The Wheel of Fortune (130 page)

Again and again I toyed with the idea of applying for an exemption from the services so that I could devote myself to reorganizing my land to produce the maximum amount of food, and if I’d been Thomas, who was thirty-two, I might have got away with it. But I was twenty and prime material for cannon fodder. I didn’t think I’d get away with it, and whether I did or not everyone was certain to look at me askance and I couldn’t stand the thought of collecting enough white feathers to stuff a pillow. Pacifists like Kester were in a different boat. They had the excuse of their moral principles. I had no excuse except a juvenile and selfish desire to stay at home. No, I had to fight, no choice, but Christ, what a nightmare it was. Meanwhile Thomas, whom everyone expected to join the Home Guard and stay on the land, was lusting to enlist in the army and go overseas. Typical. What an irony.

I was diverted from this tortuous and morbid state of mind by the arrival of my son at the end of October. By a miracle everything was ready in time for him—nursery, nappies, nanny, the lot. My father, who was becoming almost softhearted, had given me the money to employ a nanny instead of a mere nursemaid because he said he didn’t think Bella realized how tiring newborn babies could be.

There spoke the voice of experience. My father had begotten seven children—eight if one counted my brother John who had died at birth in 1917—and the memory of Bronwen sweating away in the nurseries at Penhale was no doubt permanently engraved on his mind. If he said newborn babies could be tiring even for an enthusiastic mother like Bella, I had no doubt he was right.

This one was tiring. It was pink, bald and aggressive with powerful lungs. Bella soon got over her disappointment that the baby wasn’t a girl and within hours was telling me joyfully that it was really much better that we started off with a son and heir. I agreed. I had found this hankering to replace Melody both morbid and embarrassing, so I was delighted to have a baby who couldn’t merely be written off as a replacement. In fact I was so delighted with this tangible evidence of my successful relationship with my wife that I spent much time drinking champagne and distributing largesse among the servants.

Bella said he had to be called Henry after me, and fancying the idea of a namesake I agreed. But I loathe the name Henry. I’m not keen on Harry either, but at least it’s livelier. “Henry Godwin” sounds like an antiquarian bachelor who keeps cats. At least “Harry Godwin” sounds like a man capable of satisfying the sexiest girl in Gower.

“But we can’t call him Harry!” said Bella. “It would be much too confusing. I know, let’s call him Hal! He’s so tough that he deserves a tough name to match.”

What extraordinary ideas women have. I looked down at this human scrap less than two feet long and wondered if I had ever seen anything so weak and helpless in all my life. However I liked the idea of little Hal. I liked the idea that I would leave a replica behind me in case I—but no, I really couldn’t start thinking about getting killed. That would be the last word in neurotic cowardice.

Two weeks later I was summoned to my training camp in North Wales. I embraced Bella, took Hal’s little hand for a moment between my thumb and forefinger and then set out along the road to bloody heroism.

What an escape from a full range of problems I had no idea how to solve!

What a life … and what a mess.

V

The massive upheaval caused by the war resulted in a realignment of the Godwin family. It was as if someone had shaken a giant kaleidoscope to form a new pattern, and the first innovation came when Uncle Edmund, egged on by my father, left London accompanied by Aunt Teddy with the intention of spending the war in the Gower Peninsula. Naturally they would have preferred to withdraw to their estate in Kent, but this was soon requisitioned by the government because of its useful proximity to London, and once my father realized Teddy was determined to leave the capital before the bombing started, he suggested they lived at Oxmoon. Kester liked them; my father thought Edmund could dole out paternal sympathy while acting as a buffer state between his nephew and Thomas who at that time was unsure if he could batter his way into the army.

Everyone thought this plan was an excellent idea but then it occurred to my father that my need was greater than Kester’s. I was soon due to leave; Thomas had agreed to look after the estate for me, but his future in Gower was uncertain; Bella couldn’t cope with anything except pregnancy and her trashy fashion magazines. All this meant that Penhale Manor was ripe for an invasion by a man like Edmund, who had once supervised the estate for my father, and a woman like Teddy, who could supervise anything within reach.

