‘And here comes the train for Crowthorne now!’ Teddy exclaimed. ‘As well as a few of your school fellows, it seems. Isn’t that nice? You’ll be able to sit together.’
Maxim and Stubby followed her gaze and groaned loudly and in unison when they saw the stragglers coming down the platform.
‘We don’t want to sit with them,’ Maxim muttered, rolling his eyes heavenward. ‘They’re too young, Teddy. Can’t you see that?’
‘Last term’s new boys,’ Stubby explained.
‘We’d like a carriage to ourselves,’ Maxim said. ‘We can, can’t we, Teddy?’
‘I suppose so. There aren’t many people waiting for the train, and certainly not as many boys as I’d expected.’
‘A lot went back yesterday,’ Stubby told her and grinned hugely. ‘I expect their mothers wanted to get rid of the ugly blighters!’
‘And you two are beautiful, is that it?’ she asked, raising a brow, looking amused.
Typical ten-year-olds that they were, they made ugly faces for her and she began to laugh, enjoying them, and her spirits lifted at the sight of their youthful antics. She was pleased that Maxim’s mood had changed. He’ll be all right, she thought, more than all right.
***
But sitting on the bus going home to Belsize Park Gardens, Teddy wondered if she had made a mistake sending him away to school. In view of the Westheims’ absence, perhaps it would have been wiser if she had kept him by her side.
On the other hand, he was such a brilliant boy he deserved to be in the best school. Aunt Ketti had recommended St Paul’s and its preparatory school, Colet Court. The prep school and the college, being connected as they were, welded the juniors and the older boys together as a unit. Also, the ancient public school had a great liberal tradition, seemed to be totally without prejudice, and there were a number of German Jewish refugee boys at the school.
Henry Rossiter, of the Rossiter Merchant Bank, had wholeheartedly endorsed Ketti’s suggestion, and had said that the Westheims would certainly approve of her choice of schools for their son. He had also pointed out that she had plenty of money for the school fees, books, and the uniform, although the latter was not mandatory at the moment because of clothes rationing.
And so she had sent him there, and it had hardly been her fault that the two schools had been evacuated to Wellington College in Surrey in 1942, just when Maxim was starting at Colet.
I did the right thing, she reassured herself, sat back in her seat and opened the Evening Standard she had just bought at the railway station. The headlines brought a happy smile to her face. The Allies were in the process of liberating the whole of France.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘I’m so glad you came, Theodora!’ Lydia Pell exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of Teddy on the doorstep of her mother’s house in Hampstead. ‘Come in, come in, don’t stand outside in the cold.’
‘Hello, Lydia,’ Teddy said, smiling affectionately, stepping inside. ‘I said I’d try my best to come, and here I am,’ she went on, taking off her scarf, shrugging out of her coat, putting them into Lydia’s outstretched hands.
‘It was Aunt Ketti who was being a bit difficult, but only because she’d arranged for me to go with her to Mrs Levine’s house for supper tonight. But without telling me,’ Teddy explained. ‘She finally came around to seeing my point of view and she understands now that it’s not fair to accept invitations for me, without first finding out if I’m free.’
Lydia gave Teddy a swift look and asked, ‘Does Mrs Levine have a son?’
‘Yes. Two, in fact. They’re both in the services. Why?’
‘I bet one of them is home on leave,’ Lydia said and chuckled. ‘Knowing your Aunt Ketti, she’s more than likely trying to fix you up with a nice young man.’
‘Oh she wouldn’t do that!’ Teddy exclaimed, looking at Lydia askance.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you,’ Lydia retorted, still chuckling. She hung Teddy’s coat and scarf in the coat closet, linked her arm through her friend’s, and said, ‘Let’s go in and join the others.’
Together the two young women strolled across the entrance hall in the direction of the drawing room.
From behind its closed door came the sound of a piano being played with superb skill, and Teddy instantly thought of Sigmund Westheim, who had been such a virtuoso himself, and her throat filled with unexpected emotion. She could not help wondering where he and Ursula were at this moment, and if they were all right. And then Lydia pushed open the door and led her inside, and she quickly clamped down on her troubled thoughts, arranged a bright smile on her face.
