‘You’ve been a very good boy, Rusty,’ Ronnie said on his last day. ‘I’m going to beg Maman to let you stay. I don’t see how she can refuse you now.’
Ronnie had rushed to the shed after school and brought him out. After a few joyful barks he was now sitting quietly by her feet in the kitchen, looking up at her adoringly as Suzanne made the tea.
Their mother hadn’t set eyes on Rusty since that first day.
‘He’s part of the family now,’ Ronnie said, patting him. ‘Maman can’t make me take him to the vet now, surely.’ She puckered her forehead and looked at Suzanne. ‘Do you think I should take him in to see her and show her how much better he looks and how well he’s behaving, Suzy?’
‘I shouldn’t. I know you’re hoping to soften Maman’s heart but I wouldn’t remind her it’s a week today,’ Suzanne said. ‘We’ll just have to cross our fingers that Maman hasn’t realised.’
Ronnie shut Rusty in the kitchen while they took the tea tray and some broken biscuits, all the grocer had been able to offer Maman, much to her disgust, into the front room where she was writing a letter.
‘Merci, chérie.’ Their mother blotted her letter and smiled as she graciously extended her hand to take the cup. ‘You will both join me?’
‘Yes, of course, Maman,’ Suzanne said, jumping up to fetch two extra cups. They’d been going to have theirs in the kitchen with Rusty to leave Maman in peace, but it appeared she wanted their company. Suzanne’s heart fell. Perhaps her mother was going to say it was time for Rusty to go. Ronnie would be heartbroken.
When the three of them were sipping their tea, Maman broke the silence. She looked across at Ronnie.
‘Well, Véronique, did you have an answer to your notices in the post office and the shop about the dog?’
Suzanne could barely look at her sister’s face.
‘No, nothing,’ Ronnie said, her voice anxious. ‘Maman, would you have a look at him? He’s turned into such a lovely dog.’
The clock on the chiffonier ticked loudly in the silence. Suzanne felt her own heart almost stop beating, so goodness knew how Ronnie must be feeling.
‘I do not wish to see him.’
‘Maman, please don’t make me take him—’
‘But I will allow you to keep him as long as he remains under full control and stays in the shed while you are at school.’
Ronnie sprang to her feet, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘Oh, Maman, you won’t regret it, I promise. I won’t let him disturb you. He’s been such a good dog, just as though he knows.’ She tried to hug her mother, but Simone brushed it off almost as though she was embarrassed.
‘So long as you do,’ Simone said. ‘Now, I will prepare supper.’
The two girls exchanged horrified looks but before they could stop her, Maman was on her feet and out of the door. She opened the kitchen door and they heard Rusty barking his head off.
Ronnie flew after her.
‘No, no, go down. Sit! Sit!’ Maman’s voice was almost hysterical.
‘Rusty, here boy.’ Ronnie grabbed him by his new collar. ‘This is Maman. You mustn’t jump up. You have to be a good boy and behave because if you do, Maman says you can stay.’
‘I am beginning to regret my decision already,’ Simone said, ‘so please keep him out of my way.’
‘You’ve been awfully quiet lately, Suzy,’ Ronnie remarked when Rusty was safely shut in her bedroom.
‘Have I?’ Suzanne said.
‘You look as though you’re dreaming,’ Ronnie said sharply. ‘Wake up.’
‘Don’t be silly. I am awake. I’m just thinking, that’s all.’
‘What about?’
Suzanne couldn’t answer. Since she’d met James her emotions had been in a turmoil. He was so unlike the kind of men she usually met in her small circle. For one thing, he was much younger than any of the ones in the village orchestra. And he seemed so natural, not putting on any airs and graces, and yet he obviously came from a good family.
She’d taken to Mrs Mortimer right away, and James had turned out to be quite different when he’d dropped the ARP warden patter after the first few minutes of their encounter. Suzanne smiled to herself, and Ronnie immediately pounced and demanded to know the joke.
Two days later Suzanne was up early when the postman knocked on the door.
‘Oh, you’re just the person, Miss Linfoot,’ he said, handing her a buff-coloured envelope. ‘It’s for you. Looks most official.’
She glanced down in surprise. Who was writing to her? It was neatly typed.
‘It’s from London,’ the postman added helpfully.
