September Morning, page 15
Celia laughed again. ‘Good Lord, what a question! I should think he’d want to marry someone of his own age, not a dizzy nineteen-year-old.’
The instant she said it, she wished she hadn’t put the thought into words. She didn’t want to consider the possibility, and one of the new emotions she was experiencing was a searing jealousy.
‘Oh, well, there’s always Franz,’ Wenna said easily. ‘How is he, by the way?’
Celia had almost forgotten Franz Vogl’s existence by now, which frightened her in a way, making her wonder if she was really shallow, or had been, until Stefan.
‘I’ve only seen him once since going to Berlin, when I was invited to the Vogl home for dinner one evening.’
‘And?’ Wenna persisted.
‘And nothing. He’s nice enough, but I don’t have any special feelings for him, and I’m sure he felt nothing special for me. And that’s quite enough inquisition for now.’
She picked up the armfuls of Christmas parcels in their Christmas wrappings, obliging Wenna to follow her downstairs. She put the gifts beneath the tree with all the others, but her mind was full of the small gift-wrapped box that she had promised Stefan she wouldn’t open until Christmas morning. A small box could mean many things and her heart always beat faster every time she wondered what it might be.
It was a tradition that the family ate breakfast together on Christmas morning and then Nick ceremoniously handed around the gifts. But long before then Celia’s shaky hands had opened the glossy silver wrapping round the jeweller’s box, and she had caught her breath at the ornate silver and pearl earrings inside.
There was a small, handwritten note with them.
‘For a special lady. I hope you are not superstitious about pearls. If they are meant to indicate tears, then they will be mine at missing you.’
Her throat stung. There could surely be no more meaningful words. He missed her. She knew by now that he didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He could be funny and amusing, but basically he was a deep-thinking, serious man, and he missed her.
They were to have a large family dinner that evening. Lily and David and the boys, along with Karina, would be arriving during the afternoon, and the Pengelly brothers, Ethan and Adam, would be there too. Celia wore the earrings with the elegant new dress her mother had bought her. They were noticed at once.
‘Are those new?’ Lily asked. ‘They’re beautiful, Celia, and they must have cost a pretty penny.’
‘Oh no, not that much,’ she said in confusion. ‘I saw them in the jeweller’s window, and I just had to have them.’
‘Your daughter’s becoming extravagant,’ David said teasingly to Skye. ‘I hear the German shops are full of expensive items to tempt a young lady.’
Celia laughed, and said airily that since she was earning it, she might as well spend it. But she didn’t look at her mother as she spoke.
Because of their business connections the family were closely allied with the Germans, but she hadn’t ever considered how any of them might feel if things got serious between herself and Stefan. She had never considered anything beyond the sweet sensation of being truly in love for the first time.
As if to bring her brutally down to earth, she overheard a remark David Kingsley made to her father as they all relaxed after a gargantuan meal. The two men were taking a turn in the conservatory, and were well out of earshot of the games being played by the rest of the family and the excited screams of Lily’s little boys. But Celia’s ears were attuned to the sombre note in David’s voice as she took coffee and brandies out to them while they finished their cigars.
‘You know these plans for air-raid shelters are going through, Nick. These are strange times, and I’ve had it on good authority that all school children are to be issued with gas masks in the new year. What does that tell you?’
‘Either it doesn’t bode well for the future, or it’s just scaremongering,’ Nick said.
‘Whatever the truth of it, do you think it’s wise to let Celia continue with this job in Berlin? It’s one thing to keep the business contacts afloat, of course, but it could be fatal to leave her there in the thick of it if anything happened—’
Celia put the tray of drinks down on the small table beside them, her eyes blazing.
‘I’ll thank you to let me speak for myself, David. As for anything happening, as you put it, you seem to be the scaremonger. People in Berlin are going about their business the same as ordinary people everywhere. Anyway, if the government is going to put up air-raid shelters as you say, I think it’s an insult to the Germans, as if we think they’re going to start bombing us at any minute!’
