Camomile Lawn

  ‘Is that the animal that bit Tony?’

  ‘Must have been, she never had any other dog.’

  ‘So Tony isn’t telling tall stories when he says he slept with Calypso,’ James remarked.

  ‘Shooting a line, they said at the time,’ Polly agreed. ‘I hope we aren’t going to be late. It’s wrong to be late for a funeral. You wait for it all your life and when people are late it seems rude.’

  ‘He won’t know, Ma. It’s not as though it’s a concert. Anyway, the funeral is tomorrow.’

  ‘There was always another concert.’

  ‘Oh really, Ma! Try not to fuss.’

  ‘You can cough and sneeze and cry at funerals but you mustn’t be late,’ said Polly sadly.

  ‘Oh Ma, just drive carefully or we will be having a mass do.’

  Calypso watched Hector pack.

  ‘Shall you grow a military moustache? It would make you very unattractive.’

  ‘Would you mind?’

  ‘I shan’t be there to see it.’

  ‘Calypso, darling, will you have Catherine?’

  ‘Who is Catherine? What for?’

  ‘You know perfectly well. Her father bred the puppy, she will look after the baby.’

  ‘And me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I don’t know yet whether I am having a baby. Shan’t know for weeks and weeks.’

  ‘If you do I want you to have Catherine.’

  ‘All right, I will, but only when it’s born. Why isn’t she in war work? Why isn’t she an A.T.T. or a Wren, is she wanting or something?’ Watching Hector pack made Calypso disagreeable.

  ‘She’s lame.’

  ‘Poor girl. Sorry. But I don’t want one of your people spying on me.’

  Hector smacked Calypso’s face quite hard. ‘You fool, do you think I like going off like this, leaving you with no one to look after you? You won’t go to your parents because you’d be bored, you won’t go to Scotland, you’d be bored there, you insist on staying in London, you may get bombed. I worry.’

  ‘No need to hit me. That’s much more of a worry.’

  ‘Don’t let’s get sour.’

  ‘All right, I’ll send for Catherine if anything happens.’

  ‘Hector went off in a filthy temper.’ Calypso sat on the edge of Polly’s kitchen table swinging her legs. ‘All the rush of packing,’

  ‘Shall you miss him?’

  ‘I don’t intend to. It’s lovely having the house to myself, working when I want, going to bed when I want.’

  ‘With whom you want.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t, of course.’ Polly wondered who Calypso intended going to bed with, whether Tony had yet staked a claim.

  ‘If you get lonely you can always come here.’

  ‘Thanks. Any news of Walter?’

  ‘Not for ages and ages.’

  ‘The twins?’

  ‘They are alive. They come up when they get a night off.’

  ‘Always together?’

  ‘Usually one at a time. They get awful nightmares, Calypso. They scream.’

  ‘So would I if I were shot down. It’s hard to take in, though. Hector says you look up and if someone’s missing from breakfast in the mess it puts you off your nosh; you think it may be you tomorrow. That’s what Hector says. It may be quite different for the twins. Hector’s experience was in the last war.’

  ‘Like Uncle Richard. Funny that Hector is as old as that. They won’t let him near any fighting, will they?’

  ‘He’s awfully aggressive, he might be very good at it.’

  ‘Walter says they take ages to get there and they might be torpedoed.’

  ‘Thanks a lot, you’re very cheering. I don’t know where “there” is, Cairo or Crete or the Suez Canal. Hector won’t like being stuck on a ship, he hates inactivity. Polly, d’you hear things in your office, real news?’

  ‘You can read the papers, listen to the wireless.’

  ‘But can one believe one word? Look at Dunkirk. Hector says it was a shameful shambles.’

  ‘Does he? We thought so in our office but we didn’t dare say so. Goodness.’ Polly looked thoughtfully at Calypso respecting Hector. ‘My boss thought we’d be invaded by the end of June, he even knew the date.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘June 24th. I remember because it was Midsummer Day. Why are you laughing?’ Polly was startled by Calypso’s giggles.

  ‘Nothing, oh nothing. Poor Oliver. I had tonsillitis. I wonder where he is now? He went off in a temper, too.’

  ‘I think we should ring up the old people while we are together. Aunt Sarah’s a worrier and I haven’t heard anything from Cornwall for weeks. Helena behaves as though they didn’t exist.’

