Lydia laughed and said, ‘They’re undoubtedly Daddy’s favourites, too. I wish he weren’t up North tonight. He’d enjoy them as much as Archie.’
‘Yes, that’s true, he would, but what can one do, my darling?’ Julia did not wait for an answer and rushed on, ‘He had to be at the munitions factory in Leeds today, come hell or high water, and the trains are so frightfully slow at the moment he would never have got back in time for supper anyway. So it’s much better he spends the night at the Queens Hotel in Leeds, and travels home comfortably tomorrow.’
‘That’s true,’ Lydia murmured.
Teddy said, ‘Whatever’s in the oven smells delicious, Mrs Pell.’
Julia beamed at her. ‘Doesn’t it just,’ she agreed, and continued in a confiding manner, ‘The butcher let me have some ground beef—in exchange for all of our ration coupons for the next few weeks, of course! And with it I’ve made a huge cottage pie, Archie does love that so. And I’ve got an apple tart baking as well. I had some bottled apples put away, you see, for a rainy day or a special occasion, and tonight seemed as good a time as any to use them.’
Lydia said, ‘I thought you were making a trifle, Mummy.’
‘Oh but I did, my darling!’ Mrs Pell glanced at the glass bowls. ‘Two actually, though I am rather afraid they’re very much war-time trifles, since there are no bananas available. Or any of the other fruit I need, for that matter. Oh well, never mind.’ Julia Pell shrugged and let out a chuckle. ‘Thank goodness for sponge cake, jelly, Bird’s Eye custard powder, and sherry. Lots of the latter, I might add. It does give a trifle a special flavour.’
‘Good Lord, Mummy, you haven’t gone and done it again, have you!’ Lydia exclaimed, and groaned loudly. She looked across the kitchen table at Teddy, rolled her eyes and grimaced most theatrically, and explained, ‘My mother has recently acquired this knack for making sherry-drenched trifle that gets us all positively squiffy, truly and absolutely pie-eyed!’
Julia Pell instantly and vociferously protested this statement, but before Teddy could think of an appropriate comment, Archie’s ginger head appeared around the kitchen door.
‘How much longer until supper, Mother?’ he asked. ‘The troops are getting more ravenous by the minute. I won’t be able to restrain them soon… they’ll be descending on you like the Mongol hordes.’
‘Actually, Archie my darling supper is ready now,’ Mrs Pell answered her son with a bright, beaming smile. ‘Do show your friends into the dining room, please. Lydia and Teddy are about to bring everything in, and they will help me to serve.’
‘Whiz-O!’ Archie yelled, gave a blood-curdling war cry, and disappeared.
***
There was a feeling of jocularity in the air.
Supper at the Pells’ was always a boisterous affair when Archie was home on leave, and most especially when he invited his chums along for the evening.
And as usual the boys of the Royal Air Force took over. They recounted hair-raising stories about flying, gave vivid accounts of the narrow escapes they had had, told all kinds of jokes, laughed a lot, ribbed each other and everyone else unmercifully, and in general kept the womenfolk well and truly entertained throughout the meal.
Teddy, who could hold her own with anyone, and was spirited and vivacious, found herself silent for once, almost withdrawn. She was aware that this was because of Mark Lewis. He sat next to her at the dining table, and she was acutely conscious of his presence. Several times he had addressed remarks to her, and she had responded politely, but she had not initiated any conversation with him, even though she longed to do so. Her own reticence surprised her, for she was outgoing, gregarious by nature, and friendly. Yet she was rendered completely tongue-tied by this man.
Her problem was herself, she knew that, and she was endeavouring to come to grips with her inner feelings. From the moment she had met him she had responded to Mark Lewis on every level as a woman. She found him overwhelmingly attractive and physically appealing, and on the surface he was genial and charming. Yet she knew he was also a young man of character, one who was strong and brave, and intuitively she felt there were hidden depths to him, sensed that he was a person of feeling, sensitivity and gentleness, and, not unnaturally, he fascinated her.
