Christmas 1939 Part 1
The CBB -> Starting again at Sarres...
#1: Christmas 1939 Part 1 Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 4:18 am

The sequel to The Return.

The train was late. Twenty-five minutes late according to the notice scrawled on the blackboard.
“Drat the thing, it would be,” muttered Nell Wilson to herself. “The one time I’m meeting someone, it’s cold and the train is late.” She shivered in a sudden gust of cold wind and walked briskly up and down the platform in an effort to keep warm. The stationmaster popped his head out of his office.
“I’d go into the waiting room if I was you, Miss – there’s a good fire there.”
Nell smiled at him, shuddering inwardly at the idea of the stuffy waiting room,
“Thanks all the same, Charlie, but you know me – more comfortable out here, and besides, I can keep an eye on Conrad.” The stationmaster recognised the speaker and grinned in response.
“Sorry, Miss Nell, I didn’t know it was you – and now it’s getting dark, I didn’t recognise the horse either. You don’t come down here often these days, do you?”
“I’m meeting a friend, Charlie. She’s coming from London to spend Christmas and New Year with me – maybe longer.” She smiled at him. “Yes, you may tell Sarah – in fact, we’ll probably be up there tomorrow, and put her out of her misery!” The man’s eyes twinkled in perfect comprehension,
“Sarah just likes to know, Miss Nell, that’s all. Glad to see you’re well.” He was interrupted by the sudden clanging of a telephone bell, and turned to go back inside his office.
“Train should be here in another twenty minutes,” he added hastily and vanished, obviously glad to get back into the warmth.

Left alone on the chilly darkening platform, Nell continued walking up and down, muttering under her breath about the effects of the war on railway timetables. “And it’s too far to go back home, and just enough time to develop pneumonia!” she lamented and pulled her scarf a little tighter against the wind. In an effort to distract herself, she made a mental list of what she would have to collect from the farm tomorrow and what she still needed to get from the village. Then, recoiling from a particularly aggressive blast of wind, she flattened herself into a doorway, and proceeded to watch for any sign of the train’s imminent arrival.
“Oh, I hope she likes it here,” she thought suddenly. “Odd really, we’ve never talked very much about our homes – not that she seems to have one now - and I’ve never asked anyone here before. I hope I’ve done the right thing. But it’s been such a hard term, and she seemed so tired. Oh well, we’ll have to see.” She glanced up at the station clock, the hands of which seemed to refuse to move, and ignoring the impatient stamp of hoofs that she could hear from the front of the station, gave herself up to contemplation of some of the more momentous events of the previous term….


“….have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany….” The voice of the Prime Minister continued, but the horrified Staff of the Chalet School paid it less and less attention, although they were absolutely silent. Finally as the strains of the National Anthem resounded through the room, there was some response. Simone Lecoutier and Jeanne de Lachenais muttered a few low words to one another and then fell silent. Herr Anserl frowned and bit down hard on his pipe. Con Stewart sat white-faced and bemused, staring at nothing, while Gwynneth Lloyd closed her eyes briefly. For an achingly long moment, nobody moved and the faint sounds of the Kindergarten and First Form children playing in the garden under the supervision of the Head Girl and another of the Prefects were momentarily audible. Then Grizel Cochrane got up, and turned off the radio.
“Well,” she said. “Now what?” All eyes were immediately directed to where Hilda Annersley was standing behind Nell at the head of the long table, one hand resting on the seated Nell’s shoulder. Nell, had anyone noticed, was very pale and her expression was both sombre and defiant. Hilda was silent for a moment, gazing down without expression at a neat pile of books and papers beside Nell, then her mouth firmed resolutely and she lifted her head to survey the Staff.
“We will now hold a full School assembly – including the Kindergarten, and the Domestic Staff,” she said clearly. Nell was suddenly aware of the painful grip of the hand on her shoulder, but remained motionless as Hilda continued, “Those of you who are form mistresses, please go to your classrooms at once. The bell will be rung in five minutes time and the girls will come to you there. The rest of you, please go directly to the Hall. Gwynneth, could you please ensure that all the Domestic Staff are in the Hall as quickly as possible. I do appreciate that the kitchen staff may need a little more time.” Gwynneth nodded curtly and left the room immediately. Hilda released Nell’s shoulder and took a step back, before adding, “Nell, your gown is in my study where you left it on Friday.” And with that she left the room. The rest of the Staff exchanged glances, then, with one exception, slowly began to make their way either to the various form rooms or to the Hall. Nell had picked up the pile of oddments from the table, and was fumbling with the door handle, when there was a sudden blur of movement, and Con had jumped up from the hassock on which she had been sitting, crossed the room in three steps and seized Nell’s arm.
“Nell,” she said urgently, “that can’t possibly be right, can it? He promised last year that this wouldn’t happen. Jock said….” She broke off almost in tears. Nell surveyed her unhappy friend, her grey eyes sadly compassionate.
“I know,” she said, putting a comforting hand on Con’s shoulder. “You can’t believe it, can you?”
“It’s wrong,” said Con almost passionately. “How can this be happening? How can God let it happen?” Nell sighed,
“I’m not sure that God had very much to do with it, Con,” she remarked wryly. Con looked up affronted,
“How can you be so flippant, Nell? After last year -” She broke off, as Nell winced and her face assumed an undisguised bleakness,
“That is why I doubt God’s part in it,” she said quietly. She swallowed and took a deep breath; speaking of what she had experienced while imprisoned in Austria was not easy. So much of it she had told only recently to Hilda, and there were still too many nights when her memories forced her awake in fear. However, as she and Hilda had foreseen, Con clearly needed the help that Nell had promised to give her, and she needed it now. So she forced herself to continue, hoping that Con would accept what she was saying.
“When I was in the hands of the Gestapo, Con, I witnessed terrible things, and do you know what the worst of it was?” Con looked blankly at her, and she went on, a little desperately “Leutnant Bhaer … there are so many like him, who enjoy inflicting cruelty, and who do it every day as a matter of routine. The Nazis depend on terror and fear for their power, and Germany and Austria, and Czechoslovakia now, are ruled like this. There is no trust, no security, except fear, and no guarantees for anyone - and now it’s Poland’s turn. There has to come a time when you say, ‘So far and no further.’ And I believe that that has happened today.” Con looked at her in horror,
“But that means there was no other way, Nell – and are we prepared for war?” Nell bit her lip, then said very quietly,
“I don’t think we’re particularly prepared for war, but I do think that it’s impossible to negotiate any more. So now…we fight.” Con was silent in her turn as she considered this; she did not seem to be convinced, but at least appeared to be calmer, much to Nell’s relief. “I think we’d better go and do our jobs,” she remarked after a moment. “That bell has already rung.” Con glanced at her watch,
“Heavens, yes, I’d better get along to the Fourth. And - thank you Nell,” she said quietly. Nell watched her walk quickly away, and sighed. Certainly Con had been much easier to work with during the last week “as have I,” she acknowledged honestly, but it had been painful to watch her so resolutely denying the inevitable outcome of events as Germany invaded Poland and the inexorable slide towards war had continued. This morning’s announcement had destroyed Con’s security, and it would be hard for her to accept what had happened. “And what do you think about it?” queried the little voice in her mind. “I don’t quite know,” she answered it honestly, “but I do know that my job is to be in the Hall with Hilda. I’ll think about it later.” And she hurried off, dashing into Hilda’s study to reclaim the gown that she had flung down on top of one of the cabinets last Friday. To her surprise, Hilda was still there, waiting impatiently for her.

“Where on earth have you been, Nell?” Nell opened her eyes at Hilda’s decidedly sharp tone, but recognising that she was late and that Hilda was justifiably annoyed, she bit back her own swift response, and apologised,
“I’m sorry I’ve been so long, Hilda, but Con needed me.” Hilda looked thoughtfully at her.
“Con? How is she?”
“Upset and shocked, but I think she’ll be alright for now. Of course she’s having great difficulty in believing that this has happened, as she’s been so determined to deny that war was possible – let alone probable.” Hilda sighed,
“Did she accept anything of what you said?” Nell shrugged,
“I don’t know, Hilda, but I think she’ll be able to get through the rest of the day.”
“Good.” Nell wriggled rapidly into her gown, ignoring the three handkerchiefs, two pens and several bits of paper that descended from the sleeves as she did so. Hilda looked pointedly at the floor and Nell blushed and bent down to retrieve her possessions. Then she smiled encouragingly at Hilda,
“Ready?”
“I think so - oh, Nell, is my hood straight?” Nell walked rapidly round Hilda and rearranged the hood that was threatening to slide off one shoulder.
“I can’t think why you never have this problem,” said Hilda in some exasperation. Nell grinned,
“Well, I’m slightly broader than you – and anyway, these things weren’t exactly designed with women in mind, were they?”
“I suppose not; oh well, come on.” Hilda opened the door, just as Nell remarked quietly,
“You’ll be fine, Hilda. Don’t worry.” Hilda paused and the two women exchanged a long look of silent support and comfort. Then they left the room together.

By now the last of the Domestic Staff had arrived in the Hall, and girls and staff were all in their places. It was clear that one or two of the Domestic Staff had already heard the news, but none of the girls appeared to have done so as yet. Together Nell and Hilda made their way to the front of the hall, ignoring the murmurs of surprise at the sight of their formal attire. Taking a deep breath, Hilda stepped forward.
“Pupils and Staff of the Chalet School, I have to announce that as of eleven o’clock this morning, Great Britain and France are officially at war with Germany.” She paused as there was a general gasp of surprise and horror. One or two of the older girls frowned and looked thoughtful, and Maria Marani, the Head Girl went white. Hilda held up her hand for silence and the murmurs died away.
“I appreciate that this news will have surprised a good many of you – although perhaps not all – and there is one thing that I would like to emphasise now. There is no place for bitterness or hatred against the German people; this war is being fought against the evil system of government called Nazi-ism. I would also like to remind you of what I said to you three days ago, that there are German and Austrian members of the Chalet School Peace League, who will today be as shocked and surprised as you are. At the moment we can do nothing for them, except to pray for them, and for the peace of nations. And that is what I would ask you to do.” She stopped and there was a deep silence – even the Kindergarten children were still, although it was clear that many of them did not fully understand what was happening.
“You will shortly be dismissed to your Common Rooms, where I would like you to remain quietly until lunch time. There will be some changes to the arrangements for this afternoon, and these will be explained to you soon. It is also quite possible that there will be some alteration in the general school routine; as soon as these are decided on, you will be informed.” Again, there was a little murmur and again, Hilda held up her hand for silence. “I would like to remind you again of the watchword that Madame gave to us when the School moved from Briesau to the Sonnalpe; she exhorted us to “Be brave.” In such a time of uncertainty, we do not know in what ways we may have to be brave, but we do know one thing; that the love of God can and will sustain us through whatever we may have to bear.” And now, I would like to ask you all to join in with saying the prayer that Jesus gave to us, The Lord’s Prayer.” She bowed her head and began to repeat devoutly, “Our Father, Which art in Heaven…” and girls and staff alike joined in reverently. There were a few seconds of prayerful silence, then at a glance from Hilda, Herr Anserl began to play the lovely cantata, [i]Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring[/i, and the girls filed out of the room.


Hilda and Nell, in consultation with the rest of the Staff, decided that it would be best to alter the usual Sunday supervision arrangements. In an effort to reassure the younger girls that their lives were not going to alter immediately, the Middles had been sent off to spend the afternoon at Rocquaine Bay under the supervision of Con, Jeanne and Grizel. A picnic had been hurriedly for the Kindergarten and Juniors in the grounds of Les Arbres, the rambling house owned by Julie Lucy’s parents. Simone and Rosalie were to accompany May Phipps, and then at the last moment, Rosalie had turned to ask Herr Anserl whether he wished to come as well. The gruff old man had been delighted and had agreed at once. Later, Hilda and Nell were both entranced to hear that after tea, he had started telling stories to the tired Kindergarten children, and when Julian and Janie Lucy had come to find out whether their guests had enjoyed themselves, they had found the entire group, complete with mistresses, listening breathlessly while Herr Anserl recounted the story of "Snow-White and Rose-Red." At the conclusion of the story, Nancy Chester had flung her arms round the old man, exclaiming,
"I wish we could have stories like this every Sunday", and by the time the term was half-way through, Herr Anserl’s Sunday story-telling had become a regular feature in the lives of all the Kindergarten and most of the Juniors.

The Seniors had been asked whether they wanted to go out too, but both Fifth and Sixth Forms had said that they would prefer to spend the afternoon quietly and perhaps go out for a walk later, and Hilda had accepted this. In fact, both she and Nell would have been surprised had this not been the case, as these were the girls who would be most likely to comprehend some of the implications of this morning’s announcement. Some of them, particularly the Sixth Formers, had been allowed to read the newspapers and were therefore familiar with the events leading up to the declaration of war, while Cornelia Flower, Robin Humphries and Jeanne le Cadoulec had all been members of that shopping expedition to Spartz, and thus had a very clear understanding of what Nazi-ism entailed. With all that in mind, it seemed to both Hilda and Nell that their place was with these Senior girls. Accordingly, after lunch, they made their way to the Senior Common Room, where she found the members of both forms sitting, and talking quietly. The girls were used to mistresses joining them, especially on Sunday afternoon, so their arrival was not seen as remarkable; indeed both Hilda and Nell felt that the girls were somehow expecting to see them.
“Don’t get up girls,” Hilda said as she opened the door and smiled reassuringly at them. “Miss Wilson and I have come to spend some time with you.” As she spoke, she looked round the room for the Head Girl, but did not see her. “Where is Maria?” she asked. Cornelia, the Games Prefect spoke up,
“Maria had a headache, Miss Annerseley, and Matron collared – sent her to bed,” she finished hurriedly. Hilda stifled a smile and behind her, Nell spluttered.
“Thank you, Cornelia,” was all she said. Cornelia and another of the Prefects, Yvette Mercier, promptly got up and offered their armchairs to Hilda and Nell, and both women settled themselves comfortably. Hilda looked around at the assembled girls, noting the troubled expressions on some faces and honest bewilderment on others. There was a moment’s silence, then, a hesitant voice asked,
“Miss Annersley, what do you think will happen?” Hilda gazed thoughtfully at the speaker, Ruth Wynyard of the Sixth Form.
“Immediately? Probably not a lot. It takes time to mobilise an army, to put a country on a war footing.” She deliberately refrained from saying that the German government had been building up its military strength for years. “It’s even possible that some sort of peace might be negotiated.”
“Do you think that is then likely?” enquired Jeanne le Cadoulec. Hilda stared at nothing for a moment, then said quietly,
“Frankly, girls, no.” In the other armchair, Nell nodded in silent agreement.

At this point Amy Stevens looked up. As the daughter of Charles Stevens, foreign correspondent for one of the large London daily newspapers, she was a girl who had, inevitably, an awareness of current affairs and, at least during the holidays, had been in the habit of reading the newspapers. Moreover, she was a thoughtful girl who considered what she read very carefully. Hilda waited for her to speak.
“Miss Annersley, I’ve heard Dad say that if it came, this war would be a different war, fought in a different way. I didn’t like to ask him – but what do you think he means?” There was a little stir round the room, then silence.
“I think,” answered Hilda slowly, “I think that he means that this war will be much closer to civilians. I was ten when the last war broke out, and my family lived in the south of England. There were times when I could faintly hear the sound of the guns in France; I think that this time we will hear more than that. I think it’s possible that the war will come to us.” Again there was a silence, the faces grew more thoughtful and Nell looked troubled.
“Do you mean – like Guernica?” asked Amy hesitantly. At this, Nell gasped and Hilda looked worried. Two or three of the Sixth Form clearly knew to what Amy was referring, but the rest of the girls looked puzzled. Hilda glanced at Nell and received an almost imperceptible nod.
“Quite possibly,” she said steadily. “For those of you who don’t know, Guernica is a small town in northern Spain. It was bombed and almost completely destroyed in 1937. The bombs were dropped by aeroplane.” The room was very quiet as Hilda continued,
“The government thinks that if bombing raids should happen, they will be directed against large towns, so precautions are being taken accordingly. However, it makes sense for everyone to be as prepared as they can be, so there will be some changes made in the school during the next week. To start with, three lessons in first aid will be added to the timetable for the Seniors.” Nell looked up, startled; she had mentioned this as a possibility to Hilda just before term started, but had not realised that the latter had come to a decision. Hilda looked at her a little anxiously, and she realised that Hilda had only done so within the last minute; again she nodded, this time with a brief flicker of a smile. Hilda relaxed and went on,
“Then there is the blackout; we will have to have that in order as quickly as possible, and in a house of this size we will need your help. We will also need to make arrangements for emergency procedures such as fire drills, and again you girls can give much help. And there is one other thing.” She stopped and Nell chimed in,
“You Seniors are the leaders in the School, and as such you do have a responsibility to those younger than you. Some of them, particularly the Juniors, will not understand much of what is happening. Some of them – and indeed some of you – will soon have fathers or brothers serving in the Armed Forces; and they may well be frightened and bewildered by the way their lives are changing. One of the most important things that you girls can do is to remind them, by your behaviour and attitudes, that no matter what happens in the future, God will always be here with us – that He is the one true certainty in life.” She glanced at Hilda, who smiled serenely at the girls.
“Miss Wilson has expressed this so well, that I can’t really add anything to it – except to say that if any of you need or want to talk to us, then both Miss Wilson and I will be available in the study for an hour immediately after dinner.” She stood up, and Nell followed suit. “We’re going to leave you now; I expect there’s a great deal that you want to discuss among yourselves.” And together, she and Nell went to the door, to the sound of an unexpectedly quiet “Thank you Miss Annersley and Miss Wilson,” uttered by the usually clarion-voiced Cornelia.

 

#2:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 4:31 am

Out in the corridor, Nell looked worriedly at Hilda. As soon as the Common Room door had closed behind her, the serene smile had vanished and she had suddenly trembled from head to foot, her eyes closed and her face white. Nell put out a hand, but Hilda shook her head, whispering,
“ No Nell, not yet. Later.” Nell considered her for a moment, then said briskly,
“I think we could both do with a cup of tea. Let’s head back to the study and see what we can find.” Hilda nodded, and slipped a hand through Nell’s arm. She had stopped trembling, Nell was pleased to see, but she looked very white and weary. She said nothing more, but took Hilda back to the study, where she installed her on the sofa, and rang for tea. Then she went to the small room that currently served as Rosalie’s office and calmly removed copies of the Senior and Staff timetables from that lady’s desk, helping herself to two pens and several sheets of paper as well.
By the time she had found all that she required, Michelle had arrived with the tea and Hilda was sufficiently recovered to have poured out the two requisite cups.
“What on earth have you got there?” she asked, surveying the paper and pens.
“Thought I’d make a start on this,” replied Nell. “If we want the Seniors to have three first-aid lessons, we’d better work out where they’re going to go – and who’s going to teach them,” she concluded with a resigned sigh. Hilda leaned forward and picked up the Senior timetable and surveyed it thoughtfully.
“This does look alarmingly full,” she mused. “I don’t want to take any of their gardening…or games.”
“What about needlework?” asked Nell suddenly. “They’re all reasonably competent – or they should be by this age - so perhaps we could take one of their needlework lessons. They won’t mind! Besides, it’s about the only other thing, apart from games that they take together.”
“That’s an idea, Nell…and what about using one of the Hobbies Club sessions as well? It’s not as if we’re having a Sale this year, after all.”
“That gives us two – hang on though, Hilda, who’s going to teach this? Remember Jeanne has them for needlework, so we’ll have to do some changing about of staff – unless we’re lucky enough to find someone like Con or me is free at the right time.” She picked up the Staff timetable as she was speaking and scanned it thoughtfully.
“No, I’m busy – and anyway I was thinking that I’d better take the early evening session.” Hilda raised an eyebrow,
“Why you?”
“One of the privileges of being Senior Mistress, my dear. Better my free time than Con’s.” Hilda frowned,
“Hopefully I’ll be able to make sure you get an extra afternoon during the term to make up for it.” Nell shrugged,
“Don’t worry, Hilda. Let’s see how this all works out first.” She scanned the timetable carefully.
“Look, we could do this: Con has the Fourths for History on Monday afternoon, while Jeanne has the Seniors for needlework. If we give them a straight swap -”
“The Fourths will lose their history for needlework and won’t love anybody!” Nell laughed,
“Wait a minute; I hadn’t finished. We don’t give them needlework – they have French – because here on Wednesday, Jeanne has the Fourth for French, and Con has the Fifth for History, so we change that, and the Fourth are back where they started-”
“And now the Fifth have lost their History!” Nell muttered a rude word under her breath and Hilda began to laugh. Nell stared at the timetables again, and her brow cleared,
“What about this? I have a free at the time that Con has the Fifth for History - if I have them for Geography at that point, and Con has my free, then here, on Thursday morning, she can have my Geography lesson for her History, because by some miracle, she’s free then.” Hilda thought for a moment.
“It sounds alright,” she said cautiously, “but I will tell you now that my head is spinning, so whether it does work is anybody’s guess!” Nell grinned.
“Well given the complexities of all this, I suggest that we use two of the Hobbies Club evenings rather than one. That way we’ll get our three lessons and not have to tinker with the timetable any more.” To her surprise, Hilda looked doubtful. “What’s the problem?”
“Who’s going to teach it? I can’t spare you another evening, and I don’t want to ask Con to take an extra class – not at the moment anyway.” There was a short silence, then Nell brightened.
“What about Grizel?”
“That’s an idea – although I warn you, we may have to change some of the music lessons about.” She started laughing again at the sight of Nell’s horrified face. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can sort something out. Let’s write this down and finish our tea.”
Once the changes were all on paper, and Hilda and Nell had checked them, Nell looked distinctly happier.
“Well, we’ve dealt with that anyway. Now what?” Hilda considered,
“First, we finish tea – and then I suppose we need to start thinking about the blackout and emergency drills-”
“For which we need Gwynneth. And, if I am not mistaken, I hear the sound of her fairy footfalls in the distance.” At this, Hilda promptly giggled, and was still laughing when there came a tap at the door and, which, just as Nell had predicted, proved to be Gwynneth.

“Good, I thought I’d find you here,” she remarked gazing hopefully at the teapot. Nell gave a resigned sigh and went to rummage in one of the cupboards from which she produced a third cup and saucer.
“Tea, Gwynneth?” she asked meekly, filling the cup as she spoke.
“Thank you, yes,” responded Gwynneth with a twinkle. She took the proffered cup, sipped at its contents, then with a quick glance at the various pieces of paper scattered about, said,
“So what have you two been doing this afternoon?” Nell grinned wryly,
“Well, most recently, we have been considering the Senior timetable and just how three lessons in first-aid are going to be accommodated.”
“And were you successful?”
“We think so,” said Hilda cautiously. “Nell has written it out and it seems to work – although altering the timetable always feels to me like removing bricks from a precariously balanced tower.” Nell nodded fervently and said in her turn,
“And we were just about to start considering some of the other things, like blackout and emergency drills, for which we knew that we would need your assistance – and you have arrived most opportunely - but the most important thing that we have been doing is talking to the Seniors.”
“Oh yes? And how are they taking all this?” Hilda gazed thoughtfully out of the window, then said,
“A variety of responses as you’d expect. They’re all rather subdued at the moment, and some of them are frankly puzzled. One or two of them – notably Amy Stevens - have a very clear grasp of what is going on and are doing a lot of thinking. And that reminds me; Cornelia told me that Maria Marani had a headache. How is she?”
Gwynneth looked serious,
“She came to me after lunch, complaining of a severe headache, so I sent her to bed; I don’t think it’s anything serious, but this morning’s announcement was probably the last thing she needed. I peeped in on her before I came down here, and she was awake and felt much better. She did ask if she could talk to you, so -”
“Of course,” said Hilda, putting her cup down. “I’ll go to her now.” And she left the study at once. Immediately the door closed behind her, Gwynneth turned to Nell.
“And how are you two coping?” Nell thought for a moment,
“To be honest, I think I’m dealing with it better than she is - which is a bit of a surprise, and I’ll think about that later - but you know how she is.” Gwynneth nodded,
“Maintaining that air of serene dignity, hiding all her feelings? Oh yes, I do! That’s exactly how she was in Tyrol those last days – but at least this time she has you here.”
“And a large part of what I’m here for is to share her burden - that is, if she’ll let me.” Her face was suddenly downcast, and Gwynneth replied at once and with her usual firmness.
“Don’t give her any choice, Nell. Sometimes, it’s the best way.” Nell glanced up and smiled wryly,
“Well, it worked with me, didn’t it?” Gwynneth smiled back, and Nell continued,
“Don’t worry, Gwynneth; I’m keeping a very careful eye on her.” She finished her tea, then said hopefully, “If you’re not busy now, we could have a look at organising the blackout?” Gwynneth groaned, but dutifully picked up a pen and paper.


The rest of the day passed relatively calmly. The Juniors and Middles returned from their respective outings, tired but contented. The Juniors had largely forgotten that war had been declared and were chiefly concerned with their own doings, which as Hilda commented, was exactly as it should be. The Middles were rather more affected, especially the one or two who had relatives in the Armed Forces, and were less lively as a result. Even Betty Wynne-Davies and Elizabeth Arnett seemed to have been sobered by the events of the morning, and had been remarkably cooperative – for them.
“Not that it’ll last,” said Con gloomily in the Staff room that evening. “Not with that pair.”
“Still, at least we’ve had one peaceful afternoon,” remarked Grizel. “And you never know what might happen – they may decide to reform!”
“Somehow, I doubt it!” replied Con acidly, and the talk shifted to other things – chiefly the amount of work that would be required of them the next day. This promised to be very busy as Gwynneth had demanded assistance in a number of essential tasks, representatives from a firm of builders in St Peter Port were coming to examine the cellars with a view to turning them into bomb shelters and the Seniors were due to receive their first lesson in first-aid. Nell had approached both Grizel and Con about teaching this new class, and both had agreed, although at first Con had complained about the disruption to her timetable and Nell had found it difficult to keep her temper. Fortunately the gong had interrupted them and by the time dinner, Prayers and a brief Staff meeting were over, Con had accepted the change and appeared to be in a better mood.

By the time the girls were in bed, Nell was acutely aware that Hilda was exhausted. “And I’m not surprised,” she thought grimly. She and Gwynneth had spent over an hour in the study identifying the jobs that would have to be undertaken the next day and drawing up an outline of who would have to responsible for each one. As they had worked, it had been borne in on Nell that she, Hilda, and to a lesser extent Gwynneth, would have a markedly increased workload for the next few weeks at least. “And I bet the paperwork will be horrendous!” she muttered. Gwynneth stifled a chuckle at this, but said nothing, and finally the two women felt that they had gone as far as they could that day. It had been at that point that Hilda had returned, rather pale and silent; she had informed Gwynneth that she had had a long talk with Maria who felt much better and would like to get up for dinner. It was clear to both Nell and Gwynneth that Hilda had found the talk with Maria very tiring, but as there had been only ten minutes before dinner, Nell had been unable to ask her about it in any detail. After dinner had come Prayers, and then bed for the Juniors and Middles; as usual, Hilda had stood at the foot of the stairs, to bid each girl “Goodnight”, and tonight Nell had insisted on being with her. By the time the last girl had gone upstairs, Hilda was white and trembling, and Nell had refused to let her go straight to the Staff room for the short meeting that had been planned. Instead she had taken her back to the study, administered a small glass of brandy and announced her intention of forcibly restraining Hilda if she tried to go anywhere in the next ten minutes.
“I mean it, Hilda,” she had said forcefully, over the latter’s protests. “You’ve hardly had a moment to yourself today, and that just won’t do! You will sit here for ten minutes, then we will go to the meeting, and Gwynneth and I will do the talking – it’s mostly going over arrangements for tomorrow anyway. You can say a few words of encouragement, and leave the rest to us. And if you won’t agree, then I’ll ask Gwynneth to talk to you!” There was a second’s silence, then Hilda had observed mildly,
“You can be an awful bully, Nell.”
“I know – but only on occasions when it’s justified.”
“And I assume that this is one of them?”
“Definitely.”
“I suppose I’d better agree, then?” Not thinking that this was worthy of an answer, Nell had simply snorted, and pushed Hilda’s glass into her hand. She waited until the contents were gone, then said,
“Now you sit here quietly while I sort out what we need for the meeting – don’t worry, I won’t disturb anything on your desk – and afterwards, you’re not going to hang about in the Staff room, you’re going straight upstairs!” There were three seconds of silence, then Hilda said meekly,
“Yes, Miss!”

The Staff meeting went entirely as Nell had planned, and if anyone was puzzled by the extent to which Nell and Gwynneth took charge, they were given no chance to comment. The meeting lasted for precisely twenty minutes, and by the end the Staff found that they had agreed to Nell’s plans without being quite sure just how it had happened. Similarly, three minutes after the meeting was over, Hilda found herself going upstairs, accompanied by Nell, and with no clear memory, other than Herr Anserl’s approving whisper of “Well done, Fraulein Nell,” of just how her early departure from the Staff room had been effected.
Ten minutes after Nell had deposited Hilda in her room, she judged that she had given her sufficient time alone and quietly tapped at the connecting door, that was, as always, slightly ajar. There was no answer, and Nell quietly pushed the door farther open. The room was in darkness, and she could make out Hilda’s slim shape by the window. She remained motionless, apparently staring out at the night, and for a moment, Nell hesitated. Then she crossed to the silent figure and slipped an arm round her.
“Tell me,” she said softly. Hilda still said nothing, but turned to lean against Nell.
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” she asked miserably. “That I’ve got to be strong for all of them?” Nell held her tightly,
“No,” she replied firmly, “Remember, you haven’t had a chance yet to give way to how you feel. All day, you’ve been encouraging and leading the school – girls and staff, and you’ve done a magnificent job. And, Hilda, you don’t have to be strong for me – or Gwynneth, or Vater Bar either, come to think of it.” She felt some of the tension leave Hilda’s body, and said softly, “I’m here for you, as much as you are here for me. We share this one.” Hilda was very still, then Nell heard a faint sob, and felt Hilda’s tense body shaking. Wordlessly she held her while she cried, for what seemed to be hours. Eventually, when she was calm again she reached up and touched Nell’s face gently.
“Thank you for being here when I needed you,” she whispered.
“Well, I said I would be, didn’t I?” replied Nell softly. There was another moment’s silence, then Hilda said,
“Yes, but I was a little worried, Nell – I wasn’t sure how you’d cope after this morning, and I didn’t want to make things worse.” She gulped suddenly, “I didn’t want to upset you, and I’m sorry if I have.” Nell closed her eyes for a moment, praying for the words to reassure Hilda.
“I’m not upset,” she replied. “To be honest, I’ve coped better than I thought I would,” she continued, in a tone of some surprise. “I suppose I feel – vindicated, somehow. Before this, there was a nagging little doubt, right at the back of my mind, that perhaps I had overreacted, that it simply wasn’t that bad. It isn’t that I want or admire war – God, no – but now I feel that I wasn’t wrong, and no matter what happens now, Nazi-ism has been recognised as the terrible force for evil that it is. And because of that, I feel stronger, more settled, and at the moment, I believe I can deal with whatever is waiting for us.”
“ But aren’t you afraid, Nell?” Nell swallowed as a sudden surge of fear rose in her; then she forced herself to answer.
“Oh yes, Hilda, I’m afraid. Even though I couldn’t see how it was possible, I had hoped this could be averted, and I dread what might happen – here and in Europe. And you?” Hilda suddenly trembled,
“Oh Nell, I can’t tell you. I’m not scared for me - but saying goodnight to the girls, all I could think was - “What will happen to them?” And knowing there was nothing I could do, I felt so helpless.”
“And you had to hide it.”
“Of course!” Nell nodded,
“Of course you had to hide it from them – but Hilda, don’t ever think that you have to hide it from me. You don’t even have to try. I know you: outwardly calm and unworried, and inside you’re terrified. But I am always here for you, and I want you to remember that and come to me when things are difficult – just as I come to you.” Hilda’s body tensed again, and then she said, as if the words were being dragged from her
“Nell, this afternoon, they were so desperate for reassurance, and when Amy mentioned Guernica, all I wanted to do was run away. And then Maria-” She stopped, and Nell asked,
“What about Maria?” Hilda’s voice shook,
“She’s so worried, Nell, so anxious, not only about her father, but also her friends, her country. Nell, she’s lost so much, and I had so little to give her.” Nell held Hilda more closely, and said quietly,
“You underestimate yourself, my love. The comfort of your presence and the awareness of your sympathy will have helped Maria immeasurably, in the same way that you were able to reassure the Seniors.” Hilda whispered “No”, but Nell continued,
“You may not want to believe this, Hilda, but I can assure you that it is so.” She added very softly, “For me – for me, you were a light in my darkness.” Sensing that Hilda was about to deny this, Nell placed a gentle hand over her mouth, and went on more briskly,
“Now, you are going to go to bed, and you are going to sleep, because tomorrow we have work to do.” She drew the curtains and switched on Hilda’s lamp, “I shall be back in ten minutes to say goodnight to you,” she said, giving Hilda a little push toward the door. Then, seeing that Hilda was preparing to obey her, she returned to her own room.