  ‘She’s having such a good time.’ Calypso spoke with admiration. ‘I never would have thought it of her, would you?’

  ‘Not in my wildest dreams.’

  ‘We kept in touch by telephone,’ said Polly, speaking over her shoulder to Iris and James. ‘In the war,’ she added, catching James’s expression in the driving mirror. ‘This drive, this funeral, thinking of Max, Uncle Richard and all of them brings it all back.’

  ‘You seem to remember it all very vividly.’ Iris leaned over from the back seat to stroke Jumbo.

  ‘Vivid, yes. London on fire. The House of Commons, the Guildhall, the East End. Some nights we climbed on the roof to watch. Turner couldn’t have done better. Other times we hid under the kitchen table.’

  ‘You make it sound beautiful and exhilarating, fun even.’

  ‘It was. One should be ashamed. Before it started we all swore we wouldn’t become War Bores like Uncle Richard. Gosh, he was boring. On and on about comradeship, courage, carnage and—’

  ‘Clap?’ suggested James.

  ‘If his generation caught clap it wasn’t mentioned. Poor old fellow.’

  ‘You never talk about your parents, Ma.’

  ‘I know, I don’t know why.’ Polly shifted in the driving seat. ‘One day they were there, Father in his hospital, Mother doing war work, and the next they were whooshed away by one stray bomb. Walter couldn’t get to the funeral, he was at sea. Aunt Helena and Aunt Sarah and Uncle George came. It’s an awful thing to say but I simply seemed to forget about them. There was so much going on.’

  ‘Oh,’ murmured Iris and James, wondering whether in the event of Polly’s sudden demise they would take it so calmly.

  Of course they would have objected to what went on, interfered, thought Polly to herself. ‘Divine Providence is pretty quirky,’ she said aloud. ‘We used to telephone. We were rationed to three minutes and had to cram all the news into that.’

  ‘Any news, Aunt Sarah? Any news? How are you and Uncle George?’

  ‘We are well, my dear. How are you?’

  ‘I’m well. Hector’s gone overseas.’

  ‘My dear child, are you alone?’

  ‘I’m with Polly at the moment.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

  ‘I like it. Any news of Oliver?’

  ‘We had a letter. He’s in Egypt.’

  ‘How d’you know? I thought they weren’t allowed—’

  ‘He said the weather’s lovely. Lots of old friends call. They just toot and come in.’

  ‘How naughty of him!’ Polly took the telephone from Calypso. ‘Not that it does much harm. I’ve no news of Walter, he’s at sea. We are going to ring the Cornish lot.’

  ‘They’ve got someone they don’t like planted on them. I couldn’t make out what Monika said, you know her accent. I didn’t talk to your uncle, he was out. I know you are busy, but could you get Calypso to go down and see them? Helena has just deserted. This love affair’s gone to her head.’

  ‘Not only her head,’ said Polly. ‘Damn, that’s the three minutes.’

  They waited patiently to get through to Cornwall. The telephone was answered by Richard.

  ‘Ah, Calypso, just the girl. I
want to talk to your Hector.’

  ‘You can’t, he’s gone overseas.’

  ‘Then give him a message.’

  ‘I can’t get hold of him, Uncle.’

  ‘My dear you must, the bloody Army’s put a gun under my nose. I ask you, a gun!’

  ‘What sort of gun?’

  ‘Anti-aircraft. It makes us a target. The Hun will shoot us.’

  ‘Surely it’s camouflaged?’

  ‘Right under my nose. I won’t put up with it. I said so. All the bloody jumped-up joker said was “There’s a war on”, as if I were not aware. I lost a leg in the last one, I told him. I’m not going to have my lawn ruined in this. Hector could get it moved along the coast.’

  ‘Couldn’t they put it on the General’s land?’ Polly took the receiver and joined the conversation.

  ‘They tried, silly buggers. They tried but he pulled rank, said he was a General. Wouldn’t hurt him to have a gun but if they fire the damn thing they will frighten the cow.’

  ‘What cow?’

  ‘Monika’s bought a cow, pretty beast, keeps it tethered, says that’s what they do in Austria. If they fire, the poor beast might try and run away and strangle itself. It’s too appalling to contemplate. Hector could get it moved.’

  ‘The cow?’

  ‘Don’t be dense, girl. The gun. If the Huns machine-gunned St Mary’s. We are quite unprotected.’

  ‘Was St Mary’s machine-gunned?’

