The Chilbury Ladies' Choir(77)
Silvie was suddenly there, innocently inquiring, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Silvie.” I took her arm and walked to the door. “We couldn’t find any biscuits, so we’ll have to go without, won’t we, Tom?”
He came up beside us and took my other arm, grinning in an annoying way, and we strode back to the huts.
When we got back, Tom’s door was hanging open, squeaking as it swung to and fro.
“Silvie, did you bring the envelope?” Tom said.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
We ran inside to check for the money, but I think we already knew.
It was gone.
There was no sign of anyone, but we looked at each other, knowing who must have followed us. Silvie and I went sulkily back home, leaving Tom to work out what he was going to say to Miss Paltry.
“Well, at least it wasn’t our money,” I said as we rounded the wood.
“Why didn’t you kiss Tom?” Silvie asked. “He’s nice.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “I am engaged to Henry, Silvie. I can’t go around kissing hop picker boys, can I?”
How could she possibly think otherwise?
CHILBURY MANOR,
CHILBURY,
KENT.
Thursday, 8th August, 1940
Dear Angela,
A dull feeling of dread lurched in the pit of my stomach when I woke up this morning, as if I knew how the day would evolve, what events would take place, what decisions would be made.
The doorbell rang at ten, and I wasn’t surprised when Mama knocked on my door to tell me that Henry had come again. I knew straightaway that I wanted everything to be different from yesterday. I didn’t want his sympathy or his comments on me looking, how did he put it, “lost.” So I put on my yellow sundress to make me look more cheerful and brushed my hair until it shone golden. I wanted him to treat me the same as he’d always done, as if nothing had changed. As if everything were exactly the same as it had been six months ago, and I was the undisputed empress of the village.
I looked at myself in the mirror and put on my old red lipstick, feeling encouraged by the transformation. Isn’t it extraordinary how one can look like an empress yet feel like a frail shadow?
He was sitting on the same settee as the other day, immaculate in his uniform. I tried to make an entrance, like I would have done before all of this, swinging my yellow skirt so that it cascaded around the door frame, raising my hand alluringly up to my hair, jeering loudly, “Oh, Henry. I see you simply couldn’t stay away.”
But it all felt a little flat and overrehearsed.
He stood up and stiffened, although still smiling in a polite way. Henry is always polite—I can’t work out whether it’s adorable or tedious. I stopped swishing my skirts and struggled to work out what my approach should be. I was self-conscious, wanting him to adore me as he always has done, yet not really wanting him to. I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense, Angie. I confess it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either. I really don’t know what to think anymore.
“How are you today?” he asked, coming and taking my arm and leading me over to a chair, as if I were an invalid.
“I’m fine, Henry,” I muttered, lifting his hand away and standing beside the settee. “Look, let’s please not talk about me today. I’d much rather hear about you and your plane and how many dogfights you’ve won.” I looked up at him beseechingly, and he gazed at me for a moment, and then he smiled gently, tilting his head slightly to one side.
Then he lowered himself down on one knee.
I froze. I’m not exactly sure what I had been expecting from this meeting, and I knew that Daddy felt certain that Henry would come running if only I said the word, but I didn’t feel so sure anymore. I didn’t feel so sure about anything. Why would I be suddenly interested in his marriage proposal had not something happened that had made me more eager, more in need of it? Why did he suddenly think he stood a chance?
Was he walking the tightrope between being the best of friends, helping in a bad time, offering support and love, or being a man who sees an opportunity, a weakness, and seizes the moment?
“Venetia, my darling,” he said, taking my hands in his, pressing them lightly, with the merest suggestion of urgency. “Please let me take you away from this, and encompass you with all the love and happiness that I have in my heart.” He smiled in such a wonderful warm way, his eyes caressing mine with hope and happiness. My eyes began to water, and a tear spilled out and down my cheek. If only I could love this man, I thought. If only I’d never met Alastair, never known what real love was. But then I wouldn’t be in the state I was in now. I’d be the old Venetia, and there’s no damn way I’d be settling for Henry Brampton-Boyd.
“Will you do me the honor, Venetia, of accepting my hand in marriage?” he asked in a half whisper, taking my hands to his lips. “I have a wonderful life to offer you, with the heavenly Brampton Hall, a very comfortable living, and, not least I hope, my very dear and enduring love for you.”
A series of pictures flickered through my mind in quick succession: a heavily pregnant shadow being hidden away in her parents’ house and then swept into a nasty nunnery, her beloved baby snatched from her grasping arms, never to be seen again. I couldn’t bear the thought of giving up my baby. I knew that this was my alternative. I was being given a way out, a brutal compromise between two sacrifices, and I knew how I had to act.