The teacher evacuees, p.26
The Teacher Evacuees, page 26
However, even if she couldn’t help herself, she could help someone else. ‘Mrs Mann must want some of her things from home. Photographs, clothing and such. I could put together a parcel. Someone must have a key to her house.’ While it would be uncomfortable going through the teacher’s possessions, perhaps Mrs Russell would help. Unlike Mrs Meldrum, the vicar’s wife was discreet.
Mrs Meldrum made a harumphing sound. ‘Next door will have a key, I expect, but otherwise there’s likely to be one under the outdoor mat by the scullery window. You shouldn’t be settings your sights on her house, mind.’ Mrs Meldrum shook her head. ‘Mark my words, it’ll either be evacuees or the army moving in.’
‘I haven’t been “setting my sights” on Mrs Mann’s house or anywhere else. I’m perfectly happy at Hazelbury Manor, as are Miss Wentworth and Miss Potter.’ How happy would Victoria be at the manor without Louis’s regular visits? But even if he did come to see his great-aunts, that would be awkward. She’d have to pretend there had never been anything between them. Or what if he brought a girl home, a fiancée even? Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’ She returned her attention to Mrs Meldrum.
‘I’ll call a special meeting of the W.I. to discuss how we can support Alma Clarke. I suppose she’s the one in the greatest need, left with that farm. The older lads were off to join up as soon as Walter was arrested.’ Mrs Meldrum frowned. ‘As for Mrs Bertram, I’ll invite her to the meeting as well. Perhaps she might even host it at Whittleton Hall. The major’s in London seeing what can be done about Mrs Wallace. In that case, even though honesty is usually the best course, I think we should simply carry on as if nothing has happened. Don’t you agree, Miss McKaye?’
‘What? Oh, yes, of course.’ Victoria nodded.
People should be honest with each other – but what if they couldn’t? Mrs Mann had to keep the secret of her German parents and Italian husband. Otherwise, some in the village would likely have turned against her. What Victoria had seen as her initial unfriendliness might have stemmed from fear. While she’d never know for certain, perhaps she’d been too quick to judge the village schoolmistress.
After saying goodbye to Mrs Meldrum and assuring her she’d speak to Beatrice and Nell about the special W.I. meeting, Victoria went into the shop, ducking her head to avoid a low beam. She pulled Nell’s list and their ration books from her handbag and, ignoring the chatter around her, joined the queue for the attention of the assistant serving behind the counter.
While right now she wanted to run as far away from Hazelbury as possible, she couldn’t. She had to stay and do her duty.
* * *
‘I hardly feel I’ve had a holiday. Still, needs must, especially with the three of us now having to teach the village children as well.’ At the wooden table they’d moved over beside a sunny window in Hazelbury Manor’s library, Beatrice gave Victoria and Nell new notebooks, pencils and fountain pens. ‘They’re from the school supplies I brought back from London with me.’
Victoria opened the hard-backed notebook and inhaled its crisp, fresh scent. Due to their shortened holiday, the autumn term was starting much earlier this year. Despite not having a true break, perhaps returning to the classroom would be a distraction from Louis and everything else that had happened in the past fortnight.
Nell gestured to the plate with the oat biscuits she’d made earlier. ‘With Miss Hetty and Miss Addie having had to stay longer in Ely, Marjorie’s happy to let me use the kitchen as much as I want. Although I’m sorry that the Misses Graingers’ cousin is ill, I’m making the most of being able to cook and bake as and when I please. Any news from Miss Hopson?’
‘Not much beyond what she wrote in her last letter.’ Beatrice added a dash of milk to her cup and then poured tea into it from the pot that Nell had also prepared. ‘As you might expect, the mood in London is – well, for want of a better word, on edge. Oh, everyone is calm, almost resigned, but underneath, there’s an indescribable anxiety.’
‘What about visits from the London County Council Care Committee organiser and school inspector?’ Victoria poured her own tea and took a biscuit. Despite being in the countryside, they were far from forgotten when it came to inspections, and someone official always seemed to be popping up, whether to do with education, billets or a health authority.
‘Both in the middle of September, apparently, although that could change depending on what happens.’ Beatrice bit her lip.
