, ‘That'll be a sight for sore eyes.'

Matron was already talking to the doctor. Bridie checked her watch. It would be time for her shift in an hour.

Uncle Jack was chatting to David and Estrella, who sat at one of the circular tables, and at that point Harry declared the buffet open. A swarm of bees came to mind, as the waitresses brought a selection of food to the bride and groom. Soon all the guests were taking their places, and now she saw that Tim had arrived, and her heart jolted, and then twisted as he walked to Sir Anthony. They shook hands; he kissed Lady Margaret and Penny as they waited to choose from the buffet. He looked up, and saw her watching. He waved. She made herself
return it, before checking her watch again. Damn, she had another half an hour of this.

Tim looked around the room, and his mam came and talked to him, slipping her arm in his. Tim kissed her cheek, his face alight with pleasure. His father came too, then, and the men hugged. Though they had healed the breach, her own parents had not, nor the marras, because they merely nodded or waved from a distance. Silently Bridie applauded.

Tim was now nodding to Potty, who was ensconced with Sister Newsome. Potty nodded in return, briefly. Bridie saw Dr Gerber, who was sitting at the table with Potty and Matron, half rise when he saw Tim, recognition on his face, until his wife said something. He sat down immediately, his head bowed. His wife whispered to him, annoyed. Matron and Potty continued talking, or rather, Matron talked, and Potty listened.

Bridie looked from their table, to Tim. The doctor was German, she knew that much. Tim was a fascist who spent time with Nazis. Do the sums, Bridie, she told herself, and left the reception. It wasn't time for her shift, but she needed some air and something normal, so she joined James in the stall, in all her finery, wondering if Dr Gerber was a Nazi.

Fanny was calm, looking at them as though they were intruding, much as Marigold used to. There were two stools in the corner; James was sitting on one, and his lunch was on the other.

‘Typical,' she said, plonking the plate on top of the newspaper on his lap.

‘I'm just feeding the inner man,' he muttered, rescuing his paper. ‘What are you doing here? You have another, er . . .' He checked his watch. ‘Twenty-one minutes precisely.'

‘I needed a break.'

He was reading about the Munich Agreement. She sat back as James folded the newspaper and handed it to her. ‘Have a read, it passes the time, though she's been a tad restless. Clive looks in every half-hour, so if she starts, don't worry.' He stretched out his legs. ‘I've made a decision,' he announced. ‘I'm joining the Royal Air Force, and not bothering with university.'

She saw he was watching her, but what did he expect her to say? She said what she thought, ‘Why? We're not at war. Peace in our time, remember.'

She waved the newspaper at him. He said, ‘You don't believe that any more than I do. Because I want to be ready to do something, is why. Also, if there is no war, I was looking at the photograph of Chamberlain, with the aeroplane behind him. I think a passenger service will be the way to get around very soon, and if it is, we have land here, enough for an airfield. We could buy planes, and I could fly people to London, or even Paris.'

She was impressed, and surprised. ‘It would be the best of both worlds, still at Easterleigh, but going everywhere else as well. You'll need food for the
journey. I could cook it.' Fanny was becoming restless, as James had said, but that might not mean anything. However, Bridie kept an eye on her as she enthused. She forgot there was a future sometimes. ‘You could fly guests to us, as part of the price of their holiday here. Or pick up the disabled – but how would we get them in the plane?'

James put up his hands in surrender. ‘A ramp, I suppose. But keep quiet about it, as I need to learn the ropes first, and I might not get accepted.'

Bridie shook her head. ‘Oh no, I'm not going to be the only one to know, again. It got me into enough trouble before. You tell everyone, if you don't mind.'

‘What trouble is that?' Uncle Richard asked. He was standing at the entrance to the stable.

Bridie just looked at James. ‘Your turn, I believe.'

She checked Fanny again, who had settled a bit, so she buried her head in the newspaper as James heaved himself off the stool and left, taking his father with him. Good luck with that, she thought, as she read about the Tory MPs who objected to the agreement, which was, they felt, nothing short of dishonourable appeasement. She was glad she was not alone in her thoughts. Part of her understood, however, because the old were so scared of war after the last one.

Fanny was restless again, looking around at her flanks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Bridie went to her, stroked her neck. The mare was sweating. ‘Poor baby,' she murmured.

Tim said, ‘And so it begins.'

She didn't turn, just wondered how long he'd been there, and now her heart was beating faster. Keeping her voice level, she said, ‘Yes, Clive will be here soon.'

‘I saw him, and said I'd do his check for him.'

‘How dare you give him orders?'

‘It wasn't an order, it was an offer, so keep your hair on, Bridie, which looks wonderful, I have to say.'

‘Well don't.'

Fanny moved from one hind leg to the other.

‘Alright, I won't, but let Clive have his drink, the poor beggar. Fanny seems to be progressing.'

Bridie wouldn't look at him as she stroked Fanny's neck, but the mare tossed her head.

Tim called, ‘I think she wants to be alone.'

Bridie knew the feeling and left the stall, leaning on the top of the stable door next to him. ‘Don't we all,' she said.

He laughed, and suddenly she was laughing too. They stood together watching the mare. He asked, ‘Are you calling Bertram?'

