Chapter Nine

September 1939

War came, and it didn’t seem real at first. It was announced in the September, when Stella was still thinking about her birthday party, still having little, secret smiles about the time she had spent with Rob in the concealed room. They’d even mentioned the “M” word: marriage. It made her toes curl pleasurably just thinking about it – but they’d been sensible. They’d agreed they were far too young and had far too much living to do before they settled down and became respectable.

‘And anyway,’ Rob had tangled his fingers in her hair and drawn her closer, his breath warm on her skin, ‘being married is quite an outdated concept.’

‘We don’t need to be married right now, do we?’ she had agreed. ‘We can just do this and have fun.’

He’d laughed and kissed her again. ‘I will marry you. But I want to make sure I can support you properly first. And that, my dear, means having oodles of money, actually making money, and not relying on a trust fund that could dry up if we played too hard.’

‘You have to leave some of the trust fund for Jack.’ Stella was indignant.

‘Of course I don’t. Now don’t look at me like that. Jack has his own which he can access when he’s twenty-one.’

‘Oh, ha ha! Poor bugger – that’s a long time to wait.’

‘Isn’t it – I’m glad I’m finally past that age now.’

And they had both laughed and made love again, slowly and carefully, so she could enjoy every sensation. It had been a wonderful birthday.

Summer was, absolutely, the best time to have a birthday. Why, if her birthday was in the winter like, for instance, Leo’s was, then it would be atrocious. She often thought if she had been that unfortunate, she would have to have a half-way birthday party in the summer; but then again, did she really need an excuse to have a party?

In fact, she was writing one of her interminable lists, dealing with the idea of a party, when the announcement was made over the radio, and it took Leo to tell her what had happened.

‘So what does that mean for us?’ Stella asked.

‘Hell on earth,’ he replied, quite seriously. Leo was old enough to remember the Great War, and that had been bad enough apparently.

‘They all say it’ll be over by Christmas though.’

‘I doubt that.’ Leo was still deadly serious.

‘Do you think you’ll fight?’

‘No. I can’t.’

‘Of course.’ She nodded. ‘I’m pleased about that.’

‘Ezzy, if it gets bad, they’ll enlist your friends. Do you understand?’

‘I do.’ Stella carefully drew a line under Rob’s name. She was wondering if she could get him a room quite close to hers for their next party. She was planning one for the end of the month, to celebrate Rob’s latest success in the theatre. It was just a small play, in some out of the way theatre near Stratford upon Avon, but as Stella told him, it was almost like being Shakespeare.

And anyway, it would be nice to have a little get together. She knew for a fact that Stephen had a new car, a very lovely Buick Roadmaster convertible, and he was dying to show it off to everyone.

‘Ezzy. Things might change drastically.’

‘They might.’ She looked up at him, defiantly. ‘But I doubt it’ll change by the end of the month, so I need to plan my party. If you don’t mind.’

‘God, you’re impossible!’ Leo turned on his heel and stomped off.

Stella turned back to her list. She laid her pen down. She had hidden it well, but she had been shaking when Leo mentioned her friends enlisting.

Rob. Oh, God. Not Rob. Please, not Rob.

The war had, of course, been all they talked about when they arrived. After the perfunctory compliments on the convertible Buick, and after they’d all had a turn racing it through the grounds, or standing up, hanging onto the windshield shrieking whilst someone else raced it through the grounds, they congregated at the Spa and talked about the war. Rob’s play should have been the main focus, and Stella felt a little bad for him. Rotten, bloody war, spoiling Rob’s success.

‘I should imagine we’d all get Officer commissions,’ said Anthony. ‘That’s the way it goes, isn’t it?’ Unlike Stephen and Oscar, Anthony looked very worried. ‘I never thought we’d have to face this in our generation. I thought we were lucky not to have to do National Service, but we would at least have been a little prepared if we’d suffered that indignity.’

National Service had been introduced for single men between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, back in the spring, and they’d all slapped each other on the back and said that thank God they were too old for that carry on.

‘My father always said the Great War had been a sort of cull.’ Oscar frowned. ‘Not the best way to go about eradicating the surplus population. But I guess we have to show willing and all that malarkey. We get to see some of the world this way, I suppose – and we get paid for it too.’

‘It’ll be a grand adventure.’ Stephen raised a glass. ‘Something to tell our grandchildren about.’

‘If we last long enough to have grandchildren. Seems like we’ll be the poor buggers being culled this time,’ said Rob, wryly. He looked at Stella and grinned. ‘Don’t worry. We won’t go unless we have to.’

‘I don’t want you to go at all. Any of you!’ Stella looked around at her group of friends and wondered whether they’d ever do this again. The way the boys were talking, at least three of them would be scurrying off to enlist themselves, just as soon as they could.