In the five years she had been living in London, Teddy had met several young men who had shown an interest in her, and who had wanted to take her out. Each time she had declined, and she had never dated anyone since leaving Berlin. This was not only because of her commitment to Willy Herzog, but because she had not been attracted to those other men. In consequence, her fierce response to Mark had shaken her considerably, and she was taken aback at herself. There was no possible way she could deny that she was as interested in him as he was in her, because she was, and she wanted to see him again, to be alone with him, to get to know him better.
Earlier, when he had pulled the chair out for her at the dining table, he had accidentally brushed his hand against hers, and she had almost jumped out of her skin. His fingers on hers had been like an electric shock, and she had pulled her hand away quickly, even though she had not wanted to do this at all, had wanted to entwine her fingers with his.
Mark Lewis was having the most profound effect on her, and she was flooded with emotions which were unusually strong—and wholly unfamiliar. She realised she was feeling off-balance, that she had never experienced anything like this before in her entire life. Not even with Willy. Her fiance. Poor Willy. Just a short while ago her thoughts had swung to him, so far away in Shanghai, and she had admitted that there was no future for them together, whether Mark Lewis was around or not. He had nothing whatsoever to do with her sudden self-revelations. Her aunt had said that she and Willy would be like total strangers when they met again after their long, five-year separation, and she acknowledged to herself that Aunt Ketti was correct.
All of her instincts told Teddy that Mark Lewis would ask to see her again, and she had every intention of doing so. He might turn out to be a flash in the pan for her, and she for him, and in all truth she had no idea what would happen between them, if, indeed, anything at all. But she was certain of one thing. She did not love Willy enough to marry him, harboured only sisterly affection for him and she now understood that this was all she had ever felt. She had not been in love with him in Berlin in 1938, but in love with love, in love with the idea of marriage, and that was why she had said yes to Willy. But those were the wrong reasons to marry anyone.
‘How long have you known the Pells?’ Mark asked, startling her. He pushed his chair away from the table slightly, turned to face her, crossed his long legs.
‘About four and a half years,’ Teddy replied.
‘I suppose you met them through Lydia?’
‘Yes, we do war work together.’
‘War work,’ he repeated and stared at her, frowning. ‘You can’t mean you both work in a factory. Or do you mean that?’
‘No. I was referring to the work we do at the first-aid station on Haverstock Hill, and as volunteers for the Red Cross,’ Teddy explained.
‘Oh, I see. So you don’t have a job then?’
‘No… well, not really,’ Teddy hesitated, wondering whether to tell him about Maxim, and decided against it. ‘Both Lydia and I are involved in our volunteer war work on a full-time basis,’ she murmured.
Mark nodded. ‘And do you live near here, Theodora?’
‘Yes, in Belsize Park Gardens.’
‘With your parents?’
‘Do you always ask so many questions when you first meet someone?’ Teddy asked quietly.
He had the good grace to laugh. ‘No,’ he admitted, and flashed her his most charming smile, showing his even white teeth. He sat back in the chair, draped one arm over it in a nonchalant manner, and gave her a long, very meaningful look. ‘Only when I’m intrigued by someone,’ he said in a low, husky voice.
Teddy could not fail to miss the innuendo, and she was at a loss for words. She tried to look away from those d
ark, piercing eyes focused so unblinkingly on her, and she discovered she could not. And then she began to blush under his close and fixed scrutiny, and was mortified with herself. Teddy was wondering how best to steer the conversation in another direction when Mrs Pell saved her the trouble.
‘Let’s have coffee in the drawing room,’ Julia Pell announced, pushing back her chair, rising from the table, sweeping through the door into the hall.
Everyone else did the same thing, and trooped out of the dining room after her.
***
At the end of the evening Mark asked Teddy if he could drive her home and she accepted his offer.
Now the two of them sat in his red MG sports car cruising down the hill from Hampstead Village in the direction of Belsize Park Gardens. For one who had asked so many questions earlier, Mark was curiously uncommunicative on the short drive to her home. And Teddy herself was as quiet as she had been at the Pells’, hardly opening her mouth except to give him directions.
