We'll Meet Again (29 page)

“I must tell my parents.”

“Would you like me to be with you?”

“No … no. I will tell them when you have gone. I think that would be best.”

My hand was lying on the table and he leaned forward and pressed it firmly.

“I am so sorry that you have been brought into all this,” he said. “It is wretched for you.”

“For you, too.”

“Me? Oh yes. But I have brought it on myself. One must pay for one’s acts of folly. But that I should bring it on you … that worries me. I would have done anything to have avoided that. You see, Anne is well known in some circles. Her exploits are recorded. When we were married it was reported in certain papers. There may be some publicity over the divorce, and it is possible that your name will be mentioned.”

“I see. I should be branded as a loose woman, I suppose. That is what you mean?”

“It would be expected that we should marry when I am free.”

“Richard, you know …”

“… that you are waiting for Jowan’s return. But when, Violetta, when? Soon you will have to decide. When Europe is liberated … and suppose he does not come back?”

I was silent and he went on: “I shall be waiting. And, Violetta, don’t worry unduly about the divorce. These things are a nine days’ wonder.”

“Perhaps Anne is just threatening.”

“I do not think so. She wants a divorce quickly and she sees this as the easiest way to get it. It may well be that she wants to marry again and is eager to be free to do so. That might be very likely. It is clear that she is regretting our marriage as much as I am.”

“I can see I’ve been very foolish,” I said. “I should never have come to the flat as I did.”

“Don’t say that. Those little suppers were wonderful. I can’t tell you what they meant to me. I looked forward to them so much. Well, whatever happens … in time I shall be free … and when …”

He meant when I was sure Jowan would not come back. But I could not contemplate that. Since the Normandy landings, my hopes had been high.

I said: “I think we should go now.”

He called for the bill and we left.

It was difficult to get through the rest of that weekend. Fortunately my parents were preoccupied with Robert, who was eager to talk about life in the army and the prospects of going overseas shortly, which seemed to excite him but naturally had the opposite effect on my parents.

We all went to the station to see him off. He left in the late morning of Sunday. Richard stayed until the early evening.

When he had gone I felt exhausted. I kept thinking about Anne as she had been when I had met her—so elegant, so cool, so sure of what she wanted. She would be formidable. I could see how she had attracted Richard. That cool acceptance of superiority, just the wife to be an asset to a rising barrister; he no doubt had visualized her at the head of his table entertaining the Lord Chancellor. I was sure she would have done so in perfect style. So Richard had been lured into committing that act which he now called folly.

Somehow it endeared him to me a little. I had thought him so sensible; to find him vulnerable made him more human. I did not blame him as he blamed himself. I just wished that I had not become involved.

My mother had guessed something had happened and, that night, just as I was about to retire, she came to my room. She sat on the bed and surveyed me.

“Well,” she said. “What is bothering you?”

It was no use trying to keep anything from her. I had decided to tell her in any case.

I said: “Richard is married.”

The shocked expression on her face turned to dismay. She had decided that Richard was the man for me and eligible in every way.

“Has he just told you?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“He told me in London. It was the night of the air raid. It was a disaster. She is going to divorce him on the grounds of adultery … with me.”

Her expression changed to one of horror.

“It is quite false,” I said quickly. “There has never been adultery … I think not with anyone, certainly not with me.

I explained about the flat and the suppers and how he had always known I was waiting for Jowan. I left out nothing; I told her about his wife’s visit to the teashop which had puzzled me at the time, though now I knew why she had come.

“Good heavens!” my mother cried. “I don’t believe this of Richard. He is the last person …”

“People often do unexpected things.”

“I should not have thought Richard would. But … er … when it is over, Richard will be free and …”

“He has asked me to marry him then.”

“It would be best,” she said. “Mind you, there wouldn’t be much talk about this. In wartime these things are trivial.”

“Richard says she is a socialite and that her actions are reported in the gossip columns so there could be some publicity.”

“I see. And you might be mentioned. Well, these things happen. If you marry him it would not seem so important.”