 

#3:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:08 am

Although the first ten days following the declaration of war were incredibly busy, Nell and Hilda were both surprised by how swiftly both staff and pupils adapted to the necessary changes in their routines. To spare Hilda, who was starting to look increasingly tired – although she could never be persuaded to admit to this! - Nell unobtrusively took on as much of the administrative work as she could, and as the term progressed, she also slipped into the habit of joining Hilda in the study in the evening, ostensibly to deal with her own work in a more peaceful atmosphere than the Staff room possessed at the moment, but also to keep a wary eye on Hilda and distract her when she was starting to overwork. And on her part, Hilda grew used to the sight of Nell sitting working, with her various possessions spread across the sofa – and then the floor.
“I know just how Canute felt,” she commented one evening, as Nell dealt rapidly - and tersely – with Betty Wynne-Davies’ limited attempt at writing up a Chemistry experiment and then dropped the exercise book onto the carpet before taking up Elizabeth Arnett’s equally poor effort.
“Mmm?”
“Yes, despite his best endeavours, the waves overtook him at the end.” Nell looked up at the chaos slowly developing around her.
“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry, Hilda – I’ve been encroaching madly, and didn’t even notice. Shall I clear out to the Staff room?”
“Heavens, no. It’s rather pleasant having you here in the evenings, and strangely enough, I’ve got quite used to the sight of you and all your goods and chattels making the room look untidy, although it would be nice if you could avoid – colonising – quite so much!” She watched impassively as Nell hurriedly abandoned her marking to pick up the books, papers, two pens, three pencils and the coffee cup with which she had surrounded herself, then remarked pensively,
“I suppose it’s not really your fault though is it? Nell lifted an interrogative eyebrow, and Hilda continued serenely, “Granted that you were allowed to get away with much in your extreme youth, and still have not improved -”
“Ha!”
“-the plain fact is that we really need another desk in here.” She eyed Nell expectantly, and the latter, taken-aback by this unlooked-for conclusion, swallowed her wrath at the slur upon her character, and said meekly,
“What a good idea.” Hilda smiled charmingly,
“Excellent! We’ll see about it tomorrow.”

Two days later, the second desk had arrived and Nell was duly installed, “although,” remarked Hilda, pointedly, gazing at the piles of book and papers that Nell had managed to accumulate in the first fortnight of the term, “you’ll have to learn to keep it tidy, or I’ll have it moved into the corridor!”

The new arrangement was very successful, and Nell was delighted to see that Hilda appeared less tired and worried now that Nell was working alongside her so much. She was, however, less pleased by the atmosphere in the Staff room; initially she thought that, as she was spending less time there, she was, paradoxically, becoming more aware of Staff behaviour and attitudes. “And heaven knows I need to be!” she thought to herself. However, careful consideration and a conversation with Hilda some three weeks into the term showed her that this was not necessarily the case.
Both women had finished working for the evening, although as far as Hilda was concerned, this had only occurred when Nell had pounced on her notebook and pen, locked them in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, and hidden the key with lightning swiftness (Hilda was not entirely convinced that Nell had not dropped it down the front of her dress, but did not feel called upon to ascertain whether this was in fact so), and were enjoying a final cup of coffee. The conversation was desultory, punctuated by companionable silences, when suddenly, Hilda asked,
“So, what’s the atmosphere in the Staff room like these days?” Slightly startled, Nell considered the question carefully. Finally she answered,
“‘Tense’ would probably best describe it.” Hilda sighed,
“Oh dear. Any idea as to what the problem is?” Nell frowned, and wriggled uncomfortably,
“Actually, it reminds me of that description of the masters’ quarrel in Stalky – oh, you know.” And kneeling on the sofa, Nell reached into the bookcase behind it, for Hilda’s copy of that work, turned immediately to the correct page and read aloud joyously:
“Pessimists, no more than poets love each other, and even when they work together, it is one thing to pessimise congenially with an ancient and tried associate, who is also a butt, and another to be pessimised over by an inexperienced junior….the Reverend John did his best to pour water on the flames. Little Hartopp, perceiving that it was pure oil, threw in canfuls of his own. In the end words passed which would have made the common-room uninhabitable for the future….” Hilda groaned,
“As bad as that? Presumably the junior is Grizel or Simone, but who’s the oil-thrower?” Nell’s eyes twinkled suddenly,
“Simone is being understandably Patriotic, with a capital letter, and I think Grizel means well – but I can’t quite work out whether she’s being tactless or perverse, and Con – well, ever since she had that letter from Jock, saying that their marriage had better be postponed for the foreseeable future, she’s been so bad-tempered that she makes me appear as an angel of light!” Most reprehensibly, Hilda giggled, and Nell glared,
“I’m keeping clear of most of it – they’ll just have to sort it out amongst themselves, sillies that they are! ”
“But what’s the trouble?”
“They all keep trying to win the war – and disagreeing as a consequence. Honestly, Hilda, I never knew we had so many armchair strategists on the staff, and it’s driving me mad. Plus, they’re over the initial burst of virtue and are starting to get irritable!”
“They obviously haven’t got enough to do if they can behave like that. Perhaps we should lock them in their rooms until they promise to be good!”
“What a lovely idea,” returned Nell longingly, moving uncomfortably again, “Actually, it isn’t all of them – Gwynneth and Vater Bar don’t join in – and it tends not to start when he’s there anyway.”
“So I should hope!”
“Yes, well, if they don’t stop it soon, I’m going to start getting angry.” At this, Hilda regarded her thoughtfully; Nell had coped so well during the past two weeks that it was startling to remember just how recently she had shunned any company, but her own, and while the nightmares that had haunted her were starting to diminish, Hilda knew that they still tormented her far too frequently. Only two nights ago, she had heard Nell cry out in her sleep, and had found her terrified and in tears, and desperate not to sleep again, at least for that night. “And if she starts to get irritated as well, then there could be trouble,” thought Hilda.
“Perhaps we need to arrange a distraction,” she said aloud.
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” replied Nell enthusiastically. “We haven’t had any expeditions as yet, and there are some lovely places round here.” She wriggled again as she spoke, and Hilda eyed her curiously,
“Nell, why are you wriggling like that?” Nell glared at her,
“You know damn well why I’m wriggling, woman – and it’s all your fault.”
“What!”
“If you hadn’t insisted on ignoring me, I wouldn’t have had to lock your notebook and pen in the filing cabinet, and hide the key.”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to hide it there!”
“The wretched thing keeps digging into me.” Hilda laughed,
“It serves you right, so don’t complain! So, shall we plan an expedition for this Saturday?” Nell wrinkled her nose in mock disdain, then said,
“ I think it would be helpful – shall we make it autumn picnics for Juniors, Middles and Seniors?”
“That would be the most straightforward way of organising it – and if we send them to different places, that gives us options for the future too.” Nell nodded,
“That’s a good idea – so if we draw up a list of possible places now and let the kitchen know well in advance, we can make the final decision on Friday when we find out what the weather is doing.” She stopped speaking and looked sternly at Hilda, “And before you say anything, no, we are not doing anything about it tonight.” Hilda held up her hands in feigned terror,
“Be merciful! I wasn’t going to suggest that we did.” She looked at the Kipling still lying in Nell’s lap. “Isn’t that the story where the boys put a dead cat under one of the dormitory floors and leave it to rot?” Nell shook her head,
“No, it’s the one where they have a near riot and end up pulling a fireplace and mantelpiece out of a wall.” She laughed suddenly, “I must say it makes our lives seem comparatively calm!” Hilda giggled in agreement, and glanced at her watch,
“Heavens, look at the time – almost half-past ten. I’ll wash the coffee cups if you’ll deal with the final doors and windows check.” She picked up the cups as Nell stood up, and was heading towards the door when she remembered something,
“Oh Nell, I meant to tell you that we finally heard from Gertrude Beck’s guardian today – her travel arrangements are sorted out and she should be with us by the middle of next week.”


Nell had reached this point in her contemplation of the previous term, when she realised that Charlie had re-emerged from his office and was hastening down the platform to where several crates of chickens were stacked. The occupants were complaining peevishly of their lot in life, and their clamour increased as Charlie ably pulled the crates closer to the edge of the platform. Then he returned to take his place near the door of the waiting room.
“It’s just due, Miss Nell!” he called as he passed her, and almost on cue the signal glowed red and Nell heard the first faint sounds of the approaching train. Half a minute later, it pulled slowly into the station with a squeal of brakes and an exhalation of steam and smoke. Nell waited in her doorway for a moment, then peered anxiously down the platform; where was Hilda? “Don’t say she’s missed it?” she muttered, and was just growing concerned when she spotted a familiar slim figure getting slowly out of a compartment. She was laden with her handbag and two cases, one of which looked to be heavy, and at once Nell was hurrying down the platform to meet her,
“Hilda! I’m here,” she called clearly, and at once the slim figure turned in her direction, almost tripping over one of the cases.
“Nell!”
“Hilda, it’s lovely to see you,” exclaimed Nell, swiftly enveloping Hilda in a hug. “Goodness, but you are cold.” Hilda smiled, rather wearily.
“These days, trains don’t seem be provided with much heating.” She shivered as an icy gust of wind roared its way through them, and at once Nell picked up the heavier of the two cases.
“Come on Hilda, let’s find somewhere warmer than this wind tunnel of a platform.” Hilda didn’t reply as she was preoccupied with hunting for her ticket, and she missed the slightly concerned look that Nell directed toward her. By the time she looked up again, having found the ticket tucked into the wrist of her glove, Nell had picked up the second case and was leading the way down the platform towards the exit. Hilda followed, shivering again as the wind hit her back.
“How far is the cottage from here?” she asked as she caught up with Nell. Nell didn’t answer immediately, as the stationmaster had appeared at the door of his office, and was clearly waiting for them. Nell stopped,
“Hello again Charlie,” she said in resigned tones, but with a twinkle in her eye. “You may tell Sarah that my friend has arrived safely.” Charlie shuffled his feet, but did not immediately abandon the field.
“You’ll need to be careful, Miss Nell, he’s been a bit restless. Lot of stamping and that. Doesn’t like to be kept waiting, does he?”
“I know how he feels,” remarked Nell gloomily. “But there wasn’t anything I could do. Thank you for telling me, Charlie.” Charlie tapped the peak of his cap,
“That’s all right, Miss Nell,” he said. “Good evening to you. And you too, Ma’am,” he added hurriedly in Hilda’s direction, before ducking back into his office.
A puzzled Hilda glanced at Nell.
“He?” she said. Nell grinned.
“His name is Conrad and he’s waiting outside,” she said wickedly, leading the way out of the station, and Hilda’s jaw dropped at the sight of a large black horse harnessed to what Hilda dimly recognised from her own youth as a governess cart!
“What on earth?” she asked, turning to Nell in amazement. Nell chuckled,
“I thought you’d be surprised. Now that petrol’s rationed, horse-power of the four-legged kind has made a comeback – not that it was ever completely out of fashion round here - and there have been so many motor accidents in the blackout that I feel a lot safer with Conrad than I do with the car. Although I must say that he is a bit restless at the moment,” she added as he stamped again and moved about uneasily.
“But where did you get him, Nell?”
“He’s partly mine, you know. Father successfully defended some gypsies on a poaching charge against a landowner on the other side of Exeter. They duly presented him with this character in lieu of his fee! Father was highly amused and accepted. But it wasn’t practical for us to keep him, and Father worked out an arrangement with a local farmer whereby he looked after Conrad and used him while we were in London, and we were able to use him when we were here. It was one of the reasons we were able to spend such a lot of time down here,” she added. Hilda started to ask something, then stopped as Nell let down the step, put both the cases into the cart, then turned to assist Hilda. “It’s alright, Hilda,” she said reassuringly. “He’s still securely hitched, and although he looks intimidating, he’s really a bit of a softie.”
“I might believe you,” murmured Hilda grimly. Nell stopped what she was doing and looked at her searchingly; even in the dimly lit station yard, she could see Hilda’s apprehensive face and the tenseness of her body.
“He really does bother you, doesn’t he,” she said quietly. Hilda nodded,
“I’m sorry, Nell, but he does. He’s so large, and – unpredictable.” Nell put a hand on her shoulder,
“Don’t worry, Hilda; I promise you that you will be quite safe with both of us.” Hilda closed her eyes and shuddered, then said wryly,
“Lay on, MacDuff!” Nell smiled with relief and assisted Hilda up into the seat, then she unhitched the horse and was up beside her before Hilda had time to realise what was happening. Two minutes later they had left the station yard and were travelling through the centre of the village.

“It’s actually quite a small village,” said Nell casually, “but as it’s one of the places used by campers and hikers who want to go up to the Moor in summer – to say nothing of the farmers who live round here – it’s got a railway station. It also has a Post Office, a doctor, three stores, two pubs, one local policeman and -”
“A partridge in a pear tree?” Nell chuckled,
“No, the pubs are the Lamb and Flag and the George. Very traditional.” Hilda laughed in her turn, then said,
“And how far is it to your home?”
“Well, it’s not in the village itself – that’s what I meant when I said that having Conrad allowed us to be here a lot more – so it’ll take us about fifteen minutes to get there, but that’s because I’m going slowly. You never quite know how other people are coping with driving or walking during the blackout, and I prefer to be careful.”
“That’s comforting!” Nell laughed softly at this characteristic comment,
“I told you that you would be safe, didn’t I?” There was a silence, then Hilda said curiously,
“I didn’t know you knew about horses, Nell.” Nell grinned and said teasingly,
“There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Hilda – No, you don’t, Conrad!”, as the horse made a determined effort to quicken his pace, “I know you want to get home to your lovely warm stable as quickly as you can, but not everyone is used to the blackout yet, and it simply isn’t safe.”
“Conrad?” queried Hilda.
“Yes.” Nell’s mouth twitched. “He wasn’t meant to be called that, but Cherry named him. She was six, and nothing would do her, but “Conrad”; we never found out where she got it. She was always rather - inventive – with names!” Hilda laughed, remembering Nell’s story of how the little girl had insisted on naming her favourite doll Persephone. Then she fell silent, shivering again in the chill evening air.
As they left the village behind them, Nell relaxed a little,
“That’s better,” she said. “I always feel safer when I’m away from the village – there are so many fewer potential accidents!”
“I don’t know if you mean that to be reassuring,” remarked Hilda. “But if you did, then I have to tell you that you’ve failed!”
“Sorry,” replied Nell penitently, “But you honestly don’t need to worry – I’ve travelled up and down this road by night often enough.” She glanced quickly at Hilda,
“Have you always been nervous of horses, Hilda?” Hilda didn’t reply at once, then she said,
“I didn’t have much to do with them when I was small, apart from going out occasionally with my parents. But when I was twelve, I went to stay with a school friend who had a pony of her own – all her family rode - and Father gave me permission to learn too. I was getting on quite well….” Her voice trailed off as the unpleasant memory sharpened in her mind, and she took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Nell.
“No, it’s alright. Mollie and I had gone down to the stables, and it was raining, so we’d sheltered inside an empty loose-box. Anyway her younger brother caught sight of her there and thought it would be funny to open the door at the other end and allow their father’s new, rather nervous, horse to come in from the next stall.” Nell gasped, horrified.
“What an idiot!”
“He always said he didn’t see me there, but that didn’t matter. I was so scared at first, I couldn’t move; Mollie managed to get out to find the groom but all I could do was stand there. The horse was huge, and he was nervous and bad-tempered – I couldn’t think what to do, but I do remember thinking that if I got out safely, I would never go anywhere near a horse again.”
“I’m not surprised,” commented Nell. “I would have thought just the same.”
“Thank you for saying that, Nell. Anyway, the horse started walking towards me, and all I could do then was move backward slowly, but even when I’d reached the wall, he still kept coming….I was terrified. Fortunately, Mollie had found the groom and he, and another stable hand, got there before anything could happen, but I just couldn’t go near any horse again after that.” She shrugged, “I went home two days later, and avoided horses as much as I could for the next few years. Fortunately, Father had a car by then, so it wasn’t too difficult.”
“I don’t blame you, Hilda. I wish I’d known, then I would have made an alternative arrangement.”
“It’s not your fault Nell, so don’t worry – and besides, I know I shouldn’t be so silly at my age.”
“You’re not being silly,” said Nell vigorously. “You had a horrible experience, and I think you’ve been very brave to trust me - and Conrad – as much as you have. And it’s almost over – we’ll be there very soon, I promise.” And sure enough, less than two minutes later, Nell drew up in front of a low stone wall.

 

#4:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:09 am

Although the first ten days following the declaration of war were incredibly busy, Nell and Hilda were both surprised by how swiftly both staff and pupils adapted to the necessary changes in their routines. To spare Hilda, who was starting to look increasingly tired – although she could never be persuaded to admit to this! - Nell unobtrusively took on as much of the administrative work as she could, and as the term progressed, she also slipped into the habit of joining Hilda in the study in the evening, ostensibly to deal with her own work in a more peaceful atmosphere than the Staff room possessed at the moment, but also to keep a wary eye on Hilda and distract her when she was starting to overwork. And on her part, Hilda grew used to the sight of Nell sitting working, with her various possessions spread across the sofa – and then the floor.
“I know just how Canute felt,” she commented one evening, as Nell dealt rapidly - and tersely – with Betty Wynne-Davies’ limited attempt at writing up a Chemistry experiment and then dropped the exercise book onto the carpet before taking up Elizabeth Arnett’s equally poor effort.
“Mmm?”
“Yes, despite his best endeavours, the waves overtook him at the end.” Nell looked up at the chaos slowly developing around her.
“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry, Hilda – I’ve been encroaching madly, and didn’t even notice. Shall I clear out to the Staff room?”
“Heavens, no. It’s rather pleasant having you here in the evenings, and strangely enough, I’ve got quite used to the sight of you and all your goods and chattels making the room look untidy, although it would be nice if you could avoid – colonising – quite so much!” She watched impassively as Nell hurriedly abandoned her marking to pick up the books, papers, two pens, three pencils and the coffee cup with which she had surrounded herself, then remarked pensively,
“I suppose it’s not really your fault though is it? Nell lifted an interrogative eyebrow, and Hilda continued serenely, “Granted that you were allowed to get away with much in your extreme youth, and still have not improved -”
“Ha!”
“-the plain fact is that we really need another desk in here.” She eyed Nell expectantly, and the latter, taken-aback by this unlooked-for conclusion, swallowed her wrath at the slur upon her character, and said meekly,
“What a good idea.” Hilda smiled charmingly,
“Excellent! We’ll see about it tomorrow.”

Two days later, the second desk had arrived and Nell was duly installed, “although,” remarked Hilda, pointedly, gazing at the piles of book and papers that Nell had managed to accumulate in the first fortnight of the term, “you’ll have to learn to keep it tidy, or I’ll have it moved into the corridor!”

The new arrangement was very successful, and Nell was delighted to see that Hilda appeared less tired and worried now that Nell was working alongside her so much. She was, however, less pleased by the atmosphere in the Staff room; initially she thought that, as she was spending less time there, she was, paradoxically, becoming more aware of Staff behaviour and attitudes. “And heaven knows I need to be!” she thought to herself. However, careful consideration and a conversation with Hilda some three weeks into the term showed her that this was not necessarily the case.
Both women had finished working for the evening, although as far as Hilda was concerned, this had only occurred when Nell had pounced on her notebook and pen, locked them in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, and hidden the key with lightning swiftness (Hilda was not entirely convinced that Nell had not dropped it down the front of her dress, but did not feel called upon to ascertain whether this was in fact so), and were enjoying a final cup of coffee. The conversation was desultory, punctuated by companionable silences, when suddenly, Hilda asked,
“So, what’s the atmosphere in the Staff room like these days?” Slightly startled, Nell considered the question carefully. Finally she answered,
“‘Tense’ would probably best describe it.” Hilda sighed,
“Oh dear. Any idea as to what the problem is?” Nell frowned, and wriggled uncomfortably,
“Actually, it reminds me of that description of the masters’ quarrel in Stalky – oh, you know.” And kneeling on the sofa, Nell reached into the bookcase behind it, for Hilda’s copy of that work, turned immediately to the correct page and read aloud joyously:
“Pessimists, no more than poets love each other, and even when they work together, it is one thing to pessimise congenially with an ancient and tried associate, who is also a butt, and another to be pessimised over by an inexperienced junior….the Reverend John did his best to pour water on the flames. Little Hartopp, perceiving that it was pure oil, threw in canfuls of his own. In the end words passed which would have made the common-room uninhabitable for the future….” Hilda groaned,
“As bad as that? Presumably the junior is Grizel or Simone, but who’s the oil-thrower?” Nell’s eyes twinkled suddenly,
“Simone is being understandably Patriotic, with a capital letter, and I think Grizel means well – but I can’t quite work out whether she’s being tactless or perverse, and Con – well, ever since she had that letter from Jock, saying that their marriage had better be postponed for the foreseeable future, she’s been so bad-tempered that she makes me appear as an angel of light!” Most reprehensibly, Hilda giggled, and Nell glared,
“I’m keeping clear of most of it – they’ll just have to sort it out amongst themselves, sillies that they are! ”
“But what’s the trouble?”
“They all keep trying to win the war – and disagreeing as a consequence. Honestly, Hilda, I never knew we had so many armchair strategists on the staff, and it’s driving me mad. Plus, they’re over the initial burst of virtue and are starting to get irritable!”
“They obviously haven’t got enough to do if they can behave like that. Perhaps we should lock them in their rooms until they promise to be good!”
“What a lovely idea,” returned Nell longingly, moving uncomfortably again, “Actually, it isn’t all of them – Gwynneth and Vater Bar don’t join in – and it tends not to start when he’s there anyway.”
“So I should hope!”
“Yes, well, if they don’t stop it soon, I’m going to start getting angry.” At this, Hilda regarded her thoughtfully; Nell had coped so well during the past two weeks that it was startling to remember just how recently she had shunned any company, but her own, and while the nightmares that had haunted her were starting to diminish, Hilda knew that they still tormented her far too frequently. Only two nights ago, she had heard Nell cry out in her sleep, and had found her terrified and in tears, and desperate not to sleep again, at least for that night. “And if she starts to get irritated as well, then there could be trouble,” thought Hilda.
“Perhaps we need to arrange a distraction,” she said aloud.
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” replied Nell enthusiastically. “We haven’t had any expeditions as yet, and there are some lovely places round here.” She wriggled again as she spoke, and Hilda eyed her curiously,
“Nell, why are you wriggling like that?” Nell glared at her,
“You know damn well why I’m wriggling, woman – and it’s all your fault.”
“What!”
“If you hadn’t insisted on ignoring me, I wouldn’t have had to lock your notebook and pen in the filing cabinet, and hide the key.”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to hide it there!”
“The wretched thing keeps digging into me.” Hilda laughed,
“It serves you right, so don’t complain! So, shall we plan an expedition for this Saturday?” Nell wrinkled her nose in mock disdain, then said,
“ I think it would be helpful – shall we make it autumn picnics for Juniors, Middles and Seniors?”
“That would be the most straightforward way of organising it – and if we send them to different places, that gives us options for the future too.” Nell nodded,
“That’s a good idea – so if we draw up a list of possible places now and let the kitchen know well in advance, we can make the final decision on Friday when we find out what the weather is doing.” She stopped speaking and looked sternly at Hilda, “And before you say anything, no, we are not doing anything about it tonight.” Hilda held up her hands in feigned terror,
“Be merciful! I wasn’t going to suggest that we did.” She looked at the Kipling still lying in Nell’s lap. “Isn’t that the story where the boys put a dead cat under one of the dormitory floors and leave it to rot?” Nell shook her head,
“No, it’s the one where they have a near riot and end up pulling a fireplace and mantelpiece out of a wall.” She laughed suddenly, “I must say it makes our lives seem comparatively calm!” Hilda giggled in agreement, and glanced at her watch,
“Heavens, look at the time – almost half-past ten. I’ll wash the coffee cups if you’ll deal with the final doors and windows check.” She picked up the cups as Nell stood up, and was heading towards the door when she remembered something,
“Oh Nell, I meant to tell you that we finally heard from Gertrude Beck’s guardian today – her travel arrangements are sorted out and she should be with us by the middle of next week.”


Nell had reached this point in her contemplation of the previous term, when she realised that Charlie had re-emerged from his office and was hastening down the platform to where several crates of chickens were stacked. The occupants were complaining peevishly of their lot in life, and their clamour increased as Charlie ably pulled the crates closer to the edge of the platform. Then he returned to take his place near the door of the waiting room.
“It’s just due, Miss Nell!” he called as he passed her, and almost on cue the signal glowed red and Nell heard the first faint sounds of the approaching train. Half a minute later, it pulled slowly into the station with a squeal of brakes and an exhalation of steam and smoke. Nell waited in her doorway for a moment, then peered anxiously down the platform; where was Hilda? “Don’t say she’s missed it?” she muttered, and was just growing concerned when she spotted a familiar slim figure getting slowly out of a compartment. She was laden with her handbag and two cases, one of which looked to be heavy, and at once Nell was hurrying down the platform to meet her,
“Hilda! I’m here,” she called clearly, and at once the slim figure turned in her direction, almost tripping over one of the cases.
“Nell!”
“Hilda, it’s lovely to see you,” exclaimed Nell, swiftly enveloping Hilda in a hug. “Goodness, but you are cold.” Hilda smiled, rather wearily.
“These days, trains don’t seem be provided with much heating.” She shivered as an icy gust of wind roared its way through them, and at once Nell picked up the heavier of the two cases.
“Come on Hilda, let’s find somewhere warmer than this wind tunnel of a platform.” Hilda didn’t reply as she was preoccupied with hunting for her ticket, and she missed the slightly concerned look that Nell directed toward her. By the time she looked up again, having found the ticket tucked into the wrist of her glove, Nell had picked up the second case and was leading the way down the platform towards the exit. Hilda followed, shivering again as the wind hit her back.
“How far is the cottage from here?” she asked as she caught up with Nell. Nell didn’t answer immediately, as the stationmaster had appeared at the door of his office, and was clearly waiting for them. Nell stopped,
“Hello again Charlie,” she said in resigned tones, but with a twinkle in her eye. “You may tell Sarah that my friend has arrived safely.” Charlie shuffled his feet, but did not immediately abandon the field.
“You’ll need to be careful, Miss Nell, he’s been a bit restless. Lot of stamping and that. Doesn’t like to be kept waiting, does he?”
“I know how he feels,” remarked Nell gloomily. “But there wasn’t anything I could do. Thank you for telling me, Charlie.” Charlie tapped the peak of his cap,
“That’s all right, Miss Nell,” he said. “Good evening to you. And you too, Ma’am,” he added hurriedly in Hilda’s direction, before ducking back into his office.
A puzzled Hilda glanced at Nell.
“He?” she said. Nell grinned.
“His name is Conrad and he’s waiting outside,” she said wickedly, leading the way out of the station, and Hilda’s jaw dropped at the sight of a large black horse harnessed to what Hilda dimly recognised from her own youth as a governess cart!
“What on earth?” she asked, turning to Nell in amazement. Nell chuckled,
“I thought you’d be surprised. Now that petrol’s rationed, horse-power of the four-legged kind has made a comeback – not that it was ever completely out of fashion round here - and there have been so many motor accidents in the blackout that I feel a lot safer with Conrad than I do with the car. Although I must say that he is a bit restless at the moment,” she added as he stamped again and moved about uneasily.
“But where did you get him, Nell?”
“He’s partly mine, you know. Father successfully defended some gypsies on a poaching charge against a landowner on the other side of Exeter. They duly presented him with this character in lieu of his fee! Father was highly amused and accepted. But it wasn’t practical for us to keep him, and Father worked out an arrangement with a local farmer whereby he looked after Conrad and used him while we were in London, and we were able to use him when we were here. It was one of the reasons we were able to spend such a lot of time down here,” she added. Hilda started to ask something, then stopped as Nell let down the step, put both the cases into the cart, then turned to assist Hilda. “It’s alright, Hilda,” she said reassuringly. “He’s still securely hitched, and although he looks intimidating, he’s really a bit of a softie.”
“I might believe you,” murmured Hilda grimly. Nell stopped what she was doing and looked at her searchingly; even in the dimly lit station yard, she could see Hilda’s apprehensive face and the tenseness of her body.
“He really does bother you, doesn’t he,” she said quietly. Hilda nodded,
“I’m sorry, Nell, but he does. He’s so large, and – unpredictable.” Nell put a hand on her shoulder,
“Don’t worry, Hilda; I promise you that you will be quite safe with both of us.” Hilda closed her eyes and shuddered, then said wryly,
“Lay on, MacDuff!” Nell smiled with relief and assisted Hilda up into the seat, then she unhitched the horse and was up beside her before Hilda had time to realise what was happening. Two minutes later they had left the station yard and were travelling through the centre of the village.