Teddy knew this room very well. She had spent many enjoyable evenings here with Lydia since they had first met four years ago, and she always felt comfortable and at home in it.
Mellow, and filled with a certain kind of old-world charm, it had strong echoes of a country house in its decoration, and was warm and welcoming with soft creamy walls, heavy, red-brocade draperies, a matching red carpet stretching wall to wall, with an Oriental rug in front of the fireplace. The sofa and chairs were covered in a floral chintz that had once been vivid and colourful but which had long ago faded into softer tones, and scattered about were antique pieces of furniture made of ripe old woods. There were good oil paintings and watercolours on the walls, and a beautiful Queen Anne mirror hung above the fireplace.
In the grate, a huge log fire burned brightly, crystal vases brimmed with gold and bronze chrysanthemums, and a brass jug on the baby grand was resplendent with burnished copper beech leaves. All contributed to the feeling of autumn which abounded throughout, and on this chilly October night the room appeared more inviting than ever.
There was a small group gathered around the piano.
Archie, Lydia’s brother who was in the Royal Air Force, stood with his arm around his girlfriend, Penelope Jardene. Two of his former schoolfriends from Eton, Tom Andrews and Victor Spencer, both fighter pilots like Archie, were leaning over the piano, and so was Victor’s current girl, Daphne Hodges.
Lydia announced, ‘Here’s Theodora at last!’ and whoever it was playing the piano instantly stopped, and the others turned around to greet her warmly, and she smiled back at them and said, ‘Hello, everyone.’
Propelling Teddy across the room, Lydia murmured to her, ‘The only person whom you don’t know is the chap who was just playing the piano so exceptionally well. He’s with the No. 32 Squadron at Biggin Hill in Kent—Archie’s squadron. His name is Mark Lewis.’
On hearing his name mentioned, Mark pushed back the piano stool, stood up and strode around the group of friends to meet Theodora.
Lydia said, ‘Teddy, this is Mark, and Mark, meet my very dear friend, Theodora Stein.’
‘Hello, Theodora,’ Mark said, stepping towards her, his hand outstretched.
Teddy put her hand in his, said, ‘Good evening, Mark,’ and stood staring into his face, one of such boyishness he did not look old enough to be a fighter pilot. And then she became aware of his eyes. They were of a brown so dark they were almost black, and there was an expression in them that was quite unfathomable. Old eyes in a young face, she thought, old eyes that have already seen too much killing and death and destruction. And it was then that she recognised the enigmatic expression for what it was—a mingling of pain and sadness.
‘I’ve been playing favourite songs for the chaps,’ Mark told her, breaking the silence between them. ‘What’s your’s, Theodora?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, suddenly feeling rather shy and tongue-tied with him. She slid her hand out of his, and took a step backwards, realising that he was having a peculiar effect on her.
‘No requests then?’ he asked softly.
She shook her head, still incapable of speech.
He half smiled, turned away, walked over to the piano and took up his seat once more.
Daphne said to him, ‘If no one has a request, please play my second favourite, Mark. It’s I’ll Be Seeing You.
’
‘All right,’ Mark said, and grinned. ‘Providing you sing it, Daphers.’
‘Agreed!’ Daphne cried. ‘We’ll all sing it, won’t we, chaps?’
‘Of course we will, Daphers,’ Victor said, and as Mark struck up the refrain this is exactly what they did.
Whilst the sing-song was underway, Teddy went and sat in a chair near the fire, and a few seconds later Lydia came over, bringing her a glass of white wine.
‘Don’t you want to sing along with them?’ Lydia asked, handing Teddy the crystal goblet, sitting down on the arm of the chair.
‘Thank you,’ Teddy said, accepting the wine, and went on, ‘Sing-songs are very nice, and jolly, and usually I enjoy them, but I just don’t feel like joining in tonight. Don’t ask me why.’
‘Neither do I, to tell you the truth,’ Lydia confessed. ‘The sing-song seems to be the most popular pastime there is these days, and it certainly puts a stop to any decent conversation, doesn’t it?’
