Simone’s delicate features hardened. ‘The war does not show a sign it is coming to the end. Maybe another year, maybe two, maybe longer. By that time you will have lost your chance. I will not let that happen. Your father would be very angry with me if I did. It is your future I am talking about. And your future is your beautiful music. You have a wonderful talent and I will not allow you to throw away your career because you want to do the same as your foolish friend.’
‘Wendy’s not foolish,’ Suzanne protested. ‘She’s—’
‘I will hear nothing more. You must now go and do your practice. I have the ’eadache and will go to bed for an hour. Then you may bring me some tea.’
Suzanne looked after her mother’s retreating back. Why wouldn’t Maman just listen for once to what she had to say? She blew her cheeks out. She was sure now that her mother suspected she’d already made up her mind not to attend the audition, but that if she refused to stop and hear those words from her daughter, Suzanne would eventually comply.
Chapter Six
May 1943
‘Raine! What a wonderful surprise. Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?’ Suzanne said, her face lighting up as soon as she set eyes on her older sister the following Monday morning. Raine’s timing couldn’t have been better.
‘It was all last minute,’ Raine said, hugging her back and planting a kiss on her cheek, ‘and I’d rather hear all the news in person.’
Somehow Raine always made everything seem right. Suzanne watched as her sister shrugged off her coat and hung it in the hall, then popped her forage cap on the hook above.
‘Just look at you,’ Suzanne said, admiringly. ‘You look so smart in your uniform … and the gold wings you’ve worked so hard for.’
‘Yes, although I’m much more comfortable in trousers, but we’re not allowed to wear them off duty. Thank goodness we can in the cockpit. You didn’t used to be able to. I think the men wanted to admire our legs.’ Raine gave a short laugh. ‘I must say, wearing a skirt feels quite dressy these days.’
Suzanne thought it must be wonderful to have such a sense of belonging in such a worthwhile organisation. Raine oozed confidence and positively glowed. She pulled the elastic from her dark wavy hair and let it fall to her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get home for Easter, or your concert.’ She flung the words over her shoulder. ‘But we’ve been rushing all over the place.’
‘Don’t worry. I know you would if you could.’
‘Did it go well? Did Ronnie enjoy it? I know she’s not that keen on your kind of music.’
‘She wasn’t there,’ Suzanne said, ushering her sister into the front room. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and tell you all about it.’
‘What’s that noise?’ Raine tilted her head to the ceiling. ‘It sounds like a dog. Is it next door’s?’
‘Yes, it’s a dog, and no, it’s not next door’s,’ Suzanne grinned.
Raine’s jaw dropped. ‘Don’t tell me Maman’s relented at last and let Ronnie have one.’
‘Not quite relented,’ Suzanne said. ‘Rusty’s permanently on borrowed time. He has to live in Ronnie’s bedroom when she’s home or the shed when she’s at school.’
‘Ah, I thought Maman’s change of heart was too good to be true,’ Raine said, chuckling. ‘Maybe she’ll get used to him and give him a reprieve.’ She made towards the door. ‘I’d better go and say hello to her and then I’ll go and see Ronnie and meet Rusty while you’re making the tea.’
Ten minutes later the three sisters and Rusty were in the dining room, Rusty mad with excitement that another sister seemed to want to be his friend.
‘You’ve only one more person to conquer, Rusty,’ Raine said, fondling his ears. ‘But it may be your most difficult challenge yet.’ Rusty stuck his wet nose in her hand and wagged his tail. ‘He’s very thin,’ Raine commented, giving him a gentle pat on his head.
Rusty gave a little whine of pleasure.
‘You should have seen him when I found him,’ Ronnie said. ‘He was starving. You could see his ribs through his coat.’
‘I’m really pleased you have him,’ Raine said. ‘And Maman will come round eventually.’
‘What must I come round to?’ Maman stood at the doorway, then saw Rusty and backed off. ‘Véronique, I told you that dog is not to be in the house except for your room.’
‘Raine wanted to meet him,’ Ronnie protested. ‘And he wanted a change. It’s awful how his life is nearly all in my room or the shed.’
‘They are the conditions,’ Maman said. ‘If you do not like them then you must get rid of him.’ Her eyes caught sight of Raine. ‘So Lorraine, you have come to see your mother at last.’