“It’s actually quite a small village,” said Nell casually, “but as it’s one of the places used by campers and hikers who want to go up to the Moor in summer – to say nothing of the farmers who live round here – it’s got a railway station. It also has a Post Office, a doctor, three stores, two pubs, one local policeman and -”
“A partridge in a pear tree?” Nell chuckled,
“No, the pubs are the Lamb and Flag and the George. Very traditional.” Hilda laughed in her turn, then said,
“And how far is it to your home?”
“Well, it’s not in the village itself – that’s what I meant when I said that having Conrad allowed us to be here a lot more – so it’ll take us about fifteen minutes to get there, but that’s because I’m going slowly. You never quite know how other people are coping with driving or walking during the blackout, and I prefer to be careful.”
“That’s comforting!” Nell laughed softly at this characteristic comment,
“I told you that you would be safe, didn’t I?” There was a silence, then Hilda said curiously,
“I didn’t know you knew about horses, Nell.” Nell grinned and said teasingly,
“There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Hilda – No, you don’t, Conrad!”, as the horse made a determined effort to quicken his pace, “I know you want to get home to your lovely warm stable as quickly as you can, but not everyone is used to the blackout yet, and it simply isn’t safe.”
“Conrad?” queried Hilda.
“Yes.” Nell’s mouth twitched. “He wasn’t meant to be called that, but Cherry named him. She was six, and nothing would do her, but “Conrad”; we never found out where she got it. She was always rather - inventive – with names!” Hilda laughed, remembering Nell’s story of how the little girl had insisted on naming her favourite doll Persephone. Then she fell silent, shivering again in the chill evening air.
As they left the village behind them, Nell relaxed a little,
“That’s better,” she said. “I always feel safer when I’m away from the village – there are so many fewer potential accidents!”
“I don’t know if you mean that to be reassuring,” remarked Hilda. “But if you did, then I have to tell you that you’ve failed!”
“Sorry,” replied Nell penitently, “But you honestly don’t need to worry – I’ve travelled up and down this road by night often enough.” She glanced quickly at Hilda,
“Have you always been nervous of horses, Hilda?” Hilda didn’t reply at once, then she said,
“I didn’t have much to do with them when I was small, apart from going out occasionally with my parents. But when I was twelve, I went to stay with a school friend who had a pony of her own – all her family rode - and Father gave me permission to learn too. I was getting on quite well….” Her voice trailed off as the unpleasant memory sharpened in her mind, and she took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Nell.
“No, it’s alright. Mollie and I had gone down to the stables, and it was raining, so we’d sheltered inside an empty loose-box. Anyway her younger brother caught sight of her there and thought it would be funny to open the door at the other end and allow their father’s new, rather nervous, horse to come in from the next stall.” Nell gasped, horrified.
“What an idiot!”
“He always said he didn’t see me there, but that didn’t matter. I was so scared at first, I couldn’t move; Mollie managed to get out to find the groom but all I could do was stand there. The horse was huge, and he was nervous and bad-tempered – I couldn’t think what to do, but I do remember thinking that if I got out safely, I would never go anywhere near a horse again.”
“I’m not surprised,” commented Nell. “I would have thought just the same.”
“Thank you for saying that, Nell. Anyway, the horse started walking towards me, and all I could do then was move backward slowly, but even when I’d reached the wall, he still kept coming….I was terrified. Fortunately, Mollie had found the groom and he, and another stable hand, got there before anything could happen, but I just couldn’t go near any horse again after that.” She shrugged, “I went home two days later, and avoided horses as much as I could for the next few years. Fortunately, Father had a car by then, so it wasn’t too difficult.”
“I don’t blame you, Hilda. I wish I’d known, then I would have made an alternative arrangement.”
“It’s not your fault Nell, so don’t worry – and besides, I know I shouldn’t be so silly at my age.”
“You’re not being silly,” said Nell vigorously. “You had a horrible experience, and I think you’ve been very brave to trust me - and Conrad – as much as you have. And it’s almost over – we’ll be there very soon, I promise.” And sure enough, less than two minutes later, Nell drew up in front of a low stone wall.

 

#5:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:23 am

“You’re late, Miss Nell!” The accusatory voice was shrill and clear in the cold evening air, and was evidently that of a boy of twelve or thirteen, who appeared with alarming suddenness from behind the garden wall. Hilda jumped and Conrad sidestepped nervously, as Nell switched on her torch and addressed the boy angrily,
“Harry, how many times have I told you not to do that – especially at night?” The boy shrugged, but said nothing. “Well?” demanded Nell icily. Finally there was a perfunctory mutter of “Sorry”, and Nell nodded.
“That’s better! And I’m sorry you’ve had to wait in the cold, but the train was behind time. Does your father want Conrad now?”
“He said if I could bring him along tonight, we could get a good early start.” Nell surveyed the boy, then said,
“You sure you can manage him, Harry? He’s still a bit restless.” The boy didn’t answer her, but his grunt of disdain was clearly audible, and Hilda suppressed a sudden chuckle, at the sight of the forthright Nell Wilson being put in her place by this twelve-year-old urchin – and accepting it!
“Alright, Harry, sorry I insulted you, but you be careful – oh, and can you tell your mother that we’ll be over tomorrow to collect the things for Christmas?” There was another grunt that Hilda assumed meant “Yes”, a rapid scrambling sound as Harry climbed neatly over the garden wall, and then his voice called more cheerfully,
“It’s alright Miss Nell, I’ve got him.” Nell jumped down, turned to retrieve the luggage, and then held out her hand to Hilda, who got down rather more cautiously, and followed Nell towards the gate.

By now, it was so late that the garden was only a dark blur, but the white bulk of the house could still be dimly discerned. Nell opened the gate and shone her torch up the path towards the front door. Another icy blast of wind hit them, and Hilda shivered uncontrollably.
“You’ll soon be warm, Hilda,” said Nell comfortingly as she fumbled for her key.
“Good!” replied Hilda as she gritted her teeth against the cold and followed Nell up the path. However, her first proper view of the cottage brought her up short.
“Why - it’s bigger than I anticipated, Nell!” she commented, startled and stopping still in surprise. At this ingenuous comment, Nell permitted herself a small shy smile, unlocked the door, and for the first time, turned to invite Hilda into her home.
Originally, the front door had opened straight into a room, but at some time in the house’s history, some major building work had been undertaken and a tiny entrance hall had been constructed. There was just sufficient room to leave coats and outdoor shoes there, and then the space opened out into a living room. It was immediately evident that Nell spent most of her time here – although it was tidier than Hilda would have expected! The walls were white, but the dull crimson curtains and carpet provided colour and warmth, as did the bright cushions on the comfortable sofa and armchairs near the fire. A wonderfully polished dresser held a number of pieces of willow-ware that had been treasured by Nell’s mother, together with two photographs and an arrangement of candles and woven twigs and holly that proved, under closer examination, to be a traditional Advent arrangement. A rocking chair stood near the window, various pieces of brass polished to a mirror-like sheen hung on the walls and the brass andirons and coalscuttle on the hearth had a similar sparkle. A large bookcase contained an assortment of volumes that ranged from Nell’s childhood treasures to some of her father’s theological and legal reading – something that Hilda found was characteristic of all the bookcases in the house. When she later mentioned it to Nell, the latter remarked airily that at least the arrangement wasn’t monotonous, and Hilda was forced to agree with this cheerful statement. She looked around in silent appreciation; Nell had arranged the blackout so carefully that she had been able to leave a lamp lit when she went to the station, and as she had also been equally careful to leave the fire banked up, the room was warm and brightly welcoming. Hilda gave a small sigh of satisfaction as the knot of tension in her stomach relaxed a little, then turned to a slightly apprehensive Nell.
“Nell dear, it’s so welcoming and friendly!” Nell smiled in relief,
“I’m pleased you like it, Hilda,” was all she said. “Here, give me your coat, and sit down.” Hilda slowly removed her outdoor things, and sat down on the sofa near the fire. Nell vanished through one of the two doors that led out of the room and reappeared a moment later, pursued by a faint savoury aroma, which proclaimed that that particular door led to the kitchen.
“The kettle is on, and we’ll have tea in a moment,” she remarked as she knelt down in front of the fire, removed the guard and proceeded to rearrange the coals. After a minute the fire started to blaze more brightly. Then she disappeared into the kitchen again, and Hilda heard her the faint sounds of her moving around as she made the promised tea. She relaxed into the sofa, basking in the warmth and comfort of the room, and felt her eyes closing. “I must see if Nell needs any help,” she thought drowsily. “But in a moment…” Three minutes later, Nell came back, bearing a tea tray. At the sight of Hilda, she stopped short. “She’s exhausted, poor love,” she thought, as she studied Hilda’s weary face. Then she put the tray down on the dresser, and laid a gentle hand on Hilda’s shoulder.
“Wake up, Hilda,” she said gently. “I’ve made some tea.” Hilda blinked and looked round vaguely,
“Tea?” she said, then realised where she was and blushed. “Nell. I’m sorry, that was very rude of me -”
“Don’t be an idiot, Hilda; you don’t need to apologise for being tired! And while I remember, the bathroom is up here.” She extended a hand and hauled Hilda up from the sofa, crossed to a corner of the room and drew back a curtain that Hilda had not really noticed before, and that concealed a flight of stairs.
“Stop at the top,” she cautioned her, “I need to check the blackout before I put the lights on.” Obediently Hilda halted at the top step, waiting while Nell disappeared into three of the rooms in turn, finally pausing to switch on the landing light.
“The bathroom is at the end,” Nell pointed out. “And I’ll pour out your tea while you’re making yourself beautiful!” Hilda looked at her, and suddenly laughed. Nell chuckled too and then hugged Hilda swiftly,
“That’s better,” she said and went downstairs, still smiling.

When Hilda rejoined Nell, she found her sitting demurely on the sofa, a plate of shortbread and two large cups of tea on the small table in front of her. She had lit a second lamp, and the room was bright with dancing firelight and the steadier shine of the two lamps.
“This is very cosy, Nell,” Hilda remarked happily as she sat down. Nell passed her tea and shortbread, then said,
“I’m so pleased you like it.” Hilda sipped her tea, nibbled a piece of shortbread, then asked curiously,
“Has this house been in your family long?” Nell put her cup down and considered.
“My parents found this place, just after they were married. It used to be two rather small cottages, with a smithy attached – that’s gone now, but there’s a paved area next to the house where it used to be. Very useful in wet weather, when everything else is a bit waterlogged! Apparently an artist of sorts had owned it and he’d turned the two cottages into one, but done nothing much else. It was a bit of a wreck to begin with, but Mother and Father tidied it up, and added a few of the benefits of modern living - ”
“Such as plumbing and electricity?”
“Exactly! Well, the plumbing at least: the electricity’s more recent, although I warn you, that if we do get some heavy snow, we revert to oil lamps! Father always said that Mother wasn’t going to exhaust herself living a so-called simple life, as that always turned out to be complicated in the extreme. His job meant we had to live in London, but we spent as much time here as we possibly could. In fact, from the middle of 1915 we were here all the time; Father let the London house and moved into a small flat that was part of his office. He felt that we would be safer and healthier here. It’s a fact that Cherry was always so much better here…and I always felt more alive somehow.” She grinned mischievously at Hilda. “Some of my friends used to wonder if I ever got bored coming here, year after year. I used to try and explain that it simply wasn’t possible, but I don’t think they believed me!”
“How on earth did you manage about school?”
“Well, I wasn’t quite eight when war was declared, so it wasn’t a problem. Mother had been a teacher before she and Father were married, so she taught me, and of course, Cherry was still small. After the War ended, I had three years at a Convent school, and then they decided to send me to a High School in London, as I had announced my intention of studying science, and while the Convent was good, it didn’t offer all the subjects I needed. By then we were back in London, but we still came down here every chance we could.” She offered Hilda another piece of shortbread which was happily accepted and added, “We always felt that our real home was here.” Hilda nodded, and finished her tea. Nell replenished her cup and then stood up,
“I’d better see how things are going in the kitchen, she said briskly. “ And if you don’t mind, I thought we’d eat in here, tonight. It’s warmer, and it’s rather less work than setting the table.” She collected the tea things together, and went toward the kitchen, “Now you stay here, and relax – have a look at the bookshelves: I’m sure you’ll find something there to interest you. And no, there’s nothing you can do to help – not tonight anyway! ” she added, forestalling Hilda’s question. She disappeared into the kitchen and Hilda remained thankfully where she was; she looked round the room again. Nell’s knitting was tucked partly under a cushion, and today’s Times lay folded on the dresser. The presence of three books on the small table near the hearth suggested that Nell was in the habit of sitting – or lying - on the rug to read in front of the fire. Hilda smiled to herself – if the rest of Nell’s home was like this, it was no wonder that Nell loved the description of Mole’s little dwelling so much!

Feeling her eyes starting to close again, she got up and went to examine the two large photographs on the dresser. One showed a small girl of about eight, with long curling hair, and uncompromisingly direct eyes, holding a toddler on her lap. The younger child seemed to be about two, and had a delicate flower-like face and dark hair. Her air of delicacy was unmistakable. The other picture showed the same two children, slightly older and this time with their parents. The smaller girl was perched on her mother’s lap, and Hilda noted that the two shared the same dark hair, delicate features and faint air of fragility. The older girl was standing in front of her father, and it was apparent at the first glance that Nell was her father’s girl. The closeness of the family was unmistakeable, and Hilda smiled a little, remembering some of Nell’s stories of her childhood. A little stab of envy pierced her. How lucky Nell had been to have that love and security for so long! Pushing the thought aside, she turned back to the photograph.
“You don’t have to worry about her,” she murmured to it. “I promise I will always be here for her – if she’ll let me be.”
She knelt down in front of the bookcase, scanning the shelves quickly; on the third one, she caught sight of the Secret Garden, and carefully removed it. Then she returned to the sofa, turning to her favourite passage, and delighting as she did so in the Rackham illustrations. The book opened easily at the ninth chapter and Hilda began to read the account of Mary Lennox’s first foray into the garden …
“All the ground was covered with grass of a wintry brown, and out of it grew clumps of bushes that were surely rose-bushes if they were alive . . .There were other trees in the garden, and one of the things which made the place look strangest and loveliest was that climbing roses had run all over them and swung down long tendrils which made light swaying curtains, and here and there they had caught at each other or at a far-reaching branch and had crept from one tree to another and had made lovely bridges of themselves. There were neither leaves nor roses on them now . . .but their thin grey or brown branches and sprays looked like a sort of hazy mantle spreading over everything, walls, and trees, and even brown grass . . . .
‘How still it is,’ she whispered. ‘How still.’
She moved away from the door, stepping as softly as if she were afraid of awakening someone. She was glad that there was grass under her feet and that her steps made no sounds. She walked under one of the fairy-like arches between the trees, and looked up at the sprays and tendrils which formed them.
‘I wonder if they are all quite dead,’ she said. Is it all a quite dead garden? I wish it wasn’t,’
If she had been Ben Weatherstaff, she could have told whether the wood were alive by looking at it, but she could only see that there were only grey or brown sprays and branches, and none showed any signs of even a tiny leaf-bud anywhere.
But she was inside the wonderful garden, and she could come through the door under the ivy any tine, and she felt as if she had found a world all her own . . .”

Other than the sound of the fire, the room was very quiet, and Hilda felt more at ease than she had done for days – possibly weeks. The book slipped into her lap, and she closed her eyes revelling in the quietness that seemed to seep into her very bones. “Such a safe friendly house,” she thought again. It almost seemed to her that she could hear voices, the swift sound of footsteps and the laughter of a small child, and there gradually came to her a clear picture of a girl with grey eyes and a long chestnut plait sitting on the hearthrug, telling stories to a small darkhaired girl, while their parents listened and talked softly to each other… Slowly she opened her eyes, and was vaguely surprised to find herself alone. Then the kitchen door opened, and Nell came in, carrying a tray, laden with plates, cutlery, glasses and a jug of water. She slid it onto the dresser, and said.
“Dinner’s almost ready. I hope you like braised beef; it’s one of the recipes I’ve borrowed from Karen over the years – slightly modified of course.” Hilda smiled,
“That sounds marvellous Nell. I hadn’t realised I was so hungry – it must be leaving London behind.” Nell laughed,
“I wouldn’t live in London if you paid me, my dear.”
“You’re so lucky, Nell,” said Hilda unexpectedly, surprising both of them by her remark and its intensity. Nell stared at her, slightly puzzled and Hilda added, a little awkwardly,
“Well – you have a real home!”.
“What on earth were you expecting?” Hilda blushed, and murmured,
“I’m not quite sure, Nell. Houses aren’t always homes, are they?” Nell gazed searchingly at her, and an uncomfortable question crossed her mind; just how long had it been since Hilda had had a home of her own – other than the school? She pushed the thought aside for future consideration, and said reassuringly,
“You’re right, of course Hilda – and I’m so glad that you feel comfortable here.” She glanced at the book lying in Hilda’s lap and smiled a little wistfully.
“Cherry and I both loved it too,” she said softly, and returned to the kitchen to finish the preparations for dinner.

Nell’s version of the recipe supplied by Karen proved to be most acceptable and Hilda surprised herself by the amount that she managed to eat. Nell was delighted; although she had managed to conceal much of her concern, Hilda’s obvious weariness had worried her, as had her oddly intense reaction to Nell’s home. And the question that had occurred to her earlier had returned to her at intervals throughout the meal, niggling at her, and causing her occasionally to appear somewhat distracted. Twice Hilda had good-naturedly accused her of not paying attention, and each time Nell had conceded that she was right! On the third occasion, she had just returned from the kitchen with the apple pie intended for dessert when she suddenly became aware that Hilda had asked her a question and was awaiting the answer and rushed into speech,
“I’m sorry, Hilda, I didn’t hear you,” she said, somewhat lamely. Hilda merely raised an eyebrow and said nothing – eloquently! Nell put down the pie dish, repeating her apology.
“I’m sorry, Hilda, I was wool-gathering. Do you mind saying that again?” Hilda sighed exaggeratedly, then said,
“All I asked was, who does the polishing around here? I wouldn’t have thought you had the patience - or the time.” Nell paused in the act of cutting the pie,
“You underestimate my capabilities, my dear -”
“Surely not!” murmured Hilda. Nell wrinkled her nose derisively, then continued,
“ - but in point of fact you are correct! Life’s too short to waste it on excess polishing, and there’s all the stuff in the other room as well as what’s in here, so once a week, I pay Harry Gorton half a crown to take care of the brasses for me.” She finished cutting two slices of pie, passed one of the dessert plates to Hilda, together with a jug of cream and sat down again. As she did so, she remarked blandly,
“It’s quite safe, you know. I didn’t make this one.”
“Nell!” Nell chuckled,
“You deserved that, my dear. But I agree with you that my pastry can be - unpredictable, shall we say? No, Sarah made it.”
“Who is Sarah?” To Hilda’s surprise, a sudden happy smile illuminated Nell’s face.
“Sarah was my nurse; Grandmother Wilson arranged for her to come down from Yorkshire when I was a baby. She was sixteen then. She stayed with us until Cherry was five, then she married Henry Gorton who farms a lot of the land round here. Young Harry, who you saw last night, is their son, and Charlie Gorton, the stationmaster is Henry’s younger brother. And his sister-in-law runs the Post Office.” There was a short silence while Hilda sorted out this information, then she said thoughtfully,
“I imagine there’s not much gets past them then.” Nell glanced at her,
“Very little – but they’re wonderful people, utterly reliable and I’d trust them with my life.” Her eyes darkened a little and she tensed. “I did trust them with my life…” Hilda laid a hand lightly on hers, and Nell relaxed slightly, casting a swift sidelong look at Hilda. “They protected me, you know. That day Con and Jock came here . . .” Her voice trailed off and she blushed. Hilda smiled wryly, remembering Con’s puzzled annoyance, when recounting her fruitless visit.
“They closed ranks, didn’t they?” Nell nodded.
“They did indeed. Harry – who does a splendid rendition of the village imbecile on occasion – sent them out of their way, then went straight to the Post Office to let me know they were coming. And Charlie Gorton misdirected them again. And it would have worked if I hadn’t been in the garden; I didn’t hear the telephone bell, and Harry simply couldn’t get here fast enough. And of course, once they found the Post Office, they had to be told where I was.” Hilda was quiet for a moment, then said,
“You’re a very fortunate woman, Nell Wilson, to have such loyal friends.” Nell’s grey eyes shone brightly.
“I know that Hilda; believe me, I do know.”

 

#6:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:33 am

They were interrupted by the soft sound of the clock chiming the half-hour. Nell looked up,
“Half-past nine! Goodness me, and I haven’t shown you your room yet. Come on.” She jumped up and retrieved the heavier of Hilda’s cases from near the kitchen door, and led the way upstairs, where she opened the first door on the right.
“You’re in here, “ she said cheerfully, putting the case down by the bed. “This was my room when I was younger,” she added. Hilda looked around. The walls were colour washed cream, and the floor was of polished wood. Curtains, lampshade, rug and bedspread were all the same soft shade of delphinium blue, as were the linen runners on the dressing table, and the dressing table, chest of drawers and bedside table all gleamed with the same evidence of hard polishing as the dresser and shelves downstairs. The bed linen was snowy white and faintly scented with lavender. Two delicate watercolours hung on the walls – Hilda found out later that Nell’s mother had painted them, and that they both showed local places of interest - and a small wooden carving of Mary and the Child stood on top of the chest of drawers. Hilda breathed out a small sigh of contentment.
“It’s lovely, Nell,” she said in delight, and Nell smiled.
“Glad you like it,” was all she said. “The view is spectacular, but you won’t be able to appreciate it until tomorrow.” She moved to the door, “I’ll leave you to unpack – and if you’re downstairs again in half an hour there’ll be a cup of cocoa waiting for you.” She stopped anxiously. “ I do hope it’s warm enough for you – I lit the fire earlier.”
“Nell, it’s perfect - and you’ve made me so welcome,” said Hilda a little shakily. She suddenly felt tears welling up and fell silent. Nell regarded her intently and understood immediately that she needed to be alone for a short while.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” she said softly and departed.

Left to herself, Hilda sat down on the edge of the bed, struggling to regain her usual calm. “Don’t be so silly,” she scolded herself, “there’s no reason for you to cry.” She managed to force her tears back, then found her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and rummaged in her handbag for the keys to her cases. She unlocked them, and mechanically began to unpack, going through the familiar routine of settling herself into a new place. However, this time it was somehow different; she found herself moving more and more slowly, and finally she put a pile of clothes on the dressing table and sat down on the bed again, content to sit and savour the peace and comfort of her surroundings. “I haven’t felt so welcome in anyone’s home for so long,” she murmured. She suddenly remembered the flat in London that she had lived in before leaving England for the Tyrol - almost seven years ago!– it had been small, but she had given it the same air of friendly welcome that this house had. And James had loved it so…. And then there had been the home of her childhood; somehow her mother had managed to make that Bishop’s Residence into a delightful dwelling despite the age and multiple inconveniences of the building with which she was dealing. At the thought of her mother, she caught her breath in a sudden wave of pain … after her death, nothing had ever been the same, she thought sadly. She looked around the room again, noting all the signs of Nell’s loving welcome, even down to her thoughtful selection of books on the bedside table. Suddenly struck by the silence outdoors, she realised again just how exhausting London was and how peaceful this place seemed to be, even in the midst of war; “it’s so safe here,” she thought a little desperately. And then the tears came again, and this time, nothing that she could do would stop them. She dropped sideways onto the bed, burying her face on the cool pillow and cried heartbrokenly for what seemed like hours. Eventually her tears slowed, and she lay there, almost too tired to move, dreamily watching the firelight cast dancing shadows across the walls. She did not hear the sound of Nell softly opening the door, or her light footsteps on the polished floor; indeed she only became aware of her presence when Nell laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Hilda dear, I should go to bed if I were you.” Startled, Hilda sat up, and Nell bit back an exclamation at the sight of her white tearstained face, and evident unhappiness. “You’re tired,” she said quietly, knowing instinctively that it would not do to ask Hilda questions at the moment. “If she wants me to know, she’ll tell me,” she thought, and smiled reassuringly at her friend. Hilda breathed a small sigh of relief, got off the bed, and picking up her night things went towards the door.
“I’ll bring your cocoa up to you,” Nell said to the departing Hilda. There was a shaky “Thank you Nell,” from Hilda, and then Nell was alone.
When Hilda returned, she found that Nell had tidied up the bed, replacing the damp pillowslip with a fresh one, and finding the time to pop a hot water bottle between the sheets. She had also brought the promised cocoa and some biscuits. The pile of clothes had been put into the chest of drawers, and the fire had been built up. She shook her head; this fresh evidence of Nell’s concern for her was almost overwhelming, and she felt tears welling up again. “Go to bed, Hilda,” she murmured to herself, and proceeded to take her own advice – not noticing that her small travel alarm had disappeared from the bedside table….

Next morning, Nell awoke at her usual early hour, but mindful of Hilda’s extreme tiredness, she was very careful not too disturb her. By eight o’clock however, she decided that she could justifiably peep at Hilda and see if she was awake; she crept quietly up the stairs, and very cautiously opened Hilda’s bedroom door. She was not altogether surprised to find that Hilda was still deeply asleep, and indeed would have been concerned had this not been the case. “She looks as if she needs to sleep for a week!” she thought, returning to the kitchen where a cup of tea awaited her. “Well, she can if she wants to.” She picked up her cup, and wandered over to the window, frowning slightly. “I hadn’t quite realised how this term had exhausted her – and of course London is awful at the moment, what with the blackout and all the new regulations – but even so, she does seem extraordinarily tired.” She considered the matter a little more. “There was Mademoiselle’s death of course – and I don’t know that she’s really accepted what happened with Gertrud Becker.”


By early October, things were starting to settle down at the School; both girls and Staff had become accustomed to the new conditions, and the Juniors and Middles at least managed to forget the fact of the war for a large amount of their time.
“Which is exactly as it should be,” remarked Gwynneth approvingly early one evening in the Staff room.
“Quite,” agreed Nell, “although it’s all relatively quiet at the moment, don’t forget. Things may alter at a moment’s notice.”
“True – and, by the way, did I hear you say that the new girl arrives the day after tomorrow?” Nell nodded,
“She does indeed – and before you say anything, I know it’s very late in the term for a new girl to be joining us.”
“So what’s caused the delay?” enquired Con Stewart. Nell shrugged,
“I’m not completely sure. Some sort of problem about the necessary permissions from her parents – she’s in England, but they’re overseas, and everything has been handled by a temporary guardian. Plus there was a bit of a delay with travel arrangements. Anyway, it all seems to be alright and she should be with us on Wednesday.”
“What form is she going into – not the Fourth, I hope? They’re just settling down nicely, and they don’t need any more disruption – and neither do I.”
“It’s alright, Con,” replied Nell soothingly. “She’s in the Fifth – so that’s one more for you, Simone.”
“Thank you, Nell,” said Simone calmly. “I will make sure that everything is in order for her.” And with this, the conversation shifted to other things.

Gertrude Beck – or to give her her proper name, Gertrud Becker - duly arrived and was installed as a member of the Chalet School. Initially, she had encountered Matron and Miss Annersley, both of whom had noted the slight cadence in her voice indicating her prolonged residence in Germany, and had each made a point of mentioning it to Nell later that evening, thinking that Nell might otherwise react adversely the first time that she heard Gertrude speak.
“When you think how terrified and despairing she was only a few weeks ago, she’s so much better now,” remarked Hilda to Gwynneth in private, “but we needn’t make things harder for her.” They had also both intended to say something to the rest of the staff, but the next day’s events forestalled them.

“The phone’s ringing, Hilda.” Hilda swung round toward the house, looking slightly puzzled.
“So it is. That’s odd, this early in the morning. I suppose I’d better go and find out whether it’s important.”
“Shall I come too?”
“No, you stay here; with luck, I’ll only be a minute or two, and we’ll still be able to fit in our walk.” And with those words, Hilda ran lightly up the steps towards the study, while Nell sauntered slowly towards the rose garden, casually swinging her hat by its brim. Once there, she paused to admire the roses; although it was already October, this part of the garden was sheltered and several rose bushes were still in bloom, including her particular favourites, one of which was covered in delicate white flowers. She glanced at her watch and frowned; it was really too late for their planned walk, but she did have time to gather some roses for the study. Avoiding the rather too prominent thorns, she set to work, and five minutes later, was walking back up the steps to the terrace, carrying a number of perfect roses, their thorns carefully shrouded by her handkerchief. There was no sign of Hilda. “Surely she can’t still be on the phone,” she thought as she opened the study door.

Nell was correct; Hilda was not still on the phone. Instead she was sitting at her desk, staring down at her folded hands. As Nell came in, she looked up, and Nell was horrified by her dazed – almost stunned – expression, and the slight trembling of her slender body. The roses dropped unnoticed to the floor as Nell crossed the room in three steps, and knelt beside her friend, slipping a supportive arm around her.
“Hilda! What’s wrong?” Hilda flinched slightly, licked her lips, then said in a harsh voice,
“That phonecall was from Madge Russell. She heard from the Lecoutiers in Paris, about half an hour ago. Mademoiselle – died yesterday morning.”
“What?” gasped Nell. Hilda nodded, and continued, still in that oddly harsh tone,
“Yes; it happened very suddenly, but it seems that she didn’t suffer. She was unconscious for the last hours. Madge has asked me to tell Simone and to announce it to the school this morning.” She stopped for a moment, breathing deeply, and Nell was also silent, thinking of the dearly-loved Frenchwoman who had joined the young Madge Bettany in her new venture and had done so much to make it a success.
“Thank God she didn’t suffer,” she said quietly. She looked at Hilda carefully,
“Hilda -”
“Madge told me that there will be a Requiem Mass on Sunday,” Hilda went on. “As the most senior Catholic mistress, Nell, perhaps you would be able to confirm the arrangements with the priest who will be taking the service -”
“Of course!”
“-And I would be glad of some help in preparing an address for the service. Your views and memories of Mademoiselle will differ from mine. Now I must go and find Simone.” She stood up, and Nell also scrambled to her feet, her troubled eyes fixed on her friend.
“Hilda!” she said again, a little more loudly. Hilda looked at Nell, her eyes rain-grey and distant, and Nell suddenly felt as if Hilda were somehow withdrawing from her to a remote and solitary place.
“Not now, Nell,” she said bleakly, and left the room.