“I wouldn’t want to marry him just because …”

“No, of course not. Well, we shall have to wait and see. I shall tell your father. He would know more about these things than we do. I saw that Richard was very upset.”

“He is, of course—mainly because he has involved me.”

“How do you feel about him, Violetta? You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“And if it were not for Jowan …”

“I can’t think of that. I still feel he will come back.”

She sighed, then smiled suddenly.

“Half the things one worries about never happen,” she said. “This divorce, it might pass quietly. People are not as interested in that sort of thing as they used to be. There’s a war on and we are not living in the Victorian age when everyone was so prim and prudish. Don’t worry. You’ve been through enough lately. I think this may be like a storm in a teacup. I am sure your father will agree with me. I’m glad you came home for a while. It will all come right, I am sure. So try and get a good night’s rest.”

“I certainly feel better now that I have told you,” I said.

She kissed me tenderly and waited until I was in bed. Then she tucked me in, as she used to when I was very young.

My parents were wonderful during those days. Dorabella came for weekends, which was helpful. There had been no news of Richard’s divorce and Dorabella said: “That sort of thing is happening all the time. I doubt we shall hear any more of it.”

Richard was still declared unfit for active service and the war was progressing satisfactorily for the Allies.

Paris had been liberated and General de Gaulle was now there. General Montgomery, speaking to the men in northwest France, said the end was in sight and we must finish it off in record time.

It was August and we had had almost five years of war. Surely, I thought, if Jowan were alive I should have heard something by now?

I knew my mother was most concerned about my future and I guessed it was the main topic between her and my father. They had both been dismayed to hear that Richard had made a hasty wartime marriage which was in the process of being dissolved. It was out of character for him, but they had both decided that he was the best husband for me, though they had considered Gordon. Gordon was an honest, upright man, but he had a mad mother; also he was something of an enigma. So they had set their hearts on Richard, for I was sure they had long ago made up their minds that it was unlikely that Jowan would come back.

Even I was beginning to wonder. The time was passing. The invasion of France had begun in June and it was now nearly September. Hope was beginning to fade. Should I be one of those sad women who lose their lovers during the war and spend the rest of their lives grieving?

It was the third of September—the fifth anniversary of the war. Everywhere the Allies were triumphant and this was a day of prayer throughout the country.

We were dining early because Dorabella was with us and would return to London that evening. My father was saying: “It cannot last much longer. Our forces are only forty miles from Brussels and the French and Americans are in Lyons. This is great progress.”

Then the telephone rang. Dorabella was on her feet first. “I’ll get it,” she said.

In a few seconds she came back.

“It’s Mrs. Jermyn from Cornwall. She wants to speak to Violetta.”

My heart was pounding. Could it be news at last?

My mother glanced at me anxiously, fearful that I should be disappointed.

I dashed to the telephone.

“Violetta,” Mrs. Jermyn’s voice was breathless. “I’ve had news.”

“Jowan …”

“Yes, dear. He’s in this country. I’ve just had a call. They told me he was here … and he was on the telephone. I’ve spoken to him. He’s coming home!”

I could not speak. I was too overcome with emotion.

At last I stammered: “I shall come … right away …”

“Yes, yes,” she said.

I went back to the dining room. They were all looking at me expectantly.

I said: “It … it’s happened. Jowan is coming home.”

M
Y FATHER WOULD HAVE
driven me to Cornwall, but we decided it would be quicker by train. My mother wanted to come with me, but I said I should prefer to be alone. However, we agreed they could drive me to London where I could get the train from there to Cornwall.

I was overcome with joy. This was the day I had been waiting for.

My parents stood on the platform at Paddington waving to the train as it went out and the long journey to the West Country began. How slowly the train seemed to travel! It was impossible to sleep. I could only think of seeing Jowan again. He would have changed. Had I changed? I was four years older. So much had happened since we last met. I could not imagine what had happened to him, but I should learn. I should talk to him again, be with him, make plans for the future.

Then suddenly into my mind came the thought of Richard’s divorce. It was such an unpleasant subject that I thrust it aside. Nothing was going to spoil this wonderful time.