She knew she was being unduly passionate, but it had nothing to do with governments or power-wielding leaders. It had to do with the fact that if the unthinkable happened, as these two were intimating, then she and Stefan would be torn apart. There would be no future for them if their two countries were at war. As the word slipped into her mind, she drew in her breath. Nick put his arms around her.
‘Darling, we have to face facts. Adolph Hitler is no fairy-tale prince, and who knows what will happen in the future? None of us can see that, but I know this job means a lot to you, and of course there’s no question of our asking you to come home.’
‘Good. Because I wouldn’t come,’ she said in a brittle voice. ‘I’m really happy there, Dad, and you two have managed to spoil that, and to spoil Christmas too.’
She rushed away from them, her eyes stinging. She didn’t want their image of the future clouding her lovely new life. She reached her bedroom and tried to compose herself, knowing she would have to go and rejoin the others before anyone came looking for her, but feeling as if everything she had believed was so safe and secure was slipping away from her.
‘Celia, are you in there?’ she heard her mother’s voice a few minutes later. Before she could answer, Skye had opened the bedroom door. ‘There’s a telephone call for you. The line’s very crackly, but I think he said it’s Herr von Gruber – are you all right, honey?’
‘I am now,’ Celia said, her smile suddenly brilliant, leaving Skye in no more doubt of her feelings.
She ran down to the telephone and clutched it to her ear. ‘Hello,’ she said huskily.
‘I don’t wish to intrude on your family festivities, Celia, but I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas,’ came Stefan’s voice, as close as if he was standing beside her.
‘Thank you. And thank you so much for the earrings. They’re beautiful and I’m wearing them now,’ she said.
‘When you return to Berlin we must have an evening at the theatre and perhaps you will wear them then.’
‘Of course I will, and I shall look forward to it very much. I hope you’re having a happy Christmas too, Stefan.’
‘A quiet one with my parents. So goodbye, liebling – until 1938. It sounds so far away,’ he added ruefully, ‘even though it will be no more than a week, so enjoy your time with your family until then.’
‘I will. Goodbye.’
She hung up slowly, missing the sound of his voice the moment it was gone. And turning to find her mother near enough to have caught her last breathless words.
‘So he’s the one, is he, honey?’ Skye said softly.
She couldn’t lie. If she’d tried, her luminous eyes would have given her away.
‘He’s the one, Mom.’
Chapter Nine
Fanny Rosenbloom, née Webb, was nothing if not big-hearted. She didn’t hesitate when her husband put the question to her.
‘If yer frettin’ about yer folks losin’ their livelihood, then o’ course we must bring ’em over here,’ she declared. ‘There’s plenty of room in the flat fer yer ma and pa. You go and wire ’em to pack up the shop and leave Vienna before old Adolph gets up to any more anti-Jewish larks.’
‘You’re a good girl, Fanny,’ Georgie said warmly. ‘They made pure gold when they made you.’
‘Go on wiv yer,’ she said, pink-faced. ‘I lost my own folks so long ago, it’ll be nice fer me to share a ma and pa again. It ain’t just bein’ noble!’
But she was glad he couldn’t see her troubled face as he went off to wire his parents to leave Austria as soon as possible and come to London. The new year of 1938 hadn’t begun well for the likes of Georgie’s people, and she knew he kept a sharp eye on every newspaper report about the situation.
By the middle of March, Adolph Hitler had marched into Austria amid cheers of adulation as he reunited it with Germany and increased the Nazi stronghold. Austria was his homeland, and now he was its undoubted hero.
Very soon afterwards Austrian Jews faced up to the fact that even their most dignified professions were being closed to them; shops had to bear the slogan that they were ‘Jewish-owned’ and theatres and music halls were forbidden to allow the great Jewish artistes to perform.