In many ways, that day, and those that followed it reminded Nell of the day that war was declared. Now, as then, Hilda maintained a façade of serene dignity that concealed her own emotions. However, as Nell unhappily realised, this time there was a crucial difference; Hilda was very careful to keep everyone – including Nell herself – at arm’s length. She offered comfort and support to those girls and staff – and there were many – who came to her for help, and she encouraged them all to talk about Mademoiselle, to look at photos, to remember her, to keep her memory alive amongst themselves. But she did not, Nell rapidly understood, enter into this herself. Moreover, when they were alone, she refused or diverted all Nell’s gentle references about Mademoiselle, ignoring or refusing to hear them. “And I can’t force her,” Nell thought sadly. “Not about this.” Although the door between their rooms remained open, Hilda did not seek Nell out as she had done, and while this added to Nell’s own pain, she did not try to compel Hilda to talk to her, knowing that, at the moment, it would achieve nothing. Instead, she simply tried unobtrusively to take as much of the administrative burden from Hilda as she could, sensing that Hilda’s emotional and physical strength was rapidly dwindling.
By the time Sunday evening arrived, Nell was truly anxious; the Requiem Mass had been a rewarding, but tiring experience as past and present pupils, staff and friends had shared their memories and grief. Through it all, Hilda had remained calm and dignified, listening to the many and varied tributes to Mademoiselle with little of her own grief apparent. Indeed, so serene had she appeared that several people, including Jem Russell and Con Stewart had been moved to express their amazement at her ability to cope so well with this loss. Fortunately for her own peace of mind, Nell had overheard not only Con’s remark, which had reduced her to dumb fury, but also Grizel Cochrane’s accurate, if regrettably rude, response which she had silently applauded. However, by the afternoon, it was plain to Nell – and also to Gwynneth – that Hilda needed nothing so much as a quiet afternoon by herself. Consequently, they appeared in the Study after lunch with tea, aspirin, and a determined expression apiece and informed Hilda that she was to go straight upstairs for a rest - “and without any arguments!” said Gwynneth at her most awe-inspiring. She need not have worried; Hilda did precisely as she was instructed, a circumstance that disturbed both her friends, and finally drove Nell to ask Gwynneth’s advice later that afternoon, when they were having tea together.

“Do you think I’m right – letting her try and sort this out for herself, I mean?” Gwynneth nodded her head vigorously,
“Oh yes, Nell, definitely. If you’d tried to force her to discuss it, she would have gone further inside herself, and that would have been worse.” Nell sighed with relief and fiddled with the teaspoon in her saucer.
“Thank you for saying that, Gwynneth. I didn’t think I was wrong, but it’s nice to have support. I mean, I’m not like Hilda, sensitive to the needs of everyone around me: I need to have some things pointed out to me.”
“Not as far as Hilda is concerned,” Gwynneth commented shrewdly.
“That’s different.”
“I know – and I’m just thankful that there is somebody here who can do this for her.” Nell blushed a little, and Gwynneth went on, “Don’t worry, Nell, it will work out, but you’ll have to be patient.” She added suddenly,
“And what about you, Nell? You haven’t said much about it; how are you coping?” Nell stared at her cup for a moment, then looked levelly at Gwynneth.
“You know how fond I was of Mademoiselle. She made me so welcome when I first joined the school; she was always there in the early days if I needed help, and when I was building up the Science and Geography resources, she always supported me completely. She was an excellent Headmistress to work under – my first wasn’t, you know - and she was a good friend besides. I loved her dearly.” She broke off, and took a sip of her rapidly cooling drink.
“But Gwynneth, when I think of how much she suffered, and what might have been waiting for her – I can’t grieve too much for her. If nothing else, I’ve learned that there are worse things than death, and there are worse ways to die than slipping quietly away to God.” Gwynneth bowed her head quietly in agreement, as Nell continued, “I don’t think that this war will be easy on either France or England, and she loved those countries so much, and had so many friends there; besides, she was so grieved by having to leave Austria where she had been happy, and anyway who knows what’s going to happen and where?” she finished, a little incoherently. Gwynneth considered her words for a moment, than asked, a little diffidently for her,
“But Nell, Hilda does realise this?” Nell put her cup and saucer down on the table with a slight bang,
“Of course she does! But it’s different for her; they were always so close. Mademoiselle was a dear friend and guide to her, not only in the early days, but right until that last term in Tyrol. And I know that they exchanged letters throughout last year. I think now that Mademoiselle always saw Hilda as her possible successor, and made sure that she knew precisely what the job entailed. And how she might tackle it.”
“Poor Hilda,” said Gwynneth softly. “She must feel as if she’s lost someone vital in her life.”
“Yes,” agreed Nell, equally quietly. “She’s cautious about establishing a true friendship, - it takes her a little time - but when she does it’s for ever, and if something happens, she grieves deeply. And of course as Headmistress, she simply has to carry on – she doesn’t have the time or space to grieve openly.” Gwynneth glanced at Nell’s troubled face, and said cautiously,
“You do realise that she may never do that – or at least not for a long time – don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” replied Nell robustly. “But it doesn’t matter to me, you know. I’m here if she wants to talk, or whatever, and if she doesn’t, then I can at least help her by relieving her of some of the more onerous parts of the job.” Gwynneth smiled, and the subject was dropped.

Despite her afternoon’s rest, it was a tired and whitefaced Hilda who came down to dinner and prayers, and then found herself returning to bed with strict instructions from Gwynneth to stay there until at least the middle of the next morning.
“And if you don’t, then I’m calling in one of the doctors to prescribe something for you!” she threatened. Hilda glared at her, then capitulated,
“Bully!”
“Where your health is concerned, Hilda, yes,” replied Gwynneth implacably. And she duly escorted Hilda upstairs.
Nell remained in the Staff room for the rest of the evening, understanding that her presence would help to smooth things over after a trying day. She noticed a distinct coolness between Con and Grizel, which was scarcely surprising under the circumstances. Simone was very quiet, which again was only to be expected, and Jeanne de Lachenais was also visibly unhappy. Nell was therefore exceedingly grateful when Herr Anserl put in an appearance early in the evening and offered to provide some music for them.
“It would be a kind thing, I think, Fraulein Nell; otherwise there will be a reaction to the difficulties and sadness of today, and then it might be that unwise things are said.” And given the way in which Grizel and Con at least were already snapping at one another, Nell was only to happy to agree to his suggestion. She also supported Gwynneth when that lady indicated that early bed would be beneficial to everyone, and despite some protestations from Con – “It would be Con!” she thought in exasperation – she was able, with Gwynneth’s assistance to undertake the final duties of the night and be upstairs, getting ready for bed herself by ten o’clock. Hilda’s room was in darkness and Nell hoped she was asleep.

Nell herself was far from slumber; she was tired out by the demands of the day, especially the need to maintain some sort of cordial atmosphere in the staff room, but she was uneasily aware that if she were to try to sleep now, while her mind was still so active and she was so worried about Hilda, then the nightmares that she dreaded would return to torment her. “And I can’t afford that,” she thought grimly. “I don’t have the strength or time to spare.” So, although she had made her usual night-time preparations, she had made herself a cup of cocoa, switched on her lamp and curled up in her chair, intending to read until she felt calmer, and less anxious. The book she had selected - Shadows on the Rock – had been recommended to her by Hilda nearly three years ago, and Nell knew that the muted, yet detailed description of life in seventeenth-century Quebec, was just the type of reading that she required tonight.
Sure enough, after twenty minutes, she found that she was feeling calmer and more ready for sleep. Stifling a yawn, she carefully put the book down on her desk and took her Rosary from under her pillow where she customarily kept it at night. As she did so, she noticed that the room was growing colder, and the wind was rising. She shivered slightly, pulling her dressing gown a little more tightly around herself. Then she returned to her chair, and began to pray the first of the Joyful Mysteries, thanking God as she did so, that, even after the events of last year, she was still able to believe and to find grace and comfort in that belief. Focussing fully on the words, she lost herself in the familiar prayers, and as she softly murmured the final “Amen” she thankfully realised that she would now be able to sleep peacefully. The wind was now blowing in furious gusts, and when Nell peeped out, she saw rags and wisps of clouds scurrying across the sky, “Than goodness I’m not on a boat tonight,” she murmured as she turned back into the room. Then she stopped, suddenly attentive; surely she had heard a sound from Hilda’s room? Swiftly she crossed to the connecting door, and stood there listening for a few moments; the sound came again and Nell immediately identified it as a sob.

 

#7:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:40 am

Stifling an exclamation, Nell pushed open the door and went into the darkened room where it was obvious at once that Hilda was not asleep; instead she was lying awake sobbing harshly and desperately into her pillow. With a horrified murmur of “Hilda!” Nell sat down on the bed beside her friend and pulled her into her arms, holding her tightly. Hilda said nothing, but simply clutched frantically at Nell, as she continued to cry, releasing the pain and unhappiness of the last days.
“It’s alright, Hilda,” Nell whispered over and over to her, “I’m here. It’s alright.” She realised that Hilda had been weeping silently in the darkness for some time and the thought of that lonely grief made her ache inside. “Oh, my Hilda,” she mourned silently, “I wish I could help you.”
Finally, Hilda stopped crying and slowly sat up.
“I’m- sorry, Nell,” she whispered, rubbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to -”
“Hush, Hilda,” said Nell quietly. “Believe me, you have nothing to apologise for.” Quickly, she fetched Hilda a glass of water and a clean handkerchief. Then when it was clear that the storm of tears was over, she quietly took Hilda’s hand.
“You don’t have to say anything Hilda, and I know that you must be very tired. But just remember that I am here for you, and if you need company, or need to talk, then I want you to promise that you will come to me.” There was a moment’s silence, then Hilda whispered,
“Yes Nell, I promise.” Nell squeezed Hilda’s hand, then bent down and dropped a swift kiss on her forehead.
“Good,” she said. “Now, do you think you could go to sleep?” There was a moment’s silence, then Hilda said, sounding faintly surprised,
“Do you know, Nell, I think I could.” Nell smiled,
“That’s what I hoped to hear. Goodnight and God bless you, Hilda.” She gave Hilda a final hug, watched her turn over and settle down, then returned to her room, aware that by the time she had reached the door, Hilda was almost asleep.

Rather to her own surprise, Nell had no difficulty in falling asleep herself – although she only realised that fact next morning when her alarm went off. Mindful of Gwynneth’s strict instructions to Hilda, she swiftly muffled the clock, and proceeded to get dressed with the minimum of noise. Just before she went downstairs, she peeped cautiously into Hilda’s room; Hilda was still deeply asleep, so Nell closed the door as quietly as possible before going to seek out Gwynneth. “She takes things so hard,” she thought – not for the first time. “And I expect she’ll wake up with a dreadful headache, after those tears.” Cornering Gwynneth in her room, she explained a little of what had happened last night. Gwynneth made no comment, other than to remark,
“Thank you for telling me, Nell. I’ll go and have a look at her in a while.”

Breakfast passed uneventfully and quietly. This was scarcely surprising as the School as a whole was still subdued following the solemnity of the previous day, although the Juniors at least were beginning to regain their normal high spirits, and the Middles would undoubtedly follow suit. The Seniors – especially those who had known Mademoiselle the longest, such as Robin Humphries and Amy Stevens – were more of a concern, and Nell made a special point of observing these girls, both at breakfast and later during the morning. Much of what she saw and heard was, as she informed Hilda after lunch, reassuring; the girls were sad, certainly, but they did not appear to be brooding unduly, and she was confident that as time went by, they would remember Mademoiselle with love and affection, but not bitter grief. She did notice one thing that disturbed her slightly, and that was that both Robin Humphries and Amy Stevens seemed to be ill-at-ease with the new girl Gertrude Beck. They were not rude to her, but somehow seemed to be holding her at arm’s length “which is odd,” she ruminated “and most unlike them. I suppose it could be that she reminds them too much of Austria and so many of their friends there.” Her eyes darkened slightly; the first time that she had encountered Gertrude, she had been hard put to it to avoid showing an obvious reaction to the girl’s accent, and even now, she found that an occasional tone, gesture or expression used by the girl reminded her of too much that she would prefer to forget. “Of course, it could simply be a case of ‘I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,’ ” she commented aloud, and chuckled at the bemused expression on Hilda’s face.
“A literary reference, Nell?” she asked with a lifted eyebrow, and Nell laughed again.
“Glad to see I can still surprise you, my dear!”
“Somehow, I doubt that you will ever lose that particular ability – and what was responsible for the demonstration of knowledge?” . Nell opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated; after the last few days, Hilda really didn’t need anything new to worry about.
“Oh, I was just thinking about the odd likes and dislikes that the mid-teens can develop.” she said, casually.
“Well, they certainly can – and do -,” Hilda replied, “Although I’ve never known thought on that topic produce a quotation from you. The age of miracles is clearly not yet past!” At this cheerful statement, Nell stuck out her tongue and Hilda surveyed her unmoved. Then, as Nell got up in response to the summons of the bell for afternoon lessons, she added, “Ah, back to normal, I see.”

After that exchange, Nell allowed the slightly disturbing subject of Gertrude Beck to slide to the back of her mind, - especially as Hilda had started to emerge from behind the mask of impenetrable calm that she had assumed during the last week. She still did not refer to her own sadness and grief, but it was clear to Nell, and also to Gwynneth and Herr Anserl, that the worst of her pain had been relieved. The rest of the staff were also enjoying peaceful relations, and Nell was cautiously optimistic that the worst of the term was over.
“Hopefully, it will be relatively peaceful from now on,” she commented privately to Gwynneth one evening later in the week. “After all, the School appears to be settling down at last, and things seem to be quiet in Europe at the moment.”
“Quite,” Gwynneth responded. “but I hope you’ll excuse me if I appear less than convinced by your reasoning!” Nell shrugged,
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

And they did see; scarcely a fortnight after this conversation, a badly scared Con Stewart rushed into the study shortly after nine o’clock to announce that nobody had seen Gertrude Beck all evening and that there was every reason to suppose that she had run away. Hilda and Nell looked up, appalled and both momentarily bemused, then Nell mad a grab after her common sense and demanded,
“But why do you think she’s run away? What possible reason would she have? She hasn’t had bad news that I’m aware of – although she did have a letter this morning.”
“I don’t know about the reason,” replied Con. “But her coat and gloves are gone, and none of the Fifth have seen her since just after tea, when she was working in the kitchen garden. I’ve checked in all the obvious places – classrooms, dormitories, even the attics – and she isn’t in the house.”
“We’d better organise a thorough search of house and grounds,” said Nell briskly. “We’ll give it half an hour, then if we haven’t found her, we’ll need to decide what to do next. I suggest we ask the Sixth Form to help – they’re old enough to be of real assistance and to keep quiet if they have to. Are you happy with that, Hilda?” she added, suddenly aware that after her first horrified exclamation, Hilda had remained oddly quiet. Hilda jumped slightly at Nell’s direct question,
“Yes, Nell, that seems fine; you’d better be in charge of – No, ” she interrupted herself, “Con, will you and Grizel organise the search of the house and garden? Nell, I need you to come upstairs with me – we need to look through her cubicle immediately. There may be something -” She broke off again, and got up hastily. Con and Nell followed her to the door, the former going speedily to the Staff room to enlist helpers in the search, and the latter accompanying Hilda to the Fifth Form dormitory where Gertrude slept. As they hastened up the stairs, she caught a faint murmur from Hilda of “Please God, no,” and wondered at it.

Gertrude’s cubicle was as immaculately tidy as its neighbours – once she had been shown Matey’s preferred methods, her dormitory prefect had had no occasion to complain about her - and initially there was no sign of any clue as to her possible whereabouts. Nell went to the bureau and opened the top drawer, intending to check through those of Gertrude’s possessions that were kept in the dormitory, while Hilda turned her attention to the bed. Less than a minute later, there was a sharp exclamation of “Nell!” and Nell turned swiftly to see a white-faced Hilda holding a carefully folded note.
“I found it pinned to her pyjamas,” Hilda said in a low voice. Prompted by a sudden feeling of deep uneasiness, Nell reached out and plucked the note from between Hilda’s fingers.
“We’ll look at this downstairs,” she said abruptly as she headed for the door. “It may be alright, but finding this does suggest that she’s run away.” Hilda did not reply, and Nell said nothing further until they had reached the study. Once there, she unfolded the note and both women stared in sick dismay at that first horrifying sentence.
“I am a Nazi….”

“A – Nazi?” whispered Nell finally. “But she can’t be! She’s only fifteen.” She stopped and shivered, remembering those occasional looks and tones that had disturbed her. “I suppose it’s possible,” she added, her voice hardening slightly, as she looked at Hilda. “What do you …” Her voice trailed off as she realised that Hilda wasn’t listening. Instead she was staring at nothing, her eyes suddenly huge and haunted.
“They were right,” she said numbly. “Robin and Polly – they were right.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Nell impatiently. “What on earth have Robin and Polly got to do with this?”
“Polly came to me,” said Hilda, unhappily. “The day we heard about Mademoiselle. She told me that she and Robin believed that Gertrude wasn’t all that she said she was – that she was a spy. I reassured her, said I’d look into it – or something like that – but I didn’t, Nell, I didn’t! And now this has happened!” Even as Nell turned swiftly to comfort her, she took a deep breath, and her face resumed the expression of impassive calm that Nell had hoped not to see again.
“This can wait,” she said, moving away from Nell. “The important thing is to find out just what has happened to – Gertrud. There’s obviously no point in searching the house or gardens now; she’s had plenty of time to get away. But it would be helpful to know if she took her bicycle – and I think we should look through her things at once.”
“Of course,” said Nell quietly. “I’ll go and let Con and the others know that they needn’t carry on searching.”
“Ask them to wait in the Staff room, would you Nell? Tell them, we’ll be with them as soon as possible – oh, and would you ask Gwynneth to come with you to Gertrud’s dormitory at once? I’ll meet you there.” Nell nodded, and hurried off, torn between worry for Gertrud, and a deeper anxiety for Hilda.
“She – we – didn’t need this now,” she thought as she hurried into the garden to speak to the searchers there. “Heaven knows how this will affect her, especially with all the upset after Mademoiselle, and besides, if she thinks she had something to do with it -” Resolutely, she refused to follow that thought any further, uneasily conscious as she did so that this was precisely the thing that was causing her most concern.
By now, she had located both Con and Grizel; fortunately, they were still awaiting the arrival of the Sixth-formers, although they had had the presence of mind to check on whether Gertrud’s bicycle was in its usual place, so Nell was able to explain the matter to them in a very few words. Not surprisingly, both women were horrified by what she had to relate, although they were also worried about Gertrud’s safety.
“Have you contacted anyone outside the school yet?” asked Con.
“No,” replied Nell. “Hilda felt that it would be better to try to find out as much as we could before letting the authorities know, so we – that’s Hilda and Gwynneth and I - are going to go through her bureau and her desk. We might light upon some clue as to where she’s gone.”
“Well, to avoid being found, she’s got to get off the island somehow,” said Grizel thoughtfully. “That’s probably her first aim – and she can’t do it by herself, can she? Her bike’s gone, by the way.” There was a nasty little silence as all three women considered the possibilities suggested by these observations, then Nell took charge again.
“If you two could go to the Staff room and let everyone know what we’ve found out so far, I’ll go and see how Hilda and Gwynneth are getting on. We’ll be as quick as we can, but we do have to be certain that we have all the information we can possibly find before getting on to anyone else.” Con opened her mouth to say something, but Grizel was quicker,
“Certainly, Nell; we’ll all be waiting there for you. Oh, and should we tell the Sixth Form people they can go to bed?” Nell frowned,
“I’d forgotten about them; yes they can certainly go to bed. Just tell them that while we don’t know where Gertrud is, we do know that she’s definitely left the school premises. I’ll try and get along to speak to them later, but I can’t promise.” And with that, she left them and went to join Hilda and Gwynneth in Gertrud’s dormitory.

“Well, have you found anything else?” At the sound of Nell’s voice, Hilda and Gwynneth looked up from the piles of clothes that they were systematically sorting through.
“No, not a thing,” replied Gwynneth, “although all these clothes are new, and that’s a bit unusual. And she’s got absolutely nothing in the way of the bits and pieces that the others have.”
“Nothing? Are you sure?”
“Take a look: there are one or two books, and they look new as well, but no ornaments, no small keepsakes, and no photographs at all. Oh, and there are no letters either.”
“She’s certainly received letters here– because I handed them to her on at least two occasions. Maybe she’s thrown them away.”
“Or hidden them in her desk, or locker,” chimed in Hilda suddenly. Other than that quick first look, she had paid no apparent attention to the conversation between the others, and had continued to sort through the clothes mechanically. Nell glanced at the downbent head, her heart sinking; she did not need to see Hilda’s face to know that her expression would be one of restrained calm; it was only her slightly trembling hands that hinted at the anxiety that was consuming her. She looked up again and caught. Gwynneth’s eye; the latter raised an eyebrow and Nell shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“I’ll go and have a look at her desk and locker, shall I?” she volunteered.
“Yes,” said Hilda evenly, still not looking up. “That would be helpful; we’ve almost finished here.”

Nell’s search quickly yielded results; two letters were neatly folded in the pages of Gertrud’s French Grammar, and a third – the letter that she had received that morning – was in the front of her English Anthology. Nell scanned them quickly, picking out the main points and growing increasingly worried. Then she returned to the Study where Hilda and Gwynneth were waiting for her, their own search concluded, but with little to show for it.
“Well, I think I’ve found out why she’s gone,” said Nell almost as soon as she was inside the door. Both Hilda and Gwynneth froze into immobility, as Nell continued, “It seems her mother has disappeared from their home, and the disappearance had nothing to do with the authorities.” Both Hilda and Gwynneth stared at Nell in horror, then Hilda closed her eyes as if in pain, murmuring,
“Oh, that poor child!”
“Quite,” responded Nell, an odd little twist to her mouth. “Well, these letters do bear out what she said in her note: about not sending them any information, I mean. The tone of the second is very terse, with a gentle reminder about what might happen to her mother if Gertrud isn’t more – productive. And the third, the one she got this morning, is definitely angry about the lack of results. It also asks if she has any idea of where her mother might be.”
“And you think that sent her off?” queried Gwynneth. “Couldn’t it just have been a device to scare her?” Nell considered the letter again, then dropped it on Hilda’s lap,
“No, I don’t, Gwynneth. Have a look at it, Hilda – you’re the expert on the written word round here. To me there’s a definite aggrieved tone in that query about her mother. I know that the German authorities are completely unscrupulous -” she stopped and swallowed, then taking a deep breath went on again, “but this seems to be genuine. Besides, if they do want to use her mother as a means to get her to send them more information, why would they then tell her that her mother is missing?” There was a silence as Gwynneth and Hilda sorted out Nell’s last utterance, then Hilda read all three letters aloud. Her face grew a little whiter, and her lips tightened.

“Oh that poor child,” she said softly, her eyes shining with grief and pity. “The poor child. To bear all that alone, and then to run away in a place that she hardly knew.” Nell reached out and laid a comforting hand on Hilda’s shoulder.
“She can’t have got far Hilda,” she began, then stopped as Grizel’s earlier remarks rang in her ears again. “Her bicycle was gone,” she said slowly. At that, Gwynneth frowned and Nell continued, “When people are terrified, they will do anything – I know that. All that child could think of was the need to escape, to go and find her mother.”
“But to think she was dealing with this all alone!” reiterated Hilda.
“Was she?” said Nell meditatively. Hilda paused,
“What do you mean, Nell?”
“Well, think about it, Hilda. Whoever it was entered her here must have known all about her – her credentials were perfect. And how was she going to get information out? You know that any letter she attempted to send to Germany would have been instantly queried. So she must have been in touch with someone who knew exactly what was going on – and they have to be in England, or France.” Gwynneth gasped, and Hilda looked up, appalled,
“Good heavens, Nell, but that might mean -”
“Exactly. We’d better get out the list of approved contacts and have a look at it. In fact, we’d better pass the whole thing over to the authorities immediately – that poor child was only a tool, and couldn’t have damaged us much – but the people controlling her will have much broader interests than she would ever realise.”
“To say nothing of what she might have been able to tell them about Chalet School people in occupied and enemy countries,” struck in Gwynneth, and Hilda went whiter still.
“It will be alright, Hilda,” said Nell resolutely, and Hilda smiled shakily. There was a moment’s silence.

 

#8:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:47 am

“I think,” said Nell, “that it might be as well to let the rest of the Staff know what we’ve found so far. They may have something else to add. So, if we contact the authorities now, Hilda, and then go to the Staff room -”
“I’ll need to talk to Madge as well, you know,” interrupted Hilda. “And it might be a rather good plan to have Julian Lucy here too; he knows how these things work on Guernsey – who would be most helpful to us, for example.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Hilda,” replied Nell. She got up and went toward the door, then stopped, halted by the sudden wordless, almost frightened, appeal in Hilda’s eyes. “I’ll stay here until you’ve made the necessary telephone calls,” she said casually. “Gwynneth, would you be able to organise some coffee for everyone? I think we probably need it.”
“Certainly, Nell,” Gwynneth replied calmly; “I’ll go and deal with it at once.”
“Thanks, Gwynneth: we should see you in the Staff room in about ten minutes.”

As soon as Hilda and Nell walked into the Staff room, the desultory conversation that was taking place stopped. Gwynneth was busily distributing cups of coffee and, judging by her expression, was having some difficulty in fending off the questions that were being asked of her by an increasingly worried Staff.
‘No, there is nothing more I can tell you!” she was saying in some exasperation as Nell opened the door.
“Gwynneth’s under siege,” she murmured, and Hilda smiled a little grimly. Then they advanced into the room.
“Hilda!” exclaimed Jeanne de Lachenais as soon as she set eyes on the newly-arrived pair, “Is there then, any news?” Hilda shook her head,
“No, Jeanne,” she said quietly, “although we do have some idea as to why she went.” There was an immediate outburst of questions, and Hilda held up her hand for silence. “I have now informed the police that one of our pupils is missing; as they will be arriving very shortly, I must ask you to remain quiet while I explain what we have found out so far.” She took the coffee cup proffered by Gwynneth, and continued to speak.
“Gertrud Becker - that is the child’s proper name – was sent here by the German authorities to find out what she could about the Peace League and about any German or Austrian girls and Staff who were at the Chalet School before the Anschluss. She was probably also asked to supply information about those people who were forced to escape from Austria to Switzerland. It seems that she grew increasingly reluctant to do this, but threats of reprisals against her mother should she fail, ensured her loyalty. This morning, she received a letter informing her that her mother had disappeared, and it would seem that this is what has prompted her to run away. As yet, we have no idea where she may have gone.” Hilda stopped speaking, and there was an immediate outburst,
“Poor child!”
“Oh, the poor kid!”
“They are devils, Fraulein Hilda – to make a child do this!” Both Nell and Hilda turned to smile at the last speaker - Herr Anserl – and then Simone added.
“And she was so happy this morning too!” At this, Con looked up,
“Happy?” Simone nodded,
“But yes: she was even playing jokes with her form. That was a new thing for her, as before she had always been, oh, most serious.” Hilda looked thoughtful,
“You’re right Simone; she did a splendid adaptation of one of Nell’s drawings, turned the whole thing into the Seven Dwarfs’ cottage, plus the Dwarfs and Snow-White. And she was cheerful in my lesson too.”
“But what on earth was going on?” asked a bewildered May Phipps.
“I can guess,” said Nell suddenly. “She got that letter after breakfast – I gave it to her myself – and she didn’t open it. She probably had some idea that whoever was writing it wasn’t exactly pleased with her, if the letter she received before that is anything to go by, so she probably decided to avoid opening it for as long as she could.”
“And enjoy herself as much as possible in the meantime?” queried Grizel. Nell nodded, suddenly finding herself unable to speak at the idea of Gertrud so resolutely avoiding that letter and what it might say.

The rest of the Staff were similarly quiet, until Herr Anserl muttered something under his breath that was mercifully incomprehensible to everyone save Gwynneth, whose command of German invective was surprisingly well-developed. There was an immediate outburst of talk from the rest of the staff, and Hilda attempted to take a mouthful of her coffee, but found that her hands were shaking again, so much so that the hot liquid was spilling into the saucer, and she put the cup down on the table. Nell looked sharply at her, immediately and painfully aware of what Hilda was about to say, “No, Hilda!” she thought, desperately, “Please don’t, not now!” She met Hilda’s sombre gaze; “I’m sorry, Nell, I have to” the grey eyes seemed to say. Quietly, Nell got up and stood behind her friend and Hilda again held up her hand to quell the noise.
“I am sorry, but there really is very little time,” she said firmly, to the waiting Staff. Her mouth trembled for an instant, and Nell laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There is something else that you need to know….”

She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, locking her hands together tightly before her to stop their trembling.
“On the day of the Requiem Mass for Mademoiselle, Polly Heriot came to see me. She told me that she and Robin Humphries were suspicious of Gertrud Becker; some of her comments about Mademoiselle, and questions about girls who might have been at the School in Austria had made them believe that she was a spy.” There were audible gasps from Simone and Rosalie, a murmur of “No – but no!” from Jeanne, and another incomprehensible mutter from Herr Anserl. Con remained silent, but the outlines of her pretty face hardened and her blue eyes sparkled furiously. Nell regarded her with trepidation; Con could be so scathing when she was angered. Hilda continued, her voice growing more strained as she proceeded.
“ I didn’t do anything. Partly because I didn’t believe that such a thing could be possible, and then Mademoiselle’s death swamped everything, but that’s no excuse. I didn’t tell Polly that I thought she was mistaken; she was so serious and so concerned that I didn’t want to make her feel foolish, so I reassured her and sent her away. But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even tell anyone – it never occurred to me to do so - and now this has happened.” She stopped speaking, but before anyone else had a chance to react Con jumped up, hurling furious words at her.
“So this is your fault then! One of our pupils is missing because you didn’t do something – and you should have. You’re the Headmistress!” There was an instant uproar:
“Con, don’t be so stupid!”
“Nobody could have known-”
“Con, how can you -!”
“Aber, Fraulein Stewart -”
“Miss Stewart, you forget yourself!”
As Hilda’s cold words cut through the din, the rest of the speakers were suddenly quiet; Hilda was on her feet, regarding Con with disdain, a silently furious Nell beside her. She stared at Con with ice-grey eyes for a few seconds, then spoke, “I can assure you, Miss Stewart, that I am well aware of my responsibilities with regard to Gertrud Becker - and indeed to the whole school.” In the ensuing silence, the pealing of the front door bell was faintly audible. Hilda moved towards the door, still speaking in those cold level tones,
“Presumably the police have now arrived, or will do so very shortly. You are now all aware of what has happened and how it came about. If there is any additional information that you can provide, then please do so. It is possible that the police will wish to speak to you individually, and will probably want to talk to Polly and Robin. Now if you will excuse me -” She was on the point of opening the door when the sound of Con’s voice halted her.
“Miss Annersley?” Hilda stood still, waiting, and Con continued nervously, “Miss Annersley, I apologise for my remarks. They were unwarranted and I should not have spoken to you so discourteously. I’m very sorry.” Her voice died away and she gazed fixedly at the floor. Hilda’s expression softened slightly, then,
“Thank you, Miss Stewart,” she replied, her voice a little warmer, and her rigid stance relaxing slightly. She turned to Nell,
“Miss Wilson, I expect we are wanted in the study.” Nell nodded, still unable to speak, and they left the Staff room together.

“Hilda, why now?” It had taken Nell some moments to come to terms with the events of the last few minutes, and by now they had almost reached the study. Hilda’s steps slowed and she turned to face Nell,
“Do you need to ask me?” she said softly and Nell shook her head, saddened by the bleak misery that she saw in Hilda’s eyes. She slipped an arm round her friend’s shoulders, and gave her an encouraging hug,
“No, not really, Hilda. I do understand that you had to tell them - but can you cope with all this? ” Hilda smiled wryly,
“Well, I don’t have any choice, do I?” Nell hugged her again,
“No I suppose not, - but Hilda, do remember that I am here with you.” Hilda looked at her gravely,
“I know Nell, but as Con said, I am the Headmistress.” Her expression grew suddenly remote again – almost mask-like - and as they approached the Study, a little warning bell sounded in Nell’s mind. “Later,” she said to herself. “Just do your job now.”