‘Hello, Maman,’ Raine said, getting up and kissing her mother’s cheek. ‘Sorry I couldn’t let you know, but I’m only here for one night. I have to leave first thing in the morning.’
‘Then we must make the most of it,’ Maman said. ‘And it must start with that dog—’
‘Maman, please don’t keep calling Rusty “that dog”,’ Ronnie said. ‘He hates it. You know his name.’
‘I do not know anything of the kind,’ Maman said. ‘But I know I will not rest until he is out of this room and I can enjoy my cup of tea. I do not think it is too much to ask.’
‘I’ll take him for a walk,’ Ronnie said. ‘If anyone wants to go with me, they can.’
‘I’ll stay with Maman as I’ve only just arrived,’ Raine said. ‘You go with her, Suzy.’
‘You may all go and leave me in peace,’ Maman said firmly. ‘Doris Strong left me The Lady last week and I have been too busy to read it. I will be happy on my own with a cup of tea and the magazine.’
‘Can’t you join a proper orchestra with this ENSA?’ Raine said. ‘Then at least Maman won’t be able to moan about the waste of lessons.’
The two of them were sitting in Suzanne’s bedroom chatting, just like they did before Raine left home to join the ATA.
‘It doesn’t appeal to me as much as being part of a jazz band,’ Suzanne said, surprised that it was true. ‘And on Pathé News when you see the soldiers having a dance with the girls, the music’s always jazz and swing. Besides, I’m ready for a change.’ She looked at her older sister. ‘I told Maman I’d go back to classical but she won’t have it. She says I’ll have thrown away my chance of a musical career. But this war has changed everything. Things that were so important to me aren’t so much any more. I want the challenge of learning something completely new and I think the soldiers will respond to jazz more.’ She looked at her sister and laughed. ‘Listen to me, rambling on.’
Raine smiled. ‘You know, Suzy, I think it might be absolutely right for you. You do tend to be a bit serious with all this classical stuff, beautiful though it is, and I do genuinely enjoy it. But I can see what you mean from the soldiers’ point of view.’ She paused, frowning slightly. ‘There’s only one thing I can see against it and that’s Ronnie. If you’d gone to the music school you’d have come home every day and been a support for her, but who knows where you might end up with ENSA. As far as I know, you can be sent all over the place – all over the world, in fact.’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ Suzanne said. ‘Ronnie’s one of the reasons why I stupidly told Maman I would go and do the audition.’
‘And Maman was the other,’ Raine said immediately. ‘Have you talked to Ronnie about it?’
Suzanne shook her head. ‘No, but I will before I make a definite decision.’
‘I think you’ve made up your mind,’ Raine said, ‘and Ronnie will tell you to go ahead with your plan. She’s such an independent creature. She’d be furious if she thought you were staying behind for her.’
‘I know,’ Suzanne said. ‘But I do feel guilty. She’s only sixteen. A child still. And Maman can be very difficult sometimes.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ Raine said grimly. ‘Do you want me to speak to Ronnie?’
‘No,’ Suzanne said. ‘This has to be between her and me.’
‘Don’t forget that Maman could easily use Ronnie as a weapon against you joining ENSA to make you feel guilty, when really it’s her who wants to keep you by her side. Like she did with me.’
‘I know,’ Suzanne said. ‘I’ve thought about the way she treated you. But you were completely focused. I wish I had your strength of mind.’
Raine gazed at her. ‘You’ve got more strength of mind than Ronnie and me put together,’ she said. ‘You just haven’t had the opportunity yet to prove it.’ She paused. ‘You know, Suzy, there’s something different about you and I’m not sure it’s just this change of heart about the music school. Do I detect an extra sparkle in your eye?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Suzanne gave a short laugh. ‘It’s still the same old routine here – well, except for Rusty making his appearance.’
‘No, it’s not Rusty.’ Raine gave her sister a mischievous wink. ‘I think you’ve met someone.’
Immediately Suzanne tensed. She’d made up her mind not to discuss James. It was only an accidental meeting. He’d made no suggestion of—
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ Raine demanded. ‘There’s no point in denying it, Suzy, because you’re blushing.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly call it meeting someone,’ Suzanne said, smiling now. Raine could read her like a book. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to tell her sister about the fall and James coming to the rescue. At least it was something new to say. And she could always put the attention onto his mother.