They arrived on my doorstep. I was relieved but also uneasy; Edmund was not a man I knew well. Since he was married to Constance’s sister I had seen almost nothing of him while my father had been living with Bronwen, and even later I had seldom had the chance of conversing with him on his own. He seemed to be one of those sunny-natured fools so prevalent among the English upper classes, but I was aware that my father thought Edmund could keep a conscientious eye on my estate so I was prepared to believe he had more brain than was apparent.

I was even more cautious about Teddy. I could remember her being very cold to my father when he had lived apart from Constance, and I was inclined to take her artificial manner at face value. Both she and Constance were much younger than my father and Edmund, who were in their mid-forties. Teddy was thirty-four, smart, loquacious and foreign. Unlike Constance, who had acquired a painstaking English accent over the years, Teddy had carefully preserved her Americanisms and even exaggerated them so that she often sounded more American than the Americans. I think she believed the English found this “cute.” Or maybe she just found it easier to live in England as a foreigner; the English tend to be benign towards English-speaking foreigners and more willing to excuse any un-English behavior.

Edmund and Teddy had two boys but they were now both at Harrow and away for most of the year. Richard was fifteen, Geoffrey two years younger. They were both good at games and thought Harrow was wonderful. I suspected that Geoffrey was shrewd although he never said much. No opportunity. Whenever Teddy wasn’t chatting away that great oaf Richard, who had the brains of a flea, was talking rubbish and roaring with laughter. He was so ingenuous that it was impossible to dislike him but I did find him very tiring.

However Richard was hardly my problem at that time, and meanwhile his parents were busy being my salvation. Teddy took one look at the house, one look at Bella, one look at the newly arrived baby and said, “Okay, honey, leave this to me.” I left it, but not before Teddy had added: “Harry darling, I keep getting these checks that I don’t know what to do with now that I’m not in London—why don’t Bella and I have a wonderful time while you’re away and spruce up this heavenly old home of yours?”

“Well, that’s most kind of you, Teddy, but—”

“Now, don’t go all British on me!” said Teddy masterfully. “Edmund and I are about to take over your home so the least we can do is spend money on it. Why not? Hell, we may all be dead soon anyway so why not spend a little money before we go?”

I began to realize that this was a woman with a strong warm generous personality. It also occurred to me that if she wanted to offer strength, warmth and generosity on a gargantuan scale, I’d be a fool to refuse.

“I’m such a villain, Teddy, that I’m not going to argue with you—thank you very much.”

Teddy beamed up at me. “Why, it takes a real man to accept a gift gracefully like that—honey, I just couldn’t admire you more!”

Dimly I began to understand why Edmund, kept for years by this rich strong-willed wife, had remained so thoroughly happy and normal.

“Teddy’s wonderful!” sighed Bella, just before my departure. “She’s the nicest woman I’ve ever met!”

This represented another victory for Teddy. Bella hated new acquaintances. I knew her well enough now to realize that this was because she thought people believed her to be ugly and stupid, but I had never succeeded in convincing her she should have a better opinion of herself. It was Teddy who finally managed to boost her self-esteem.

“Teddy says what a marvelous figure I have,” Bella said when I came home on leave. “Teddy says I could stop the entire German army dead in its tracks.”

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to,” I said, but she hardly heard me. She was bursting to tell me more about her heroine.

“Teddy asked me about my mother, and when I said all I really knew about her was that she was a platinum blonde Teddy said, ‘A platinum blonde? Whew! What a gal she must have been!’ and it was so wonderful when she said that because everyone’s always behaved as if having platinum-blond hair was the last word in awfulness. And do you know what Teddy said next? She said that maybe my mother was acting in my best interests when she left me behind at Stourham Hall. She said perhaps it was a great big noble unselfish gesture to ensure that I was brought up in a wealthy comfortable home, and suddenly everything seemed quite different to me, I was able to think perhaps my mother had loved me after all. … Teddy said that if
she’d
had a daughter she’d have done anything to ensure her happiness—it’s sad, isn’t it that Teddy doesn’t have a daughter, but she couldn’t have more children after Geoffrey was born. I feel so sorry for her.”