She smiled and thanked him. She realised now where it was from. Instinct told her to read it in private in her bedroom, the one she used to share with Raine. Oh, how she missed her sister, even though it was lovely to have the room to herself.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she opened the letter carefully with the paperknife her father had given her the Christmas before he died.
29th April, 1943
Dear Miss Linfoot,
As you are probably aware, Mr Rubenstein has highly recommended you for a place at the Royal Academy of Music to study full-time.
We are pleased to invite you to attend for an audition at 11 a.m. on Tuesday, 11th May.
The piano is, we understand, your second instrument, so we would ask you to play three violin pieces of your choice, providing they are different composers, or two violin pieces and one piece of piano music.
If you wish to proceed, please confirm the date, and indicate the pieces of music you wish to play.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Yours sincerely,
Richard Glover (Principal)
Suzanne read the letter once more before folding and tucking it back in the envelope. She sat for a minute completely still.
If we weren’t at war I’d be so excited.
But the niggling feeling that she should be involved in the war effort was growing stronger by the day. Not just ‘should be’ but she wanted to be involved. Wendy had taken the step. The idea of joining ENSA as a violinist in a swing or a jazz band was becoming more and more alluring. She chewed her bottom lip, considering whether she should keep the letter from her mother. She could never make Maman understand. Normally, she would have turned to Raine, but her older sister wasn’t here to ask for advice and Ronnie was too young to give it.
‘Come in, my dear, won’t you?’ Mrs Mortimer said, her face wreathed in smiles as she held the door wide for Suzanne. ‘How lovely to see you again.’
Suzanne followed the matronly figure to the same sitting room as the other night. This time the fire was a little brighter but there was still a chill in the room, although Mrs Mortimer’s warm welcome more than made up for it.
‘The tray’s all laid up so I’ll get the kettle on. Just make yourself at home.’
‘Thank you.’
Suzanne took the same chair as a few nights ago. She glanced to the chair on her left, which James had occupied. She remembered his strong profile, the way his mouth turned up at the corners … She was glad she’d decided to take up Mrs Mortimer’s invitation to come for tea at any time and had telephoned her this morning. It made a nice change, sitting in a comfortable home and being waited on. She refused to admit to herself that by not leaving it any longer there was a chance she might see James as well.
Then she realised Mrs Mortimer was speaking to her from the doorway.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’ Suzanne turned to her hostess, her cheeks growing warm.
‘One sugar or two?’
‘Just the tip end,’ Suzanne said. ‘I’ve cut down from two since it was rationed, but it’s that last little bit that’s somehow the worst.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Mrs Mortimer smiled as she disappeared.
Suzanne got up and wandered around the room. Her eye caught sight of several photographs displayed on top of a walnut chiffonier. She couldn’t help herself. She picked up the one in the centre, which had obviously been given pride of place. It was James in his naval uniform. No doubt Maman was right – he was an officer by the look of the two gold-braid stripes on his sleeve, the top one in a loop, though she wasn’t sure of the naval ranks. A strong face. One who was used to giving orders. But there was no hint of steel in the warm twinkling eyes that smiled back at her from beneath his cap, and there was a lift to the corners of his mouth as though he might break into laughter at any time … She thought she heard noises and hurriedly returned the frame to its position.
There was no further sound so she walked over to the bookshelves, glancing at the titles and authors. Someone obviously loved the classics, especially Shakespeare. It looked as though every play was represented. Charles Dickens also had a prominent place although Great Expectations was the only one she’d read at school. She eased one of Dickens’ other novels off the tightly packed shelf. Standing with the book in her hands she was soon absorbed.
‘Ah, you’ve succumbed to the attractions of our little library.’ Mrs Mortimer came into the room holding a tea tray. ‘Which one’s caught your fancy?’
‘The Pickwick Papers,’ Suzanne said, about to put it back on the shelf. ‘I’ve never read it.’
‘You’re very welcome to borrow it. James won it as a prize at school for being top in English.’ Suzanne loved the note of pride in Mrs Mortimer’s voice. ‘It’s one of Dickens’ most comical novels. I think you’ll enjoy it.’
‘If you’re sure your son won’t mind,’ Suzanne said.