‘It does,’ Teddy agreed. ‘Still, we must seem rather aloof, even a bit churlish, sitting over here by ourselves. Perhaps we ought to join them, we don’t have to sing, I suppose.’
‘Come on then,’ Lydia said, standing up. ‘I’d hate anyone’s feelings to be hurt.’
Teddy stood with Lydia near the piano, listening to Mark playing. His immense talent as a pianist was undeniable, and for the second time that evening she was reminded of Sigmund Westheim. Poignant memories assailed her and she was carried back to the music room in the mansion on the Tiergartenstrasse; for a moment she was wrapped in sadness and her sense of loss was so acutely felt it resembled a sharp physical pain. She took a deep breath, willing the pain to go away, reminding herself that the war would soon be over now, that in due course the Westheims would come to England, and that they would be together. Things would again be the way they had been in Berlin. The past would become the present—and the future.
This thought, hardly a new one, immediately cheered her, as it usually did, and she took a sip of the wine and looked over the rim of the glass at Mark Lewis.
As the young airman continued to play she studied him surreptitiously, filled with enormous curiosity about him. He was good-looking, with smooth, round cheeks, a wide brow, and a full and generous mouth. His hair was dark brown and wavy, brushed straight back from his forehead, and he had thick, curving brows above those soulful, expressive eyes. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he had towered over her when they had been introduced, and she decided he must be all of six feet, perhaps more than that. Even sitting down on the piano stool he looked tall.
Unexpectedly, he lifted his head and stared at her. Their eyes locked. Try though she did, Teddy discovered she was unable to look away. The intensity of his gaze held her. And it unnerved her, made her heart begin to pound in a most unreasonable and unfamiliar way, and she felt the colour rushing up from her neck to flood her face.
She was finally able to avert her gaze, but within a split second her eyes were inevitably drawn back to his. The look he gave her was more direct than ever and seemed full of hidden meaning.
Teddy dropped her eyes, trying to compose herself. When she looked up again, she saw that he was watching her closely. Then he smiled at her, and it was the loveliest of smiles; it seemed to reach deep inside her to touch her heart, and she understood that something important was happening between them at this moment, and she was afraid.
Lydia whispered in her ear, ‘I’m going to the kitchen to give my mother a hand with supper. Excuse me a moment,’ and she moved away from the piano as she spoke.
Teddy immediately swung around and hurried after her friend.
Drawing alongside her, she murmured, ‘I haven’t said hello to your mother yet. I’ll come with you, and perhaps I can also be of some help.’
‘I’m quite sure Mother has done everything, Teddy dear, but by all means come along, and at least we can carry the food into the dining room for her.’
Teddy followed Lydia out into the hall. They were making their way down the corridor to the kitchen at the back of the house, when Teddy said quietly, ‘Mark is tremendously talented, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he is,’ Lydia agreed. There was a short pause and then she came to a halt, glanced at Teddy over her shoulder. ‘I think he is very taken with you, my dear.’
‘What do you mean?’ Teddy asked, her eyes widening.
‘He was looking at you, Teddy, you know, in that way.’
‘What way?’
‘The way a man looks at a woman when he’s attracted to her, and very interested in pursuing her.’
‘Oh,’ Teddy said, at a loss for words.
‘Do you like him?’
‘I hardly know him, Lydia!’
‘What I meant was, do you like the look of him?’
‘Yes,’ Teddy admitted, and then shyness seized her and she stammered, ‘I—I—I think he’s very good-looking, actually, and he seems very nice, very pleasant.’
‘Mark’s quite something, in my opinion. I wish he were interested in me, but he isn’t. I suppose I’m not his type.’ Lydia eyed her, and a smile spread across her face slowly. ‘But I believe you are, and that’s why I wanted you to come this evening.’
‘Do you mean you’re matchmaking? Teddy probed, frowning, and then giving her friend a hard stare.
Lydia grinned, ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. But look, why not? What’s wrong with getting two people together?’
Teddy was silent, and then she suddenly said, ‘I hope Mark doesn’t think you’re doing that. I’d feel awful if he did. I’d be very embarrassed.’
