Walter frowned as he listened to the news. That Hitler fellow was being obstreperous again, he thought, and he doubted that they were anywhere near prepared to deal with him. Certainly that fellow Chamberlain was no match for him. Walter was one of those people who failed to feel any jubilation when the prime minister made his famous ‘Peace in our time’ speech. He was glad James was planning to return to New Zealand. Hopefully they would have the sense to keep out of Europe’s squabbles. At the same time, he felt that they were going to need all the help they could get to stand up against the might of Nazi Germany. Overcome by memories of the 1914–1918 war, the one they believed at the time was to be the war to end all wars, he pushed himself up from his chair and snapped the radio off before refilling his glass.
James agreed about the probability of another war. ‘I have cancelled my passage to New Zealand,’ he told them over dinner. ‘I’ve joined the reservists and taken a post at one of the London hospitals until….’
The way he allowed his sentence to peter out was more telling to Ella than if he had spelled out the words ‘war breaks out’. She knew that he would be in uniform and gone as soon as that happened.
‘There didn’t seem much point in going back just to be sent back here in a New Zealand uniform,’ he pointed out. ‘I am afraid poor old England is going to need all the manpower it can get – and of course, all the doctors.’
Walter thought it malevolent, or perhaps just fate, that wars should break out a generation apart. The last one, ‘the war to end all wars’, had robbed James of his father, and he could only pray that the next one would not rob him of his life. He stared at him, inarticulate with this appalling thought and could only murmur ‘yes’ into his soup.
‘I suppose if New Zealand comes in, so will Australia,’ Ella remarked thoughtfully.
‘The whole world will be in it – civilians as well as the fighting forces,’ Walter told her, his face sombre, ‘but Violet and her children should be safe enough in Australia,’ he added hastily. ‘Maybe you should go back and see them, before things get worse. Take advantage of this lull before the storm.’
‘You really believe war is inevitable?’ Ella asked, looking from one man to the other. They both nodded and with a deep sigh, she agreed, ‘I am so afraid you will both be proved right – whatever Mr Chamberlain says.’
‘You know, that is a good suggestion; go before it all blows up. And you can’t?’
Ella turned on James. ‘That’s rich coming from you! Haven’t you just cancelled your travel plans to go to that side of the world?’ Her angry glance flicked from one man to the other. ‘And no, it is not a good suggestion at all; it is simply terrible. No way could I scarper off to safety and leave you, Walter. Besides, England is my birthplace and my home.’
‘I am suggesting a visit, that is all,’ Walter demurred, ‘but maybe it is not such a bad idea – scarpering, as you call it. You could take Daisy and the children with you; you would all be safer there.’
‘You would come with us, of course?’ Her voice was dry. ‘No, of course not,’ she added as Walter shook his head. ‘And even if I did consider it, you don’t imagine Richard would let me cart his children off, just like that, do you? And how could I leave you?’ As she delivered this tirade, Ella began to collect plates somewhat noisily. ‘You must be mad,’ she muttered as she carried them out to the kitchen.
Later that night when they were alone in their room, Walter raised the subject again. ‘You would be safer …’ he began.
Ella cut him short. ‘You should know me well enough, Walter, to know that I have never played for safety in my life. Much as I would like to see Violet and her children, I am not going. Whatever is coming, we will face it together. You have given me security and … and I love you for it, so please, no more talk of Australia.’
Walter smiled to himself; Ella didn’t seem to realize that her talk of security was somewhat at odds with her previous remark about safety. But he did not bring her attention to it. Instead, he cherished her remark about loving him. She had never told him that before so even if it was in a roundabout way, it was important.
‘I don’t want to be with anyone else – or anywhere else,’ Ella assured him, dropping a light kiss on the top of his balding head with its Friar Tuck circle of grey hair. She was surprised to find that she meant it and wondered why it had taken her so long to realize how deep her affection for him had become.
With a wave of guilt, she remembered that her main reason for marrying Walter was because it gave her a legitimate excuse to stay in England, close to Daisy who had always been the one who needed her most, if not her ‘favourite’ daughter. Ella baulked at using expressions like that, even to herself. Even so, if she were strictly truthful, she would rather live in England than Australia. Ella had done her best to be a good wife in every way to Walter; she felt she owed it to him as some sort of recompense for the way she had treated him all those years ago. Her feelings for him had deepened over the years; they were, as he had said about his first wife, ‘comfortable together’. It was both generous and unselfish of him to suggest this visit to Australia. She felt a fresh wave of guilt. She felt she didn’t deserve the kindness and consideration he had shown her over the years, but had accepted his offer of marriage primarily for her own convenience. His suggestion that she should leave him, even temporarily, shocked her into acknowledging that it was not gratitude, guilt or even affection she felt; she loved him.
‘Why should I want to go back to Australia and leave you?’ she asked rhetorically without waiting for an answer. ‘Don’t you know I love you?’
Walter simply smiled. ‘Think about it.’
‘I don’t need to think about,’ she told him, ‘I know I love you.’
‘You are evading the issue, my dear. I think you should go back, just for a visit, while you can.’
Ella bent down and kissed the centre of his monk’s tonsure. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised.
‘Thank you, my dear.’
Ella was not sure whether he was thanking her for the kiss, agreeing to think about his suggestion or for finally, after so long, telling him she loved him.
After this more than usually emotional exchange between them, life settled down into the uneasy days between the promise of ‘peace in our time’ and what most people expected – the outbreak of war. It was about halfway through this year in limbo that Walter raised the question once more of Ella going to Australia.
‘I don’t particularly want to go,’ she protested, ‘and how would you manage without me?’
She poured him one of his favourite whiskey and sodas. With drink in hand, she turned away from the drinks cabinet and bit back the words that shot into her mind: how will I manage without him? She noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he reached for the glass, and she was filled with a sudden, nameless foreboding. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised, just as she had done before. But this time, he was not mollified.
‘Do more than think,’ he almost snapped, half to himself. ‘I want to know you are safe.’
At least, that was what Ella thought he said. Repressing the wave of irritation and foreboding, she turned away and returned to her preparation of the evening meal.
She had barely left the room when she heard the sound of a tumbler falling to the parquet floor. She knew he had dropped his whiskey and, snatching up a cloth, she returned with an irritated ‘tcch’. The glass was where she expected: on the floor. The hand that had held it hung limply and Walter’s head had dropped forward on his chest. Ella knew he was dead.