‘He won’t mind a bit,’ Mrs Mortimer said. ‘He’ll be sorry to have missed you. He’s gone to see one of his friends before he goes off again – James, that is.’ Suzanne noticed a shadow pass over Mrs Mortimer’s face until she smiled warmly. ‘Now come and sit down while the tea’s hot. I have a feeling you want to chat something over with me.’
‘How did you guess?’ Suzanne said as she took the cup and saucer from Mrs Mortimer.
‘Put it down to experience,’ Mrs Mortimer chuckled. ‘Now, what’s on your mind?’
It was difficult to know where to start. But once Suzanne plunged in, the words poured out. She told Mrs Mortimer about Raine in the Air Transport Auxiliary delivering aeroplanes all over the country to the boys in combat, although she didn’t go into any details of places or times. Raine had drummed the security risk into her and Ronnie too often.
‘It’s always been my dream to attend a music school in London,’ Suzanne finished, ‘and now I have an opportunity – if I pass the audition, that is – but I’m not sure it’s what I want, after all.’
‘Do you know what might have changed your mind?’
‘Yes,’ Suzanne said without hesitation. ‘It’s the war. I want to do something where I can make a difference. But Maman has paid for my music lessons all this time when she couldn’t really afford it. This is what she’s always wanted for me – war or no war.’
‘The war has changed our outlook as to what’s important,’ Mrs Mortimer said. ‘You’re obviously very talented so your music has taken priority up to now, but maybe that could go on hold for a while – at least until the war’s over.’ She caught Suzanne’s eye. ‘Do you have any idea – some plan – of what you might do instead?’
This was the part Suzanne was most worried about. She just hoped Mrs Mortimer wouldn’t look askance at such an admission. She took a deep breath.
‘I’m seriously thinking of joining an entertainments group,’ she said. To her surprise Mrs Mortimer didn’t look at all shocked.
‘Ah, that’s probably ENSA,’ Mrs Mortimer said immediately. Her eyes were warm with encouragement. ‘But I didn’t realise they sent classical musicians to entertain the troops.’
‘I’d be playing in a jazz band – swing band – that sort of thing,’ Suzanne said feebly. It sounded crazy now she’d actually put it into words. ‘My friend in the village orchestra has already been accepted and has asked me to go with her. She says the boys really cheer up when they hear the music, or any of the variety acts they put on.’
‘And you’re worried what your mother will say – is that it?’
‘Yes,’ Suzanne admitted. ‘I told Maman I would attend the school if I get through the audition, and she was so happy that for the moment I was happy, too. But if I tell her I’ve changed my mind and want to play in a band and travel round the country, she’ll … well, I don’t know what she’ll do.’
‘Suzanne, listen to me.’ Mrs Mortimer put her cup down on the saucer. ‘This is your life, not your mother’s. It’s your mother’s dream for you to go to the music school, but it’s not yours at the moment.’ She emphasised the last three words. ‘You can pick it up later. And if you and the band can bring some reprieve to our fighting lads who are going through hell – make them forget for a while and enjoy it at the same time, as I think you would – then I believe it’s a very worthwhile choice to make.’
‘Do you really?’ Suzanne said, feeling her face glow at the thought.
‘Yes, I do, my dear. I think you’ve already made up your mind to do something more personal to help the war effort and if I’m right, the sooner you tell that charming French mother of yours that you’ve changed your mind about the music school, the better.’ She looked serious for a moment. ‘Just one thing – if you do take this path, make sure you tell her it’s only for the time being so she knows you’re not ignoring her wishes for you to have a musical career – which I think is completely understandable when you’re obviously very talented.’ She paused. ‘I’d want the same for my daughter – if I had one,’ she added wistfully.
‘Thank you, Mrs Mortimer,’ Suzanne said, finishing the last drops of her tea. ‘I’ll certainly consider everything you’ve said.’
The next half an hour passed in pleasant conversation until Suzanne rose.
‘It’s been lovely, Mrs Mortimer,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for listening. It’s helped me to think more clearly.’
‘I’m glad.’ Mrs Mortimer saw Suzanne to the door and kissed her cheek. ‘Come any time you feel like it.’
Chapter Five
Easier said than done, Suzanne thought, as she walked home, the copy of The Pickwick Papers that Mrs Mortimer had put in a brown paper bag safely tucked under her arm. All the while Mrs Mortimer had been speaking so persuasively Suzanne had felt confident she wasn’t throwing away an opportunity that might never come again. But as soon as they’d said goodbye Suzanne’s optimism evaporated. Maman would be terribly upset if she said she wouldn’t be going for any audition after all because she was going to join a light entertainment group to play for an audience of soldiers.
