Henrietta's War (8 page)

Faith wrote from London that thick silk tailored ones of the night-shirt variety were considered suitable, so I bought some material.

I was engaged upon this seemly task last Thursday evening, and Charles was reading an Anthony Trollope novel as an antidote to the nine o'clock news, when the telephone rang.

I answered it, expecting the usual message about aches and pains, and heard Bill's voice.

‘Everything went black,' as they say in books, but it really was Bill, and in a hurry because his train was just leaving. I rushed back and knocked over a small table with coffee cups on it.

Charles looked up with a serene Trollope-ish expression on his face and said, ‘My dear girl, what are you doing?'

‘Bill's back!' I said, in a high, shrill voice.

‘Good,' said Charles.

‘He telephoned from a station. He's not wounded. He's coming home to-morrow.'

‘Good,' said Charles again, and returned to
Barchester
Towers
. And you'd hardly think he had been worrying ceaselessly about a son at Dunkirk, would you? But he had.

Bill has been home four days now. The first three he spent sleeping, but on the fourth he went down the town and got his hair cut, and then came home and said he wanted to go up to the Tennis Club.

The club was looking its best. Little tables with orange table-cloths were out on the terrace. The tennis courts were sadly empty, but all the bowling greens were in use, and so were the croquet lawns for, believe me or not, Robert, we are having a Croquet Tournament.

‘This,' said Bill, with a happy sigh, ‘is perfect.'

We ate our tea in dreamy silence, listening to the click of croquet balls, and the shouts of them that triumphed on the bowling green came faintly from the other side of the hedge.

The first three he spent sleeping

‘Quite, quite perfect,' said Bill. ‘Never stop playing croquet, will you? This is what we want to come back to.'

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

HENRIETTA

July 3, 1940

M
Y DEAR ROBERT
I picked up a paper this morning, and read a cheery little article which said that if you are caught in an air raid while out in the street, the best thing to do is to throw yourself into the nearest doorway and lie on the ground with your feet towards the street, and put a piece of indiarubber between your teeth to prevent your ear-drums from bursting.

I read this in a detached sort of way, and decided that I would carry a piece of indiarubber about in my pocket in case of need. And then, suddenly, the sheer incredibility of this war struck me, as it does all of us from time to time, like a blow. That we, with our electric light and wireless and Technicolor films, should have to throw ourselves into doorways with indiarubber between our teeth seemed just too madly fantastic, as well as undignified.

But now I am talking about the war, and that is what I promised you I wouldn't do, so I will tell you about the dog which has been evacuated upon Lady B. It is the size of a large rat, and has long, silky hair covering it all over, so that it is not until you look closely at it and meet a bright, knowing eye peering at you through the tangle that you
know which end is which.

Lady B, whose friend did not specify the breed in the telegram announcing the animal's arrival, made up her mind it would be a Dalmatian, and was bitterly disappointed at first, but has now succumbed to the creature's undoubted charm.

Its name is Fay, and though small, it is extremely fierce and autocratic, and drags Lady B about on a lead. The sight of them out together has cheered everybody up.

‘Now, now,' says Lady B, ‘don't drag me over.'

‘This dog is a regular Hitler!'

Yesterday she wanted to go to the shops, and Fay wanted to go to the Parade, where she puts it across big with all the local dogs. There was a long struggle, and I thought at one time that Lady B was going to be defeated, but she won in the end.

‘This dog is a regular Hitler!' said Lady B.

She says that now she has Fay, she is no longer frightened of parachute troops, and has not slept with such a sense of security since her husband died.

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

HENRIETTA

July 17, 1940

M
Y DEAR ROBERT
However brave I try to be, and however carefully I forge myself armour to keep the Bogies at bay, there are times when it seems to disintegrate, and I suddenly find myself exposed and defenceless and drowning in dark waters. I had one of these bouts on Wednesday, and didn't enjoy it.

I was walking on the cliff path listening to the frightening noises our own soldiers make when Colonel Simpkins came up.

‘Good morning, Henrietta. Have you got your gas-mask?'

‘No.'

‘Have you got your identity card?'

‘No.'

In his Special Constable's uniform, Colonel Simpkins looked at me and sighed.

‘Colonel Simpkins,' I said, ‘what exactly are the soldiers doing?'

‘Now, there's no need for you to worry about that sort of thing,' he said soothingly, patting me on the shoulder. Then, his field-glasses trained on the horizon, he went on his way.

Presently Lady B and Mrs Savernack came by and sat themselves down, one on each side of me.

‘What's the matter, Henrietta?' said Mrs Savernack. ‘You look like a sick monkey.'

‘I think,' I said, ‘that the “there-there-little-woman” attitude adopted by the Special Constables does little to inspire confidence.'

‘Damned old fools!' said Mrs Savernack. ‘I suppose they think we're afraid.'

‘But I am afraid,' I said.

Lady B and Mrs Savernack turned blank faces towards me. ‘
Henrietta
!' they said in shocked tones.

‘Yes, I am,' I said stubbornly. ‘I wasn't afraid yesterday, and I hope I shan't be afraid to-morrow, but to-day I am paralysed with fear.'

‘What you want is a drink,' said Lady B.

‘Aren't you ever frightened?' I said, looking at their round, placid faces with astonishment.

‘Well, yes, of course I'm frightened,' said Lady B. ‘Nobody wants to be blown sky-high; but not paralysed with fear, I am glad to say.'

‘If they hadn't taken away my guns, I should be
perfectly
happy,' said Mrs Savernack angrily. ‘From my bedroom window I could have picked them off as they came up the beach as easy as winking. It makes me sick, it really makes me
sick
!'

‘I was thinking to-day,' said Lady B dreamily, ‘that if all we useless old women lined up on the beach, each of us with a large stone in her hand, we might do a lot of damage.'

‘The only time I saw you try to throw a stone, Julia, it went over your shoulder behind you,' said Mrs Savernack. ‘Then I would have to stand with my back towards the Germans,' said Lady B comfortably.

Mrs Savernack got up. ‘Well, I must go,' she said with a sigh. ‘I'm due at the Bee. But it's dull work just turning the handle of a sewing-machine when you'd like to be at a machine-gun.'

‘What about that drink, Henrietta?' said Lady B kindly; but I shook my head.

‘You're too thin,' said Mrs Savernack, not for the first time. ‘If you had some padding, your nerves would be better.'

I watched them walk away, and reflected that Charles was probably right when he said that it was the old women of Britain who will break Hitler's heart in the end.

The old women of Britain who will break Hitler's heart in the end

Always your affectionate Childhood's Friend,

HENRIETTA

July 24, 1940

M
Y DEAR ROBERT
Our Summer Visitors are with us once more. We are resigned to them coming down every year and cluttering up the place, putting up the prices in the shops, parking their cars in front of our garden-gates, keeping us awake at nights with moonlight picnics on the beach, and wearing trousers when nature designed them for skirts.

We have even schooled ourselves to withstand, without flinching, the patronising attitude they adopt towards us – poor, simple yokels that we are.