‘James and his mother sound lovely,’ Raine said when Suzanne had related her story. ‘So when do you think you’ll see him again?’
‘I probably never will,’ Suzanne said. ‘Unless I bump into him. He’s in the Navy so I imagine he’s away a lot.’
‘That shouldn’t present a huge problem,’ Raine said. ‘They do get time off. And he was on leave when you met him.’
‘I actually went to see his mother yesterday,’ Suzanne said. ‘She invited me to go round for a cup of tea any time I liked so I thought I’d take her up on it.’ She hesitated, not wanting to hurt Raine’s feelings. ‘We did chat about ENSA – she’d heard of it – and she understood my problem about the music school and Maman. She didn’t try to persuade me, or anything, but she helped me to see that if I decided to go ahead, she thought I’d be doing something worthwhile and that I could go back to my music later.’ When Raine didn’t answer, she said, ‘I would have discussed it with you if you’d been here, Raine. But as you weren’t, Mrs Mortimer was the only other person I trusted to have a sensible opinion.’
Raine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Or was it that you thought you might have another stroke of luck and run into the rather good-looking son – I believe that’s how you described him?’
‘Did I say that?’ Suzanne felt the warmth rush to her cheeks.
‘Yes, you did,’ Raine said firmly. ‘And you also implied I was sensible – not something I hear that often.’ She grinned. ‘But you were saying …?’
‘I think that’s about all. Oh, and she knows Maman. They’re in the same knitting group.’
‘Perfect,’ Raine chuckled. ‘Our dear mother will be delighted. A nice steady man in the Navy from what sounds like the sort of family she’d approve of.’
‘Raine, please stop rushing ahead. You’re sounding as bad as Maman. She’s already warned me not to fall in love with him. Do you know, she had us married and me sitting all alone waiting for his ship to come in.’
Raine laughed. ‘That’s Maman.’
‘And talking of approval – she doesn’t approve of Mrs Mortimer all that much. She says she dominates the knitting group. I had to smile. If anyone dominates the conversation, it’s Maman.’
Raine laughed. ‘Don’t try to change the subject.’
‘Raine, I’m telling you – James and I only met once and started off on the wrong foot. I think he likes me well enough, as I do him, but there’s no hint it could develop into anything remotely along the lines you’re talking about.’
‘Hmm. We’ll see what fate has to say about it,’ was all her sister said.
Chapter Seven
Suzanne lay in bed that night thinking that talking about James Mortimer to Raine had stirred up that same strange flutter. She remembered the pressure of his hand when he’d said goodnight. She shrugged. Raine had simply been teasing her when she’d insinuated that fate would decide.
She opened the book – James’s book – by her bed, thinking she would begin reading it tonight. When she’d flicked through it at Mrs Mortimer’s yesterday she hadn’t noticed the inscription on the frontispiece in bold handwriting:
James Mortimer, aged 12, Class 2A.
Prize for top in English Literature.
Randolph Sweet (Headmaster)
Suzanne smiled, picturing James at that age. He’d be a dark-haired lad, tall for his age, with laughing eyes, wearing a cap and a cheeky grin. She wondered if he’d read the book. She gently ruffled the pages and scrutinised several of them minutely, but she couldn’t tell. He either hadn’t read it or he’d been very careful to keep it in such pristine condition. She opened the cover at the very end. There, on one of the blank endpapers, written in pencil, she read: This one is my favourite by CD. I particularly like the characters. Their names fit their personalities and both things made me laugh. James Mortimer, 10th November 1931.
She smiled and turned again to Chapter One, and even though she could hear Maman and Raine’s murmurs downstairs, this time she was able to read and become absorbed until her eyelids drooped.
Raine had already left to catch an early train by the time the postman arrived. Suzanne was making herself a cup of tea but rushed to the door when she heard the letterbox rattle. She bent to pick up the letters. Two for Maman, looking like bills, and one for Raine, which she would forward on, and one for herself in beautiful italic writing. It was postmarked Bromley.
Curiously she slit open the cream envelope and pulled out a cream-coloured sheet of Basildon Bond notepaper. Her eyes scanned down to the signature: Beatrice Mortimer. How strange.