‘You don’t think the Germans will bomb London, do you?’ Behind her teacup, Nell’s face went white and her eyes were wide and frightened.
‘Why wouldn’t they? It’s better to be prepared than stick your head in the sand and pretend such things will never happen.’
‘Beatrice.’ Victoria shook her head. ‘Some of us are more sensitive. Nell, I’m sure your family will be fine. They don’t live near a military base or factory do they?’
‘Not nearby no, but still…’ Nell dropped her head into her hands.
‘Here, put more sugar in your tea. I don’t need it.’ Beatrice’s voice was gruff as she found a clean spoon and dropped a generous amount into Nell’s teacup. ‘Now, we need to plan for our first day back and how we’ll cover Mrs Mann’s absence.’
‘By mixing the London pupils with the villagers, I expect. It’s the only way, at least for my infants,’ Victoria said. ‘Thank goodness we have Ivy to help. Otherwise, I could hardly manage. Even so, it will be a squash in the village hall.’ Victoria suppressed a sigh and began taking notes as Beatrice went through curriculum updates, government education legislation and other never-ending planning matters.
‘I wish we could have a decent blackboard in the hall.’ As Beatrice drew the meeting to a close, Victoria raised her familiar complaint.
‘As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a war on and there are other priorities, Miss McKaye,’ Nell said.
Beatrice laughed. ‘I did raise it with the authorities, but I’m afraid they didn’t see my point.’
‘Despite the war and all the alarms round here, those authorities still expected us to set and mark examination papers, didn’t they?’ Nell nibbled on a biscuit with a gloomy expression. ‘Yesterday when Ivy and I took the bus to Cromer, we actually glimpsed a dog-fight. It was miles away but still, seeing those aeroplanes battling overhead, we couldn’t rightly enjoy our day out for thinking of the poor lads.’
Louis was in the navy, not the air force, but no matter where he was and what he was doing, Victoria wanted him to be safe. ‘How did you find your mother, Beatrice?’ Since Beatrice had only arrived back in Hazelbury late the night before, they hadn’t had a chance to catch up. It was as good a subject as any to divert tender-hearted Nell’s thoughts away from the war.
‘Much the same.’ Beatrice closed her notebook and refilled her teacup. ‘She’s still living her life as if the world hasn’t changed since the summer of 1914 and expects everyone to wait on her hand and foot. Did you have other days out, Nell? How is that dress you’re making coming along?’
Victoria wasn’t the only one adept at changing the subject. As Nell chatted about her sewing and a church outing, Victoria knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid telling Beatrice and Nell about Louis – but how?
‘Don’t you think Victoria looks peaky?’ Nell’s question drew Victoria out of her thoughts. ‘If you need to stay at home for a few more days, Beatrice and I will cover for you.’
‘Of course we can,’ Beatrice said. ‘And Nell’s right. You don’t look or seem yourself.’
‘I want to go back to school. The doctor said I could.’ Staying at the manor with only Marjorie for company would be even worse, as Victoria would have more time to brood.
‘Then what’s wrong? Something certainly is.’ Beatrice took off her spectacles and rubbed her purple-shadowed eyes.
Did Beatrice look more tired than usual? She worked harder than any of them, as in addition to classroom teaching she had more administrative responsibilities, but surely she’d had a few days’ rest on her holiday.
‘Beatrice is right,’ Nell said. ‘You’d finally started looking better after the business with Mr Clarke, but that day in Norwich seemed to set you back. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell?’
‘Nobody.’ Emotion clogged Victoria’s throat. ‘It’s Louis. He… we… I broke things off with him.’
‘But why?’ Nell wrapped her arms around Victoria and made soothing noises.
‘I can’t…’ Victoria gulped back a sob. Although not as unemotional as Beatrice, she’d never been prone to tears, but now she couldn’t seem to stop crying. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘Is that what Louis wanted?’ Beatrice’s voice held an unexpected softness.
‘No, but he accepted it.’ Victoria found her handkerchief. ‘It’s the war, and his work, and Miss Hetty doesn’t approve.’
‘None of which should matter if you truly love each other,’ Nell said.