There was no sign of life in the house even though the back door had been left unlocked. She stepped into the kitchen where there was a note on the table in Maman’s flamboyant writing.
Chérie, I have gone to visit Mrs Bond. Please peel the potatoes for supper. Véronique has taken that dog for a walk.
Maman
Suzanne grimaced. Maman refused to use Rusty’s name or even acknowledge him properly, but at least she’d allowed him to stay so long as he remained out of her sight. It was a great pity as he was such a loving animal.
Suzanne hummed to herself as she peeled the potatoes. There was a tune running in her head that she’d heard The Andrews Sisters sing on the wireless last night. Their happy voices and the beat were so infectious that she couldn’t let go the tune. Knowing there was no one around she burst into song, her shoulders keeping time as she dropped the chunks of potato into a saucepan of cold water.
‘Pardon me, boys, is that the Chattanooga choo choo?
Right on track twenty-nine …’
She grinned. No, that last line wasn’t quite right. But it went something like that. She laid out the cutlery on a tray, the salt and pepper, and a butter dish of part butter but mostly margarine she’d mixed together, not that the result would fool anyone. She took the tray to the dining room and set it on the table, all the while singing. Grabbing hold of a bottle of salad cream she held it up to her mouth like a microphone, her body swaying to the rhythm.
‘… dinner in the diner, nothing could be finer
Dum de dum de dum Carolina …’
‘Suzy!’
Abruptly, Suzanne stopped, the salad cream bottle still held in microphone position, as Ronnie’s head appeared round the door, her eyes wide.
‘What’s going on?’ Ronnie demanded.
‘I got carried away,’ Suzanne said, a little pink. ‘I can’t get that song out of my head.’ She laughed. ‘Did I frighten you?’
Ronnie came in. ‘No, not in the least. Actually, you sounded really professional – just like those singers on the wireless.’
‘Thank you, little sister, for such a compliment,’ Suzanne said, as she smoothed a tablecloth on the dining table and set out the knives and forks.
‘Has Maman heard you?’ Ronnie asked curiously.
‘What has Maman heard – or not heard?’
Two pairs of eyes flew to the doorway where Maman stood, immaculate as always, even though she’d only popped over to see one of the neighbours. Instantly, Suzanne’s flushed cheeks deepened a further shade.
‘You look as though you’re ashamed of something, Suzanne,’ Maman said, stepping into the room. ‘Or hiding something. Which is it to be?’
‘Ronnie’s just being an annoying baby sister,’ Suzanne said in a tight voice. This was not the right moment to tell her mother about not going to London after all.
‘She could easily go on the stage like Sally Rivers,’ Ronnie persisted. ‘Only Suzy has a better voice.’
‘What are you talking about, Véronique?’ Maman said, sitting on one of the upright chairs and not taking her eyes off her youngest daughter.
‘Suzy. I caught her singing away, pretending she had a microphone, only it was a bottle of Heinz Salad Cream,’ Ronnie said, giggling and nodding towards the bottle, now standing innocently in the middle of the dining table.
‘What is this nonsense, Suzanne?’ Maman demanded.
‘She’s just trying to irritate me,’ Suzanne said, determined not to be drawn in. Why did Maman never leave anything alone, once she’d got her teeth in it? She tried to change the subject. ‘Ronnie, why don’t you give Rusty his dinner?’
Ronnie looked as though she wanted to stay and hear what they were going to discuss, but Suzanne threw her such a warning look, her sister scurried off, giving her a backward grin as she pulled the door shut behind her.
‘Have you done your practice today, Suzanne?’ Maman said.
‘Er – no, not exactly.’
‘What do you mean? It is either exact or it is not. What have you then been doing this morning besides the ironing I left you?’
Suzanne gave a start. In her hurry to talk to Mrs Mortimer she’d forgotten completely about the ironing.
‘Or have you not found the time to do it?’
‘I’m sorry, Maman. I’ll do it this afternoon.’