Hilda was correct in her supposition that she and Nell were required in the study; indeed, the room seemed uncomfortably crowded, occupied as it was by Julian Lucy and two men who turned out to be Inspector Le Tissier and Sergeant Goodman of the Guernsey Police. Jem Russell would join them as soon as he could leave the San. All three men stood as Hilda and Nell entered the room, and Nell at least was acutely aware of Inspector Le Tissier’s dispassionate survey of both her and Hilda; for a horrifying moment she was back in that office in Spartz, enduring Leutnant Bhaer’s cold blue gaze. She clenched her fists and forced herself to breathe normally, hearing, as if from a great distance, Hilda’s voice as she performed the necessary introductions. Mechanically she greeted the two policemen, and heard Hilda begin to explain the facts behind Gertrud’s disappearance to the Inspector. Julian Lucy listened intently as Hilda spoke and Sergeant Goodman took notes, pausing to glance around the study every few minutes. Slowly Nell began to feel better.

At first Inspector Le Tissier asked little, confining his questions to information about Gertrud – her name, age and general appearance, how long she had been at the school and whether they had any idea of when and where she might have gone. Hilda answered him quietly, describing the searches that they had undertaken earlier that evening; when she mentioned the discovery of the three letters, he grew more thoughtful.
“And of course you have these letters here?”
“Certainly,” said Hilda, passing them across the desk to his outstretched hand. He read them swiftly, and looked up.
“I am somewhat surprised that these letters are in English rather than German,” he commented. Nell looked up at this.
“Perhaps whoever wrote them decided that a glimpse of German would be more dangerous than writing in English. After all, no one here would read a letter that belongs to someone else – and anyway, the Gestapo would know that there are likely to be German speakers on the Staff here.” The Inspector transferred his gaze to Nell,
“And just how many staff here do speak German, Miss Wilson?”
“All of the teaching staff, and Matron, speak both German and French.” The Inspector digested this, then said,
“And the school was in the Austrian Tyrol until the middle of last year?” Hilda and Nell nodded. “And you have an Austrian on the staff and at least one Austrian girl here?”
“Yes,” replied Hilda cautiously. Julian Lucy sat up straighter and Le Tissier continued,
“And I believe that you have one person here who has had experience of the Gestapo and their methods?” His non-committal glance rested on Nell’s shocked face, and Hilda’s eyes sparkled angrily,
“I assure you Inspector that none of the people you mention could have -” Le Tissier held up a hand,
“You misunderstand me, Miss Annersley; I was merely indicating that there are a number of possible reasons for German interest in the school.” Hilda inclined her head graciously, in acceptance of his explanation, and then handed the Inspector another piece of paper.
“You may find this of interest, Inspector,” she said. “It is a list of those people to whom Gertrud Becker was permitted to write during the school term. And Inspector, before you ask me, please note that at this school, pupils’ letters are private.” The Inspector nodded absently and glanced quickly down the short list of names. He stopped at one and reread it with interest. Then he passed the paper to Julian Lucy,
“Here, Mr Lucy, what do you make of this?” Julian took the paper and scanned it, coming to a halt when he reached a certain name.
“Interesting,” he remarked.
“Indeed,” replied the Inspector grimly. “That person has been causing a certain amount of discreet enquiry lately – rather too many trips to Europe, and one or two coincidental appearances in undesirable surroundings.” Julian nodded slowly,
“Still, if the child went there, it should be comparatively easy to find her.”
“As long as he hasn’t made arrangements to leave in a hurry!” The Inspector got up quickly, and Sergeant Goodman did likewise. “I beg your pardon, Miss Annersley, Miss Wilson, but we must be quick if we are to have a chance of recovering your missing pupil tonight. Mr Lucy, if you would remain here -”
“Certainly,” Julian assented.
“- we should not be long.” And with that both policemen left the study.

Hilda and Nell looked at one another for a long moment. Then Hilda addressed Julian,
“I assume that there is a possibility that one of Gertrud’s acquaintances may well be a Nazi – or at least have Nazi sympathies?” Julian hesitated,
“I really would prefer not to answer that question, Hilda – at least not until Le Tissier has some definite news.” Hilda stared at him until he looked away, then she smiled gently.
“Thank you, Julian. Now, would you like some coffee or tea while we await the Inspector’s return? It is almost eleven o’clock. ”
“That would be very pleasant, thank you, Hilda.”
“Good; Nell do you think - ”
“I’ll go and see to it at once,” replied Nell, inwardly thanking Hilda for giving her a little time alone in which to think over what had happened and regain some of her hardly-won calm.

The next hour passed agonisingly slowly for everyone. Nell returned to the study with her customary potent brew of coffee, and was momentarily amused by Julian’s fleeting expression of shock as he took his first sip. They drank in silence, but as he put his cup down, Julian remarked,
“You can trust Le Tissier, you know.” Both Hilda and Nell looked at him warily as he continued, “I’m sorry he alarmed you – especially you, Nell – but he had to establish certain things. He was at school with Paul, and what he doesn’t know about Guernsey simply isn’t worth bothering with. If anyone can get that child back for you, he can.” Hilda smiled briefly,
“Thank you, Julian.” Nell glanced at her; she was sitting very still, her hands locked tightly together, and her face had that disturbingly remote expression once more. The silence grew heavier as all three of them found themselves listening for the slightest sound. Suddenly the phone rang, and Hilda snatched up the receiver, her sudden air of hope fading as she heard Jem Russell’s voice,
“Hilda, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to get away from the San for at least another hour or two. Is there any news yet?”
“The police have been here, Jem, and seem to have some idea about where she may have gone. They hope to find her and return her tonight.”
“Well, that sounds promising. Let me know if there are any further developments – ring me at the San rather than at home, I don’t really want Madge to be worried.” He rang off and Hilda dropped the receiver back in its rest. Nell glared balefully at the phone – Jem’s voice had been plainly audible throughout the room - “Wretched man,” she muttered, before she could stop herself. There was a stifled grunt of amusement from Julian Lucy, but Hilda gave no sign that she had heard Nell’s comment. The room was very quiet again, although outside the wind was rising, and gusting through the trees that surrounded Sarres. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight.
At last, there was the faint sound of a car approaching followed by the peal of the front door bell. Both Hilda and Nell found themselves on their feet and Nell looked anxiously at Hilda; she was very white and did not seem to be quite aware of her surroundings. Quietly, Nell moved to stand behind her; Julian Lucy glanced at both of them, but said nothing. Finally there was the sound of approaching footsteps and Le Tissier came into the room alone.
“Miss Annersley, Miss Wilson, I am so sorry,” he began at once. “There was no sign of anyone at the house which we have just visited.” Hilda grew suddenly paler and Nell felt her shudder,
“Sit down, Hilda,” she said abruptly, gently pushing Hilda down into her chair. Le Tissier watched sympathetically,
“ I am sorry that I could not be of more help,” he continued, “but I do have some news for you. Although the house was empty, we were able to talk to a neighbour who confirmed that a young girl wearing a brown coat and beret and riding a bicycle arrived at the house at approximately five o’clock. She went indoors, and left with – the house-holder - some forty-five minutes later.” Julian leaned forward,
“And did they return?” he asked. The inspector smiled briefly.
“Half an hour afterwards, the neighbour in question saw the householder – I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you his name - come back alone. He remained in the house for a further half hour and them left again, this time in a taxi. He has not come back, and I doubt very much that he will.”
“But what about Gertrud?” asked Nell sharply, “and how can this neighbour be so certain of all this?” Le Tissier grinned suddenly,
“The neighbour in question is an elderly lady, with excellent eyesight, acute hearing, sound digestion and an insatiable curiosity about her neighbours’ affairs. She is also my aunt.” Despite everything, a sudden bubble of laughter rose in Nell, and Julian Lucy choked audibly. Only Hilda was silent, and Le Tissier grew serious again,
“Miss Annersley, we think that Gertrud Becker may already have left Guernsey. There are several fishermen’s cottages within easy reach; it would be a simple matter to arrange for a fisherman to take the child out to another boat passing up the Channel. In fact, given the comparatively short time that our man was away, I believe that this is what has happened. Unfortunately, none of the fishermen were there tonight, so it will not be possible to confirm this until tomorrow – and even then, I must warn you that we may well not be able to contact the boat in question for several days.”

Hilda was alone in the study. Apart from the ticking of the clock and the slight shifting of coals in the fireplace, the room was silent. The wind had died down a little, but it was now raining heavily, the drops of water drumming on the windows. After Inspector Le Tissier had given his disturbing warning, he had departed, announcing that he would return as soon as was practicable in the morning. Julian Lucy had gone with him, and Nell had accompanied the two men to the door, intent on making a brief visit to the Staff room. There she had found only Gwynneth, Jeanne and Herr Anserl:
“I insisted that the others went off to bed,” remarked Gwynneth grimly. “After all, we have to deal with the rest of the School tomorrow.” Nell had given them a short account of what the Inspector had discovered so far, and had returned to the study, with the intention of trying to comfort Hilda, “if she’ll let me,” she thought anxiously.
Cautiously she opened the door; Hilda was sitting at her desk, her head resting on her hands and her eyes closed. At the sight of her weary desolation, Nell’s eyes stung with sudden tears, and anger rose in her. Hilda should not have to bear all this!
“I wish I could take more of this from her,” she thought sadly. “But she won’t let me. All I can do is be here for her - and I don’t know that it’s enough.” Moving very quietly, she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Hilda,” she said softly. Hilda started at the unexpected sound, and glanced up. The unspoken misery in her face was so startling that Nell almost gasped, but managed to control herself. “You should go to bed; it’s very late,” she said. Hilda shook her head,
“No, I couldn’t possibly sleep, Nell.”
“I didn’t say ‘sleep’,” Nell replied carefully. “But you do need to try and rest; we both do. After all, tomorrow will be a very busy day for us, and we will be needed.” Hilda leaned her head on her hand,
“I suppose you’re right, Nell” she said miserably. “But when I think of that poor child out there alone, who knows where -” She stopped and swallowed, “
“The police are doing their best to find her,” Nell said soothingly. “And Hilda, the best thing that we can do for her now is pray for her safety and make sure that we are in a position to give her as much help as possible. And that means going to bed and trying to rest,” she concluded triumphantly. She was rewarded for her efforts by a watery smile and a faint chuckle,
“You don’t give up, do you Nell?”
“Definitely not!” Nell replied, pulling Hilda to her feet and propelling her towards the door.

 

#9:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 6:56 am

Nell woke very early next morning; she had waited until Hilda was safely in bed before making any of her own preparations for the night, and when it became apparent that Hilda was still tense, watchful and unable to sleep, she had caught up her Rosary, taken it into Hilda’s room, curled up in the armchair and announced her intention of saying her evening prayers there. Hilda had simply nodded in agreement, but after five minutes of the familiar low-toned murmuring, she had relaxed, and by the time Nell had concluded, she was asleep. Ironically, Nell was, by now, completely wakeful and, despite her own words to Hilda, heard two o’clock chime before falling asleep. However this did not prevent her from being awake and fully dressed by half-past six. It was still raining, although the wind had died down, and as she surveyed the grey clouds to which night slowly gave way, she grieved for the girl who had felt so alone and abandoned that she had seen no alternative other than to run away. And it was this, she knew, that particularly troubled Hilda.
Breakfast was a very quiet meal that morning, with even the most graceless members of the Fourth Form being unusually subdued – although this may have had something to do with the fact that Con Stewart sat regarding her form with an air that did not bode well for any girl who might cause trouble.
“Although I can’t see why Charlie should glare at us like that,” said Betty Wynne-Davies privately to Elizabeth Arnett and Biddy O’Ryan afterwards. “I mean, it’s not us who’ve done anything!”
“I expect all the Staff are worried,” said Biddy wisely. “And they don’t want us to be in the way – or things,” she finished vaguely.
“I suppose so,” Betty said, “but it’s very uncomfortable to be looked at as if you’re going to do something when you haven’t!” At that point the bell rang for Prayers and the conversation was cut short.
The first lesson had just begun when Inspector Le Tissier arrived with the news that a local fisherman had come forward to say he had taken a young girl out to a timber barque that was passing up the Channel the previous night.
“He had been well-paid for his trouble,” Le Tissier reported, “but not so well-paid that he had forgotten the name of the boat and her destination. Indeed he was quite horrified to hear that he had possibly been employed by a Nazi spy, and he was most eager to help us. As soon as he heard of our enquiries he came to see us. It seems that the boat is the Belle Marie, bound for Denmark; apparently the girl told him that she was going to join her mother, who was dying, but other than that he knows nothing. Still at least we have some idea of where she is.” Hilda licked her lips nervously,
“And – is there any way of contacting this boat? How long does the journey to Denmark take?” The Inspector looked apologetic.
“I am so sorry, Miss Annersley, but we will have to wait until the boat reaches Denmark. In the normal way of things, we would try to contact her by radio, but if there are U-boats about we do not want to alert them -”
“U-boats?” gasped Hilda. The Inspector sighed,
“Yes, I am sorry. The voyage to Denmark will take a boat like this about six days, so we may hear something by the middle of next week.”
“The middle of next week?” broke in Nell incredulously. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Le Tissier responded with certainty. “I realise that this waiting must be excessively trying, but there really is nothing further that we can do at the moment.” He stood up and shook hands with Hilda and Nell. “I wish that we had been able to find the girl before she left Guernsey – but it might be of some small consolation to you to know that she was aboard the Belle Marie by the time you found that she was missing.” At the door he stopped again, “You may also like to know that, thanks to your prompt actions and quick thinking, my colleagues on Jersey were able to have a very interesting conversation with a gentleman who arrived by the first boat this morning.” Hilda’s eyes gleamed in acknowledgement of this, and Nell gave a faint smile, then the Inspector wished them “Good morning,” and departed, leaving two desperately anxious women behind him.

Standing in her kitchen that cold December morning, Nell decided that the five days following Gertrud’s disappearance had been some of the most worrying she had ever spent in her life. No word came from the authorities concerning the girl’s whereabouts, and as each day dragged to its conclusion, Nell became increasingly anxious about Hilda. Although she remained the sensitive and capable teacher and Headmistress that the girls and Staff had always known, the continued lack of information about Gertrud was clearly taking its toll on her; she grew thinner and paler, the shadows under her eyes testified to a lack of sleep, and disturbingly, she appeared to be retreating to a private unassailable space within herself. Evenings in the study were, apart from necessary conversation about school affairs, becoming uncomfortably silent. Most worrying of all was Nell’s growing sense of conviction that Hilda was engaged in some private internal debate that was slowly tearing her apart.
“And I can’t do anything,” she thought for what felt like the fiftieth time. “I can only do as much of our job as she’ll let me, and be here for her if she wants to talk.” She sighed; patience was not something that came easily to her, and there were fleeting moments when she wanted to shake some sort of response from Hilda! As the days crawled by, she became aware that Gwynneth and Herr Anserl were also very worried, but she knew instinctively that she could not discuss this with them; all she could do was wait, and pray.
Oddly enough, Nell found that the days at least were bearable, if only because she was so busy. The nights, however, were a different matter; she was unable to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time, and the nightmares that had seemed to be lessening made a renewed onslaught on her, each time leaving her tense and wakeful for what remained of the night. It seemed to Nell that she never got quite enough sleep, and ended each day feeling a little more tired than she had the day before – “but if it’s bad for me, it’s worse for Hilda,” she told herself firmly and tried to ignore her growing weariness. She was also aware of a niggling sense of annoyance with one or two Staff members who were prone to speaking before they thought, and on several occasions, speculation in the Staff room concerning Hilda’s handling of the affair brought her to the verge of furious speech. Twice she had managed to control herself and bite back the words, and once it had been only Herr Anserl’s steady reassuring gaze that had restrained her. After this incident he had offered to play for the Staff and Seniors that evening and Nell had agreed to his suggestion immediately, feeling that anything that limited the opportunities for conversation would be beneficial. He had chosen carefully, playing mainly Bach and Mozart, and ending with several of Mendelsohn’s Songs Without Words, and that night – the fifth since Gertrud had disappeared – Nell had slept dreamlessly and without interruption and had woken feeling strangely hopeful.

And it was that day that news finally came; at twenty past eight that evening, Inspector Le Tissier had rung impatiently at the doorbell, hurried past the maid to the study, where he had hardly paused to knock, before opening the door and announcing,
“I have some excellent news for you Miss Annersley, Miss Wilson. Gertrud Becker has been found and is safe.”
With an exclamation of “Found!” Nell sprang to her feet, only to sit down again as a wave of relief made her feel momentarily light-headed. As this passed, she turned to the Inspector, her grey eyes blazing,
“Where is she? Has she been hurt? When can she come back? Has anything been heard of her mother?” Le Tissier held up both hands against Nell’s questions,
“Wait, Miss Wilson, one moment, please!” Nell blushed and subsided into her chair. Le Tissier glanced at Hilda, then exclaimed sharply,
“Miss Annersley, are you alright?” Nell turned to see Hilda swaying as she clutched at the edge of her desk, her face grey and her eyes closed.
“Hilda!” she gasped; Le Tissier stepped quickly forward and guided Hilda to a chair, while Nell hurriedly fetched a glass of water.

Le Tissier said nothing more about Gertrud, and Nell refrained from asking questions until Hilda had recovered from her faintness. Two minutes later she was leaning back in the chair, sipping the water that Nell had brought; she was still very white, and her hands trembled slightly, but there was a light in her eyes that had been missing for the previous six days. Nell looked worried,
“Perhaps I should get Gwynneth to have a look at you?” she said. Hilda glared at her,
“Don’t you dare! I know exactly what she’d do – send me straight off to bed.”
“And she’d be right, wouldn’t she?”
“Not now! Nell, you’re not to – I’ll see her later.”
“As long as you do!” At this juncture, Le Tissier coughed gently and both Hilda and Nell looked faintly embarrassed. Hilda smiled faintly at him,
“I’m sorry I was so silly,” she began.
“Not at all,” Le Tissier interrupted. “I am the one who should apologise for having broken the news to you so abruptly. I had not appreciated quite how worried you would be. I am so sorry for upsetting you like this.” He looked carefully at both women, realising just how much strain they had been under during the last few days, and decided to be careful with the rest of his explanation.
“Gertrud is safe and well aboard a British destroyer,” he said quietly. “She will be taken to Scapa Flow where she will stay until it is decided what will happen to her.”
“But surely the best thing is to return her to us?” asked Hilda. Nell nodded vigorously in agreement. Le Tissier looked surprised,
“But surely – after the last few days - and the fact that she was working for the Nazis; you would not want to take her back?” Hilda put down her glass and sat up a little straighter,
“Inspector,” she said gently, but inexorably. “That child had been carefully taught to hate us, and had been coerced into acting for her government out of fear for her mother. She is so much more sinned against than sinning. How could we not want to take her back?” Le Tissier looked at Hilda and Nell, a new respect for them in his eyes.
“I apologise,” he said again. “I did not think.” Hilda smiled,
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, perhaps you will be able to explain precisely how Gertrud came to be aboard a British destroyer; what happened to the Belle Marie?” Le Tissier jumped; he had hoped to avoid mentioning this, and so did not reply immediately.
“Inspector?” asked Hilda, a little more firmly. For a minute more, there was silence, then Nell addressed him in the tones of one who expects an answer and will not be denied,
“Was it a U-boat, Inspector?” Le Tissier sighed,
“I had hoped to avoid this, but as you insist – yes, it was a U-boat. The captain of the Belle Marie was a good man whose first thought was for the child, and fortunately the attack did not happen at night. The British ship rescued the sailors and Gertrud, and then attended to the U-boat. ” Nell opened her mouth, then closed it; she had not missed the Inspector’s reference to the captain who was a good man, but if Hilda had not noticed, there was no need to draw attention to it. Presently she said,
“Do you have any idea how long it will be before Gertrud comes back?” The inspector shook his head,
“No,” he replied. “We really have no more information than I have just given you. I do assure you that as soon as I hear anything more, I will let you know.” He stood up, “I can only say that I am pleased to be able to set your minds at rest with regard to your missing pupil. And of course, we have been able to resolve the matter of the gentleman whose various activities have been interesting to us.” He started towards the door, then stopped, “You may tell your Staff and pupils that Gertrud Becker is safe. But please do not give them any details of where she is or how she got there.”
“Of course not,” replied Nell and Hilda simultaneously. The Inspector shook hands with both of them, and wishing them a courteous “Good evening,” departed.

The door had scarcely closed behind the inspector, when Nell exclaimed joyfully,
“Oh Hilda, isn’t it wonderful? To know that she’s safe and well - we must tell the others at once; they’ll be so relieved!”
“And Madge and Jem of course,” replied Hilda quietly.
And the Seniors” went on Nell, smiling at Hilda. “They’ll still be in their Common Room . . .” Her voice grew anxious again. “Are you alright, Hilda? You’re awfully white, you know; are you sure you don’t want me to fetch Gwynneth?” She studied her friend carefully; Hilda was still very pale, and she still had that air of remoteness that had worried Nell so much.
“No, Nell, there isn’t any point” she said absently, then seeming to become aware of her surroundings, she added hastily, “I am very tired, but I expect things will be better tomorrow. And you’re right, we must announce this at once.”

As Nell had predicted, the Staff were relieved and delighted by the news and the rather solemn atmosphere in the Staff room became noticeably more cheerful. Even Con, who had remained remarkably subdued after her furious outburst to Hilda, relaxed and began to talk more freely. However, amidst the light-hearted chatter that suddenly broke out, Nell noticed that while Hilda was happy to respond to the others’ questions and observations, she still seemed to be oddly isolated – almost as if she were in her own walled space. Nell shivered a little, then told herself that she was being over-imaginative – “You’re just being silly because you’re tired,” she scolded herself to silence the little voice of doubt and worry. Then she caught Gwynneth’s eye, and knew that she was not wrong; there was still something seriously amiss. Coming quickly to a decision, she cut abruptly through Grizel’s and Jeanne’s excited comments.
“Hilda, as we have to speak to the Seniors before their bedtime, and also talk to Madge and Jem, it might be a good idea to get on with things,” she suggested blandly. Seizing the opportunity that Nell’s words gave her, Hilda extricated herself from the slightly stilted conversation she was having with Con and Simone, wished everyone a peaceful night’s sleep and left the room. Nell followed quickly.
In the corridor, Hilda stopped, looking unusually indecisive.
“Nell, I was wondering,” she began. Nell gave her a swift smile,
“-whether I would be willing to go and talk to the Seniors while you contact Madge? Of course I will.” Hilda’s lips twitched,
“You know me too well,” she said lightly.
“Yes. I do, don’t I?” replied Nell, suddenly serious. Hilda didn’t say anything to this, but a sudden wave of colour swept over her face, and she bit her lip anxiously. Nell moved away down the corridor towards the Seniors’ Common Room, hearing that nagging little voice in her mind again.

The Seniors reacted to the news of Gertrud’s safety much as the Staff had – except that they were far more noisy! Nell gave them only the barest outline of events, not wishing them to dwell too much on what might have happened – she did not mention the U-boat, and commented vaguely that the Belle Marie had encountered a British Naval vessel - and emphasised that Gertrud would probably be returning to them at some time in the future. This distracted most of the girls from wondering about what precisely had happened to Gertrud on her journey, and Nell was pleased to see that if and when she did come back, she would be warmly welcomed. Indeed Robin and Polly both approached her with assurances that they had “quite liked Gertrud” when she was at the School but that they had been worried by some of her questions and attitudes.
“Besides,” said Polly thoughtfully, “she didn’t really have any choice did she? And how do we know what we would do in her place?” And with a wry little smile, Nell had agreed with her.

Heartened by her brief meeting with the Seniors, Nell returned to the study to find the room in semi-darkness and Hilda sitting at her desk, her chin propped on her hands, contemplating the dancing firelight.
“It’s a bit gloomy in here, isn’t it?” said Nell, switching on the lamp. Hilda jumped slightly at the sound of Nell’s voice, then said in a voice that seemed almost determinedly matter-of-fact,
“Madge and Jem are delighted by tonight’s news of course, and Madge agrees that Gertrud should return here if the authorities agree. She’s coming over tomorrow to discuss things in more detail.”
“I see,” said Nell thoughtfully, perching herself on the back of the sofa. For perhaps half a minute, the only sound was the gentle shifting of the coals, then Nell said quietly,
“Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?” Hilda shifted in her chair, then looked up at Nell, her expression, half-sad, half-humorous.
“I can’t hide much from you, can I?” she replied. Nell shook her head,
“Well, you try to,” she said, “but you don’t always succeed - and not this time anyway. Tell me, Hilda,” she added persuasively, “it might help.” Hilda shrugged,
“I don’t see how it will,” she said. “But you do need to know, and I should tell you first anyway.” She looked away, her expression becoming unreadable and Nell waited, sensing that Hilda’s instinct to conceal her unhappiness was struggling with her need to speak. Finally she met Nell’s gaze and Nell felt a growing coldness inside her; Hilda’s rain-grey eyes were so sad and despairing. Finally Hilda spoke, almost as if to herself,
“I failed Gertrud, you know. This was all my fault.”

“Hilda!” Nell gasped, appalled, but somehow not surprised, by what Hilda was saying. She slipped off the sofa and knelt by Hilda, clasping Hilda’s cold hands in her own reassuring grasp. “How can you possibly think that? How were you responsible for what brought the child here? How on earth could you have guessed what was going on?”
“That’s not the point, Nell – I was told something, I didn’t act on it and it turned
out to be true. And the result was that one of our pupils was put in unnecessary danger.” Her voice was very low and ashamed.
“I failed a pupil here – in fact, I failed three of them, because I didn’t give Polly and Robin the consideration that I should have done, especially after all the time I’ve known them.”
“But Hilda, everyone was so upset just then -”
“That’s no excuse is it, Nell? I simply ignored what Polly told me – and Gertrud continued in her belief that she was completely alone, with no one she could turn to. And this is the result.” She pulled her hands away from Nell’s, and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold.
“I neglected one of my major responsibilities – the welfare of one of the pupils here. And because of that, she could have died this morning!”
“Hilda -”
“I hear what you’re saying Nell, but I still should have been aware of how unhappy she was – and I should not have ignored the worries of two other girls.” Nell looked at Hilda’s bleakly unhappy face, then scrambled to her feet, crossed to the sofa, sat down and patted the cushion beside her, searching frantically for the right words as she did so.
“Come here and be sensible,” she said gently. Dumbly, Hilda did as she was asked, and Nell slipped a comforting arm around her.
“Look, Hilda, this isn’t helping anyone, least of all Gertrud, or you.” She hugged Hilda gently, noticing that she seemed unable to relax and that she had lost weight during the last few days. “ You haven’t failed anyone – except perhaps yourself,” she added. “It is rather a tendency of yours, isn’t it? Not to cut yourself any slack – although you’re usually keen enough to find the underlying reasons for anyone else’s actions.” Hilda shook her head, not meeting Nell’s eyes and Nell knew, with a shocking jolt of pain and fear that Hilda did not agree, had not in fact, even really heard her. Hilda sat up a little straighter, and spoke with a certain inexorable finality.
“As Con said, I’m the Headmistress, Nell. It really is my responsibility, when something like this happens, isn’t it?” Nell caught her breath in pain, inwardly cursing Con’s unguarded words – Hilda had undoubtedly been brooding over this for days - then managed to gain enough control to ask quietly,
“And what do you propose to do about it?” Hilda stared at her distantly, almost as if she were a stranger then got up and went to her desk, where she picked up a sealed envelope. Nell looked at it, an icy little premonition washing over her, and waited. Finally, Hilda said, in a voice devoid of all emotion,
“This is my resignation, Nell. I’ll be handing it to Madge tomorrow morning. I’ve recommended that she appoints you as my replacement.” Nell opened her mouth, then closed it again, the words “my resignation’ resounding in her mind. Then, as a sudden flame of hurt and fury rose in her, she jumped up, seizing the envelope from Hilda and declaring fiercely,
“No! No, Hilda, I won’t let you do this!” Hilda’s white set expression did not alter and she did not look so much at Nell, as through her.
“I’m sorry, but my mind is made up, Nell,” she said courteously but firmly, removing the envelope from Nell’s grasp, with only the bleakness of her eyes revealing her despair. Seeing this, Nell’s anger lessened and she seized Hilda’s shoulders.
“You can’t do this Hilda; it’s wrong,” she said imploringly. Hilda shook her head implacably, her eyes and voice cold,
“I’m sorry, Nell, but I don’t see that there is any alternative.” There was a silence, and Nell felt tears gathering in her eyes. She knew that Hilda was wrong – knew it with every part of her being – but she could not seem to find the words to convince her of this. With a tiny sigh of defeat, she released Hilda and went to the door. Fumbling for the handle, she said desperately,
“You’re making a mistake Hilda – even if you were wrong about Gertrud, this is far worse.” Hilda gave no sign that she had heard her, and blinded by tears, Nell left the study, her only thought being to reach the haven of her room without meeting anyone.

That being the case, she completely failed to notice Herr Anserl sitting quietly in the darkness of the window-seat near the bottom of the staircase. As she appeared, he stood up unhurriedly and moved to intercept her, and had she been in a fit condition to pay any attention to her surroundings, Nell would have said that he seemed to be waiting for someone. Certainly his sudden alertness at her unexpected appearance rather bore this out.
“Fraulein Nell? But what is the matter, child?” Nell looked up; Herr Anserl was standing in front of her, his kindly face anxious and concerned.
“It’s - Hilda.” Despite her best efforts her voice strangled on a sob and her tears overflowed. Herr Anserl produced a snowy white handkerchief and waited patiently while Nell wiped her eyes, and managed to bring herself sufficiently under control to be able to speak. Looking up at the old music master, she gasped out, “Oh, Vater Bar, she’s going to resign; she thinks that it’s her fault about Gertrud, and she won’t listen to me. It’s tearing her apart, and I don’t know what to do.” Herr Anserl nodded slowly,
“Yes, I see child; it is what she would do of course. I had hoped that hearing of Gertrud’s safety would help, but, she has had too long to dwell on what might have happened. ” Nell’s eyes widened,
“Did you think something like this might happen? I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t work out what – oh God, I should have known -” Herr Anserl patted her shoulder gently ,
“Hush child, and calm yourself. You could not have known, not at the moment. But it will be alright, I promise you.” Nell said nothing, but stared up at the old music master, as she had done on that train last year when her world was in chaos and turmoil and he the only being that she could trust.
“It will be alright,” he repeated reassuringly and despite everything, Nell found herself believing the old man’s words. Slowly she turned and went up the stairs leaving Herr Anserl standing alone in the darkened hall. He watched her out of sight before turning and striding resolutely off to the study.