Finally when Mark came to a standstill outside her aunt’s house and braked, he swivelled around in the seat to face her and said, ‘I’d like to see you again, Theodora. Will you come out with me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Such a weak little yes,’ he said gently. ‘You are the shy one, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not really. It’s just that—’ She broke off, looked at him in the murky light of the car, took a deep breath and said, ‘I’d like to go out with you. I want to… very much.’
‘Good, I’m glad,’ he said, sounding pleased, his deep-timbred voice full of warmth. ‘What about tomorrow evening?’
‘I can’t. I promised a visit to a friend who is sick, and it wouldn’t be very nice to disappoint her.’
‘I understand. Unfortunately, I’m busy on Friday.’
‘So am I.’
‘I hope you’re free on Saturday, Theodora, because my leave is up on Sunday.’
‘Oh yes, I’m free, Mark.’
‘Then we’ll go dancing,’ he said, smiling at her in the darkness of the car.
TWENTY-SEVEN
He took her to the Savoy Hotel in the Strand.
They had dinner in the beautiful room overlooking the River Thames, and danced to Carroll Gibbons and his orchestra.
Teddy thought she had never seen anyone as handsome as Mark Lewis. Tonight he wore his blue Royal Air Force uniform with his decorations on the left side of his jacket, and it was a shock to see that boyish face above those war hero’s emblems which proclaimed his bravery as a fighter pilot.
Several times during the evening she had noticed that men as well as women cast admiring glances in his direction, and at one moment an older gentleman in a dinner jacket, dancing with his wife, had spoken to them on the dance floor.
‘It’s young men like you for whom we have to be thankful,’ the stranger had said approvingly. ‘Well done, well done, your country’s very proud of you.’
Mark had murmured something appropriate, and had smiled at the man and his wife, but he had made no comment to her as they had continued to move around the floor to the strains of Besame Mucho. And then, quite unexpectedly, he had tightened his grip on her, pulled her closer to him, much closer than before, and she had trembled in his arms and worried that he would hear the sound of her rapidly beating heart. But of course he had not. How could he? Only she heard it.
Now they were sitting at their table, sipping the champagne he had ordered to go with dessert, and talking in a desultory fashion. So far this evening they had spoken only in generalities. They had shared their mutual worry about the V2s, the horrendous new German flying bombs which did far more damage than the V1s, and which were currently being hurled upon London. They had discussed the progress of the war, the Allied victories in Italy and other parts of Europe, and Mark had echoed what everyone was saying—that the war would be over by next summer. But they had not touched on anything else. It was almost as if they were both reluctant and afraid to take the initial step of asking the first truly personal question of each other.
Teddy continued to be thrown off balance by Mark Lewis, and her emotions were churning inside her, just as they had at the Pells’ several nights ago. Yet she was determined not to allow her nervousness to show, and she had been skilful in masking this, outwardly appeared to be cool, contained, and very much in control.
‘I’m sorry the pudding is taking so long,’ Mark said, making an apologetic face. ‘Would you like to dance whilst we’re waiting, Theodora?’
She shook her head. ‘Not at the moment, if you don’t mind. And you can call me Teddy if you want, Theodora’s such a mouthful.’
He smiled at her. ‘No, it isn’t, I think it’s a beautiful name. Thee-o-dor-a… it’s very melodic to me. Of course, Teddy is more… cosy. In any case, I shall call you by both names, sometimes Theodora, sometimes Teddy.’
She nodded, leaned back in her chair, took another sip of the champagne, and gave him a lovely smile. Then she turned her head towards the orchestra, sat listening to the music, tapping her foot under the table, glad that she had spent the five pounds on the smart new evening dress, which was long and svelte-looking and in the latest colour called Dusty Pink. She knew it was flattering. She had seen it in the model room at Harrods, and had known at once that it would suit her. With the gown she wore a strand of pearls, pearl studs in her ears, and an amethyst bracelet, all of which had been her mother’s, and her mother’s engagement ring was on her right hand.