‘But unfortunately the way of the world is that they do.’ Beatrice gathered up books and papers. ‘Under those circumstances, the best place for you, Victoria, is at school. However, please be assured that no matter the situation, Nell and I will do whatever we can to support you, including with Miss Hetty should the occasion arise.’ She stood. ‘It’s our last Saturday afternoon of holiday freedom. I’d thought of going for a walk in the woods. Would the two of you care to join me? Nothing like exercise and time in nature to lift the spirits. Later, we could do a new jigsaw I got in London and listen to a wireless programme.’
‘Yes.’ Victoria sniffed and put away her handkerchief.
‘If you’d like, I’ll retrim your summer hat before school on Monday. I still have some pretty ribbon from those remnants Miss Addie gave me.’ Nell gave Victoria’s hand a last squeeze. ‘There’s a rich blue that will suit you.’
‘Thank you, both of you.’ Victoria glanced at Nell, then Beatrice. Even without Louis – and with a war on – Victoria had friendship and many other things to be thankful for. So, as Beatrice would say, she’d ‘buck up’ and rather than mourning what she’d lost, once again she’d make the best of what she had.
Chapter Forty-Two
‘Ladies, ladies.’ On a mid-week evening in the large drawing room at Whittleton Hall, Mrs Meldrum rang the small brass bell Mrs Bertram had provided for the special W.I. meeting. ‘If I may have your attention for one more moment, please.’
‘She likes the sound of her own voice, doesn’t she?’ Nell leaned into Victoria and muttered while retrieving her ball of navy-blue wool. ‘When I met her on my way in, she told me that although she was sure the new term was going “swimmingly”, she’d drop by the school tomorrow for a little chat.’
Victoria suppressed a smile. After only two days of the new term, she’d already experienced several of Mrs Meldrum’s ‘little chats’.
‘Now.’ Mrs Meldrum’s voice rose above the babble. ‘You understand, not a word to Mrs Clarke of this meeting. Above all, we must be discreet in giving this aid so as not to cause any discomfort or embarrassment.’
Alma Clarke was likely already embarrassed enough, given Walter had been sentenced by a London court to several years in prison for ‘collaborating with the enemy’. However, to her credit, Mrs Meldrum was trying to be tactful.
‘Now to the matter of employing land girls at Upper Yarrow Farm.’ As Victoria concentrated on turning the heel in the sock she was knitting, Mrs Meldrum’s words washed over her.
After the first furore, talk in the village about Walter Clarke, Mrs Mann and Evelyn Wallace had died down. Leading by example, Mrs Bertram had kept a dignified silence and even opened her home to tonight’s meeting. Still, suspicion and betrayal simmered beneath the surface, and even the youngest children in Victoria’s class talked about “wrong ’uns” and fretted that Germans would soon be marching down the streets of Hazelbury.
‘Finally. I’m gasping for a cup of tea.’ Nell folded up her knitting as Mrs Meldrum drew the meeting to a close. ‘Mrs Clarke will be grateful for our help. Jimmy came back to school yesterday, and the poor boy cowered like a beaten dog. The other children were good as gold, though, better than their elders in some cases. They know Jimmy had naught to do with what his dad was up to.’
‘School will likely be an escape for him.’ As it was for Victoria. ‘I’m going up to the farm on Saturday morning to continue tutoring Jimmy.’ That would be after she had posted the parcel to Mrs Mann which, along with packing up the contents of the small, neat house beside the school, Victoria and the vicar’s wife had worked on together.
‘I’ll come with you.’ Nell stood and stretched. ‘I expect Mrs Clarke could use some help in the house. She might even talk to me. It’s not good to keep everything bottled up.’ There was a sadness in Nell’s voice that belied her youth and suggested she’d experienced more than her share of life’s troubles.
‘If you ever want to talk about anything, my sisters say I’m a good listener.’ Victoria glanced at her colleague. Nell wore a navy dress Miss Addie had given her, and which she had altered by embroidering red accents at the collar and cuffs and adding buttons salvaged from a jacket destined for rags. She looked a perfect fashion plate.