 

#10:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 7:04 am

It was a very long time before Nell found out what Herr Anserl had said to Hilda that evening. He had marched into the room – without knocking! - to find an ashen-faced woman sitting at her desk, staring at a sealed envelope lying on the blotter. As Nell had done before him, he had picked up the envelope, but before Hilda had quite realised his intentions, he had ripped it in two and dropped the pieces into the wastepaper basket.
“I am sorry, Fraulein Hilda, but this is wrong.” At this forthright statement, Hilda’s mouth trembled but she said nothing. Herr Anserl had regarded her thoughtfully, and sat down, taking his pipe out of his pocket and lighting it slowly. The odour of tobacco filled the study and Hilda had felt oddly soothed, and calmed, almost as she had done as a child when she had been naughty and her father had helped put things right. For a moment, she almost expected to see her father sitting there, his blue-grey eyes shining with love for the child that she had been, and was briefly surprised to see Herr Anserl instead. Then he spoke and she was back in the present once more.
“I am an old man, child, and I can say these things to you, and you will listen,” he began. Hilda’s eyes widened in surprise as he continued, “Your place is here, where you are needed. You have a job to do.”
“Nell could do it.” Herr Anserl shook his head,
“No, child. One day soon, yes she could, but not now, not quite yet. Now it is your job and your responsibility.”
“But I made a terrible mistake -” Herr Anserl’s voice grew unexpectedly severe,
“Fraulein Hilda, we all make mistakes. The important thing is that we recognise them, accept them, and go on from them.” Hilda blushed at this unexpectedly forthright speech, and he smiled at her, to soften the sting in his words.
“You have to learn to forgive yourself, child. Yes, you may have been in error in dismissing what was said so completely, but it was an understandable error – and there is no guarantee that you would have been able to establish the truth. Almost certainly, Gertrud would not have trusted you; remember that the Nazis teach that nothing and no one is to be trusted, save the Fuhrer. Teachers are beings of authority to be feared and obeyed – but not trusted. For how many years would she have been taught that? Five? Six? And she was here for a month, or maybe a little less?” He was quiet, and Hilda sat staring down at her interlinked fingers.
“I – can’t accept that as an excuse for what I did – or didn’t do,” she said at last. “I’m sorry, Vater Bar; I wish I could.” Herr Anserl looked at her, considering,
“Tell me Fraulein Hilda,” he asked eventually, “why did you do nothing?” Hilda bit her lower lip, and her fingers tightened convulsively.
“It seemed so impossible,” she murmured. “A girl of fifteen to be a spy! And I knew how easily people can draw the most alarming of conclusions based on the flimsiest of evidence. I thought that was what was happening here. And also,” she looked up and her eyes were suddenly bitterly unhappy, “I thought I had some idea about that girl, even though she had only been here such a short time. I did watch her for a little, you know, and there was nothing suspicious or disturbing in her behaviour.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, so that Herr Anserl had to strain to hear her final words. “I can’t believe I was so mistaken – and if I can make that sort of misjudgement, how can I do my job properly? How can I even teach if I can’t reach out to where my pupils are?”

There was a long silence as Herr Anserl smoked quietly and thought. Hilda waited, feeling oddly relieved that she had at last been able to tell someone of the fear that had haunted her – that she had somehow lost her capacity to be the person that she knew she was. Presently, Herr Anserl looked at her, his eyes suddenly very wise,
“Fraulein Hilda, I have seen the letters that Gertrud received while she was here, and do you know what I found most remarkable?” Hilda shook her head, and Herr Anserl continued, “It was that by the time she had been here for a fortnight – barely fourteen days – she had ceased to collect and send the information for which she was sent here. So by the time you were paying attention to her, she had ceased to be what Polly and Robin had thought her to be – in her actions at least. You were right in your judgement then and, of course when she first arrived, she would have been very, very wary, careful to conceal all that she could, at least from the adults around her.” Hilda considered this, then looked steadily at the old man.
“Herr Anserl,” she said, “I can accept this, at least with regard to Gertrud. But Polly and Robin – I should have known better, I should have taken them more seriously. There isn’t any explanation for the way I neglected my responsibility to them. If I’d done my job properly, I might have been able to prevent what happened, and I didn’t even try. So you see, I did fail in my responsibility. I can’t ignore that.” Herr Anserl regarded her carefully, noting the misery in her eyes and the almost stubborn set of her mouth. Finally the old man spoke very quietly, looking past Hilda into the fire, seeing fleeting pictures of all that he had known and lost.
“And what of Fraulein Nell in all this?” Hilda’s sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room and Herr Anserl continued, gruffly, “Fraulein Hilda – you and Fraulein Nell have become almost my family in a way that I had never expected. And Fraulein Nell needs you here. You cannot disappoint her, child.” His voice grew stern. “I will not let you disappoint her. She is very unhappy.” Hilda sat silent, as the old man regarded her steadily. Then she blushed and her eyes filled with tears,
“I have hated hurting Nell, keeping her at a distance,” she murmured unsteadily. “But I had made such a mistake that resigning seemed to be the only thing I could do -”
“And what would you tell a pupil who had made a mistake, had recognised it and was deeply repentant?” There was a little silence and Hilda whispered shakily, as she realised what the old man’s questions had caused her to see she had been in danger of forgetting.
“I should tell her that if she was truly repentant and had done everything she could to put it right – then she was forgiven.” Herr Anserl nodded, with an air of satisfaction,
“It is always easier to give a lesson than receive it for oneself,” he said, with a wry smile that robbed his words of any harshness. “Now, I will stay here and smoke my pipe and think,” he said, “and in half an hour, Matron and I will deal with the final duties of the day. You will find Fraulein Nell and make your peace with her.” And he watched Hilda get up and leave the room, as he had told her, her eyes shining and hopeful once more and her steps light.

Nell had managed to get safely to her room without meeting anyone - staff or pupil – and had spent the next five minutes in calming herself down. Then feeling dimly that it would be better for her if she were to make some attempt at occupying herself, she reached for her folder of lesson plans and determinedly began to scribble down detailed outlines for the Fourth Form’s work during the final month of term. As she worked, Herr Anserl’s reassuring words, “It will be alright, I promise you.” echoed in her mind and she hoped desperately that he was right. “How on earth would I cope without her?” she wondered. “I couldn’t, and I couldn’t do the job either – or not yet anyway.” She stopped writing and sat back in her chair, conscious of a headache that was beginning to make its presence felt, and uneasily aware that she was not going to sleep well that night. “Oh Hilda!” she thought helplessly, “Please, please change your mind.” She recalled the coldness in Hilda’s face, the harshness in her voice and her heart sank. “I didn’t recognise her,” she said aloud and gasped, as she realised, in a heart-stopping instant that this must have been exactly how Hilda had felt about her, Nell, when she had first come to Sarres. And if it hadn’t been for Hilda, what would have happened to her? She remembered that weekend soon after she had arrived, when Hilda had compelled her to confront the demons that had haunted her since those last days in Tyrol and were so close to overwhelming her; “God knows where I would be if she hadn’t,” she thought with an uneasy shudder. At the thought of what Hilda had done for her, her mouth firmed; “Whatever she decides, it doesn’t matter,” she thought resolutely, “I will always be there for her, just as she was for me.”

Having arrived at this decision, she picked up her pen and made a renewed onslaught on her lesson plans. So engrossed was she that she didn’t hear the sound of light footsteps approaching her door, or even the very faint knock that was all Hilda could manage by this time. Fortunately she did emerge from her fog of concentration sufficiently to realise that someone – and she knew exactly who it was - was trying to open the door of Hilda’s room.
“Hilda!” she said, leaping to her feet in such a hurry that she knocked over the part-opened bottle of ink into which she had been dipping her pen at intervals. Ignoring the thin trickle of “Permanent Blue-Black” that was now meandering towards the edge of the desk, she rushed to the door and opened it. Outside, Hilda was struggling with the key to her room – the locks were old and the keys frequently reluctant to turn – and as Nell appeared, she gave it a final impatient twist which produced a solid click that proclaimed that that lock was now irretrievably jammed. Hilda muttered something that caused Nell to grin broadly and remark,
“I didn’t know you knew that word!”
“It must be something to do with the company I keep!” proclaimed Hilda crossly as she yanked the key smartly out of the lock and stood regarding her door with extreme disfavour.
“There is always the connecting door – if you ask nicely,” suggested Nell carefully, suppressing her laughter at the sight of Hilda’s predicament. Hilda compressed her mouth as if forcing down words and stalked into Nell’s room with as much dignity as she could, only to stop transfixed by the sight of the ink dripping with commendable accuracy into the middle of Nell’s pale-green rug.
“Oh, well done, Miss Wilson!” she said. Nell gave a small wail of horror, and then the whole humour of the thing struck her and she began to laugh helplessly. A moment later, she was acutely aware of Hilda’s own laughter, something that she had not heard for so many days and a small flame of joy danced inside her. She looked at Hilda, and saw in her eyes the soft light that had been absent for so long and her happiness intensified. Collapsing onto the bed she allowed her laughter free rein, vaguely aware that Hilda was leaning against the armchair gasping and speechless. After a few moments she lifted her head and surveyed Hilda.
“It’s alright, isn’t it?” she said softly. Hilda nodded, her laughter suddenly dying away,
“I’m so sorry, Nell,” she said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you – I just thought it was the best thing I could do - ” Nell smiled reassuringly, aware of a lump in her throat, and held out her hand,
“It really is alright,” she said gently. “And you’re not going anywhere are you? – But it wouldn’t have mattered if you had been, because you don’t shake me off that easily.” Hilda said nothing, but reached out to grasp Nell’s hand tightly.
“I’m – so – sorry,” she choked out again and Nell realised that Hilda was crying, Hilda, who had spoken dry-eyed of her dead fiancé, who had listened without tears as Nell had told her of those last days in Austria and the bitter time that followed, who had maintained a rigidly calm dignity all through the previous days when Gertrud’s whereabouts were unknown - that woman was weeping as if her heart was broken. Without a word, Nell held her close and allowed her to cry unrestrainedly. Finally, when the storm of tears was ended and Hilda was quiet again, Nell spoke softly.
“It doesn’t matter, Hilda,” she said. “The important thing is that you are here and will continue to be here doing the job that only you can do.” Hilda murmured something that Nell didn’t quite catch.
“What was that?” Hilda straightened up and looked directly at Nell.
“You forgot something,” she said. Nell looked puzzled and Hilda smiled shakily.
“You forgot to say that I would be here with the best friend and deputy that I could possibly have,” she said. Nell blushed.


And that, thought Nell, wrapping her hands around her teacup, was that. Hilda had carried on in her position as Headmistress, the School had got over its surprise and amazement with regard to Gertrud Becker, and the news of Joey Maynard’s triplet daughters had provided a much-needed diversion, as had the bravery of Maria Marani, Cornelia Flower and Violet Allison in rescuing two German airmen from their burning aeroplane. The three weeks that had followed this event had been mercifully uneventful – given the previous happenings of the term, the necessary quarantining of the Juniors after Nancy Chester and Julie Lucy had developed German measles, had scarcely merited comment! – and then, on the day before the term ended, there had come the wholly unlooked-for arrival of Frieda Mensch, Friedel von Gluck and Bruno von Ahlen, escaped from Austria and now safely in Guernsey.

Yes, everything seemed to be going well. But Nell knew that it was not quite that straightforward, not for Hilda and therefore not for herself. Hilda was somehow different – tentative was the word that had come to Nell – more cautious in her dealings with others as if she could not quite completely trust her own responses and actions. The whole Gertrud business, had, Nell understood, affected Hilda’s confidence in everyone around her, even, Nell thought with a little stab of pain, Nell herself. It was true that as far as the pupils and most of the Staff were concerned, everything was alright again, but she knew - as did a worried Gwynneth and Herr Anserl - that Hilda was finding it hard to come to terms with all that had happened. Finally, on the last night of term, the three of them had voiced their concerns

Nell had been in the study, checking that she had everyone’s contact details correct; she had asked that any last-minute changes be given to her by the end of the evening, and was hoping that these would be few in number. Normally, the School would not ask to be kept informed of everyone’s whereabouts quite so minutely, but this holiday was different; nobody knew quite what would happen in the near future. She glanced down the list; Jeanne and Simone were going to their families in France, Gwynneth to her sister in Wales, May to her parents in Essex, Rosalie and Grizel to Taverton – she noticed in passing that Grizel was staying with Rosalie’s family rather than her own! – Con to Scotland and Hilda - She stopped short; Hilda was going to London for three days, and then coming back to Guernsey. There was no address given, so presumably she would be at Sarres for the rest of the holiday. Nell considered carefully, tapping her pen against her teeth absent-mindedly as she did so. “You could ask her,” said the little voice in her mind persuasively, “It wouldn’t do any harm.” “I never have before” she said to it doubtfully.
“What haven’t you done before?” enquired a well-known voice, and Nell jumped, startled by the unexpected sound of Gwynneth’s trenchant tones.
“What on earth -,” she began, but Gwynneth continued, “We did knock, but you didn’t pay any attention, so we came in and found you are talking to yourself. Definitely time for a holiday!” And her eyes twinkled. Just behind her Herr Anserl chuckled.
Swallowing her wrath, Nell picked up her pen with a resigned air, but before she could say anything, Gwynneth said, more seriously,
“You didn’t answer my question: what haven’t you done before?” Nell pondered a moment, then said,
“Asked Hilda to stay with me over Christmas.” There was a moment of silence, in which Nell was aware of an unspoken exchange between Gwynneth and Herr Anserl, then Herr Anserl said,
“That, Fraulein Nell is an excellent idea – for both of you.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Gwynneth enthusiastically. “The pair of you will be much better together, and she won’t have the chance to sit and worry as she would if she were here by herself.”
“How did you know that?” asked Nell, momentarily intrigued. “I didn’t until I looked at the list properly.”
“Being able to read upside down is useful on occasions,” commented Gwynneth drily. Herr Anserl chuckled again.
“Seriously Nell, she really does need to get right away from the School for a time; after all she’s been here for almost six months without a break - which is probably another reason why she hasn’t quite regained the confidence she lost over the Gertrud business.” Nell looked serious,
“You noticed it too?” she asked worriedly, and Gwynneth hastened to reassure her,
“No, it’s not obvious, Nell. It’s just that I’ve been watching you both very carefully; your health is my concern after all! She does need to get away from this place - and it wouldn’t hurt you to have company for Christmas. So why don’t you ask her?” Nell bit her lip,
“I would, I mean I want to, it’s just – well, I’ve never asked anyone there before – really.” Not quite sure of what she was trying to say, she stopped, and Herr Anserl smiled gently at her,
“To share your home with one who needs it only makes it more your home. Don’t be afraid, child. Ask her.” Nell took a deep breath,
“Alright, I will. And,” she added, glad to change the subject, “why are you two here anyway? I’ve got your details.” Gwynneth laughed,
“Ah, well, Vater Bar here has decided to spend Christmas in the wilds of Wales in pursuit of good music!” Nell’s mouth fell open in amazement, and Herr Anserl grinned appreciatively at her surprise.
“Yes, it is true; Fraulein Gwynneth has invited me to accompany her to her sister and brother’s house. He sings in a good choir and there will be many concerts.” His eyes sparkled at the prospect, and Nell suddenly remembered her father’s happy anticipation as he planned his and her mother’s attendance at the autumn and spring concert seasons in London so many years ago. Her eyes smarted and she said briskly,
“I think that’s an excellent idea, and I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.” She added the information to her list, and sighed. “I hope that’s it for everyone – it had better be!” And with that, she had left the list on Hilda’s desk and gone to the Staff Room with Gwynneth and Vater Bar to find everyone discussing plans for the holidays and delighted that they had survived that first eventful term on Guernsey.


And as a result of this conversation, Hilda was fast asleep in the second bedroom of Nell’s home, although given the time, she might well be awake by now. “She ought to be,” thought Nell - “and anyway it wouldn’t hurt to look in on her.” With this in mind, she made a fresh pot of tea, arranged a tray, and carried it carefully upstairs. She tapped very quietly at the door, and hearing a murmur that might have been translatable as “Come in,” she did just that. She found that Hilda was awake, although her slightly unfocussed expression indicated that this was an extremely recent development. At the sight of Nell, she smiled sleepily, yawned and stretched. Nell put down the tray, perched herself on the end of the bed and and surveyed her.
“Well, you look much better this morning, my dear,” she said with some satisfaction. Hilda pushed back the tangle of brown hair, that had escaped from its night-time plait and hunted unsuccessfully for her ribbon.
“I feel much better. Oh, I was tired last night, Nell.”
“That was obvious - and the delays on the railway couldn’t have helped.”
“They didn’t, but I was very tired before I left London, you know.” She looked around the room, slightly puzzled. “You know Nell, I could have sworn I put my travel clock on the table. Oh, well - what time is it anyway?”
“Ten past nine,” remarked Nell with a twinkle. Hilda sat straight up in horror.
“You’re joking!”
“Not at all – I did peep in at around eight o’clock and you were still sound asleep, so I drank your tea for you and got on with the housework. You don’t need to worry; the only thing I have to do today is go up to the farm to collect a few things – including the major part of our Christmas dinner - but apart from that the time’s our own.”
“Still, I think it is about time I got up, don’t you?” Nell grinned, and passed Hilda a cup of tea.
“Well, it will start to get a bit chilly in here – so you’d probably be more comfortable downstairs. Oh, and there is the mail of course.’
“The mail?” asked Hilda foggily.
“Yes, they don’t deliver up here in winter, so we have to walk down to the Post Office and collect it. I assume that you’re having your mail forwarded here, so we’ll definitely need to go and see what’s there. Besides, there are a number of people who are very keen to meet you.” She grinned appreciatively at Hilda’s horrified expression, and got up, “If you hurry up and get dressed, you might find that I’ve saved you some porridge - and if you’re very good, I’ll make you some toast.”

Twenty minutes later, Hilda was downstairs having her first sight of the kitchen, which proved to be a large light-filled room, painted a cheerful soft yellow and overlooking the back garden. Unlike the rest of the house the floor was composed of stone flags, which, according to Nell, “scrubbed clean very quickly.” One wall was occupied with an imposing and highly-polished black range that also supplied all the hot water, and a table, at present covered with a blue cloth and with one place set for breakfast, stood near it. The sink was set under the window and Hilda noticed that the wooden draining board had been scrubbed almost to bone-whiteness over the years. Dark blue gingham curtains provided a nice touch of contrast to the yellow walls, and two rag rugs, such as Hilda vaguely remembered from seeing in the kitchens at the Bishop’s Residence, on the rare occasions that she had been allowed to penetrate those fastnesses, were in front of the range. A large dresser, laden with crockery and shining pots and pans stood on another wall, with a second door next to it, close to the window.
“That’s the larder,” remarked Nell, gesturing at the door. “Just in case you were wondering!” Hilda looked around the kitchen, then at the larder door
“Did someone move one of the walls?” she asked. Nell smiled appreciatively,
“That’s bright of you; yes, when the two cottages were first knocked into one, someone moved the structural wall over and put this partition wall up as well – and the extra space became a larder. The only drawback is that you have to be careful because the entry to the kitchen and the scullery can be very dark, and there is a step down into the scullery. You’ll see later.” As she had been speaking she had been stirring the contents of a small saucepan on the top of the range, which she now tipped into a bowl, and handed across to Hilda where she sat at the table.
“There you are,” she said, “I don’t think it’s too solid. You get on with that, and I’ll make some toast. Oh, and here’s the milk.” Hilda did as she was told, eating her porridge and watching Nell move around the kitchen, as she made toast, fetched butter and marmalade, replenished the teapot, and swiftly scrubbed out the saucepan. There was a deftness and assurance about her movements that reminded Hilda of the occasions when she had seen Nell happily working in the Chemistry Laboratory. “She’s so familiar with this,” she thought suddenly, and a little wistfully. “It’s as if all this is part of her.” Suddenly aware of Hilda’s scrutiny, Nell turned to smile swiftly at her, thinking that even though Hilda had only arrived the previous day, she belonged here already. “To think that I was worried,” she marvelled silently, and a small singing happiness was born inside her.

 

#11:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 7:12 am

“How much toast do you want?” she asked suddenly. Hilda considered,
“Oh, two slices, please Nell.” She looked down at her empty bowl. “Goodness, have I eaten all that?” she asked in surprise.
“Well, I certainly didn’t,” came the response. “And there wasn’t that much, you know.”
“There was for me!” Nell glared at her.
“I hope you’re not implying I eat too much, Hilda Annersley!”
“Of course not – why, do you think you do?”
“Don’t be cheeky, or you won’t get any lunch!”
“I don’t think I’ll want any at this rate – I only said two slices, and I can clearly see four on that plate.” Nell dumped the plate of toast down in the middle of the table, and grinned.
“Well, one of us has been working you know! It’s time for second breakfast!” Before Hilda could react to this cheerful statement, she reached across the table for the butter and proceeded to spread it lavishly on the top slice of toast. Hilda gave up the debate and applied herself to her share. Ten minutes later, the toast having disappeared and the teapot being empty, Nell got up to deal with the dishes.
“I’ll show you the house properly now that it’s light,” she proclaimed. “Then we’ll walk down to the village, so you’ll know the way to the Post Office – if that’s alright with you?”
“Yes, Nell, that sounds lovely. Now, where do you keep the tea-towels?”
“Right-hand drawer of the dresser, but you don’t have to -”
“Don’t be silly, Nell! Apart from anything else, it’s quicker – unless you want to spend the morning washing dishes?”
“Oh, well, if you put it like that!”

As they companionably washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, Hilda kept glancing round the room, noticing that it had the same feeling of warm familiarity and welcome that she had been aware of since she had walked in through the door last night. It felt as if she had been here for a long time instead of less than a day.
“Oh, I do like your home, Nell!” she burst out suddenly. Nell smiled happily at this, but all she said was,
“You’d better wait till you’ve seen the rest of it before committing yourself, you know. And I can guarantee there’s one room that you won’t like and I’ve got absolutely no idea about it! Anyway, come on upstairs and I’ll show you the lie of the land – inside and out.” Hilda carefully put the last of the crockery on the dresser shelf, arranged the tea-towel neatly over the edge of the draining board, and followed Nell upstairs. Now that there was no blackout - and she was not so tired - she realised that the roof at the back of the house sloped further down than it did at the front.
“So that’s why the ceiling is low over one side of the bath,” she said aloud.
“Yes, Father had to work quite hard to fit in everything he wanted and the low ceiling over the bath was the only way he could manage it.” She opened the door that was opposite Hilda’s room. “This is mine.”

Nell’s bedroom proved to be very similar to the one that Hilda was occupying, except that the prevailing colour of curtains, rug and bedspread was a soft lavender rather than blue. It was also rather more untidy than Hilda’s room, and as usual Nell’s dressing gown had slipped off its peg onto the floor. Hilda chuckled as she saw it,
“Tell me Nell, do you train them to do that, or do you buy them because they can?” Nell grimaced at her words and bent down to retrieve the offending item. Hilda looked around the room; Nell’s Rosary and Missal were on the bedside table, as were three books. Cherry’s old rag doll, Persephone, was in her accustomed place on the pillow, and Nell’s silver brush and mirror were on the dressing table. There was the same faint hint of lavender in the air that she had noticed in her own room, and the fire was laid ready to be lit should the weather be cold enough.
“I tend not to – unless it’s really cold,” said Nell, waving a dismissive hand toward the fireplace. “But I’m used to it here, and you’re not.” She studied Hilda intently,
“You’re thinner, Hilda,” she said, a little worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Hilda’s gaze fell, and she shrugged,
“I’m just tired, Nell – you know that John and I don’t exactly see eye to eye, so staying there can be rather trying - and besides this has been a difficult term.”
“Well you don’t have to do anything too energetic while you’re here, you know. I haven’t planned anything strenuous, so you can relax as much as you want. ”
“That does sound attractive,” said Hilda wistfully. Nell said nothing, but this admission disturbed her a little – Hilda had never before seemed to be this tired. Throwing her dressing gown over the foot of the bed, she turned and made for the door.
“There is one other room up here – if you’d care to see it,” she said a little nervously, and Hilda, suspecting that she was to be admitted to a very private place in Nell’s life, followed her without a word to the door of the third bedroom.
“This was Cherry’s,” Nell said shyly and opened the door.

Cherry’s room was completely and utterly delightful. It was smaller than the other two bedrooms, and its sloping ceiling and two small square windows, one of which was lower than the other and deeply recessed, gave it an air of quaint charm. Like the other two rooms, the walls were painted cream, but the curtains, bedspread and dressing table skirt were of tiny pink roses on a cream ground, and the workbox that stood on the bedside table was covered in the same pretty fabric. The rug was a deep rose pink, and two small cream and pink vases stood on the mantelpiece. The white-painted bookcase still held a shelf of music, and several books that had belonged to Cherry. A delicately carved Madonna and Child stood on the dressing table; Nell picked it up and ran one finger lovingly over it. Hilda looked around the room,
“It’s perfect Nell,” she said softly. “It almost seems -” She stopped.
“Go on,” encouraged Nell.
“Well, it almost seems as if Cherry has just walked out of the door … I don’t mean you’ve made it a shrine, or anything silly like that, but it’s still a young girl’s room.” Nell smiled happily, and a little wistfully.
“Cherry loved this room; we redid it for her fourteenth birthday. I took her off for the weekend, and when we came back, this was waiting for her. She was thrilled.”
“Was she like you, Nell?” Nell shook her head,
“Certainly not in appearance – but you knew that. She was more like Mother, and it wasn’t just looks unfortunately. They were both delicate. The music she got from Father – I missed out there – and she was as stubborn as me, but more unobtrusively. And she didn’t have my temper.” She gazed round the room. “You know, Hilda, Cherry was such a bonus; there was a boy two years after me, but he only lived for a day or so and Mother was ill for a long time afterwards. In fact, I don’t think she ever really got completely better. Mother and Father never spoke of him, but after Mother died, I found an envelope in her Missal with his name and date of birth on it. There was a lock of his hair in it. I put it in her coffin.” Her grey eyes were soft, as she said, “I don’t suppose you would ever forget a baby, no matter how long ago it was.” Hilda looked out of the window, at the clouds blowing across the pale sky.
“No, you wouldn’t,” she agreed. Nell gently put the little statue down on the dressing table and looked at her watch.
“Time’s getting on. I think we should head down to the village now. Besides, if you don’t get some exercise after all that breakfast, you’ll get fat.” And she grinned impishly at Hilda’s outraged expression.

They were halfway down the stairs when Hilda thought of something,
“Nell, you said there was one room I wouldn’t like. Which is that?” Nell’s face fell,
“Oh, yes, I haven’t shown you the other room downstairs, have I? Come on then.” Her voice suddenly sounded gloomy and Hilda wondered at this for a moment. Then she followed Nell through the second door out of the living room and wondered no more.
“There,” said Nell in a dissatisfied voice, as she gestured at the room. It was the same size as the living room, but was distinctly dark and unwelcoming. Part of this was, as Hilda rapidly decided, due to the fact that the windows were a little smaller, but things were not helped by the brown curtains or the dark furniture. The room was distinctly over-full as well as rather untidy, although it was quite clean, and Hilda had the sensation that she was being slowly smothered. The contrast with the rest of the house was incredible. Hilda looked round the room in mingled horror and amusement. Finally she looked at Nell,
“Well, it’s a bit dark,” she began carefully. Nell snorted,
“Don’t be polite, Hilda, I know it’s dreadful!” For a few seconds, Hilda hunted round for words that would not offend, then gave up the struggle.
“Alright Nell, I agree, it is dreadful. But the rest of the house is delightful.” Nell smiled wryly,
“The trouble is that I had to sell the London house and try to decide what to do with the furniture. And I was also trying to get this place into what I wanted it to be – which is what you see around you apart from in here.”
“Did you have to change much here?” asked Hilda curiously. Nell laughed and propped herself up against a rather solid table.
“I moved myself into what had been my parents’ room, redecorated it and my old room and the bathroom and sorted out what I wanted from the bedroom furniture in London. At that point I found that the roof needed some fairly major repairs, and I had a bit of a problem as I couldn’t get that done until the estate was settled and that couldn’t happen until I’d sold the London house. So it all more or less ground to a halt for about six months - and I was teaching anyway at a day school in London.”
“You must have been exhausted!”
“The job came first, plus I was also coaching hockey and netball - and after a term I was asked to take on their Guide Company, and I didn’t feel I could refuse. It was all useful experience and I enjoyed it, but it did limit what else I could do. And it was a big school, so I had a fairly full timetable as well.” Hilda nodded sympathetically; she was keenly aware that some schools had the deplorable habit of exploiting their younger staff, while at the same time emphasising just how fortunate they were to be employed there in the first place.
“How long did you stay there?”
“Two and a half years – and during that time, I managed to sell the London house and the legal side of things was all sorted out. But, because I was so busy, all I really had time to do here was to get the roof repaired, and of course I hadn’t been able to do any more sorting and tidying because as soon as the house in London was sold, I had to move the remaining things out.” She shook her head with frustration, and Hilda looked round the room again.
“So the things in here are all largely unsorted?” Nell smiled, and relaxed a little.
“I never quite managed to get to this room, although the rest of the house is fine. Once I was working at the Chalet, I was able to do a lot more in the holidays, because I was less tired, but as you know, I wasn’t always here during the holidays.” Her smile faded, “And this last year – well I was here, but I couldn’t cope with anything beyond getting through each day.” Hilda slipped her arm round Nell’s shoulders and hugged her.
“Don’t worry about it Nell; there’s no rule that says every room in your house has to be beautifully sorted and immaculate.”
“And even if there were, I don’t think I could obey it!” Both women laughed at this, then Nell grew serious,
“But I would like to finish this, Hilda – after all, it’s been a long time.” Hilda was quiet for a moment, then said diffidently,
“If – if you wanted to Nell, I’d be happy to give you a hand after Christmas. With two of us, it might be easier – if you don’t mind, that is?” Nell stared at her,
“Hilda, are you sure? You’re supposed to be relaxing and getting over last term -”
“Nell, stop worrying about me – I know I’m tired, but I’m not ill! And I would like to help you; it’s a long time since I’ve done anything like that, and I’d enjoy it.” Nell frowned, still undecided,
“Let’s think about it after Christmas, Hilda. After all, it’s all still going to be here!” She moved away from the table and shooed Hilda firmly towards the door, “Come on Hilda, let’s get down to that Post Office.”

They got exactly as far as the front gate at which point Hilda’s first sight of the brooding rock presence that was Dartmoor brought them to a complete halt.
“It’s … incredible, Nell!” she murmured finally. Arriving as she had done the previous day in the darkness of early evening, she had been unaware of the way in which the moor loomed over the surrounding area. Nell had purposely not mentioned the impression that the place tended to produce on visitors, preferring to leave Hilda to find that out for herself. So they had come out of the cottage, walked down the path together and Hilda had turned, caught sight of the moor, gasped in surprise, then fallen silent. Nell waited patiently until Hilda had finally murmured her disbelief.
“So, what do you think of it then? Impressive isn’t it?”
“I don’t think my opinion really matters to it somehow, Nell!”
“True: bit of a silly question really!” And Nell grinned.
“Do you know it well?”
“Parts of it, yes. There’s a lot of it that I’ve never visited. And of course some of it I don’t want to visit.”
“I presume you mean the bogs? I’ve read my Conan Doyle you know!”
“Yes – there are places where you really do have to be very careful. And of course the Army has its various firing ranges up there, and there’s the prison as well.”
“It’s an example of life’s rich tapestry in fact?”
“Oh yes, it’s all that! But there are some fascinating things to see and some lovely walks; when you’re feeling less tired, I’ll take you on one of my favourites, and in spring and summer, I promise you you’ll love it.” The words hung in the air between them, hinting at unspoken possibilities; finally Hilda said quietly,
“I shall look forward to that Nell.”

