Kate's War, page 15
“I don’t know how to get into that business. Quite happy teaching,” she said drily.
“I have friends who would love to have you at their events. They raise money to help the war effort. Why don’t you come with me? I can introduce you.”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why ever not? Don’t let an opportunity go to waste. I’m here for another week. How about Saturday? I’m invited to a cocktail party in Hampstead.”
This sounded like a repeat of the earlier offer with Lydia and Barry. That had come to nothing. And, despite his appeal, she had no desire to be drawn into another relationship with him and risk another heartbreak. She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’d rather not.”
His eyes, those summer-blue eyes, bore into her. “Please. You were always my favourite girlfriend. I’d love to have your company. Just for one evening.”
Her resistance slipped away. “All right.”
“Fine. I’ll come by for you at six.”
* * *
Kate sat with the small package of meat on her lap on the bus home. For the second time in as many months, she asked herself what she was doing. First, she had agreed to take responsibility for Hannah, something she didn’t feel equipped to do, and now she had accepted an invitation to go out with a man she instinctively considered a bad risk. She was flirting with danger. But she did wish for a more intense life. War or no, she craved a renewed sense of living life fully instead of sitting on the sidelines. She would still like to help Hannah, besides finding an opportunity for herself to sing. Perhaps by meeting new people she could achieve at least one of her goals, even if it meant accompanying Tony to a cocktail party.
CHAPTER 21
April 1940
Kate didn’t tell anyone about her arrangement to meet Tony. She wished Sybil or Clare were around to talk to. Now she anxiously awaited the day of the event, fretting about how to conduct herself. She wanted to appear sophisticated. He had already noted her more womanly appearance, and she imagined she saw a glimmer of appreciation as he appraised her. She hated that—why did men stare at a woman from head to toe without that behaviour being considered rude? But in any case, she wanted to look her best. She’d have to dress up for the cocktail party. Perusing her wardrobe, she chose a blue dress and held it up against her body. She had only worn it once before. Though not silk, it was her dressiest garment. Perhaps Mary Grace would let her borrow some pearls for the occasion.
As though reading her daughter’s thoughts, Mary Grace appeared at her bedroom door.
“You need to get out more,” she said, holding out a copy of the Sunday Express. “Lord Castlerosse says that any girl who doesn’t marry in these times is just not trying.”
Kate felt her face flush. “What does he know?” she retorted. “Some girls might not want to get married. Why marry just for the sake of it?”
“For security. Your father provides a livelihood for all of us, including you. And these days, men going off to war want a wife or sweetheart to write to.”
Kate glared at her. “I have a job. I stay here because—well, because I know you want to keep the family together, not because I can’t support myself. But it’s time for me to leave . . .” she stopped, holding her hands to her mouth. There. She’d said it.
Mary Grace glared back at her. “When did I ever tell you that you had to stay? After all, I left home myself, once. Before I was your age, too.”
Her mother turned to go, slamming the door as she went.
“For God’s sake!” Kate said, exasperated. She can’t stop needling me. After insisting she wants to keep the family together, now she says she doesn’t care if I leave. Damnation. Perhaps I’ll marry Tony.
She flopped onto the bed and threw the dress into a corner.
* * *
On the day of her appointment with Tony—she refused to call it anything else—she spent hours preparing: ironing the blue dress, putting curlers in her hair, taking a long bath, dusting herself with talcum powder, and carefully applying makeup. The dress fit and suited her. She’d manage without the pearls. She was ready early, two hours ahead of time, and sat down at the piano to while away the minutes, attempting to slow her racing pulse as she anticipated seeing him. A knock at the door interrupted her as she played the last strains of the Vera Lynn hit “Don’t Fence Me In.” He’s early. That’s probably a good sign, she thought.
She made for the door. On the step, smiling, his face almost hidden by an enormous arrangement of red roses, stood not Tony, but Barry.
“Oh,” she gasped. “It’s you.”