But I didn’t feel sorry for Teddy. I clearly saw she’d found that daughter she wanted after all.

“Bella, for God’s sake don’t tell her about Melody.”

“Oh, of course not! How could I tell her that I was so wicked when I was only thirteen? She might turn against me and not like me anymore. … Oh, Harry, Teddy says I’m a wonderful mother because I like to spend so much time with Hal. … Can we have another baby straightaway?”

“Why not?” I was so pleased to see her enjoying life, and besides I had decided it would be sensible to keep her occupied when I was away for weeks on end. I knew she loved me but when a man has a sexy wife it pays him to be thoroughly realistic.

We conceived Charles who was born in the November of 1940.

“Teddy says I’m a success!” said Bella starry-eyed when she told me Charles was on the way. “She says I’m glamorous and I’ve got this sexy husband and a beautiful baby and another baby due before the end of the year—and all before I’m twenty-one! She says many women spend their whole lives never getting that far!”

I did occasionally wonder where all this was going to end but came to the conclusion that I could see nothing but good in the situation. My house, refurbished with exquisite taste, was neat as a pin and ran like clockwork. Bella, more luscious than ever, looked like a Hollywood actress on the brink of stardom while in the nursery a little boy with blond hair and a pink-and-white skin and black eyes smiled at me and uttered a couple of syllables which Bella assured me were “Daddy.” I decided fatherhood was definitely a desirable occupation. After years of private failures I savored my public success in reproducing myself to perfection.

Meanwhile up at Oxmoon poor old Kester, poor old sod, hadn’t managed to father anything. Very sad. I went out of my way to be especially kind to him at the christenings.

“Oh, do let’s have another baby, Harry!” said Bella when Charles was a few months old. “After two boys we’re bound to have a girl next time!”

We conceived Jack who was born in the December of 1941.

Three sons in rapid succession. Not bad. In fact I could almost hear Kester gnashing his teeth, although he always wrote the most charming letters congratulating me. However there was no doubt Kester was having a frustrating time. He had wanted to drive an ambulance for the Red Cross—typical Kester, pining to dramatize his pacifism by picking one of the most heroic jobs available—but he had been told to stay at home. At first there was talk of Oxmoon being requisitioned but just as Kester and Anna were preparing to withdraw to Little Oxmoon, which had fallen vacant after Aunt Celia’s recent death; the government changed its mind and decided that it would be more rational to keep Kester in his own home with his nose to the grindstone; he was told that it was his patriotic duty as a certified pacifist to buckle down to the job of running his estate himself with the aid of government advisers who drew up plans for food production. Edmund also found himself in the hands of these agricultural experts with the result that he and Kester, pooling their resources, gave each other both practical and moral support. That took care of the Godwin estates in Gower. As for Thomas, he finally blitzed himself into the army and was exported to Northern Ireland to be trained. Eleanor ran the Stourham Hall pig farm single-handed in his absence.

“It’s ironic how things turn out,” said my father later when he expressed his restored confidence in his nephew by authorizing the winding up of the trust that had been supervising Oxmoon’s affairs since the debacle of 1939, “but I think war may well be the making of Kester. He needed a powerful incentive like this to set his writing aside and apply himself to the estate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did very well—and I must say I do admire him for having the courage to stand up for those pacifist principles of his.”

So Kester was going to wind up a hero after all. Meanwhile I’d spent many months sitting on my bottom in various military dumps waiting for an invasion which never came. It was too much. My patience, like Hitler’s, was exhausted, and shortly after that conversation with my father I made up my mind to volunteer for the commandos.

VI

My war was divided into two parts. The first part, which lasted until the September of 1942, was spent in excruciating boredom but complete safety. The second part was spent in circumstances where words like “boredom” and “safety” described unimaginable states of mind in a lost civilization. Of course I did realize, as I was yawning my way through the first half of the war, that I was very lucky. I avoided being killed in Norway, France, Italy or Greece. I was also able to see my wife to ensure that she was constantly pregnant. I spent most of my time stationed along the south coast of England, and although I was never near Gower I was always less than an hour from London and the main line to Swansea.