Dear Suzanne,
I did enjoy our chat and I was wondering if you would like to come to an afternoon tea this coming Saturday at 4 p.m. It’s James’s birthday (the 8th). He’s made it quite clear, though, that he doesn’t want any present from me this year while the war’s going on so please don’t bring anything. But I know he’d be delighted to see you, although this little ‘do’ is meant to be a surprise.
Don’t worry about letting me know – just come at any time if you can. James has to go back to his ship on Monday morning early.
I look forward to seeing you again.
Sincerely,
Beatrice Mortimer
P.S. I also look forward to hearing about your decision!
Suzanne skimmed the letter again, biting her lip. She wished now she’d mentioned she’d been to see Mrs Mortimer again. As it was, she’d have to confess to Maman if she decided to go – unless she went without telling her. But she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t in the habit of doing things behind her mother’s back, but the worry was that Maman would insist upon going with her so she could control what Mrs Mortimer might have to say. After all, her mother knew Mrs Mortimer from the knitting class. Oh, why did life have to be so complicated?
She’d go right now and tell Maman she was going to a birthday afternoon tea on Saturday for Mrs Mortimer’s son, James. And that she’d definitely made up her mind to join ENSA. Get it all over in one go.
‘Was that the postman, chérie?’ Simone called out from the dining room.
‘Yes, Maman,’ Suzanne answered, resolutely raising her chin. ‘I’m just coming.’ She took her cup of tea into the room where her mother sat eating a piece of toast and sliver of cheese at the table.
‘Is there something for me?’ her mother asked.
‘Yes, but nothing terribly exciting, I don’t think.’ Suzanne handed her the envelopes and sat down opposite.
Her mother looked at one, then the other, and tossed them unopened onto the table. She gazed at her daughter. ‘You are looking a little pink, Suzanne. What has happened?’
‘I’ve had a letter from Mrs Mortimer.’
Simone’s mouth fell open. ‘Beatrice Mortimer? Why is she writing to you?’
‘It’s an invitation to have afternoon tea with her – she’s doing a birthday tea for her son.’
Simone’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why would she do that? You’ve only met her once. Who else is invited?’
‘I think she’s inviting a couple of his friends as well,’ Suzanne said, ignoring Maman’s first question.
‘I see.’ Maman pressed her lips together as if she didn’t see at all. ‘You are hiding something from me,’ she said eventually. Suzanne’s heart sank. ‘I would like to see this letter, chérie. You will show it to me.’
‘I have it in my pocket.’ Suzanne pulled out the folded paper. ‘I’ll read it to you.’
‘Non, I wish to read it myself.’ She held out her hand.
Suzanne passed it over. If it confirmed to Maman that it was all above board, then that was just as well. Too late she remembered Mrs Mortimer’s postscript. She held her breath as Maman read the letter, her expression hardening. Suzanne swallowed.
‘What does this mean at the bottom?’ Her mother tapped the offending letter with her manicured nails.
‘Maman, this time you must listen to me. I want to join that entertainments group I told you about. They go round the various stations where the troops are – our soldiers fighting for King and country – who desperately need cheering up,’ she gabbled.
Simone threw her hands in the air.
‘I cannot believe you are saying these things. I am sorry, Suzanne, but I will not allow you to waste your life. And if your father was alive he would agree with me. No, you will not go. You will accept the audition date. If you do not, I will write to the person myself to say you will be attending.’
‘Maman,’ Suzanne said as gently as she could, ‘you want this for me, and I love you for it. I wanted it, too—’
‘Then what is changed?’ Maman demanded.
‘The war! It’s changed everything. Oh, Maman.’ Suzanne tried to take her mother’s hand in hers. ‘Don’t you see? I’m not a child any longer, even though you still call me one, and I want to help in the war effort.’
‘And you will be helping,’ her mother said, gripping Suzanne’s arm and fixing her eyes on her. ‘You will be playing beautiful music for people to hear. It is as important to keep up the spirit of people here at home in these terrible times. We all need food. But the soul also must be fed. And you will do that with your music.’
‘But if I was accepted I’d have to stay for several years,’ Suzanne protested.
‘Absolument.’
‘The war will be over by then. I want to do my bit now. Play to ordinary soldiers who are on the battlefields fighting for us – risking their lives every day. I want them to have some fun.’
