The Forgotten Village. Lorna Cook
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avoided his question. How was she? She was a shipwreck of a person. And she was sure he could see that.
‘I’m just going to check on Anna. I left her with rather a lot to do. Lunch won’t be long.’ Veronica left the room with Freddie looking at her retreating figure.
*
‘What’s happening?’ Anna asked as Veronica entered the room. She shoved the last of the clothes away and pushed the empty trunks into the corner.
‘He’s going tomorrow, he says.’
‘Good. We can try again after he leaves.’
Veronica sat on the bed and put her head in her hands. ‘It’s no good, Anna. That was it. That was my only chance. Bertie’s not planning on going anywhere else. He’s only out today because he’s at his solicitors attempting to fight the requisition order on the house. I’ll have to wait until we get to London. Perhaps I can slip out one day when Bertie’s busy. It’ll be easier in London. There I can disappear into a crowd instantly.’
Anna was silent for a moment and then said, ‘He’s not here now, is he? Just go. Now. We can walk down to the village. We’ll see if William’s still able to drive us to the station. You’ve got your money? And you can just take the jewellery box in your handbag. You can sell the jewels. What will they fetch?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Veronica felt hope rise within her. ‘Enough to find somewhere to rent, I think, while I look for some kind of job. Although heaven knows what I’ll do. I must do something. But I’m sure I can work all that through later.’ Veronica stood. ‘Yes,’ she smiled, clutching Anna’s hand. ‘Let’s go. Let’s find William.’
Anna grabbed the jewellery box while Veronica cast her eyes over her bedroom one final time. But as Veronica turned, she stopped dead and gasped. Freddie was standing by the open door.
Veronica tried to force her face into a normal expression, but Freddie’s look was one of uncertainty. Veronica panicked: how much had he heard?
‘I just came to put my cases in my room,’ he said, looking from Veronica to Anna and then back again.
‘Right, yes.’ Veronica snapped to attention. ‘Of course. I’m sorry I haven’t checked to see …’
Anna spoke up. ‘The Blue Room is still made up, sir. The others have been emptied.’
Veronica threw her maid a helpless look as Freddie bent to pick up his suitcases.
Inside the Blue Room, Freddie dumped his cases just inside the door while Veronica threw open the thick blue curtains and removed the blackout frame from the windows. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had slept in this room. It had been so long since they’d had guests. So long since Bertie had allowed Veronica to have any of her remaining friends to stay. And now all their friends were in far-flung locations, playing their individual parts in beating Hitler; something she longed to do but which Bertie would never allow if it meant her being out of the house for long periods of time. She wasn’t sure her old friends from London would have come if she had invited them. Not just because they would be doing vital war work somewhere or other, but because they’d never really liked Bertie, had never really accepted her marrying him. As such, she hadn’t kept in touch with them. Bertie had discouraged it, feeling the same disdain towards her friends as they felt towards him. Inviting them to a party at Tyneham House wasn’t worth the argument with Bertie. And he no longer invited any of his friends, preferring privacy and quiet. They had been shut up alone in Dorset for so long, Veronica thought she was going to go mad.
Winter sunshine penetrated the room. Veronica stood by the window, reluctant to turn and look at Freddie. When she eventually did, she attempted a smile and hoped it masked the fact that she felt like the stuffing had been knocked out of her.
Freddie looked at her and a worried expression appeared on his face.
‘Veronica, I hope you don’t mind my saying. You look very thin. You look like you’ve had no sleep. Are you unwell? Are you ill? I mean, really ill?’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘It’s the stress of the requisition. It wouldn’t be so bad, but Bertie’s still trying to fight it. It’s hopeless, of course. Even he’s conceded we should pack up, but he’s fighting it nonetheless.’
Freddie sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, crumpling its dark blue eiderdown. Dust motes fluttered into the air. ‘I don’t believe you. Or rather, I don’t believe the requisition order is what’s done this to you. Tell me what’s really wrong,’ he said. ‘There was a time when you could tell me anything,’ he finished quietly.
‘I know.’ Veronica raised her eyes to meet his and then quickly blinked back tears.
Freddie stood and rushed towards her, stopping himself only a few feet away. But as a tear rolled out of her eye and down her cheek she found herself being pulled into his arms.
He just held her, resting his head on top of hers, while she cried into his chest, dampening his shirt with her tears. Her head still fitted neatly underneath his chin and for a few precious moments it was as if nothing had ever changed – as if the years hadn’t simply rushed past them both, grabbing hold of them and pulling them in different directions. Although embarrassed, she tried to stop her tears from falling, but it was no use. Her body shook. Freddie held her, making no further demand for her to divulge what it was that was making her cry, and for that she was grateful. She couldn’t tell him. Not now. If she was able to get away from Bertie, she couldn’t envisage having to ever tell anyone.
She lifted her head gently from the warmth of his chest and wiped her face. Freddie looked down at her and as their eyes met Veronica felt her heart pound. He was just the same as he’d ever been. It all felt too familiar, despite the fact it had been so long. The silence between them was tinged with emotion and the expression on Freddie’s face moved from concern to one of fresh pain. Veronica felt it too.
Downstairs, Cook rang the lunch gong and Veronica heard Anna pad past the Blue Room on her way downstairs to serve. Veronica sprang back from Freddie. She looked at his shirt, damp around his collarbone from her tears. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know quite what came over me.’
He looked at her intently, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
‘Lunch,’ she said in far too bright a voice and left the room.
While Anna hastily laid the table and then served, Veronica turned to Freddie and attempted to make polite conversation to counteract what had happened in his room. ‘We’re at sixes and sevens since we had the order to leave. It’s all been rather a rush, packing up and sending things on to the London house. We’re lucky, of course, at least we have another house to go to.’ Veronica knew she was prattling.
‘Where is the rest of the village going?’ Freddie asked.
‘Those that aren’t going to family are being rehoused around Purbeck,’ Veronica explained. ‘Until hostilities end. Until they can return.’
‘They’ll hate that. Most of those families have lived here for generations.’
‘Your family has lived here for generations,’ Veronica countered.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He looked around but appeared unbothered by the prospect of his family home being requisitioned. ‘This house doesn’t feel like part of me anymore though.’ He shrugged. ‘Hasn’t in years.’ He looked at Veronica pointedly, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he asked, ‘Any wine?’
Anna disappeared, reappearing minutes later with a bottle of red. She fumbled with the corkscrew and Freddie leaned forward and delicately took it from her hands with a smile. ‘It’s all right, I’ll do it,’ he said. Anna shot him a grateful look and left the room.
‘She’s