Songs of Spring (23 page)

At the end of this war she had one son dead, the other maimed, that was what she was reflecting on. Once, it had seemed vital to have an heir to carry on the estate. It did so no longer, and, though Daniel would inherit, he would not have children. Once, that too would have been a crushing blow. Now it seemed irrelevant, for just to have Daniel was enough. Once, it had seemed important that Caroline Lilley was not the stuff from which squires’ ladies were made, despite her capabilities in other fields. Now it
was irrelevant, and Reggie was dead anyway. Maud briefly wondered whether she had been right to force her views about Caroline on Reggie. She did not know, but it had seemed right at the time.

Perhaps the Rector had in mind, also, that she was here alone. There was no one with whom she could mark the end of the war – or was there? She hesitated as an idea came to her. It would go against everything she had lived for, and yet the impulse for company, for unity, was overpowering. She pulled the bellrope, but there was no reply. She was about to do so again, when the obvious reason for the lack of service belatedly occurred to her. She rose to her feet, and walked steadily into the servants’ quarters from where there was much noise of merrymaking. Here she was a stranger in her own house. Her butler, her cook and the three maids were involved in a wild dance of some sort, accompanied by a tinny gramophone, and they were celebrating with mugs of tea clutched perilously in their free hands.

Maud cleared her throat. ‘I wonder …’ she asked almost humbly, ‘if I might join you for a few moments?’

An aghast silence followed for they had not heard her come in. It was Mrs Coombs recovered first. ‘Certainly, madam. May I pour you a cup of tea?’

‘That is kind. However, I believe that now the war is over, it would not be unpatriotic to open the cellar door once more. I recall there are at least two bottles of champagne left. That might suffice.’

They looked at her, Maud thought wryly as her butler scuttled to unlock the door, as though the world had come to an end. But it hadn’t. It had begun again and now would
start the long uphill task of rebuilding. Today was a time to rejoice that the slaughter was over, but tomorrow the cost and the grief must be faced.

‘And lastly, Lord, we pray for the soul of our daughter Isabel, who lies side by side with the fallen on the field, for her husband, Robert, in his prison camp, and’ – as Laurence’s voice broke – ‘for our dear daughter Caroline and the hard path ahead of her …’

How odd to be doing this once more, Caroline thought dizzily, as she clung hard to Luke on the one side and Yves on the other, as they were swept along by the crowd with one common aim: to reach the Palace. The last time she had done this was in August 1914 when Reggie – to her mingled horror and pride – had volunteered, and with him she had joined the crowds outside the Palace the night war was declared, as Britain’s ultimatum to Germany passed its deadline. That had been a sombre occasion, but one sound was the same as today: ‘God Save the King’. And King George deserved to be saved. He had done a splendid job of leadership throughout the war, an inspiration to those at home as well as in the trenches. He had led the country in so many ways, not least by signing the pledge and locking the cellars at the Palace. It was said that Buckingham Palace lived on the same rations as any of their subjects. The King had travelled to the front many times, and toured hospitals here and abroad. Queen Mary, too, had indefatigably made her own war effort, opening canteens, creating war organisations and organising their own allotments for growing vegetables, and encouraging her family to do the same.

The King had already appeared once on the balcony, but the crowds were growing thicker all the time and he must surely emerge once more. It was November, not August as on that earlier occasion, but no one noticed the cold as they waited. Just before one o’clock His Majesty came out again with Queen Mary and his daughter, and the crowd roared its approval, after he had spoken a few words.

‘Look!’ Caroline clutched Yves’ arm. ‘The Queen’s waving a
flag
!’

For some reason this idiotically small detail seemed significant, and the crowd seemed to agree because they roared their appreciation. The Queen was usually so stately and forbidding, yet here she was like anyone else, waving a flag in happiness. She was human after all. The crowd approved of their monarchs, as the Belgians did of King Albert and Queen Elisabeth. Tomorrow, Caroline realised, she must face her own problems again, but today it was wonderful to lose herself in the unity of the crowd around her which took on a character of its own, independent of the individuals composing it.

They returned reluctantly to the office that afternoon, but work had no momentum, as outside the noise of celebration increased rather than decreased. There was one fine moment when over the noise of the crowd came a familiar sound.

‘Listen,’ said Yves, ‘what’s that?’

Caroline did listen. ‘It’s
Big Ben
,’ she cried joyously. It had been muzzled for so long. Yves had probably never heard it before, but now its boom rang out once more and that, even more than the maroons, signalled that peace was here. Just as it finished striking the hour, Tilly telephoned
to ask what plans she and Yves had for the evening.