‘He has no inkling. Truly. By the way, quite aside from being such a nice person, Mark’s a war hero. He has the DSO, and the DFC, and oodles of other decorations.’
‘But he’s so young!’ Teddy exclaimed in surprise. ‘Still, I can well imagine that he is brave and full of valour.’
‘Yes, so can I. He has a certain look about him,’ Lydia murmured thoughtfully. ‘A special look, one I can’t quite define. And I understand from Archie that he’s very true blue and dependable and patriotic. Incidentally, he’s not as young as he looks and you think.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Twenty-five, a year older than Archie. Your age, actually.’
‘I see.’
‘He’s one of The Few, you know.’
‘A Battle of Britain pilot!’ Teddy exclaimed, impressed. ‘Then that explains all the medals,’ she added, and thought of Winston Churchill’s words about those young men, none of them much older than twenty, who in 1940 had defended England in the skies. ‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few,’ Churchill had said, and ever after that speech to the House of Commons, those valiant Battle of Britain fighter pilots had been known as The Few. Being a Battle of Britain flyer had become a special kind of honour in itself, even for those who had not won medals.
TWENTY-SIX
Julia Pell was peering inside the Aga oven when Lydia and Teddy walked into the spacious, family-style kitchen. She straightened and swung around at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor.
Her face instantly lit up at the sight of the two young women. She was extremely fond of Teddy, and she cried, ‘There you are, Theodora! I’m delighted you are here tonight after all.’
‘So am I, Mrs Pell,’ Teddy responded, walking over to her friend’s mother and embracing her. Mrs Pell returned the loving gesture with genuine warmth, and when they drew apart Teddy asked, ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Nothing right now, my dear, but thank you so much for offering. Do go and sit at the kitchen table and finish your wine, and you, too, Lydia. Everything’s under control. In a few minutes I’ll start taking the food out of the oven, and then you can both pitch in, good sports that you are.’
So saying, Mrs Pell hurried over to the pantry, went in, came out immediately carrying a large glass bowl, which she placed on one of the counter tops, and then returned to the pantry again.
/>
Watching her move around the kitchen with speed and efficiency, yet also with lithesome grace, Teddy could not help thinking how much Lydia resembled her, and in so many ways.
Julia Pell was tall, willowy, a striking woman with dark-red hair, cornflower-blue eyes and hundreds of freckles on her creamy-toned skin. Lydia had inherited her height and figure, her sparkling blue eyes and fiery hair, as well as her elegance of movement, her happy-go-lucky disposition. It struck Teddy that tonight more than ever they seemed like sisters rather than mother and daughter. She was extremely fond of both women, who had proven to be good friends to her over the past few years. When she and Lydia had first met they had taken to each other at once, and Mrs Pell’s response to her had been as spontaneous and warm as her daughter’s.
Julia and her husband Michael were both descended from ancient Anglo-Irish Catholic families and had been born and brought up in Ireland. Although they had lived in London for their entire married life, and their children had been born here, they still maintained a home in Donegal, the house which Michael had inherited from his father, and where, until 1939, they had spent their summers. ‘When the war is over and we can all travel again, you must come and stay with us at Dromlochan, and for the whole summer,’ Mrs Pell had said on frequent occasions to Teddy, and she had graciously included Maxim, Aunt Ketti and even the Westheims. Teddy had been touched by this generous invitation, and she hoped they would all be able to go to Dromlochan one day. For a long time she had itched to visit Ireland, and it had become one of her ambitions for the future. The Pells had two other children, Siobhan, who was in the Women’s Land Army in Scotland, and Niall, an officer with the merchant marine on the Russian convoy run, and they were equally as unorthodox, friendly and easygoing as the rest of the family.
Mrs Pell made a final trip to the pantry, came out carrying another cut-glass bowl, and closed the door behind her.
‘Well, my darling,’ she said, swinging around to face Lydia, ‘I’ve blown every one of our ration coupons on this supper for Archie and his friends! However, I do think it’s been worth it, and certainly your brother is about to savour some of his favourite dishes.’