  ‘Yes. They say they killed the village idiot but people will say anything these days.’

  ‘I didn’t know about St Mary’s.’

  ‘Supposed to be a top secret. They dropped a bomb on that secret place on Goonhilly Downs, missed of course, made a bloody great crater. We’ve no defences. The buggers just fly up and down the coast as though it were Bank Holiday, nobody to stop them, all our Army’s gone to the Middle East, I hear.’

  ‘You seem to hear an awful lot, Uncle Richard.’

  ‘Monika listens to the German news, it’s much clearer than ours. We get jolly good concerts too, no atmospherics. Pretty efficient lot, those Germans, you must grant them that. They wouldn’t plant a gun on my front lawn.’

  ‘Is it really on the lawn?’

  ‘Poetic licence. Try and get Calypso to get hold of Hector, there’s a good girl. We’ll never win the war at this rate, first Dunkirk and now this. Try and—’ The telephone crackled then fell silent.

  ‘We’ve been cut off.’ Polly replaced the receiver. ‘Could you go down and see what’s going on, Calypso?’

  ‘I was thinking of going back to my job now Hector’s away to war.’

  ‘Couldn’t you go down there first? It sounds as if Uncle Richard is in a fix.’

  ‘All right. We owe it, I suppose. Come, Fling.’ She picked up the puppy. ‘Goodnight, sweetie, see you soon.’

  ‘Keep in touch. I’d like to know what’s going on, and do tell Uncle not to careless talk.’

  ‘Fat lot of good that will do.’

  ‘He will get into trouble if he’s too indiscreet listening to the German news.’

  ‘It’s Monika. She can’t do any harm.’

  ‘Monika is a victim. When shall you go?’

  ‘Soon. It will take my mind off things. Goodnight, discreet cousin.’

  ‘Why do you call me that?’

  Calypso went off laughing without answering.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ said Polly in bed later. ‘I am so happy. Will Calypso be all right alone in that big house? Will she be afraid in the raids?’

  ‘She can put out her hand, feel Fling and pretend it’s Hector’s hairy chest.’

  ‘Perhaps she likes hairy men.’ Polly was half asleep.

  ‘She has catholic tastes.’

  ‘Are you speaking from first-hand knowledge?’

  ‘Guesswork and hearsay. Roll over—’

  Twenty

  IT IS GOOD OF you to meet me,’ Calypso climbed into the car beside Monika, ‘when you are rationed for petrol.’

  ‘That’s no matter. The General told us what to put on the form for the ration. The General knows all these things.’

  ‘Oh, what did you do?’

  ‘Richard asks for petrol for shopping, yes? Petrol to go to church, yes? Nobody goes much to church. Then to get Sophy to her school. He “forgets” to cancel now she is at boarding school. Then petrol for Max’s concerts, that is war work. Petrol for Richard’s A.R.P. when he goes to his post, and of course petrol for Richard’s leg. That is useful, no?’

  ‘Very.’ Calypso was impressed. ‘I never thought the General was so fly.’

  ‘War sharpens the intelligence,’ said Monika grimly.

  ‘What’s this about a cow and a gun?’

  ‘The cow is war work. I buy her from the General. I make the butter and the cheese and we have milk.’

  ‘But what does it eat? Uncle Richard and Helena have no fields.’

  ‘I tie it by the road, it eats what they call “the long pasture”. The old men in the pub they tell me that.’

  ‘Is it legal?’

  ‘In Austria they do it. The gypsies do it. The grass is waste if the cow not eat it.’

  ‘Goodness. Where does she sleep?’

  ‘On the lawn or if it rains in the garage.’

  ‘The camomile lawn?’

  ‘The cow does not like the camomile.’

  ‘But we do.’ Calypso felt outraged. ‘It must make an awful mess.’

  ‘I gather the mess for the vegetables.’

  ‘And where is the gun?’

  ‘On the cliff where you and Oliver were sitting, where Mrs Penrose’s husband fell over drunk.’

  Calypso asked: ‘Who is Mrs Penrose when she’s at home?’

  ‘She lives in the village, but she works three days’ housework for the Frau Rektor Floyer and three days for me.’

  Calypso noted the way Monika referred to Mrs Penrose as working for her.

