The Darkest Hour. Barbara Erskine
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tomorrow I am going to come up to take care of the gallery every day to give you the chance to get this Evie stuff sorted. We think it’s weighing on you, the research, and we think you need to get it all sorted as soon as possible. So, OK? No argument. It is settled.’
And so it was. Tomorrow she would go back and take the chance to walk round the cottage alone, to get a real feel of the place and to look through Evie’s more personal belongings before Dolly came and took them away.
September 5th 1940
Rachel was out when Tony Anderson came up to the farm the next day. ‘I’ve been given a few hours off.’ He leaped out of the car, having drawn up near the kitchen door.
Evie had just been going out to feed the hens. She stopped, a bowl of scraps in her hand. The dogs were up in the fields with her father.
‘Sorry,’ he went on, seeing the flash of irritation on her face. ‘Is it not convenient?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s never convenient!’ She sighed. She hesitated. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant I am always busy. There is always something to do on the farm. Tony,’ she smiled at him. ‘I had such a good time last night. Thank you for the meal.’ He had brought her back about ten p.m., dropping her off in the yard after a quick almost apologetic kiss. For a second they had both hesitated, both thinking of the last time, when he had kissed her. But the moment passed. She opened the door and climbed out.
‘Thank you, Tony,’ she had whispered. ‘Will I see you again?’
She thought he nodded and for another second they looked at each other, silent in the darkness, then he had put his foot on the throttle and the little car had roared away down the drive.
She looked at him now, overwhelmed by the urge to reach up and touch his face. She pushed the feeling away sternly.
‘Now you’re here I’ve something to show you.’
She turned back into the house and put the bowl down on the table. ‘Follow me.’
He was hard on her heels as she ran up the two flights to the attic studio and opened the door.
‘My goodness, this is fabulous,’ he exclaimed as they walked in. The room was flooded with light from the skylight windows, and warm from the summer sun outside. It smelled of the wood of the old twisted roof frame, and of paint and turpentine. He stared round. ‘Oh wow! Look at your paintings, and there –’ He stopped in his tracks. ‘That’s me!’
‘It certainly is.’ She laughed. ‘It’s for your mum and dad. I thought they would like it. It is a present.’
‘Oh, Evie!’ He stood staring in front of the easel. ‘Oh, Evie!’
‘You just said that.’ Suddenly she was worried. ‘You do like it?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He turned to her and put out his arms. ‘Oh yes, yes, yes!’
She stepped towards him and he enveloped her in a huge bear hug.
There was a split second when she could have moved back. Could have laughed. Could have turned to run down the stairs but she didn’t. She shut her eyes as his arms closed round her and she knew that she was lost. As though magnetised she raised her face to his.
Their kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity. When at last they drew apart neither of them spoke. He took her hand and led her back to stand in front of the picture.
‘You’ve painted the man you are going to marry,’ he whispered.
Her eyes widened. He was joking. But for once he looked serious. For a moment she felt a wave of panic, then almost reluctantly she nodded.
‘I think I knew it from the first moment I set eyes on you.’
‘When you swore at me?’
‘When I swore at you.’ She smiled. She turned to look at him again, her whole body flooded with sudden anxiety. ‘You are joking?’
‘No, I don’t think I am,’ he said slowly. But the sparkle was back in his eyes.
‘Have you felt like this before?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘Never.’ He put his arms round her again and buried his face in her hair. ‘You smell nice. Sort of like paint and hay and straw, oh, and cows.’
‘Thank you!’ She pushed him away and smacked his arm.
‘No.’ He caught her arms and pulled her back. ‘It is the nicest thing I have ever smelled. Shall I ask your dad for his permission to marry his daughter?’
She giggled. ‘You can’t.’
‘Why? I’m sure he would expect it.’
‘After one kiss?’
‘Two.’
‘Tony. We don’t know each other.’
‘That’s perfect. We will explore everything there is to explore. We will go together into the mysteries. You shall be my America, my New-found-land. Do you read John Donne? You need to know all about me. And I need to know all about you.’ He paused and to her horror she saw sudden tears in his eyes. ‘There is so little time, Evie. Who knows what will happen? I’m so scared.’
They clung together for a long time. Outside the sun went behind a cloud and the studio grew dim. It was very quiet. The scent of the warmed oak beams was heavy in the air.
At last he drew away. ‘I want you to come to a dance with me tonight. In Chichester. At the squash club. Please.’
‘All right.’ She laughed. ‘I’d love to.’
She washed her hair and changed into a dress while he waited in the kitchen, drinking tea. When she appeared he sat gazing at her, speechless. Her hair was still damp, still irrepressibly wild even where she had tried to tame the curls into fashionable sausage-shaped loops to bounce on her shoulders. Her dress was brightly coloured in blue and white, the padded shoulders and swirling skirt emphasising her narrow waist. She giggled when she saw his face. ‘Will I do?’
‘You’ll do.’
She followed him out to the car. ‘This will blow my hair everywhere,’ she said as he helped her into the narrow front seat.
He laughed. ‘You will look gorgeous whatever it does. At least it will be dry.’ He raised an eyebrow as he touched it gently and brought his hand away dripping.
The room was decorated with flowers and flags, the band sitting on a dais at the back. It was crowded already when they arrived. ‘Can you dance?’ He caught her hand and pulled her onto the floor to find a small space to themselves.
She laughed and nodded. ‘Can you?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Tony was a brilliant dancer. The band was fantastic and Evie was in seventh heaven. They jived, they danced to the latest big band tunes, they paused to drink luke-warm fruit juice and they danced again, throwing themselves into the swing, the boogie, and then at last, they waltzed. As he put his arms around her he looked down into her eyes.
‘Still going to marry me?’
She laughed. ‘I think I just might.’
‘Good.’ He bent and kissed her on the lips. Evie closed her eyes. She rested her head against his shoulder and lost herself in the dream of his embrace. She felt safe there, and warm and happy. She wanted the dance to last forever but all too soon the exhausted band was striking up the National Anthem. Tony and the other servicemen stood to attention and his arms fell away. She leaned against him gently.
Outside in the street it was very dark. He caught her hand. ‘Come on. Let’s find the car. I’ll run you home, then I have to go back.’