‘That is when you must practise your pieces for the music school,’ Maman said, her lips tightening. Then her face relaxed into a smile. ‘Ah, oui. Je comprends. You wish to discuss the pieces you have chosen for the audition. And you are still not sure if you have made the right choices. But do not worry, chérie. We will make the final decisions together.’
Suzanne briefly closed her eyes in resignation. Once again Maman had got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Or was it on purpose? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to wait until after supper so they could all eat in peace without a row hanging over them. She immediately reprimanded herself for being such a coward. But the moment had gone.
‘Let’s have supper first,’ she said mildly. ‘I’ve done the potatoes but what are we having with them?’
‘You can heat a tin of peas,’ Maman said. ‘The butcher kept me some sausages I will fry.’ She pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Although they are not the same as the delicious French saucisson …’ She touched her fingers to her lips and blew out a kiss.
At that moment Rusty leapt into the room with Ronnie flying after him.
‘Get that dog out of here.’ Maman lifted her heels a few inches off the floor.
‘Rusty, be a good boy. Come here.’
Rusty halted and turned his head towards his new mistress. He stood still and let Ronnie put his lead back on.
‘There,’ Ronnie said triumphantly. ‘See how obedient he is.’
‘Hmm,’ their mother said, obviously not daring to put her feet back on the floor, in spite of Rusty wagging his tail and looking up at her with a beseeching expression.
‘Let him stay a few minutes, Maman,’ Ronnie said. ‘You’ll never get used to him if you never allow him in.’
‘I do not want to get used to him,’ Simone said firmly, but at least she lowered her feet to the floor. She caught Suzanne’s eye. ‘And after supper, Suzanne, we will have the happy discussion for your beautiful classical pieces. If you want my opinion—’
‘Maman, later.’
‘D’accord, chérie. We eat first. And after we talk you will go upstairs to practise for the audition. That is very important. You must give a perfect rendition.’
Maman had fried the sausages in too much lard. After only one mouthful Suzanne thought she would choke on it. Feeling like a naughty schoolgirl she surreptitiously took her handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapped it up. Rusty would love it for a treat later.
‘The sausage was even worse than I suspected,’ Maman said after she’d chased a few peas around her plate and tried a little mashed potato.
‘It was nice,’ Ronnie said smiling at her mother and putting her knife and fork together on her empty plate.
Dear Ronnie. She’d eat anything that was put in front of her.
‘If we were in France,’ Maman began, ‘we would finish our meal with a beautiful coffee.’
Suzanne managed to stop her eyes from rolling up to the ceiling. Have you noticed, Maman, she wanted to scream, we’re not in France? And thank goodness. You’ve said it yourself many times that since the occupation, France is no longer France. France is now Germany. French people are desperately trying to escape from their own country.
‘Véronique, please clear the table. You may start to wash up. As soon as your sister goes to her practice I will come and help you – so long as the dog is not there.’ She looked at Suzanne. ‘Come, chérie, we will go in the front room and be peaceful.’
Suzanne followed her mother into the front room. If only Dad was here. He would have stuck up for her, she was sure. But it was no good dwelling on it. She’d have to face Maman and get it over with.
‘Sit with me, chérie.’ Simone patted the space next to her on the sofa. ‘Now tell me the pieces and I will give my opinion.’
Suzanne drew in a deep breath.
‘Maman, I’m not absolutely sure—’
‘No, of course you’re not,’ Simone interrupted. ‘It is too important to make any hasty decisions. The pieces must be complicated so they know you are capable, but not so much that you do not perform them correctly.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Suzanne tried again. ‘I’m having serious doubts about going there in the first place.’
There. She’d said it. She sneaked a look at her mother’s face. Maman’s expression was frozen. There was not a flicker of life. Until Suzanne saw the glint of anger burning in her mother’s eyes.
‘What are you saying, child? Of course you are going. We are talking about the audition pieces, are we not?’
‘No, Maman. I want to have a serious talk about now … with the war on.’
Simone frowned. ‘You cannot change the war.’
‘I know I can’t. But I’ve been talking to Wendy … you remember … she’s another violinist in our orchestra. She said she’s going to join an entertainments group, and I’d like to find out more about it. Which means that I don’t want to do any audition at the moment as it could be wasting their time.’ She paused, remembering Mrs Mortimer’s warning. ‘It’s only for the time being. I’ll apply to the music school when the war’s over and I’ve done my bit.’