He thrust the bouquet into her hands, then stood back.
“So good to see you,” he said admiringly.
She could hardly speak for shock. “Uh, thank you very much. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’ve been away. Conscripted and in training. I’m home on leave.”
“I didn’t know,” she said. “Look, thank you so much for the flowers, but I can’t talk now. I’m about to go out.”
“But I’ve got something important to say. It’ll only take a minute. May I come in?”
“Um, I suppose so, just for a minute,” she said.
He followed her into the living room. She could hear her mother in the kitchen preparing supper and closed the door.
He cleared his throat. “I know this is very sudden, but I’m leaving on Tuesday, and this can’t wait.”
“Do sit down,” she said, taking a seat on an armchair.
Ignoring her, he dropped to his knee. “You see, I love you,” he blurted. “I want you to marry me.”
She stood up, confused and queasy.
“This is so . . . hic . . . sudden . . .” Hic, hic, hic. “Unexpected. Please excuse me.”
She dashed into the kitchen for a glass of water, dropping the roses onto the floor. Mary Grace looked away from the pan she was stirring on the stove. “Whatever’s wrong?”
“Please tell Barry I can’t.” Hic, hic.
“Barry’s here? What’s going on?” Mary Grace asked, scurrying into the living room. “What are you doing on your knees? Are you hurt?”
Kate overheard her mother’s question with despair. How embarrassing for us all.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Murphy, he said. “I’d best be off. Please tell Kate I’ll write to her.”
Kate sat at the table, resting her forehead in her hands.
Mary Grace strode into the kitchen. “Whatever’s wrong with you?” she asked, angrily picking up the flowers. “It seems you’ve just slighted a very nice suitor.”
“Leave me alone, Mum. It’s none of your business,” Kate said, rising to leave.
“He told me to tell you he’ll write.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Kate slowly mounted the stairs to her room. Barry’s proposal had shocked her, and she needed time to calm her racing mind. What a nerve he has, appearing out of the blue, with a marriage proposal, of all things. She’d never considered him a serious prospect, especially not now. She had a date with a man who interested her in less than an hour. How could she compose herself? Perhaps she would tell him she was unwell. In her confusion, she’d messed up her hair and smeared mascara all over her face. She looked a wreck. She couldn’t possibly go out now. A train sped by outside, but for once she found the familiar rattle comforting. At least the train understood her disordered life.
Half an hour later, having cleaned her smudged face and gulped down two aspirin, Kate resolved to go ahead with her plans for the evening. She expected to hear later from Barry and needed time to write a response. She would refuse him, of course. After running a comb through her hair and refreshing her makeup, she deemed herself presentable. Not quivering with excitement like before Barry’s intrusion—and she did consider the marriage proposal an intrusion—but calmer. Maybe it was best this way. She did not want to allow her emotions to overwhelm her as they had the last time she’d seen Tony.
He arrived late, at half-past six. Kate grabbed her coat and called goodbye to her mother. No need to explain. Mary Grace would assume she was going dancing, and who she was with was none of her business.
Tony stood on the front step dressed in a dark coat and tie. His handsome face wore a disarming smile. The man she remembered.
“So good to see you,” he said.
“And you.”
“I tried to remember our last date. We went to the pictures, a Jeanette MacDonald flick, I remember. We loved the singing. I always wondered what happened to you after that. You avoided me.”
“Let’s not talk about it now. Where are we going, and who will be there?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
He opened the car door for her.
“Tell me more about the people I’m likely to meet.”
“Actually, I won’t know many. Henry Abbott, a fellow student, invited me. He has a lot of connections and thought I’d enjoy getting out and having some fun. I believe Sir Anthony Wyckham will be there. He’s one of my teachers.”
“Who’s the host?”
“Lady Cornelia Rowbottom.”