‘Plans?’ Caroline echoed, nonplussed. She glanced at Yves, realising the evening might present a nightmare of discussion on their future – or lack of it.

‘Billy’s playing at Stratford this evening. I’m taking Phoebe in an ambulance, and we’re proposing to make it a family party. You’re coming, Yves, Penelope, Felicia—’

‘Me,’ Luke chipped in on the extension.

A second’s pause, then, ‘Of course, but—’

‘Settled.’ Luke hung up.

‘Be advised, bring a picnic,’ Tilly said briskly. A glow of pleasure ran through Caroline. The perfect way to spend the evening.

‘I don’t see the need for an ambulance,’ she commented. ‘Phoebe’s perfectly well. A taxi—’

She was interrupted by hoots of laughter from Luke and Yves. ‘Caroline, my love,’ Yves explained, ‘the crowds are thick now, tonight they will be thicker.’

‘And drunker,’ Luke added.

‘And – er – lustier.’ Yves was straight-faced.

‘
Lustier?
’

‘Tilly obviously realises there will be sights that no well-brought-up rector’s daughters should view.’

‘Don’t be pompous, Yves.’ Caroline hurled her chair cushion at him, and he shook his head sadly.

‘I am your superior officer. Kindly salute when you throw things at me.’

Underneath the banter lay the tension, however, and Caroline was relieved that the evening would provide another escape, however brief.

In the event, not one but two ambulances arrived at Queen Anne’s Gate, one driven by Tilly, the other by Felicia.

‘How did you manage
that
?’ Caroline enquired.

‘On the grounds that a poor disabled soldier needed one, as well as Phoebe,’ Daniel yelled from the back, and Caroline realised the reason for Tilly’s odd pause on the telephone.

‘Do you mind Daniel being here?’ she asked Luke, concerned.

‘Tonight, no,’ Luke replied magnanimously. ‘She has two arms, we’ll each take one, and march her into the theatre.’

For all his joking, Caroline conceded Yves had a point about the crowds. The darkness of a November evening had turned the happy crowd into a potential mob. Through the small windows of the ambulance it was obvious that drink was indeed adding its influence to the celebrations, and there seemed to be embracing couples everywhere. Even so, there was a frenetic, almost sinister quality in the air, in people’s relentless search for an adequate expression of relief, and she was glad she was inside the ambulance and not outside.

Billy had secured them a large box at the theatre, and miraculously some chicken for supper to add to their individual picnic celebrations, and joined them during the interval. He had brought the house down with his reiteration of the traditional ‘Mafeking has been relieved’ announcement, quickly followed by a correction, ‘
Mons
has been relieved’. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Canadian and British troops entered Mons today.’ Mons was where the war had in practice begun for the British Expeditionary Force, and it was on his way there that Daniel had been
wounded. Caroline glanced at him to see if he was upset by this reminder, but he winked at her.

‘That’s in remembrance of me,’ he whispered, and added even more quietly, ‘and all the other poor devils.’

Caroline said very little during the picnic, content just to enjoy being with so many she loved. It was not only she and Yves who had problems to face; they all did in some way. At the very least readjustment would not be easy. Take Penelope, for example. Penelope was always popular with men, but somehow she never met anyone, she had once confided to her, for whom she felt
love
. Perhaps it was her strong personality that made her seek something hard to find among the men of her acquaintance. Caroline remembered how jealous she had been of Penelope when she had been Reggie’s girlfriend – until she rejected him. Since then, Caroline had seen Penelope with many escorts; she was cheerful, friendly – but not in love with them.

‘What will you do?’ Caroline asked her now.

‘No idea. Start a driving school, perhaps. Organising seems to be the only thing I’m good at.’ Penelope spoke lightly but Caroline detected a tinge of bitterness. ‘At least,’ Penelope added, ‘you never say I’ll meet some nice young man and settle down. Nice young men don’t want to settle down with rackety women like me, even if I am an earl’s daughter. Earls’ daughters are expected to come out and then go straight back. That means back into their traditional role, ladies-in-waiting for marriage.’

‘I didn’t,’ Tilly observed amiably.

‘No,’ Penelope agreed fervently. ‘You’re my inspiration. I could go into politics, I suppose,’ she added. ‘That’s if
parliament ever gets round to allowing women to stand.’