‘Classical music is not for fun,’ Maman said huffily. ‘It is music for the soul. For here. Deep inside.’ She pressed somewhere near her heart.
‘Exactly my point. Maman, I’d be in a swing band where I can still play my violin, but to a different beat. I want to entertain people who know the kind of music they like. I want to help them forget for a few hours the hell they’re going through.’ She looked at her mother, desperate for her to understand. ‘Is that really so bad?’
‘You are wasting your talent, Suzanne, after all the music lessons I have provided—’
‘Maman.’ Suzanne had to force herself to keep calm. ‘You know how grateful I am. But you’re insinuating that the musicians in bands aren’t talented.’ When her mother opened her mouth to argue, Suzanne quickly added, ‘But of course they are. The jazz and swing bands here and in America are wonderful. They bring the people together to show Hitler we haven’t lost our spirit and will go on fighting until we win. The music gets them on the floor dancing and laughing. And I wouldn’t be accepted in any band if they didn’t think I had any talent.’
She looked anxiously at her mother who sat in silence. After a minute her mother spoke in an even tone.
‘I always thought you were very different from Lorraine. More loving. More understanding and would listen to your maman. Not headstrong, like she so often is. But I am wrong.’ She gave a long sigh. ‘It is a great pity you have inherited such an unattractive trait.’
Suzanne looked her mother directly in the eye. ‘What are you saying, Maman? You can’t inherit a trait, good or bad, from a sister … even if she is older,’ she added with a smile, trying to ease the tension.
Her mother clamped her mouth shut. She gazed at Suzanne and shook her head. ‘I am disappointed, that is all.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I will leave you to think what you are doing to me, your maman. And I will tell you one thing – I do not approve of this … what they call swing music, and this – this jitterbug from America …’ She practically spat the words out. ‘And I will not have my daughter in any part of it.’ She peered at the letter again, then at Suzanne. ‘What I do not understand is why Mrs Mortimer is involved in this change of mind.’ Her voice was ice.
‘Maman, please give me a little credit. I’ll make up my own mind. Mrs Mortimer has nothing—’
‘Stop!’ Simone raised her hand. ‘You have spoken to Beatrice Mortimer behind my back. You have asked her opinion and she has told you to go with this entertaining group. Nom de Dieu! How dare you do this to your mother. And listen to a stranger. She will hear from me.’
She swept out of the room.
Suzanne sat in stunned silence. She’d known her mother wouldn’t at first approve, but she’d hoped that after Maman had had time to let it sink in, she would see that it was important for her to do something towards the war effort. But she realised with thumping heart she’d completely misjudged her mother. And Raine would have been the first to point out the power of Maman over them all.
She blinked back the tears as she cleared her mother’s dishes, then poured the untouched cup of tea down the sink. Whatever Maman threatened, Suzanne vowed she would not allow her to take control of her life. She would not.
Chapter Eight
‘You could be conscripted any time,’ Ronnie said, when Suzanne related the scene with Maman that afternoon when they were taking Rusty for a walk. They’d got into the habit during the Easter holiday and Suzanne enjoyed chatting with her young sister who sometimes surprised her with her wisdom. ‘And they could send you anywhere. You won’t have any choice. Maman will be on her own one day, so you’ll have to be cruel to be kind. At least when it’s my turn she’ll be used to two daughters leaving home, which will pave the way for me,’ Ronnie giggled, handing the lead over to Suzanne.
‘I’m not sure she’d be very happy with that reasoning,’ Suzanne said. ‘Stop pulling, Rusty. We’ll let you off in a minute when we get to the park.’ The dog was barking joyfully at all the smells, tugging on his lead, then making them wait while he sniffed and snuffled. ‘The worst of it is that she’s threatened to see Mrs Mortimer.’
‘Mrs Mortimer sounds like a lady who can stand up for herself so I shouldn’t worry about it,’ Ronnie said. ‘No, Rusty, put that filthy rag down immediately.’
‘It’s just that she was so kind to me – and I don’t want Maman to upset her.’ She bit her lip. No need to mention to her young sister that she equally didn’t want Mrs Mortimer’s very nice son, James, to be upset either. Ronnie would learn about such grown-up matters when the time came.
‘I am afraid you will not be welcome at Beatrice Mortimer’s house on Saturday, chérie.’
Suzanne startled. ‘What do you mean, Maman?’