From the moment that they walked into the Post Office it was clear that Nell had spoken no less than the truth when she had told Hilda that a number of people were eager to see her. As they had walked slowly down the main street, they had both been conscious of keen looks from those whom they had passed – Nell had greeted most of them cheerfully – and when they had stopped so that Nell could formally introduce her to Evelyn Goddard, the local doctor’s wife, Hilda had been conscious of the combined gaze of several sets of eyes boring into her back. And judging by the twinkle in her own eye, so had Nell! When they set off again, after accepting an invitation to tea one afternoon after Christmas, Hilda murmured to Nell,
“I’m beginning to feel like something in an exhibition, you know.”
“They’re just interested,” remarked Nell blandly, “And if you think this is bad, wait until you’ve met Mrs Elliott!”
“Who’s she?”
“Charlie-the-Station-Master’s sister-in-law who runs the Post Office and one of the two general shops. She’s very pleasant, but her consuming interest is other people and their business. She’s not malicious and doesn’t gossip, but she’s rather hard to deflect when she’s pursuing information.” Hilda’s eyes opened wide at this, and Nell went on, “And I can tell you now that she’s practically expiring with curiosity over you and your mail!”
Thus forewarned by Nell, Hilda displayed no surprise when she found the Post Office to be very full of people who seemed to have no immediate business to transact, but who were nevertheless in no hurry to leave. Nell exchanged greetings with several of them, and then made her way to the end of the room where a middle-aged woman was standing behind a counter.
“Good morning, Mrs Elliott,” she said sweetly, “I’ve come for my mail.”
“Oh, good morning. Miss Nell, I was thinking you’d be in soon – there’s quite a lot for you, it being Christmas, and from all over too.” She reached behind her for a bundle of letters and two parcels and passed them over the counter to Nell. “One of those is “fragile,” she added. Then she turned to Hilda, “And you must be Miss Annersley then?” Her bright brown gaze raked Hilda from head to toe. “There’s a lot here for you too – forwarded from London, and the Channel Islands too, but that’s where you and Miss Nell work, isn’t it? I wouldn’t like to be crossing the sea in winter or at the moment, but I suppose you would be used to it?” Hilda smiled,
“Thank you Mrs Elliott; presumably I have to sign for these?” Mrs Elliott sighed, pushed a pile of letters, a form and a pen towards her and Hilda scribbled her signature. Mrs Elliot took the form and tried again,
“There are some parcels too, if you’ll wait a moment. They’re not heavy, but one of them is marked “fragile”. It’s come from London,” she added hopefully. Hilda’s eyes twinkled,
“I promise I shall be careful with it,” she said, picking up the three packages that Mrs Elliott reluctantly handed over. At this point, mindful of Mrs Elliott’s blood pressure and the interested gazes around them, Nell intervened,
“Come on, Hilda, we haven’t got too much time – not if we want to get up to the farm at a reasonable hour this afternoon.” Mrs Elliott looked interested,
“Oh, going to see Sarah are you? Well, of course you would be.” She beamed at Hilda, “She’ll make you very welcome, you know.” Nell laughed and moved towards the door,
“I expect she’s been baking all day.”
“Yes, especially as it’s Christmas,” agreed Mrs Elliott. “Oh, will you be in tomorrow? There will be the usual Christmas Eve deliveries, even though it’s Sunday.” Nell looked thoughtful,
“It depends on the weather really, but if we do come down, it’ll be in the morning.” And with that she was through the door, Hilda scurrying behind her.

“We got away quite well there,” she announced when they were half-way down the street. “When she’s determined, it can take her half the morning to find everything – but of course they’re busy today!” She turned into the open door of the other general store that the village boasted. “If I bought groceries from her as well, we’d be there for ever – so I shop here instead.”
“Do you have much to get this morning?” asked Hilda as she adjusted various letters that threatened to fall from the bundle that she was carrying.
“Quite a lot – but I should be able to have it delivered, unless he’s very busy of course.”
“Or the alternative,” announced a deep voice behind them, “is that I take you, your friend and your shopping home in my car. You’re a wicked woman, Nell Wilson – I didn’t know you were back!” At the sound of the voice, Nell froze, then swung round to confront the tall man now standing just inside the doorway,
“Michael!” she exclaimed in delight.

Hilda stared in amazement as Nell hurled herself at a large dark-haired man in a heavy overcoat, who, apparently unsurprised by this reaction, seized her in his arms, swung her off her feet, hugged her and dropped her back down again.
“Michael Drayton!” she said happily, “Oh, this is wonderful! How many years has it been? How long have you been back? How long are you here? And how is Claire?” The man laughed in response to her eager questions.
“Nell Wilson,” he said, shaking his head. “Some things never change – you still want to know, don’t you?”
“Of course!” she said smiling up at him. “And you wouldn’t want me to be any different, so don’t complain!” As she spoke, she turned towards Hilda, who stood clutching Nell’s discarded mail, and watching Nell’s happy meeting with this man, an odd and unexpected feeling of loneliness rising in her.
“Oh, Hilda I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “But I didn’t expect this; Michael is one of my oldest friends, but I haven’t seen him for so long, so -”
“Don’t worry, Nell,” replied Hilda quietly. Nell smiled in relief, then said,
“Now let me do this properly; Michael, let me introduce Miss Hilda Annersley, Headmistress of the Chalet School, where I have the good fortune to be employed as her Deputy. Hilda, this is Michael Drayton -” She hesitated and a wave of colour swept over her face; “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have remembered; Hilda, this is Father Michael Drayton, recently returned from…?” Her voice curled up into a question.
“Two years in Rome,” he replied briefly. “And I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Annersley. Now Nell, if you want to finish your shopping, do so and I’ll be waiting outside for you.” He smiled at Hilda, and left the shop.
Silently, Hilda followed Nell as she made her way to the counter where the shopkeeper was waiting with two large cardboard boxes beside him.
“Your order, Miss Wilson,” he said briefly, glancing curiously at Hilda. Nell caught the glance - and also Hilda’s resigned expression.
“Thank you Mr Carter,” she said, “As I’m sure you’re aware, this is Miss Annersley who is staying with me for Christmas and New Year.” Mr Carter turned slightly pink, shuffled uneasily, then recovered himself, as Nell handed over the money for her shopping.
“Good morning Miss Annersley. Pleasant today isn’t it, ma’am? Miss Wilson, those boxes are heavy; do you need them delivering, because if you do it’ll be this afternoon before that useless George - ”
“That’s alright Mr Carter; Father Drayton has his car here, and he’s offered to help – but if you could carry them outside for me, that would be splendid.” The shopkeeper nodded,
“Certainly. I’ll call George; he might as well do something useful for a change.” Turning away, he bellowed an order to the hapless George who appeared at such speed that Nell was momentarily convinced that he had shot up through a crack in the floorboards.
“Get those boxes outside to the car,” Mr Carter snapped at him. “ And have you finished cleaning up that room yet? No? Well, hurry up with it, we’re busy!” He turned away muttering “Useless lump of a boy!” under his breath as George hastily picked up one of the boxes and clumped his way out to the car. Nell and Hilda followed, and two minutes later, they and the boxes were safely in the car that Michael Drayton was now manoeuvring carefully down the street, avoiding the various dogs, horses and groups of children that appeared to be determined on achieving a sudden and messy death.

“This is very good of you, Michael – or I suppose I should say, Father Michael,” said Nell gratefully as they left the village behind. The big man cast a swift glance in her direction,
“Not from you, Nell,” he said firmly and turned his attention back to the road. Nell looked away, biting her lip and frowning slightly, then addressed Hilda,
“So what did you think of the village in daylight then?” Hilda jumped slightly, being engrossed in her own thoughts, but quickly gathered herself together.
“I know you told me quite a lot about it Nell, but of course I didn’t really have a clear idea of just what it was like until now.” She looked around and added, “I hadn’t realised just how sociable everyone is either.” Nell grimaced and there was a deep chuckle from the front of the car,
“I know and I’m sorry Hilda – only Sarah and Henry knew you were coming, but of course as soon as I started to order extra food and arranged for Mrs Simms to come and clean three times a week, the murder was out.” Hilda laughed softly,
“It’s alright Nell; I expect I’ll live!”

At this point Nell realised that the car was slowing down; they were almost back at the cottage. As the car stopped, she leaned forward and addressed Father Drayton,
“Fath – Michael – thank you so much for bringing us and our shopping home.” She paused, then said shyly “And I was wondering whether you’d have time to come in for a cup of coffee – or do you have to get on?” The priest smiled,
“I thought you’d never ask, Nell! No, I’m not in a hurry, and this is too good an opportunity to miss, especially after all this time. Leave those boxes to me and you two get in out of this wind – you can put the kettle on!” Obeying instructions, Hilda and Nell scurried up the path to the house where the latter wasted no time in preparing the promised coffee, while Michael transported the boxes of groceries into the kitchen. That done, he went into the living room where he found Hilda already sitting on the sofa, having coaxed the fire into brighter and warmer activity.
“Nell will be here in a moment,” she said, with a smile. “She’s hunting up some more milk as we drank the last at breakfast. Why don’t you take off your coat and make yourself comfortable?”
“Good idea; it’s definitely getting colder out there.” He took off his coat and scarf and sat down in the armchair, commenting as he did so, “This is very pleasant; it’s been a long time since I was in this house.”
“Eleven – no, almost twelve years,” came Nell’s voice from the kitchen doorway where she stood holding a tray. “Hilda, would you mind fetching the coffee pot? I didn’t want to overload the tray.” Hilda got up with alacrity,
“Of course, Nell.” When she returned, Nell poured the coffee, handed round biscuits, and then sat down in the rocking chair by the window. Michael was occupying the armchair, his legs stretched out in front of the fire, his dark gaze fixed on Nell. There was a slightly uneasy silence.

 

#12:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 7:19 am

Finally, Nell spoke,
“So, what brings you back here Michael, after all this time? I’m delighted to see you, but the last news that I had of you was just after your ordination; what have you been doing since then?” Michael balanced his coffee cup carefully on the arm of the chair, and replied thoughtfully,
“Well, I had two years in my first parish at a big church in the north, then I went for another two and a half years to a London church, - in Bermondsey, to be precise. After that I had the opportunity to study in Rome for two years – and now, well, I’m here to clear up some business and family concerns and then I’ll be moving on again. Is it really that long since you had news of me? No wonder I didn’t know that you were back here.”
“Only for the Christmas holidays; I don’t know what you’ve heard, but of course the school had to move from Austria after the Anschluss, and we’ve only just been able to reopen – last term was our first term on Guernsey.”
“I did hear something about that.” He hesitated as if considering something, then continued, “Claire wrote and told me that you weren’t very well after you returned from Austria -” Nell cut swiftly across his words,
“I wasn’t – but I’m better now. How is Claire? I suppose she had news of me when she visited last Christmas?”
“Oh, Claire’s fine – three boys and a girl now you know, so all’s well there. Two of the boys are at school already, and Mother spends a lot of her time with Claire and Stephen.” An odd little smile tugged briefly at Nell’s mouth, then it was gone. She put her cup down, and stared at Michael, her eyes curiously intent, almost suspicious.
“And what are your plans now; have you been appointed to a parish here? Or – do you have something else in mind?” Michael sat up straighter, smiling ruefully and Nell’s face grew wary.
“I never could hide much from you, could I? I suppose I should tell you; you’ll hear it soon enough anyway.” At this Nell stiffened slightly, sensing what he was about to say. “The thing is Nell, I couldn’t stay quietly in Rome – not with all that’s happening now. It took me a little while to get back, and I had to spend a month or so tidying everything up – but, well, I’ve volunteered to serve as an Army Chaplain and I’ll be leaving for France next week.” Nell gave a faint gasp and her hands clenched momentarily; then she nodded slowly.
“I see,” she murmured.
“I thought you would,” he said quietly. Nell said nothing more, but her eyes grew sombre and her mouth trembled. With an effort, Michael continued to drink his coffee. From her place on the sofa, Hilda considered them both and came to a swift decision.

Standing up abruptly, she put her cup down on the tray and said firmly,
“I’m sorry to have to leave you two, but there is a letter in my mail that does require an answer today – so if you will excuse me, I’ll go and get on with that. Nell, I’ll see you at lunch, Father Drayton, it has been a pleasure to meet you.” And with that she shook hands with the slightly bemused Michael, smiled lovingly at Nell and went upstairs, to search out her writing case and deal with Madge’s query, trying to ignore the little ache of loneliness and fear inside her.

Apart from the crackle of the fire, the room was very quiet; eventually Nell stood up and wandered over to the window.
“And what do Claire and your mother think about this?” she asked leaning against the window sill and regarding Michael steadily. Michael sighed,
“They’re not very happy, although Claire can see why I’m going. Mother – well, no, Mother can’t understand it at all. She’s finding it difficult.”
“And making it difficult?” Michael shrugged his shoulders, “You know Mother!” Nell bit back an acid response with difficulty, and Michael’s mouth twitched. “Go on Nell, you might as well say it!” Nell smiled wryly,
“I suppose she’s blaming me for this too?” Michael laughed, then said,
“I’m sorry, Nell, but she is.” Nell laughed too, a little sadly.
“I might have known. And Claire?” Michael shook his head,
“No, Nell, Claire never blamed you for anything. But you knew that, didn’t you?” Nell’s tense expression relaxed a little and she sighed,
“I should like to see Claire again,” she said softly. Michael looked at her,
“And what about you, Nell?” he asked. “What do you think?” Nell lifted her head a little, her grey eyes resolute and stern,
“I think you’re doing the only thing that you could.” He grinned unexpectedly,
“Ever my supporter, Nell? Mind you,” and his voice sobered, “I don’t want to do this, you know. You know me; I don’t support war, can’t support it, but somehow things have gone so far that we have to follow this course, and I believe that I am needed as a Chaplain.” Nell nodded,
“I suppose that’s all anyone can do now – just go where they are needed.” There was another moment of quiet, then Michael asked gently,
“What did happen to you, Nell? Over there? Claire heard vaguely that you’d been ill, but that was all. Then last Christmas she caught sight of you, when she was visiting up here and was shocked. She told me about your hair, by the way.” Nell flinched a little, her mouth constricted and her eyes momentarily pain-filled, and Michael flushed,
“I’m sorry, Nell I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said contritely. Nell’s hands had locked tensely together and for a moment she looked as though she wanted to run from the room; then making an effort, she smiled and sat down on the sofa.
“It’s alright, Michael; I don’t mind.” She was silent for a minute, then she said bleakly, “Actually I do mind. I mind every time I look in the mirror and have to remember what happened. I mind that a group of people, most of whom were children were so scared of a government that they had to run in terror because they had tried to protect someone. I mind that people can be arrested without cause, tormented and killed by somebody’s whim, and that nobody dares to speak against it.” She paused, but Michael said nothing; he simply sat still, waiting for her to continue, and after a moment she did. “The worst thing is what happens inside you: what you become. I saw people – good people – become so terrorised that they dared do nothing, and others, oh Michael, others became capable of such cruelties. And some of them, bred in that system, enjoyed what they did, inflicted pain because they could and forced you to consider what was previously unimaginable.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “And you become a stranger to yourself.” Michael leaned forward and put his hand over hers,
“That’s why I’m going,” he said. “Because like you, I have seen what this evil has done already, and like you, I believe it is going to get worse. What else could I do?” Nell looked at him enquiringly, and his eyes darkened in anger and pain,
“Last year,” he said, “when I returned from Rome – when I got to London, I was being met by a friend and had to wait for him at the station. While I was there, a train came in, and there were children on it, no adults, just children. They were a kindertransport from Europe.”
“Children’s transport,” said Nell slowly. “I’ve heard the term, but -”
“They were Jewish children – I think they were from Vienna, but I’m not altogether sure. Their parents had put them on the train to send them to safety, away from Nazism, not knowing if they would ever see them again.” He paused, “So many of them were so small, Nell. There were two babies, with their papers pinned to their clothes, and some just walking. They won’t remember their homes, their parents, will they?” Nell stared at him, feeling hot tears stinging her eyes. Finally she managed to ask huskily,
“What happens to them?”
“They’re looked after by individuals or organizations that can guarantee their safety and wellbeing.” He stopped again, remembering. “They were so quiet and watchful; some of the older ones, in their early teens, spoke some English, but the little ones didn’t. They all waited to be told what to do, where to go; they had no idea what was coming next.”
“You went to help, didn’t you?” He nodded,
“I speak a little German; I thought I could be useful. At the end I was talking to one of the older boys; his father had been arrested ten days earlier, and his younger brother had been sent to England on a previous transport. He was twelve and didn’t believe that he would ever see his parents or brother again. And there are so many like him…” He sank into a brooding silence and Nell closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.
Finally, Michael glanced at his watch and stood up,
“I’m sorry, Nell,” he said regretfully, “but I do have to go. I wish I could stay longer, but my time is very limited now.” Nell swallowed,
“When do you leave?”
“Tuesday morning. I’ll assist at Mass tomorrow night and again on Christmas Day, then that’s it. I’ll be somewhere in France by New Year.” Nell nodded,
“I’ll be praying for you Michael,” she said quietly, and getting up, she went to the dresser where she opened a drawer and took out a small package carefully wrapped in tissue paper.
“Father would have wanted me to give you this, and I’d like you to take it. I know you have your own that is special to you, but you might find someone who would value it.” Slightly puzzled, Michael took the package and opened it; a wooden Rosary dropped into his hand, the sweet-smelling beads worn smooth with handling.
“Nell, what can I say?” he asked unsteadily. “Are you sure? It was your father’s and -” Nell held up her hand,
“Father would be the first to tell you to take it, and he would be so proud to know what you are doing - and so would Mother.” He looked down at her, his face grave,
“Thank you Nell; that and your prayers mean a lot, you know.” He dropped the Rosary carefully into his pocket, murmured a blessing and turned towards the door. However, with his hand on the handle, he stopped and swung round again. Nell was standing by the window, smiling at him, her eyes shining with tears.
“Benedicat tibi Dominus et custodit te; Ostendat Dominus faciem suat tibi; Et misereatur tibi convertat Dominus vultum, suum ad te et det tibi pacem,” he said softly and left the room quickly. Nell watched from the window as he walked down the path, got into his car and drove away without a backward glance.
“Go with God, Michael,” she murmured.

Upstairs Hilda heard the soft closing of the front door and flung down the book that she had been attempting – unsuccessfully – to read. She had managed to complete her letter to Madge, confirming that Gillian Linton had accepted a position as a Junior Mistress to start at the School in the summer term, but after that she had given up the effort of dealing with her correspondence. Her whole being was focussed on what might be happening downstairs between Nell and the unknown Father Drayton. “He’d better not do anything to hurt her,” she thought fiercely. “I wish I knew more about him.” She shied away from considering just how matters might stand between them; “I wish I could help you Nell,” she said aloud, and picking up her book attempted to focus on her reading. She met with little success, as her mind stubbornly refused to do as she wished it, and she only grew more miserable and uneasy. At last, as the closing of the front door alerted her to the priest’s departure, she left her room and tiptoed to the top of the stairs listening carefully; the house was so still that she might have been alone there, but she knew that Nell was still in the living room. She also knew with complete certainty, that, regardless of anything else, Nell needed her now. Answering that wordless plea, she went downstairs, anxiously wondering just what might be awaiting her.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she could see Nell standing motionless by the window; without saying anything or even looking at Hilda, she held out her hand, and Hilda responded instantly, going to her and clasping the outstretched hand tightly. As she did so she realised that Nell was weeping, the tears slipping silently down her face.
“Oh, Nell, I’m sorry,” she said softly, putting her arms comfortingly around her. “I know how it hurts to say goodbye to someone that you care for.” For perhaps a minute Nell made no response, then she wiped away her tears with her hand, and drew a deep breath,
“I think,” she said a little unsteadily, “that I should tell you about Michael.”
“Only if you want to, Nell,” replied Hilda at once. Nell shook her head,
“No, Hilda, I need you to know about him, and how important he’s been to me. If anything happens to him, then someone else will be able to remember him. And besides, Hilda, who would I tell if not you?”
“Thank you, Nell,” said Hilda softly. “Why don’t you come and sit down?” Nell did not reply immediately as she was searching for her handkerchief, but she allowed Hilda to lead her to the sofa, before going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. That done, she sat down by Nell, who had located her handkerchief, wiped her face properly and was looking slightly better, although her first words were unsteady, and it was clear that it would take very little to make her cry again.

“Michael has been part of my life ever since I can remember,” Nell said eventually. “Our fathers were at school together, and were close friends; afterwards they saw less of each other as my father went to university and then had to study for his articles, and Anthony Drayton went home to learn to manage his estate. The Draytons are an old Catholic family, and have owned land round here for – oh, generations. Until Emancipation, they paid their recusancy fines, educated their sons abroad and their daughters at home, and lived very quietly, trying to remain unnoticed. After Emancipation, things were different, but they still preferred their life here. Anyway, it was Anthony Drayton who suggested that my parents should buy this house – it wasn’t on Drayton land, but they knew about it, and when my parents visited here as part of their honeymoon trip, Anthony took them to see it, and then, when they decided that they did want it, negotiated with the owner on their behalf. He and my father were delighted to see more of one another and Michael and I were always friends. Claire is Michael’s older sister, and while she wasn’t unfriendly, four years is too big a gap when you’re little. So, it was Michael and I who did things together.” She stopped, took a sip of water, and Hilda waited quietly for her to go on. Then something struck her about what Nell had said,
“What about your mothers?” she asked. “Were they friendly?”
“Ah,” replied Nell slowly, “that was the one difficulty. No, they weren’t. I didn’t think about it much when I was little, as I never really saw them together – we always went off to play and ignored everything else, but as I got older I realised that Mother and Mrs Drayton didn’t get on at all. To be honest,” she added, “I don’t know that anyone would have been able to be friendly with Mrs Drayton.” Hilda looked intrigued,
“Why on earth not?” Nell frowned,
“Well, she was always very sweet to people as long as they did what she wanted, but it wasn’t genuine – and she was very good at manipulating people so that they did do as she required. And then there was the whole business of being a Drayton; she was tremendously proud of having married into an old Catholic family – Mother once said that Anthony didn’t stand a chance once she met him! - and she did everything she could to make sure that Michael and Claire would be brought up to take their proper place in county society. Only it all went wrong when the War broke out.”
“What happened?” asked Hilda, by now caught up in this account of Nell’s childhood. Nell looked down, and fiddled with the glass that she was still holding.
“We’d been here that summer, as we always were. In fact, I’d been staying with the Draytons, as Cherry had had bronchitis and Mother wanted the house kept quiet while she recovered. So I went to the Draytons for a month, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Michael and I went round the estate with Mr Drayton as he dealt with business; Michael and I were allowed start exploring Dartmoor by ourselves, Mr Drayton taught me to ride properly - it was a golden time. And then War was declared; we didn’t understand what had happened, except that Mr Drayton was suddenly somehow distracted and Mrs Drayton was always cross. Anyway, I went home in the middle of August and two weeks later Mr Drayton took up a commission in the army. His horses had been requisitioned and he was going with them. Mrs Drayton was furious with him, and even more furious with Father because his eyesight was too bad for him to go.” Nell chuckled. “He did try, you know, but the doctor said that he’d only pass him as fit if he promised to join a German regiment: at least that way he’d stand a chance of hitting German soldiers.” She stopped laughing and her eyes grew remote. “Neither of them got there; Mr Drayton broke his neck out riding while he was on his embarkation leave. Michael was ten.”

Hilda gasped. “Oh, the poor child!” she said softly, her eyes shining with pity. Nell nodded sadly,
“He didn’t say anything when they told him. He just – went quiet. Apparently, he could hear Mrs Drayton crying and screaming and that scared him so much that he hid under the bed in one of the spare rooms. I think he stayed there until Father arrived late in the afternoon. You see, besides being Anthony Drayton’s friend, Father was also his solicitor, so he was the perfect person to take charge. When Father found him, Michael refused to come out so Father sat on the bedroom floor for an hour, just talking to him until Michael felt that it was safe to come out. Nobody had bothered with him until then. Father wanted to send him to our home, but Mrs Drayton said no – he was the only son, so he had stay and attend the funeral. Father wasn’t happy about that, but he knew there was trouble ahead, so he gave in.”
“Trouble?”
“Oh yes. You see, after the funeral, the Will was read – and Mrs Drayton found out that Father and her older brother were named as the children’s guardians until Michael was twenty-one.”
“And she wasn’t pleased?” Nell laughed suddenly,
“She was horrified - and very resentful too.”
“But why?”
“Apparently Mr Drayton hadn’t told her about this, so it came as a complete shock. And she was not happy with the idea that at least two other people were going to have a say in how she brought up the children – especially someone whom she regarded as a jumped-up nobody!”
“Is that really how she thought of your father?” Nell nodded.
“Exactly that. I don’t think she said anything too outrageous at the time, but years later, she certainly made it quite clear to me.” Her eyes darkened with anger, and Hilda took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Don’t worry about it Nell,” she said quietly. Nell smiled,
“Things settled down again quite quickly, although Father found he had a lot of extra work to do because of the Drayton estate; good managers were rather scarce at that time! It took him about a year to find someone. And then there was Michael; Father felt he owed it to his friend to give his son the upbringing that was right for him, regardless of what other people might say or want. So he insisted that Michael had to go to school as his father had intended, and sooner rather than later. There was a huge fuss, and Mrs Drayton accused Father of being heartless in wanting to separate a widow from her only son.” She caught sight of Hilda’s expression. “Quite! Unfortunately she made the mistake of saying this in front of her brother, who roared with laughter, and told her to stop being dramatic. So Michael went to Ampleforth exactly as his father had planned.”
“Was he happy there?” asked Hilda curiously.
“After the initial few weeks of getting used to it, yes, he was. And after that, life went on again, despite the War. I missed Michael when he first went to school but when he came home, we simply carried on with the outdoor existence that we’d always led. Occasionally he went to stay with a friend – but not often as Mrs Drayton didn’t really like it when he brought a friend here, and Michael sensed this.”
“I’m surprised she allowed you to be friendly if that was how she felt about it,” said Hilda. Nell gave her a side-long look,
“There was a reason,” she said and blushed a little.

 

#13:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 7:29 am

Hilda opened her mouth, then closed it again, while she carefully studied Nell’s face.
“I see,” she said finally.
“I thought you might,” replied Nell evenly, not quite meeting Hilda’s eyes. Hilda frowned a little,
“But Nell, if she disapproved of your family, then why did she -?”
“- start planning matrimony?” Hilda nodded, and Nell shrugged,
“I think there were a number of reasons. To begin with, despite everything, we were a Catholic family, so that was a major requirement satisfied. Then you have to understand, she never saw much of me, so she didn’t really know what I was like and I suppose she thought I’d jump at the chance of making a good marriage, as she saw it. She certainly assumed that Father and Mother would welcome the arrangement although she got a bit of a shock when she first raised the subject. But I think she put that down to my age at the time.” Hilda looked sharply at Nell, who shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
“Just how old were you?”
“Fifteen,” said Nell reluctantly.
“Fifteen? Nell!”
“It wasn’t what you’re thinking!” said Nell defensively. “And she didn’t mean to say anything – it came about because my parents had decided to move me from my convent school, and she heard about it.” Hilda looked puzzled and Nell swept on, anxious to explain. “Do you remember, I told you that after the War, I had three years at the Sacred Heart, and then moved because they didn’t offer the right subjects?” Hilda nodded, “Well, when it was decided that I had to go to the local High School so that I could do more Science and Maths and learn German, I wrote to Michael and told him. It was summer, but he was visiting his uncle’s family in Winchester. Anyway, two days later I had a reply from him.” Her voice trembled a little. “He wrote that he was very disappointed in the decision, that he couldn’t see a reason for the move as there was no need for me to learn anything beyond what Sacred Heart offered and he hoped that my parents weren’t making a mistake that they would later regret. It was, considering everything, a very pompous piece of writing.” Hilda smiled sympathetically,
“Well, if there’s anything more loftily dignified than an adolescent boy, I’ve yet to meet it,” she commented.
“True,” said Nell, “but of course I was terribly upset – it was the first time that Michael had ever criticised me, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Finally I told Mother and she was so comforting; she explained that Michael didn’t mean to upset me, but that he wasn’t experienced enough to give advice tactfully – and also he wasn’t yet tolerant of other people’s points of view. Hopefully, that would change as he got older, but in the meantime I wasn’t to worry about it, and just continue to be friendly. Then, she asked if she could show the letter to Father, and I agreed. And that was that, as far as I was concerned, although about a week later I had a rather stiff apology from Michael and when I did see him later that summer, it took a while for us to be really friendly again.” She stopped, drained the glass and put it down, while Hilda thought over what had been said.
“He told his mother didn’t he?” she said suddenly. Nell smiled,
“Clever girl! Yes, he did, and that was what prompted her revelation. She came to see my parents, although I had no idea of this at the time; Cherry and I were at the Gorton’s farm admiring their new baby. Anyway, she arrived just before tea, said all the correct things and then said that she had been rather worried by what Michael had told her; was it really in my best interests to leave the convent? Mother explained very carefully just why they had made the decision, and also mentioned that I hoped to go to university. And that did it; apparently, she smiled graciously at both of them, said that that was a most laudable aim, but wholly unnecessary as there would be no need for Michael’s wife to be educated to that standard!”
“Then what?” demanded an enthralled Hilda. Nell grinned suddenly,
“Well, Father was speechless – which was probably a good thing when you remember where I got my temper from! But Mother rose to the occasion splendidly, remarking that one never knew what was going to happen in this life and that it was as well to be prepared for anything. Besides, she had found that it didn’t do to dwell too much on whom one’s children might marry; that could be viewed as ill-bred, which would be most unfortunate; didn’t Mrs Drayton agree?”
“She couldn’t really do anything else could she?”
“No, she couldn’t! Mother moved the conversation on to other things, and the subject was closed. By the time Cherry and I got back, Mrs Drayton had gone, and I didn’t find out about this visit for a long time. Michael had apologised and we were friends again, so things went on much as they had before – for a little while at least.”