“Ah.” Kate didn’t keep up with the upper classes and their pursuits, but she recognised the name from the society column in The Times. She pondered what she would have to say to these aristocrats, but she anticipated the evening as an amusing adventure, pleased to have her good-looking and respectable former boyfriend as her escort. Former boyfriend, she told herself firmly.
They arrived at the wrought-iron gates enclosing Lady Cornelia’s grand residence. A fitting venue for a fancy occasion, Kate was glad she had on her best dress. It would have been better if she’d worn the pearl necklace, but perhaps no one would notice her bare neck. Leaving the car parked in the circular driveway, they entered the house. The cavernous entry hall soared two stories high with marble pillars supporting the upper floors. Chandeliers glittered overhead and sconces adorned the frescoed walls. Kate speculated whether the lighted dome could be seen from the air, making it a prime target for bombs.
A silk-frocked servant took their coats and ushered them into the ballroom. A mob of perfumed guests and the roar of lively conversation surrounded them. Many of the women sported feathers in their hair, and diamond jewelry flashed from ears and throats. I’m under-dressed, Kate growled to herself, and hoped Tony didn’t care. They passed a long table laid out with platters of food and enormous vases of flowers. Pure opulence, she thought, and where did they get these things?
Tony shepherded her towards the bar on the far side of the room. “What will you have to drink?”
“How about a Singapore Sling?”
“Good choice.”
He placed the order for their drinks. After handing her a crystal glass, he proposed a toast. “To my beautiful lady. Thank you for the pleasure of your company tonight.”
He bowed slightly as he spoke, and she laughed at the unnecessary gallantry. “I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the grandeur,” she said. “Hard to believe we’re at war.”
“Yes. The wealthy classes have ways of maintaining their luxurious lifestyle. I suggest you take full advantage of the offerings while you can.”
A tall, mustachioed man wearing a white tie and black coat tails joined them. “Anthony, old chap. Glad you could make it,” he said, shaking Tony’s hand.
“Thanks for inviting me, Henry. May I introduce Miss Kate Murphy?”
“Miss Murphy, my pleasure,” Henry said, eyeing her with obvious appreciation. “If you will excuse us, I need to steal Anthony to talk about some medical matters. Should only take a few minutes.”
“Of course,” Kate said.
The two men moved away. She scanned the room. As expected, she didn’t know anyone. Her stomach growled. Something to eat would ease her discomfort. And more to drink . . . but she didn’t suppose she should ask for a drink for herself. So awkward, not knowing how to behave. Kate drifted towards the food table and reached for a fig. As she did so, her finger touched a woman’s plump hand aiming for the same piece of fruit.
“So sorry,” the hand’s owner said.
“After you,” Kate replied.
“No. You’re the guest.” The woman lifted the platter. “I’m Cornelia. Help yourself.”
“How do you do? I’m Kate. I came with Tony Trent.”
“Ah yes. My grandson knows him, I believe. They’re both in medical school, aren’t they?”
“That’s right.”
“A worthy profession, and one that keeps them from fighting in this atrocious war. Doctors are in reserved occupations, I understand. No reason to go after Hitler, you know,” she said.
Kate looked askance at the hostess. She had a glass of champagne in one hand and glittery eyes. Probably too much to drink. But Kate needed to make a response to the shocking disclosure.
“Uh, yes. We do need doctors,” she said. “What a lovely party, Lady Cornelia.”
“Isn’t it? We all need cheering up, don’t we? Such a nuisance, keeping everything so dark everywhere. We have to keep things going so when the Germans arrive, we can welcome them in style,” she crowed.
Kate squirmed inwardly, but offered a thin smile.
“I shouldn’t keep you,” the lady continued. “You young people should dance and enjoy yourselves.”
Swaying, she vanished into the throng. Kate surveyed the room, searching for Tony. Perhaps he would be at the bar having a drink. She wove through the bejeweled mob, avoiding eye contact. Maybe they were all Nazi sympathisers like their host. Since her conversation with Sarah, she had learned more about the Nazis’ brutal treatment of Jews. Horrified, she questioned if Tony could be one of Lady Cornelia’s type. All the more reason to resist him. She must find out. Discreetly.