For Georgie Rosenbloom it was a time of great sadness as he begged his parents to come to London where they would be safe, no matter what the future held. Their long-established family grocery business would dwindle dramatically, as folk became afraid to patronise something that was clearly anti-establishment now. But his parents were old and proud, and even though he begged, they refused to be hounded out of their home.
‘You can’t force ’em, Georgie, love,’ Fanny said sadly. ‘We can send ’em money, though, even if the shop has to close. They should be takin’ things easy now, anyway, and they won’t go short while the Flamingo continues to do good business.’
‘And if any Jewish artistes are looking a venue, we’ll never close our doors to them,’ he declared.
‘That’s right, my duck,’ Fanny said, though they both knew the Flamingo Club was small fry compared with the likes of the Windmill Theatre. Still, it had its loyal clientele, and Gloria del Mar was still their regular star performer.
‘I was thinkin’ about the little Pengelly sweetheart the other day,’ Fanny said thoughtfully, more to take his mind off his worries than anything else. ‘I wonder if Skye would agree to let her come up to the smoke for a spell, just to try her wings, so to speak?’
‘Maybe,’ Georgie said, not yet able to be distracted so readily from his gloomy thoughts.
‘We could take a trip down there when we close over the Easter weekend. You ain’t never been to Cornwall, have yer, Georgie? What do yer say? Make a bit of a holiday of it, eh?’
She was more than thankful she had made the suggestion when the horrifying news leaked out in British newspapers in April that some of the most influential Jewish figures in Vienna had been sent to Dachau concentration camp.
Just for being Jewish, she raged and wept on the telephone to her friend Skye Pengelly, while making the arrangements for a brief visit. And for once, Skye couldn’t find the words to comfort her.
‘All I know is that the more I hear of Mr Hitler, the more uneasy I am about Celia living and working in Berlin,’ she said anxiously to Nick.
‘She’s a sensible young woman, darling. If there’s any kind of conflict likely in the months ahead, she’ll have to come home, no question about it. She’s not of age yet, and she must obey our wishes.’
It was easy for him to say Celia must obey their wishes, but as the weeks of the new year progressed, the euphoric letters Skye received from her daughter, told her that wild horses wouldn’t drag her away from Stefan von Gruber’s side.
However far the relationship between them had developed hadn’t yet been confided to Skye in so many words… but sometimes mere words were the last things that were needed when a mother’s instinct knew it all. Especially a mother who had been down the same passionate road as her daughter.
But there was no point in fretting over it, she decided, as she prepared for Fanny and Georgie’s visit. And those two could be guaranteed to bring a breath of fresh air to the unease in the whole country after the government announcement that all Britons were now to be fitted with gas masks. Wenna had declared that she would rather die than be confined in such a hideous thing.
‘You may very well die without it,’ her brother Olly retorted. He was fast changing his intention of becoming a lawyer, for the far more exciting one of newspaper reporting. He spent much of his spare time at the Informer offices and was well up with political and world events.
‘Well, I can hardly sing behind a stupid gas mask, can I?’ Wenna snapped. ‘And Mom says I can have my voice trained properly if I want to. I may have to go to Bristol to learn with a qualified teacher, but Dad knows some people there where I can probably stay.’
Even though it sounded exciting, she wasn’t too sure about it. Her father’s ex-partner lived in Bristol with his wife, where they ran a small antiques shop. Wenna didn’t know them or the city, and she would far rather have gone to London. The fact that Fanny and Georgie were coming to Cornwall for a short break was filling her with excitement, as she remembered the heady evening she had sung with Gloria del Mar and had a tiny taste of stardom.
* * *
The Rosenblooms descended on them with the force of a whirlwind. Their large Daimler motor car crunched to a halt in front of the house and it seemed to take forever for Georgie to transport all Fanny’s bags and cases into the house.
Somehow they managed to bring with them an air of glamour and stability in a fast-changing world, with the certainty in some folks’ minds that another war was just around the corner.