‘Oh, don’t bother about me.’ Nell’s smile was too bright. ‘I’ll go and see if I can lend a hand pouring tea, shall I?’ Without waiting for Victoria to respond, she darted away to where Ivy and Mrs Russell stood behind a table with cups and saucers laid out.
‘All right, Miss McKaye?’ Several minutes later, Mrs Bertram appeared at Victoria’s elbow where she stood apart from the other women near one of the long windows which overlooked a garden.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Victoria gazed towards the massive globes of pink, white and blue hydrangeas that bordered the neat rows of a potato field.
‘Good, good.’ Dark shadows bracketed Mrs Bertram’s eyes, and even her stylish nipped-in-at-the-waist, two-piece grey peplum dress with white piping couldn’t conceal that she had lost weight. ‘I expect you’re wondering why we didn’t dig up the hydrangeas as well to free up even more land to grow food.’
‘No, not at all.’ In truth, Victoria was musing over what would happen if people genuinely said what they meant. She wasn’t ‘all right’, and she doubted Nell, Mrs Bertram or many of the other women here were either. Yet they all had to keep up a pretence of social niceties because even if there hadn’t been a war on, that was how life worked.
‘Hydrangeas were my late mother’s favourite flower. It sounds silly, I suppose, but I needed a bit of cheer and a reminder of home, and dear Sidney indulged me. You must miss your family and Canada.’
‘I do.’ Her mother loved hydrangeas too, and grew them by the porch at home. However, as the weeks and months of war continued, Victoria had tried to resign herself to the fact that she likely wouldn’t see her mother and the rest of the family again for years. By then, they would almost be strangers to each other but she had only herself to blame. The familiar guilt curled its icy tentacles around her. ‘How is your mother-in-law?’ Grasping for a neutral subject, she landed on Major Bertram’s mother who hadn’t come downstairs for tonight’s meeting.
Mrs Bertram shrugged and, for an instant, her brittle social mask slipped. ‘Well enough, but she decided she’d be happier living with Sidney’s sister in Suffolk. Barring any bombing scares, I’m taking her down at the weekend. Being so near to Whittleton air base, she finds the aeroplanes buzzing about overhead here… disturbing.’
‘I see.’ There were plenty of RAF bases in Suffolk too, but whatever the real reason for the elder Mrs Bertram’s departure, it was no concern of Victoria’s.
‘No, I’m sure you don’t “see” and there’s no need to be so polite, not with me.’ Mrs Bertram’s face flushed. ‘Out of everyone, you’re the only one likely to understand. I’m not like the others here and nor are you, not really.’
Victoria swallowed and tried to school her features. ‘You mean because, like you, I didn’t grow up in England?’
‘Yes.’ Mrs Bertram fingered one of the cream-velvet curtain pulls and studied the fields and trees gilded in gold by the setting sun. ‘Sidney told me what you did and what happened that night when you saw Evelyn at Walter Clarke’s farm.’
Victoria glanced around, but all the other women were clustered on the opposite side of the vast drawing room near the tea urn. ‘I didn’t intend to—’
Mrs Bertram waved away her protest. ‘Evelyn is a grown woman, but she’s always, unfortunately, been flighty and easily led, especially by men like Mr Knight. Unlike her, you, my dear, were brave and patriotic. Oh yes,’ she continued in response to Victoria’s stunned expression, ‘Evelyn is my daughter, but I’m not blind to her faults. Thanks to Sidney’s efforts she’s avoided prison and been let off with a warning, but we’ve agreed it will be better for her to stay at the house in London and engage in some useful war work. My mother-in-law holds a different view. So far, her only contribution to wartime life has been to suggest we have dinner in the middle of the day to give Cook less to do. Hence the Suffolk plan.’ Mrs Bertram’s smile was wry as she raised her eyebrows.
‘I… I…’ Victoria stammered.
‘Even those you love most can disappoint you.’ The other woman’s brown eyes were troubled. ‘War brings out the best in some and the worst in others. Did you know that Mr Knight’s real surname is Ritter? As a boy, he had a British tutor. That’s why he speaks such good English. I suppose he thought he was being clever, since translated into English, the German “Ritter” means “Knight”. Evelyn’s behaviour has been disgraceful and repugnant. I’m sure many would expect us to disown her.’