Rob leaned into her and his breath was warm, champagne-scented as he whispered in her ear. ‘I’m not going anywhere just yet, don’t you worry. D’you think I’d leave you here all alone, at the mercy of so many other men? And if I go, I go in an aircraft. Much better.’

Stella shook her head. ‘No. You’re not going. Ever. You’re staying with me. I insist.’

Rob leaned closer and nuzzled into her neck. ‘I am putty in your hands. I am yours to command. Just tell me where and when you want me, and I’ll be there.’

‘Our secret room? At twilight?’ Her voice trembled, despite the fact she tried to make a joke of it. But she could barely wait.

‘I’ll be there.’

He was there. He made sure he was waiting there, long before the appointed hour. He shifted from foot to foot, watching through the gloaming for her coming.

‘Rob!’ Her voice floated through the night as she hurried towards him. ‘You’re early.’

‘I couldn’t wait.’

He held his arms wide and she hurtled into them. ‘God, I know what you mean. I was desperate to see you alone. I love our friends, but, you know.’ She looked up at him and her smile was mischievous and teasing. ‘And I’m bored of war talk.’

‘Indeed. And it’s difficult to do this in public, isn’t it?’ He pulled her close and kissed her.

‘No, I disagree. We can do that in public quite easily. It’s the rest of it we can’t do. Or maybe we could, if we were absolutely very daring. Come on. It’s too cold for the river tonight, but the room will be quite warm enough.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ And he allowed her to lead him behind the changing rooms and into the secret room.

‘Are you all right, Rob?’ Stella asked, as they settled down in front of the fire. ‘Your eyes seem more – intense – than usual.’

She frowned, delightfully, and he smiled. ‘Intense. I like it. Yes. Perhaps they are a little more intense than usual. I’ve been thinking a lot.’

‘Hmm. I can tell. Look, you’ve got a furrow – right here.’ She reached up and pressed her finger to a spot between his eyebrows. ‘The war will be over by Christmas. They’re all saying it. Don’t worry about that.’

‘I doubt it will be over by Christmas, my love. I think it might go on a little while longer.’ He reached out and traced his finger down her cheek. ‘Which is why I should perhaps ask you something.’

‘Oh? And what might that be?’

‘I should perhaps ask you to marry me. I know – it might not be the best of circumstances, and I know your father will rail against it like nothing else, but I have to try.’

‘Rob! Why should you “perhaps” feel like that?’ She seemed genuinely surprised and pulled away. ‘We do very well as we are, don’t we? I know we’ve talked about it, but we always said we would wait until we were really, truly ready to settle down, and you had a job you loved that could easily support a family.’ They had talked about it practically every time they met, but they always decided to wait just that little longer. Marriage meant responsibilities and growing up, and Stella didn’t feel as if she was quite there yet. And Rob was determined that he should have a job. The trust fund was enough for him now, as a single young man; but it wouldn’t keep Stella and possibly a young, boisterous family in very much luxury – and that, he told her honestly, was what he wanted for her. Nothing but the best.

And in truth, Stella had broached it, very gently, with the Earl and he had almost burst a blood vessel. He wouldn’t even contemplate it. His only daughter, he ranted, was destined for a title, not to be the wife of a jumped-up Merchant Adventurer’s son, trust fund or no trust fund.

‘You’re right.’ Rob threw himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘I don’t suppose there’ll be much call for playwrights or poets in the next few months. It was just a thought. Another war will just cause so much disruption in the world that I want to make sure you’re safe. Create a little haven for you. If I married you, it would prove how much I love you, and how these last few years have meant everything to me. It was never a wild interlude, never playing around before I suddenly grew up and had to become responsible. I want to prove it to you, that’s all.’

He knew that he didn’t want to take her away from Hartsford, and all the privileges she had enjoyed throughout her life, simply on a whim.

‘I know that I’m not a “wild interlude” as you put it. I know full well that you and I are meant to be together, and we will be. But there’s no hurry for it, is there? And anyway, I think you might be wrong about not making it as a poet or playwright,’ said Stella, surprising him. ‘Lots of theatres put on all sorts of rousing shows during the Great War. You might get a chance to – rouse – too.’

‘To what?’ He turned on his side and faced her, his eyebrows rising.

‘To – rouse.’ She coloured. ‘Have I just made that word up?’

‘Not at all. It just sounds peculiar in that context. I’m sure I could do something similar though, right now, if you give me a few moments.’

She giggled. ‘Rouse away. Please.’

‘If only my audiences were all so pliable,’ he groaned.

‘I’m not the audience. I’m a very willing participant.’ She produced a silk scarf from somewhere, blue and white, and trailed it down Rob’s body. It made him catch his breath and shudder at the sensations.

And she proceeded to prove to him she was very willing indeed, over and over again.