“We knew that when Michael left Ampleforth things would be different, that decisions had to be made. For his mother and uncle, it was straightforward – he would come home and learn to manage the estate. Father wasn’t so sure; I think he had a suspicion that Michael wanted something else, although he didn’t say anything at this point. But he did suggest that Michael might like to consider university, as he had the capacity to take a good degree, and as he pointed out to Mrs Drayton, it would be a great benefit, socially speaking. Besides he would be at home during the vacations, so could start to learn more about the estate then. Michael jumped at it.” Nell was silent again; then she got up, and began to prowl restlessly around the room, stopping to poke the fire and rearrange the coffee cups of the tray. Hilda waited patiently for her to find the words that she wanted. Eventually, Nell came to a halt near the window, and began to talk once more.
“It was as if he had somehow retreated inside himself,” she said. “Now I know that he was grappling with the realisation of his vocation, but then I was puzzled.” She smiled at Hilda, “I didn’t know that not all vocations are immediate and clear, that sometimes there is a battle to be fought and the cost seems too daunting. That’s how it was for Michael – as if he was saying ‘Who, me?’ to God and hoping it might go away. All that last year, before he went to Oxford, it was as if he was periodically distracted, and then in his first year I think he really saw what he wanted – no, what he had to do.”
“And how did Mrs Drayton take that?”
“He didn’t tell her,” Nell said slowly. “Michael loves his mother, and he didn’t want to hurt her, so he let things slide. Besides, I think that deep inside him, he recognised that there would be a tremendous fight over this, and that he simply wasn’t equipped for it. He did tell me,” she added, “although by then I didn’t really have to be told: and then he told Father.”
“But not his mother?”
“No,” said Nell, her face troubled. “Not then, and that caused problems later. And I didn’t see much of Mrs Drayton, and when I did, she always made me feel vaguely uncomfortable – trapped somehow, but I couldn’t quite work out how. Occasionally, she would invite me to tea with Father and Mother, as she had to maintain a semblance of friendship with Father, and next to her I always felt large and clumsy and vulgarly healthy.”
“Let me guess: she was just over five feet tall, slim, wore delicate pastel dresses with lots of lace and ribbon, poured tea daintily, ate very little at meal-times, had a soft sweet voice, curls and very wide blue eyes.” Nell’s mouth fell open,
“How on earth did you know?” Hilda laughed,
“I had an aunt like that. Father and the boys used to find somewhere else to go when she visited – even if it was only to the gardeners’ shed.” Nell chuckled,
“I wish I could have hidden too! And I could never work out why she upset me so, as everything she said seemed to be kind on the surface; it was only afterwards that I would realise just how calculated all her remarks were. And of course, Michael would just say that she meant to be kind.” She sighed. “It was always better – more straightforward and uncluttered - when we were out riding or walking up on the moor. We could always talk properly then.” She smiled, “That’s where we were when he first told me about his vocation.”
“What was your father’s reaction?”
“Well, at first he was worried in case I’d fallen in love with Michael. After all, we did spend a lot of time together when he was at home, and in one way, Mrs Drayton was right; it would have been an excellent marriage for me. Then, when he was convinced that this wasn’t the case, and that I wasn’t just being brave about it, he was very supportive, and gave Michael a lot of advice, most of which Michael took.”
“I assume that the advice that he didn’t take was about telling his mother?” said Hilda drily. Nell groaned,
“Yes – do you know, Hilda, he’d taken his degree and decided that he wanted to enter the seminary at Lisbon, and still hadn’t told her!”
“What! What on earth was he thinking?”
“Not a great deal!” There was a short silence.
“Then what happened?” asked Hilda.
“He was twenty-one the month after he came down, and Mrs Drayton decided to give a large party. Everyone was pleased; the Draytons had lived very quietly since Mr Drayton’s death, and regardless of anything else, it would be a suitable way to celebrate. Michael agreed to it; he thought it would give his mother something pleasant to remember as he knew she wouldn’t accept his decision without a fight, and he decided to tell her after the party.”
“Um,” said Hilda, “I’m not convinced by his reasoning.” Nell gave the ghost of a
grin,
“Neither was I.” And then her eyes grew soft and filled with memories.
“It was a wonderful party Hilda – my first really grown-up party. I was nineteen and I’d finished my first year at the LSE, but although I’d been to various supper parties, I’d never been to a formal dance like this. The house was decorated and full of flowers, the floors polished for dancing, the garden was lit with Japanese lanterns, Michael and I had planned the programme and he insisted on including all my favourite dances – and then booked them with me. Mother and Father were there – well, of course they were, as Father had been one of Michael’s guardians, and even Cherry was able to be there for part of the evening. I danced every dance, had my first taste of champagne, and before you ask, my dress was of midnight blue silk woven with silver.” Hilda laughed softly,
“It sounds magical, Nell.”
“Oh, Hilda, it was. From the first moment I came downstairs I felt like a – a princess in a fairy-tale, not Nell Wilson at all …” Her voice trailed away as she remembered that heart-stopping instant when Michael had seen her and stepped forward, momentarily unfamiliar in evening wear, and had held out his hand to her. Hilda looked at Nell, recognising the strength of the memory that held her and gritted her teeth against the pain that suddenly swept over her.

For an instant the room was not there, and she was in Oxford, with James at that Commemoration Ball. She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply, remembering the cool touch of the dark-rose silk of her dress, the distant sound of the orchestra, the scent of the white roses, and the silver of the stars that she had seen through the branches of the trees in the College garden that night….and James holding her as they had danced together in the garden, away from the light and noise of the ballroom . . . Then the memory faded and she heard Nell’s voice again, lower and suddenly sad. She opened her eyes, for an instant vaguely surprised to find herself in Nell’s cottage. Nell was staring into the fire, her grey eyes bleak and lonely as she spoke.
“It was wonderful to begin with; for the first part of the evening, I felt as if the world had been given to me, and everything was possible. Every dance was special, I was sparkling and entertaining and - almost beautiful.” She blushed a little, “I’m not exaggerating Hilda; I just can’t explain it, but it was as if I was enchanted.”
“I know,” replied Hilda, her eyes shining softly, “Believe me, I do know.” Nell gazed at her.
“You too?” Hilda nodded, remembering the utter magic of that long-ago June night.
“Well then.” They were both quiet until Nell took a deep breath and began talking again,
“I don’t know what happened, or why, but I started to feel uneasy, nothing I could really explain, but Mrs Drayton kept watching me, and when I was introduced to people they would smile as if they somehow knew me, especially Michael’s cousins and aunts, even though I’d never met them before. I tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn’t go away, and by the time we went to supper, at midnight, everything was different, even Michael was different.” She paused, then went on, “After supper, Michael’s uncle made a speech congratulating him on his coming of age, there were various toasts, and then Michael thanked Father and his uncle for everything they had done for the family during the previous eleven years. They both thanked him in turn and then, just as the music started again, one of Michael’s aunts said coyly,
“I gather that it won’t be too long before you and Nell have something to announce.”
“Oh, Nell!”
“I was stunned; it was as if the ground had moved beneath me – or as if I was trapped and didn’t quite see how it happened. I couldn’t quite believe it, and I knew it was all wrong, but it all suddenly made a horrible kind of sense…” She gave a bitter little laugh. “I must have been extraordinarily stupid.” Hilda jumped up and put a comforting hand on Nell’s shoulder.
“No, you weren’t,” she said, resolutely ignoring the unexpected flicker of anger that darted through her. “You were put in a very awkward position, and it wasn’t your fault.” Nell looked down.
“It got worse,” she said quietly, “I simply couldn’t go on dancing as if nothing was wrong, so I ignored the names on my programme and went outside. Michael followed me; I thought he’d come outside to get away as well, but instead…

“Marry me Nell,” he’d said in an oddly desperate voice. She had stared at him in dumb amazement, as if he were a stranger.
“Why?” she’d whispered, her hands clasped to stop their trembling. He had ignored her question.
“We could make it work, I know we could. We’d have all this – everyone would be pleased.”
“But you have a vocation – you know you do. You don’t want this.”
“It needn’t matter –“
“And you don’t love me enough, not really. I want to be married for myself, not because you want to escape something – or avoid it.”
“Nell - ”
“NO, Michael!” And she had run inside the house to find her parents, determined to avoid him for what remained of the night….

“Oh Nell,” Hilda said softly, trying to ignore the sudden surge of anger that shook her. “I’m so sorry. He had no right to hurt you like that.” She put a comforting arm around Nell, who leaned against her for a moment before saying,
“I don’t regret my answer you know: I’ve never regretted it, and I never thought of answering differently. I simply didn’t love him in the right way.” She bit her lip. “It was hard at the time though, because I felt so angry. Frankly, I felt insulted and I wanted to scream and throw something at him. It was completely unexpected and I felt – betrayed.” Hilda hugged her gently before asking,
“How did it all end?”
“Fortunately the party was nearly over and it was easy enough to slip quietly up the stairs to my room. We were staying there, partly because of Cherry and partly because Mother had had flu earlier in the year, and she still tired easily. Mother and Father knew that something had happened, but they decided not to ask any questions that night.” A faint smile lit her face, “It was probably a good thing; somehow I don’t think Father would have taken it well!” Hilda smiled too, remembering some of Nell’s stories of her father, whose strong sense of justice and quick temper, both of which he had handed on to his older daughter, had often caused hasty actions that he later regretted.
“ I didn’t get much sleep in what was left of the night, and by morning I was desperate to get home. Fortunately we were leaving straight after breakfast, so I didn’t have to see many people, and neither Michael nor his mother was down that early. Well, Mrs Drayton wasn’t; Michael apparently went out for a walk.”
“To do some necessary thinking and praying, I assume?” Nell smiled at the unwonted sharpness of tone, and squeezed Hilda’s hand gently
“Yes,” she said. “But you know Hilda, I’d never been in love with Michael, and I never was. He couldn’t hurt me in that way. Yes, I was shaken when I realised how upset he was at the idea of telling his mother and leaving here – and I don’t blame him for the latter, as love for his home was part of him – but to be honest, anger was what I felt that morning. Later I realised that this had altered the course of our friendship, but that would have happened anyway. So even then Michael was what he has always been – almost a brother. It could have been so much worse.” She gazed directly at Hilda, who nodded slowly, relief replacing the concern on her face.
“You’re so right Nell,” she said quietly. Nell smiled, and continued her story.
“I didn’t see Michael at all that morning, but just before we left, I had a note from him; he apologised unreservedly for upsetting me and hoped I would forgive him. He also said that he was going to speak to his mother later.”
“After you had left?”
“Yes.”
“So that was the end of it?” Nell chewed at her lower lip, and moved away from Hilda who leaned against the armchair, waiting.
“Not exactly,” she said finally. “We left after breakfast, Michael broke the news to his mother later that morning, and after lunch she turned up here. Fortunately I’d been able to tell Mother and Father by then and Father at least had had a chance to calm down slightly. It was bad enough as it was.”
“What happened?” Nell winced at the memory,
“Oh Hilda, it – she was dreadful. She arrived in the most furious temper. She stood here and raved at me, said that it was all my fault that Michael had had this ridiculous idea, that I had no business refusing a good marriage, that I would never get a better offer and that I should bear in mind that I was only the daughter of an insignificant solicitor who was really no better than a servant.”
“Nell!”
“Then she started crying and pleading with me to marry Michael, so that he wouldn’t join the priesthood and leave her alone in her old age – and before you ask, she was forty-four! She said that lots of men had these sorts of doubts, but that if I would only be sensible, then Michael would stop being so silly. After all, I must have realised why she had encouraged our friendship, and besides, if Michael didn’t marry someone, there would be no son to carry on the name.” She swallowed and her voice shook a little, “That was horrible, Hilda, when she said that, I felt somehow grubby and unpleasant - as if she only wanted this because I might have a child, not because I might make Michael happy.” Hilda caught at her hand reassuringly,
“Oh, my poor Nell, I’m not surprised you were upset. She had no business saying anything like that.” Nell pressed her hand to her mouth and took a deep breath, then she smiled at Hilda.
“Things got a lot louder at this point because Father appeared – he’d been in the garden so hadn’t known she was there - and he was furious. I’d never seen him so angry with anyone. He told her she was an interfering harpy, who, thank heavens, had nothing to do with what I did, and immediately ordered her out of the house, forbidding her to come anywhere near us again. He also remarked that Anthony Drayton had made the biggest mistake of his life when he married her and that death must have come as a merciful release from her manipulative behaviour. Furthermore, if he had had the misfortune to be related to her, he would have escaped into the nearest monastery – preferably one that required a vow of silence!” She glanced sideways at Hilda, whose expression of profound shock was all that could be hoped for.
“It had that effect on Michael’s mother,” she said blandly, and Hilda jumped. “He’d wanted to say that for a very long time you know, but obviously he couldn’t while Michael and Claire were still under his guardianship. I rather think he enjoyed it!”

 

#14:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 7:40 am

Hilda was quiet for a few moments. Then she looked at Nell,
“How did she take it?” Nell’s face lightened a little,
“She couldn’t seem to say anything –
“I wonder why?” murmured Hilda.
“-then Mother came in, and Mrs Drayton gathered herself together, announced flatly that she had been woefully deceived in both me and Father and hoped that she would not have to see either of us for a very long time. Father muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘delighted to oblige’, and then she left –
“- clutching the rags of her tattered dignity around her?” Nell gurgled appreciatively,
“Something like that!” she agreed.

The coals in the hearth shifted suddenly, and both women jumped slightly, Hilda glanced at her watch.
“Goodness, Nell, look at the time – it’s nearly ten to two!” Nell looked at the clock, horrified,
“No wonder I was hungry. Come on, let’s do something about lunch; I promised Sarah we’d be up at about half-past three, so we’d better organise ourselves.” She hurried into the kitchen, and Hilda followed her.

By unspoken agreement, nothing more was said about Nell’s involvement with the Drayton family until they had finished lunch, dealt with the washing-up and were sitting companionably by the fire drinking their coffee, Hilda on the sofa and Nell curled up in the armchair. After one or two sips, Nell put down her cup, stretched herself, glanced across at Hilda and said blandly,
“You may, you know.”
“May what?” asked Hilda, momentarily confused by this unexpected utterance.
“Ask me. About the rest of that day. You know you want to!” Hilda promptly choked on a mouthful of coffee, and glared at Nell who simply smiled charmingly at her. Hilda’s eyes narrowed,
“Alright,” she said sitting straighter, “Since you know me so well. What happened after Mrs Drayton left? Did you see Michael again?” Nell stared at her in mock disdain,
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said cheekily, and ducked as Hilda’s outraged yelp of “Nell!” was accompanied by a hastily-flung cushion. Nell sat up giggling, but as Hilda showed every sign of repeating the exercise, she calmed down,
“Alright, alright,” she said, “I’ll be good, I promise!” Hilda smiled derisively,
“That will be the day!”

Nell retrieved the cushion – fortunately her coffee was safe, although the cup had rocked in its saucer as the cushion had sailed past it – and tucked it down behind her. Then she picked up her coffee, and sat back in the chair, her face growing more thoughtful.

“He came to apologise,” she said. “Firstly to me, for what he had said the previous night, and then to all of us on behalf of his mother, although I don’t think she knew he was here.”
“And how was he received?” Nell grinned briefly,
“Well, very frostily by Father, as you might imagine! In fact, he refused to let him see me at first, and I think that brought home to him just how badly he had behaved. It shocked him, you see, as he thought a lot of Father, and up till this point Father had been one of his strongest supporters. But now -”
“He’d hurt you, Nell,” interrupted Hilda. “What else could he expect?” Nell smiled lovingly at Hilda, touched beyond measure at her friend’s vehemence.
“I don’t quite know what was said between them, but eventually Father was convinced that Michael understood the enormity of his error, and allowed him to see me.” She wrinkled her nose at Hilda, “I’d have seen him anyway, you understand. But it did help to have Father’s permission at that point. And yes he apologised profoundly.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Nell.”
“But why Michael? What made you say that?”
“I don’t know – yes I do; I was a coward. Not much more than that. I suppose I realised for the first time what everyone expected and how pleased they would be. And Mother – just how she had set her heart on me -”
“Marrying and producing a son: and there I was conveniently to hand.” He winced and turned away from her,
“Don’t, Nell, please don’t.”
“Why not? It’s how she felt – but I didn’t know that you agreed with her.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why?” He sighed,
“I realised precisely what I am giving up when I leave here. I love it so Nell, you know that, and suddenly it hit me, that this was a choice, that once I left, that was it. I suppose I hadn’t understood the cost of what I’m doing – not properly – and then, Nell you did look very lovely, and I thought, what if I’m mistaken?”
“But you’re not, are you?
“No, I’m not – and you have no idea how I regret my stupidity and cowardice. No Nell, it was both of those, and for a little while last night, I was even prepared to offer you second best as a shabby compromise.”
“It would never have worked, Michael – not on that basis.”
“I know that now – I suppose I knew it then - and all I can say is thank God you were braver and wiser than I.” Nell shook her head and smiled reassuringly,
“I was never tempted Michael, truthfully; there’s too much I want to see and do yet before even thinking of anything like that.” He looked down at her, seeing the unmistakeable sincerity in her grey eyes and sighed with relief.
“Thank God I didn’t hurt you-”
“You did,” she said swiftly, “but not as you thought.” Her face grew sad, “I understand now, but – it was unworthy of you.” His mouth tightened as he accepted her words.
“I’d better go,” he said quietly. She nodded.
“I think that would be wise.”

“And that was that, Hilda. We didn’t see him again until he came to say goodbye, just before he left for Lisbon – which he did quite quickly. Of course Mrs Drayton implied that this was my fault - he would never have taken this step if I’d agreed to marry him! Father was furious, but Mother pointed out that this was really more of an insult to Michael than to me and he calmed down. By then, summer was over, we moved back to London, and what with that and returning to the LSE, the whole thing started to seem like a dream.”
“And was that the last time you saw him?” Nell’s eyes grew suddenly desolate, and her mouth trembled.
“No,” she said huskily, “that was at Father’s funeral.” At once, Hilda leaned across and clasped Nell’s hand comfortingly,
“I’m sorry, Nell,” she said, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Nell dashed an impatient hand across her eyes,
“You haven’t,” she replied. “It’s just – I haven’t thought about all this for so long and then to remember so much and to be able to share it with you, and of course when Mother and Father died, it was all over, and everything was so different.” She stopped and Hilda squeezed her hand gently.
“Nell dear, whatever you want to tell me, I am here and I will listen.” Nell drew a long breath, gave a watery smile and whispered,
“Thank you, Hilda.” She paused again, searching for what she wanted to say, then,
“Cherry and Mother - that all happened so fast,” she said unsteadily. “I mean, they had to be careful in winter, and that year there were those terrible fogs, and Cherry had had two bouts of bronchitis, but both of them, so soon.” She stopped, fighting her tears again and unable to continue.
“I know,” murmured Hilda, recalling the echo of Nell’s voice on an autumn evening in Tyrol almost seven years ago, when she and Nell, sitting by the lake to watch the first faint prickling of stars appear, had spoken briefly and shyly of the loss of their parents…
“One morning she woke up and had difficulty breathing – she had bronchitis again - and four days later, she was dead. And Mother – Mother hadn’t been well either and insisted on staying with her, although she shouldn’t have, and she simply didn’t have the strength to get well. Father died six months later….I was twenty-two.” Hilda had laid her hand tentatively on Nell’s shoulder for a moment, saying softly,
“Mother died when I was thirteen.” They had sat in silence for a long time, then returned to the Chalet, aware of the friendship that was beginning to grow between them…
“With Father, it was different,” said Nell after a minute or two. “After Mother died, he was somehow lost, almost a different person. He was only fifty-four, but it was as if he suddenly grew old. The doctor said that it was the strain of losing Mother and Cherry and the effects of all the hard work during the War and afterward, but I think it was really Mother’s death. He wasn’t exactly ill, but he seemed to get infection after infection – and never really recovered. After two months it was clear that he wasn’t going to get better, so I resigned my position and looked after him. We came back here; it was the only place he wanted to be.”
“I’d written to Michael at intervals during the previous three years, but I hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t been able to come to Cherry’s and Mother’s funerals - it would have taken too long for him to get here - but I told him about Father and he wrote back immediately, asking me to cable him if anything happened. When Father died, I did as he had asked, then forgot about it – it wasn’t important, there was too much to do, and I was the only person to deal with it.”
“Oh, Nell!”
“It’s alright, Hilda. You know how it is; you cope because you have to.” Hilda nodded, her eyes shining with compassion. Nell smiled briefly and continued,
“The day before the funeral, I was sitting here with a dreadful headache, trying to compose the eulogy, wondering just how in heaven’s name I was going to cope with the next day, when there was a knock at the door - and when I opened it, there was Michael.”

Nell’s grey eyes were remote, almost unfathomable, as she remembered that moment of shock and surprise.
“I couldn’t believe it was him,” she murmured. “I hadn’t thought about him after I sent the telegram; I certainly didn’t expect him to turn up on the doorstep.” She smiled wryly, “For half a second I thought I was seeing things, and apparently my reaction was all that could have been hoped for.”
“Why?” demanded Hilda.
“It seems that I turned white, stared at him in total silence for about twenty seconds, then said, ‘What do you think you’re doing here?’” She shook her head, “I think I worried him actually.”
“I’m not surprised! He probably thought you were about to faint.” Nell smiled again,
“Well I certainly felt most peculiar! The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the sofa and Michael was bustling about in the kitchen making toast and tea.”
“And very sensible too; I expect you hadn’t been eating properly.”
“You sound just like Gwynneth!” Hilda chuckled, and Nell wrinkled her nose at her in mock disdain. For an instant she was quiet and sat pleating the material of her skirt.
“He’d changed such a lot, you know.” Hilda regarded her intently,
“Tell me,” she said.
“He’d – grown. He was still Michael, but more confident and fearless, more assured. I felt as if I could trust him again, and not just as an old friend; I could see how I could trust him as a priest as well – even though he wasn’t yet ordained. His letters had suggested that he had changed, but I wasn’t quite sure; and I felt less alone.” She laughed. “He was very firm with me. Insisted I eat what he’d made, talked quietly about his journey, and then told me I had to rest for at least an hour.” Her face was remote again, “I asked him why he’d come, and he replied very simply, ‘I loved your father, Nell.’….

“What?” He had stared at her levelly.
“After our father died, your father did his utmost to ensure that both Claire and I had the kind of upbringing that he would have wanted. He tried to do everything that our father would have done. I can’t begin to tell you how much support he gave me –
“I’m sorry,” she had whispered shakily. “I didn’t think – I should have -”
“No, Nell,” he had interrupted her gently. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. When your letter first arrived, I went to one of my superiors, who agreed that I had to be here, so as soon as I got your cable, I was ready to leave. I’ll be here for three days. Now, what needs doing?” Nell rubbed a slightly shaky hand over her forehead,
“I’m not sure, Michael; I think all the arrangements are made. You might want to talk to Sarah though; she and Henry have done a lot of the practical things.” He nodded, then asked,
“What about the eulogy?”
“I’m giving it,” she said fiercely. “It’s the last thing I can do for him – for them – and I’m the person to do it.” He studied her face carefully,
“Alright,” he said finally, “but will you allow me to add one or two words?” Nell considered, then whispered, “Yes.”
“Good.” He regarded her thoughtfully, then added, “Nell – don’t feel that you have to do everything yourself.” She looked up at him bleakly, and ran a hand through her slightly dishevelled hair.
“Who else is there?” Her words hung in the air for a moment, and her whole face quivered, as with a wrenching sob, she turned her face into the cushion and cried despairingly for her parents and Cherry, for all she had lost….

“Michael was so comforting ,” Nell said quietly. “He was just – there – all the next day. I was so cold inside, Hilda, so empty, and frankly, I was scared, because I was so alone.”
“I know,” Hilda replied. Nell bit her lip. Of course Hilda knew; that was why it was possible to tell her of the memories that she had carried inside herself for so long.
“All through the service,” she went on, “all I could think of was why? Why now? And I started to be coldly angry. Oddly enough, that helped; I was able to say what I had to without breaking down, I was able to stand there throughout the interment and I was able to talk to people after the service. But none of it felt real – except the anger.”
“It almost feels as if you’re performing, doesn’t it?” replied Hilda quietly. Nell’s eyes met hers,
“Exactly that,” she said. She stared at the fire for a moment. “The next day, Michael came to see me in the morning, and insisted that we go for a walk on the moor. He was leaving late that night and it was the last chance we would have to talk. I didn’t really want to, but he was right. Up there, the wind was blowing and it was cool – even though it was June – and I could think a little more clearly. Michael told me a little about his plans; he wouldn’t be back in England for a year or two – possibly not until his ordination. I was a bit surprised by this and he told me that it was better this way, as his mother had to understand that he was serious about becoming a priest.”
“Hadn’t three years in the seminary convinced her about this?” Nell laughed,
“Well, you’d think so, but she was always very good at ignoring things she didn’t want to see! Only now it didn’t seem to disturb Michael; he just pursued his path, as though - well, as though she didn’t matter any more. It was funny, Hilda, because just for a moment, I felt sorry for her.”
“Yes,” Hilda agreed, “she’d lost her son, hadn’t she?” Nell nodded, her eyes serious,
“And she didn’t even realise it. In a way, I suppose she was far more alone then I was, although I certainly didn’t know it at that point, and wouldn’t have believed it anyway.” She smiled ruefully, “You know, Michael was very wise that day – he didn’t try to comfort me, or tell me I would feel better, or to be thankful that Father was safe with God; instead he told me that it was perfectly reasonable for me to be angry and sad, to feel lonely and lost and scared. Our priest here hadn’t said any of those things – or if he had, I hadn’t noticed - and I was beginning to feel as if I was somehow wrong for thinking that way.” Hilda’s lips tightened,
“No, you weren’t, Nell; you’d lost so much in such a short time. What else could anyone expect?”
“It helped me a lot to hear Michael say that to me, and later, when I thought about it, I knew that he had made the right decision about his life.” She looked at Hilda, “That was the last time I saw him; I wrote to him at intervals until he was ordained, but when I left England, we lost touch. I suppose I could have sent a letter here, but somehow I didn’t want to, and in some ways, it didn’t matter.” She was silent for a moment, then stood up, and glanced out of the window,
“I think we’d better get ready to go if we want to be up at the farm before it rains,” she said. “Those clouds mean business, and I don’t want to get wet.” Following Nell’s lead, Hilda surveyed the sullen grey clouds that had covered the sky during the last hour and shivered slightly,
“How can English rain make you wetter than any other sort?” she mused.
“Maybe because it’s had a lot of practice?” suggested Nell as she carefully banked down the fire and arranged the guard in front of it. Hilda laughed, and went towards the small hall to get into her outdoor clothes. She was halted by Nell’s quiet murmur of “Hilda?” and turned round. Nell was kneeling on the hearthrug, arranging the poker and tongs in their holder; as she got to her feet, she looked at Hilda, her expression suddenly serious.
“Thank you for listening to me,” she said simply. “I’m glad that you know about Michael.” At these words, a slow smile illuminated Hilda’s face, and her eyes shone lovingly,
“Thank you for trusting me Nell,” she replied.

Nell’s assessment of the clouds was correct and by the time she and Hilda left the cottage, the first drops of rain were starting to fall. Nell regarded the sky carefully,
“It probably won’t last long,” she said after a few seconds. “But I think it will get colder.” She grinned at Hilda, “Who knows? We may even get some snow; the weather forecast was hinting at it.”
“Forgive me if I’m not too enthusiastic about that, won’t you?” said Hilda from the depths of the scarf in which she was muffled.
“It’s lovely up here when it snows,” responded Nell, slightly indignantly. “And I never heard you complain in Tyrol.”
“That was different; they expect it there, and plan accordingly. This is England, which means that nobody is prepared – I expect that’s why the Scouts were so successful; their motto suggested something completely unheard of!” Nell giggled at this unexpected conclusion,
“Well I’m not unprepared, I can assure you! Remember I have spent several winters up here, so I do know what it can be like, and I can guarantee that you will neither starve nor freeze – unless I turn you out to fend for yourself!” she added cheerfully. She glanced down at Hilda’s feet as she spoke, “You did manage to get new boots then. You weren’t too sure whether you’d manage that when we last talked about what you’d need here.”
“Yes, though I have to tell you that as usual, I almost gave up the effort and resigned myself to saying indoors in bad weather.”
“Oh, I expect I could have found you something - and that’s the price you pay for having slender feet with abnormally high arches.”
“Oh, I don’t mind that, Nell; after all it’s only walking shoes and boots that are the real problem. Elegance is much easier to achieve.” She heard Nell’s sharp intake of breath, and carried on serenely, “Besides, you might not know this, but high insteps are supposed to be a sign of good breeding!”
“Or that one of your ancestors was naughty!” There was a sudden splutter from Hilda. Nell smirked.

“So how far is it to this farm?” It had taken Hilda a few moments to recover from the shock of Nell’s unexpected remark, and during that time she had noticed that the road was getting steeper and the rain a little heavier.
“About ten minutes,” answered Nell promptly. “And yes, it’s uphill, but gradually.” She glanced at Hilda, “Don’t worry,” she said quietly, “I wouldn’t drag you too far on your first day here – oh, and Hilda?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me something?” Hilda looked closely at her friend, but Nell appeared perfectly serious.
“That depends,” she replied cautiously. “What is it?”
“Oh, nothing too demanding – just don’t look back until I tell you.” Hilda considered this rather odd request, but Nell didn’t appear to be joking.
“That seems harmless enough,” she said. “Alright, I agree. After all it’s probably more sensible to concentrate on the road in front rather than behind!”
“Oh quite!”

Five minutes steady walking brought the pair of them to a place where the main road carried on up towards the moor, and a rougher narrower track led off to the left. Nell led the way down this left-hand turn and after another minute, they found their way blocked by a gate.
“We go through here, and then we’re on the Gorton’s land proper,” announced Nell as she lifted the latch. “What is it?” she asked, catching sight of a slightly puzzled expression on Hilda’s face.
“Well, I’m surprised that this doesn’t belong to the Draytons,” responded Hilda. “After all, you told me that they had owned land round here for generations.” To her surprise, Nell laughed,
“Ah, you’ve hit on an old grievance. It was Drayton land, although the Gortons have been here for well over two hundred years. Only, about eighty years ago, there was an Anthony Drayton with a penchant for gambling, and a desperate need for money. Two bright Gorton brothers saw an opportunity, and offered him a good price for the farm that they had previously held as tenants – they got first refusal under terms of the lease anyway, but up to that point, the Draytons had always hung on to their land. Anyway they got their farm, he got his money, and both of them were so happy with the transaction that they came back for more. By the time Anthony died, almost a quarter of the estate had changed hands, and although the Draytons were able to buy some of it back, the Gortons hung on to most of it.”
“That’s understandable!”
“Oh yes; and they’re good farmers. They’ve improved their land and their yield enormously. But not surprisingly, the Draytons have been a bit sensitive about them ever since, so although my nurse married a Gorton, I never said much to Michael about the time I spent here.”
“That was tactful, Nell!”
“For me, amazingly so!” Both of them laughed, then Nell halted in the middle of the road, “Ok, Hilda you can turn around now.” Still laughing, Hilda swung round, and was suddenly silent and amazed at what she saw.

 

The CBB -> Starting again at Sarres...


output generated using printer-friendly topic mod, All times are GMT + 1 Hour

Page 1 of 1

Powered by phpBB 2.0.6 © 2001,2002 phpBB Group