‘No, it's early yet, and I doubt she needs a vet. She's done it before and they slip out. Surely you remember?' She looked at him now, loving his high-boned cheeks, his dark eyes, the lashes that were almost longer than hers, his chestnut hair with the red glint.

He nodded, ‘Of course I remember. I remember all the years, Bridie. What about the apples we
scrumped from Old Froggett? You got stuck up the tree, and James and I had to create a diversion.'

She wanted to laugh but couldn't, because too much time had passed, and he was who he was. She replied, ‘Yes, I remember. You threw apples at him, and he called, “You little beggars, I know who you are, and if you think I'm running after you, you've another think coming. And you, Bridie, get yourself down, and try explaining that rip in your dress to your mam. That'll be punishment enough.” ' She had remembered it word for word.

Tim said, ‘What did your mam do?'

‘Spanked me. So I wore my jodhpurs after that. I thought you said you remembered everything?'

‘Well, I clearly lied.'

For a moment there was an easy silence, broken by Penny calling, ‘Good heavens, this is where you are. Come along, Tim, we need to discuss our anticipated meeting in Berlin. Mother and I so enjoyed our last trip. Don't be a spoilsport and say you're too busy again.'

Tim moved closer to Bridie, whispering, ‘I want to tell you something, but I can't.'

She shook her head. ‘I don't want to hear anything from you, do you understand?' She heard him leave, and smug-face's laugh.

James was watching from the path to the Neave Wing. His heart actually hurt when he heard them talk, then lifted when Penny came. But he had seen
from the slump in Tim's shoulders, and the backward look, that his feelings matched Bridie's.

His father had said that he must spend time thinking carefully about the RAF. Well, he just had, and tomorrow he would see if they would accept him. He'd tell his parents of his decision, but not why. Well, not the deep reason, but how could he stay here, when he loved someone so much, and she didn't love him? The trouble was, he couldn't hate either of them. He loved them both. He always had and always would.

Sir Anthony sat at the end of the table. He had arranged a celebratory Peace Club Munich Agreement dinner in Newcastle with the usual guests. Tim thought him pale and preoccupied as Penny regaled them with her experiences of Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass in Germany, when Jewish businesses and homes were attacked and windows broken. She applauded the subsequent arrest of tens of thousands of Jewish men for the crime of being Jewish, who were then sent to concentration camps to meet up with their compatriots already in situ there. Some Jewish women were also arrested and sent to local jails; the few properties remaining in Jewish hands were confiscated. She laughed, waving her hands. ‘It's just like house cleaning really.'

Sir Edgers tapped the table. ‘Here, here,' he said. His wife clapped.

Tim stared at his food, unable to eat, such was his disgust.

Sir Anthony made no comment, but instead voiced
his relief at October's Munich Agreement and the hopes for peace.

Lady Margaret added, ‘So clever of Herr Hitler.'

They lifted their glasses, even Tim, but he wouldn't let the wine touch his lips – though what on earth difference that made to the price of fish, he had no idea. Sir Anthony drank as though parched.

Later Tim wrote his report to Potty, including every conversation of interest Tim had with any member of the party. It made interesting reading, he was sure, especially the sections on Sir and Lady Edgers. He asked if Potty had any more information on Heine's roots, so that when he returned to Berlin, he would have a weapon if Heine ever suspected him of anything.

Tim visited Berlin again in early December, to test the ground and confirm whether Herr Bauer's initial report to Potty, following the Gerbers' escape, still remained accurate, and Tim was indeed under no suspicion.

On his arrival in Berlin, he remembered his training, checking reflections in shop windows as he passed. He jumped on and off trams, doubling back on himself. No-one was following him, and when they had the whole of the Sudeten to sort out, why would they bother about the escape of one Jewish couple? Tim relaxed an iota, but remained vigilant.

He still refused to deliver the original of the letter to Millie and Heine, explaining that he was
vulnerable, that he needed the security of it. He insisted that he was repaying his obligation to Heine by carrying packages. He said, ‘As long as I am safe, then so are you, Heine. Not only that, but you are now in the SD, and that is only because I am honouring my word and maintaining my promise not to reveal the letter. Take it or leave it, but if you leave it, then there are instructions for the letter to be published. Remember you are guilty by association.'

He sounded much tougher than he felt.

He then presented Heine with yet another package from Sir Anthony and changed for dinner. He had been told that Otto, Bruno and Hans were to be joining them; the three men, like Heine, were all now in the SD, the intelligence branch.

As the coffee and cognac were served, after Millie had left the room, the discussion strayed to a trip the men were taking to Austria the next day. Otto slapped Tim's arm. ‘It is something that would interest you, young Tim. A trip to see our partner. Something to tell your fascist friends, to reassure them of the importance of the cause.'

Heine's eyes were cold, but he nodded, and Tim smiled. What else could either of them do in the presence of the other three SD personnel? As he lay sleepless in bed that night, Tim could imagine Potty licking his lips, while his own were dry from nervousness.

The next morning Heine, in the company of Bruno,
Hans and Otto, drove him into Austria, along snowy roads, the windscreen wipers swishing relentlessly. All four, he gathered, would be working on collating and ‘obtaining' information for their department, a department that was never named. They spent a week in Vienna, building up their dossiers, while he strolled the streets, despite the cold, beneath the Nazi flags and banners already hanging from the buildings.