It was seven o’clock when the train pulled into the station. To my surprise I saw Gordon on the platform. He seized both my hands and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

“I’ve come to collect you,” he said. “Mrs. Jermyn told me the news.”

“Is Jowan there?”

“Yes. He came in late last night.”

“You … you have seen him?”

“No. Mrs. Jermyn just telephoned, told me, and asked me if I would meet the train. I wasn’t sure whether it would be this one.”

“I came as soon as I heard.”

“I guessed you would.”

“Oh Gordon … it’s such wonderful news!”

“Mrs. Jermyn could scarcely speak for excitement.”

“It was good of you to come, Gordon.”

“It was nothing … the least I could do. I suppose you may be staying at the Priory, but if you want your old room at Tregarland’s it is ready for you.”

“Thank you, Gordon. I hadn’t thought of that.”

When we reached the Priory it was nearly eight o’clock.

Gordon stopped the car and said: “I’ll leave you now. If you want transport at any time, let me know.”

“Oh thank you, Gordon. You are good.”

“Good luck,” he said.

They were waiting for me in the Priory great hall.

Mrs. Jermyn cried: “It’s Violetta.” Beside her stood a tall figure. It was Jowan himself… and yet different. He was very thin, a little haggard, and he had lost his healthy color. He was subtly different from the man who had gone away … and yet he was Jowan.

We looked at each other in wonderment for a few seconds, then I ran to him and he held me tightly in his arms.

“Violetta,” he said. “After all this time …”

“The waiting is over now. It has been so long … so very long …” I sounded muffled, incoherent. “I’ve often dreamed …”

“I too. I can’t believe it. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find I’m dreaming still …”

Such banal words after all those years of waiting. But our emotions were too strong to let us say all that was in our hearts.

Mrs. Jermyn broke in.

“You two will have such a lot to say to each other. And, Violetta, you must be hungry. There’s nothing much in trains these days. Now I am going to have something sent to you. Come into the little sitting room. Then you can talk … I think you two would like to be alone.”

There were tears in her eyes and I saw that she was desperately trying to control her feelings and be practical.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” said Jowan. “That would be good.”

He was holding my hand tightly, as though he would never let it go.

I was happy. I had never been so happy in my life. If only I could rid myself of the terrible fear that I was dreaming and this might not be true.

There was so much to tell. Jowan insisted that I start first, so I related what had happened since that tragic day when I had been forced to admit to myself that he was not one of the survivors from Dunkirk. I explained how I had worked for a while in the Priory, which had been turned into a convalescent home for soldiers, and afterwards in London in the Ministry. I told him about the air raids in which I had been involved—not an uncommon occurrence for people who lived in London—and how I had been recuperating at Caddington when his grandmother had telephoned to tell me he was back. He listened intently.

“We heard little scraps of information—which were often exaggerated to make it really bad. We were told that London was in ruins, together with the airfields and the docks. We didn’t believe it, of course.”

“I want to hear about you, Jowan. I want to know everything.”

“I want to tell you everything, Violetta … every little detail.”

“We have a long, long time to talk.”

“First I will give you the bare bones,” he said. He told me how he and his company had been trying to get to the coast. They knew the Germans were in control and there was nothing they could do but get back home and build up new strength in order to be ready for the enemy when they came to attack Britain.

“There was not much chance of getting to Dunkirk,” he said. “The enemy were too numerous. Our company was surrounded. We were somewhere near Amiens when we were all taken prisoner. We knew what that meant. My corporal, Buster Brown, was with me. He is sharp-witted, a wiry little Cockney. He is a good cook and could work all sorts of miracles with our meager rations. He had a way of disappearing and returning with a couple of chickens. He’d concoct some dish with them, which was a luxury after tinned fish and meat of slightly mysterious origins. He admitted he raided farms for the chickens, and he used to say: ‘Well, what’s a bit of nicking? Ain’t we saving them from the Hun? Small price to pay for that and you’ve got to feed the boys that lay the golden eggs.’