‘You can have my seat in the Lords,’ her father said generously. ‘I don’t think my dear brother would like that.’ James would be returning from the East with his regiment soon.

‘Marry one of those Labour fellows,’ Billy suggested wickedly.

Penelope rose to the bait. ‘I don’t have to marry anyone. I would stand in my own right.’

‘You’re not old enough yet.’

‘True, but it won’t be that long, and in any case I won’t marry.’

‘Why not?’ Felicia asked, genuinely interested.

Maybe it was the champagne talking, or maybe it was because it was Felicia asking, but Penelope revealed that in fact she
had
met someone. ‘Unfortunately,’ she added briskly, ‘he’s not free, as they say. Pa disapproves, don’t you, you fusty old grumpy?’

‘No,’ Simon replied amiably. ‘Not if it’s what you want.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ Penelope said. ‘He has a child, too, so that’s that. Anyway, he’s never even cast an admiring look at my eyelashes. No, we have to remember there’s a brave new world out there awaiting us women, especially me, Caroline, and Tilly.’

‘Not me?’ enquired Felicia.

‘No, darling, your path is fixed.’

Felicia gave her a black look and Simon quickly intervened. ‘That brave new world is going to be your father so far as one of you is concerned.’

‘Me?’ Tilly enquired.

‘The war is over, it’s high time you made up your mind.’

‘Very well,’ Tilly said amiably, attacking her chicken leg with gusto, ‘I will marry you.’

‘I knew it –
what
did you say?’ Simon looked astounded.

‘I said yes. With conditions.’

‘Naturally.’ Simon recovered his sangfroid with some difficulty.

‘I’m sure they include complete independence of house and husband. I assume you’re only marrying me so you don’t have to return to your esteemed mother’s roof in Dover.’

Was there a slight note of interrogation in his voice? Caroline wondered, highly amused.

‘No, I’m not. One condition is that I can put myself forward for parliament as soon as they get the bill through, which I gather may be quickly. I
am
old enough.’

‘Agreed.’

‘The other is that I can drive your Rolls-Royce.’

‘Also agreed. It will save me paying for a chauffeur.’

‘And moreover,’ Tilly glared, ‘I wish you to know I’m marrying you because I love you.’

Caroline was still getting over the shock of Tilly’s acceptance, as indeed Simon himself seemed to be. Yves had a smile on his face that seemed glued to it, Felicia was hugging Tilly, Phoebe was giggling, and Billy was roaring out the music-hall song: ‘They hadn’t been married but a month or more …’

‘Splendid,’ Penelope said happily. ‘I can leave Pa and set up on my own. Thank you, darling Tilly.’

‘Felicia,’ Luke began hopefully.

‘No!’ Felicia banged her fist on the table, and Daniel laughed. ‘Will you both stop eyeing me like vultures? I know the war’s over, but this evening is Tilly’s. I haven’t had a chance to think, and anyway my work hasn’t ended because the war has.’

Daniel said nothing, Caroline noted, but Luke replied amiably: ‘I’ll give you until Christmas. And if you say no, I’ll marry Penelope.’

‘How good of you,’ Penelope murmured. ‘Do I have a say in the matter?’

The mention of Christmas struck home for Caroline. This was the Christmas she had hoped to spend at the Rectory with Yves. This was the Christmas there would now be happiness and rejoicing in every home, but not in her heart. By then, the sword of Damocles that had been swaying over her head for so long, would surely have fallen, and cleaved her heart in two.

Even Mrs Lilley was looking a little brighter now the war was over, and it had certainly dispelled the usual November glooms. Not so much as Mrs Phoebe’s baby would have done. Funny that. Fancy her being six weeks out in her reckoning. Ah well, arithmetic was never Mrs Phoebe’s strong point. When Mrs Lilley came back from London and told her you could have knocked her down with a feather, she was so surprised, and whether it had anything to do with it or not, the Rector had been gloomy for days.

Still, that was all over now, along with the war. Even the shortages seemed easier to bear, now they knew everything would soon be back to normal. Margaret thought with
pleasure that it was time to be thinking of Christmas, now they were all perking up like little birds after a storm. She wondered how many there would be at the Rectory. Perhaps Sir John might be asked to get them a chicken, if not a turkey. Or a grouse, maybe. Margaret’s mouth began to water at the thought. She supposed she should do one last major Food Economy demonstration on Christmas fare. With a sigh, she realised everything was about to fall in place again, just as it always had.