  From outside, the house on the cliff was the same as ever, crouching glum over the sea, but once inside Calypso sniffed. No whiff of Helena’s roses and potpourri but an aroma of Continental cooking. She did not immediately note other changes as Richard’s dachshund sprang, snarling, and pinned Fling screaming to the ground. As she tried to rescue the puppy Richard came and buffeted the struggling dogs with his artificial leg.

  ‘Lay off, you filthy Hun. Can’t you see the poor little brute’s only a baby? Hullo, Calypso, my dear, good of you to come.’ He kissed her. ‘We’ll have tea by the fire, Monika.’

  Calypso, holding Fling out of Duck’s reach, followed him to the drawing room.

  ‘You spoke to her as though she was a servant,’ she said.

  ‘She doesn’t mind. She’s Hebrew. Slaves in Egypt and so on. Got to keep my end up. Just look around and see what she’s done. I ask you, just look.’

  Calypso looked. The furniture was changed round. The pictures re-hung, the old curtains swathed with elegance, the furniture polished.

  ‘Same all over the house,’ Richard snorted.

  ‘But it’s lovely.’

  ‘That’s the trouble. She’s got bloody good taste. They say Jews are an artistic race.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You must see what she’s done outside. There’s the cow. There are hens. They actually lay. She grows vegetables, she knits, she sews, she cooks. I have to speak to her like a servant, she’s so bloody competent.’ Richard Cuthbertson sat down and began to laugh, his tearful eye spurting. ‘She’s even got me a new leg, it’s got a hinge.’ He pulled up his trouser leg and showed his new contraption. ‘The old one got a gremlin in it.’

  ‘A new mode of speech too.’

  ‘Parson’s twins. Gremlins. Prangs. Burtons. Wizards. Practically incomprehensible.’

  ‘Er—what does er—’ Calypso hesitated.

  ‘What does Helena say? Suits her. She’s changed too, you may have noticed. She’s become flighty.’

  ‘May I go and choose my room, Uncle Richard?’ Calypso f
elt Helena had become thin ice as well as flighty.

  ‘You’ll have to ask Monika.’ Richard Cuthbertson roared ‘Monika!’

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘Where’s Calypso to sleep?’

  ‘Might I have the red room?’

  ‘I put you in what was the spare dressing room.’

  ‘Oh.’ Calypso followed Monika upstairs carrying the puppy, her suitcase picked up by Monika.

  ‘Richard sleeps here now and Helena there. Max has to have their old rooms because of the piano—he has to have one at night for his inspirations. I sleep here, Sophy in her old room and this is the guest room for guests. You I put in this room, your dog can sleep in the scullery.’

  ‘No, it can’t.’

  ‘No? Is it safe? Does it mess?’

  ‘Sometimes. You seem to have been awfully busy, Monika, you seem to have taken an awful lot on your shoulders. You have changed Aunt Helena’s house completely, taken over, I mean moved in, moved everything. Apparently you cook, sew, clean, garden, run a farm, run Uncle Richard. It’s all very well, but should you? I’m sure it’s all very beautiful and in perfect taste but Fling shall not sleep in the scullery and should you have done all this, Monika, should you? What’s the matter?’ Calypso stared at the tears pouring unchecked down Monika’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Monika, you poor thing.’

  ‘It is Pauli. If I do not work I go mad. You have no child so you would not understand, perhaps I am mad already.’ Monika’s tears dropped unchecked on to her jersey, caught like dew in a spider’s web. ‘I am sorry. I invented all those jobs for myself. I wanted to thank Richard and Helena but I have spoilt your childhood. I am so sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Calypso put the puppy down and found a handkerchief. She wiped Monika’s tears. ‘It doesn’t matter. I am grown up now.’ She stood embarrassed in front of the older woman. ‘Poor you. Is Max as worried?’

  ‘No, he has his work, his success, he has Helena, she suits, he likes the plump, the phlegm.’ She smiled wanly.

  ‘You have Uncle Richard. Blow your nose, do.’

  ‘The poor man. The cow, too, I have the cow. If you like I move things, put you in the red room, it won’t take a minute to change it round.’

  ‘Oh, Christ, no.’ Calypso snatched up Fling, who was off adventuring. ‘I shall be perfectly all right. I haven’t come here to cause trouble. We thought, or rather Polly thought, Uncle Richard, and you of course, would like a visit, that you, that I, that, oh blast! I’ve put my great foot in it, and honestly Monika I don’t usually bother to notice or care where I put them so you are one up there.’