The musicians in the corner struck up a Strauss waltz and guests scattered to allow space for dancing. As the crowd thinned, Kate spied Tony on the far side of the room and worked her way over to him.
“Ah, here you are,” he said, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry for neglecting you, but I hope you’re having fun. I’ll try to introduce you to several people I know.”
“That’s all right,” Kate said. “I’d really like to dance, though.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
Relieved, Kate allowed him to swing her around the floor. He danced well, and she relaxed into his arms. She questioned whether the music of Strauss, a native of Austria, and now an enemy nation, would be played at other English parties. Music should be universal, she thought, not blacklisted because of the nationality of the musician. Perhaps Tony had some thoughts about that. In fact, that might be a way to approach the subject of his political beliefs. Wrapped in his arms, she suddenly felt uneasy and desperately hoped he shared her views in such important ways.
And she sensed that, despite the intimacy of his touch, the magic she had always felt with him simply wasn’t there. Furthermore, she recognised that she didn’t really know him at all.
After dancing for a while, her disappointment growing, Kate saw no reason to linger at the party.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go home now. I have a beastly headache,” she said.
“Sorry to hear that. Would you like an aspirin?”
“No, thank you. It’s just something I need to sleep off.”
“I’m sorry you’re under the weather. We may be able to sneak out without offending anyone. I only came to please my colleague, and as you know, I’ve already seen him.”
They reclaimed their coats, and with the aid of their torches, located the car. Kate experienced a surge of relief once away from the party’s noise and safely ensconced in the vehicle’s dark interior.
“So how did it go? Did you meet anyone interesting?” Tony asked.
“I hardly know what to say. Such an outlandish experience. Unworldly . . . I don’t move in such circles,” she said.
“Neither do I, but it’s good to have connections in high places.”
“Mmm. Useful.”
Kate wanted to learn more about his connections, especially those with Nazi sympathisers, but tired out from her day’s ordeals, she chose not to pursue the matter then. She wouldn’t want to sing at an event with the people there even if asked, and possibly Tony wouldn’t want to see her again, anyway. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him, either. If he shared views with those people, she wanted none of him.
When they reached the house, he accompanied her to the door and gave her a brief hug. “Thank you for coming, and I hope you feel better soon. I’ll be in touch,” he said.
She fitted her key in the lock. “Thank you for the invitation.”
She stepped inside without looking back.
CHAPTER 22
April 1940
The next morning, Kate lingered in bed replaying events of the previous day, questioning if everything had been a hallucination. Or a bad dream, more likely. The last thing she wanted was a marriage proposal, and Tony, the man she’d kept close to her heart for years, had turned out to be a grave disappointment.
What had happened to the fairy-tale attraction that captivated her when she first knew him? She cast her mind back to the warm July day when he took her hand as they wandered in the lavender fields south of Carshalton. She’d worn a new summer frock—white and gauzy. Sitting on a bench, they watched yellow butterflies flitting over mounds of intoxicatingly fragrant purple flowers. Her body roused when he kissed her. She’d fallen helplessly in love. But even then, the idea crossed her mind that the fluttering butterflies moved quickly from flower to flower in their endless search for nourishment. A few days later, Tony had betrayed her, sitting in the same place, kissing another girl. She’d ached with the memory ever since.
Until last night. No passionate feelings had emerged, and the promise of love in the lavender fields dwelled in her mind as a lost dream.
* * *
Her mother would want an explanation about Barry, and she needed to work out how to tell him she couldn’t accept his offer. I wanted a more active life, and now that I have one, I only want to retreat into my old familiar one. She had obligations to her family, and to Hannah. Her mother would be at church for a while longer, so Kate had time to think. She opened the blackout curtains to discover the sun flinging rays into the awakening spring day. A walk was in order.