Earlier that evening, when she had finished dressing and had come downstairs, Aunt Ketti had caught her breath and told her she looked beautiful, but she hadn’t believed her—well, not really. And then Mark had said exactly the same thing when he had arrived to collect her, and she had believed him, because she had wanted to, she supposed.
She had taken him into the drawing room to meet Aunt Ketti, who had immediately asked him to take off his overcoat, sit down and have a drink, but thankfully he had declined. He had quickly explained that he had a cab waiting and that the cab-driver was a bit bolshy and wanting to be on his way back to the West End, and so they ought to hurry.
When they had stepped into the cab a few minutes later Teddy had given a little sigh of relief that they were out of the house and on their way to dinner. Aunt Ketti had previously asked her a multitude of questions about Mark, which she had been unable to answer, and she had not wanted her aunt to start probing again, asking him awkward questions about his family and, even worse, his religion. She did not care what he was. He was the most fascinating man she had ever met, and, as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.
Although Teddy had no way of knowing it, Mark Lewis was as overwhelmed by her as she was by him, and now, as she sat lost in her thoughts, a dreamy expression on her face, he was doing his level best to keep cool. His main concern was to conduct himself like a mature man and not a schoolboy having his first crush who was out on his first date with the object of his infatuation, even though he did seem to fit this role.
He lit a cigarette and sat back, looked across the table at Teddy in the candlelight. She had a face that was positively angelic; he had never seen a woman as beautiful as she, except perhaps for Ingrid Bergman in one of her recent movies, Casablanca, whom she strongly resembled. Teddy had a well-rounded face, high cheekbones, a small, straight nose, and a wide mouth with a full, voluptuous bottom lip. Although her hair was fair, her brows were dark and thick, and natural in shape, thankfully not fashionably plucked into ugly thin lines.
Her eyes were large and of the clearest green and heavily lashed. They were not only lovely eyes, but bright with intelligence which convinced him there was a quick, keen brain behind that madonna-like face.
Mark picked up his glass and took a gulp of champagne, suddenly wishing it were something much stronger. Teddy unnerved him. She also intrigued him, and he longed to know more about her, yet he did not dare ask her anything. She had already implied he was being nosy and he had considered himself rebuked
by her at the Pells’ on Wednesday
Was it only Wednesday that they had met?
Mark felt as though he had always known her—odd really, under the circumstances. He had thought about her incessantly over the past few days, and dreamed about her every night, and he was patently aware that she was the most dangerous woman he had ever met. Dangerous because he could so easily fall in love with her, become serious about her. He had known quite a few women in the past five or six years, but he had never experienced these kinds of feelings, or felt like this before… so… so… undone.
Theodora Stein was different from those other women in his past, infinitely different. There was something about her that tugged at his heart strings, made him want to protect and cherish her as well as possess her physically. Theodora Stein he repeated to himself. He wondered if she were Jewish; his mother had wondered the same thing out loud at lunch today.
‘With a name like Stein she has to be,’ his mother had said. He had explained that he didn’t know, and why did it matter what she was? Jew or Gentile, it made no difference to him. It was a remark he instantly regretted, should have known not to utter. ‘You had better find out. You know what your father’s like,’ his mother had warned, and he had groaned to himself, wishing he had never mentioned Teddy to her. But he had, and she would tell his father, had probably already told him over dinner, and tomorrow at Sunday lunch there would most probably be an inquisition. There always was when he showed an interest in a woman. This was because he was the elder son now. His brother David, his most beloved darling David, whom he had hero-worshipped all of his life and had adored, had been killed in the North African campaign. And he was supposed to take his place. As if anyone could take the place of another human being who was unique unto himself. But he was expected to do just that, and go into the family business, as David had been going to do. And he was also expected to do the right thing by the family by marrying the right kind of woman one day.