Fanny simply refused to discuss such things in Georgie’s presence, determined not to add to his anxiety over his parents. Only to Skye, when they were alone, did she confess how much she grieved for him.
‘He’d go over there like a shot and bring ’em back wiv ’im, but he knows they wouldn’t come. They say the only way they’ll be moved outa their place is feet first, and you can’t argue wiv old folk, can yer?’
‘It won’t come to that, Fanny.’
‘Won’t it? The way things are going, there’s some in London predictin’ it’ll be months rather than years before we’re at war wiv the Jerries again.’ She gave a wry grin. ‘Whaddya say to the two of us doin’ our bit again, duck? Bit long in the tooth fer it now, I daresay!’
But Skye had three nearly grown children who weren’t too long in the tooth for it.
‘I don’t even want to think about it, so let’s talk about something else. I want you to meet more of my family while you’re here, Fanny, including our niece from Ireland. And you must see the pottery, of course.’
She quickly changed the conversation so as not to think of sending her children to war. The very idea of it chilled her. It wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen again in her lifetime, but into her consciousness came the echo of a voice she hadn’t heard for a long time.
‘What’s so special about your lifetime, Skye Tremayne?’ asked the ghost of Granny Morwen.
‘Are you all right, duck?’ she heard the more raucous and very alive voice of Fanny Rosenbloom say. ‘I didn’t mean to upset yer wiv all this war talk. Anyway, there’s summat else I wanta talk to yer about.’
She tucked her hand in her friend’s arm as they strolled in the garden in the sunny April afternoon, and Fanny outlined her proposal for Skye’s younger daughter.
* * *
‘Absolutely not,’ Nick said sharply when Skye broached the subject in their bedroom that night. ‘I won’t hear of it. It’s bad enough that Celia’s gone to live in Germany, without sending Wenna off to London.’
‘You were ready enough to send her to Bristol.’
‘That’s different. Bristol’s not the capital. London would be an enemy’s prime target if the worst came to the worst.’
Skye felt icy cold all over. ‘You think it will, then. You do, don’t you, Nick?’
‘I’m no clairvoyant, but yes, if you want my honest opinion, all the signs are pointing that way.’
‘Then Celia must come home!’
‘I thought we were discussing Wenna. And don’t raise your voice. The Rosenblooms will hear you.’
‘They’ll have to know our feelings, anyway. And Wenna has to have her say in it too.’
‘She certainly does not. She’s too young to make any such decision for herself.’
She glared at him. ‘Oh Nick, how can you be so pompous? They’re not children any more.’
‘They’re not adults, either. And I suggest you sleep on the matter, the same as I intend to do.’
With that he reached out to turn off his bedside lamp and turned away from her, leaving her staring into the darkness. She could her the wind whining softly through the trees outside, and to her over-sensitive mind that night, it seemed horribly ominous.
* * *
Wenna rarely dug her heels in, the way Celia did. This time, she was ecstatic with excitement.
‘Oh Mom, it’s such a wonderful chance for me to get the feel for performing without having to take any old voice training lessons. It’s not as if I want to be an opera singer or anything stuffy. And Fanny and Georgie will take such good care of me, it’ll be like having a second set of parents!’
‘That’s enough to damn it before it even starts,’ Nick said darkly. ‘I can’t allow it. Wenna—’
‘If you keep on being so beastly to me, I’ll just go anyway. One day you’ll come home and I’ll be gone,’ she said, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice full of furious passion. ‘Can’t you see how important this is to me? You didn’t stop Celia going to Berlin, and I bet you’re going to let Olly have his way about working for the Informer too. Why must I always be the one who’s victimised?’
‘Darling, nobody’s victimising you,’ Skye said, seeing how Nick was becoming incensed at this unexpected little firecracker. ‘And we know you wouldn’t really go without our permission—’
‘I would, and I will,’ Wenna said stubbornly. ‘I’ve never wanted to do anything more in my whole life, and unless you tie me to the bedpost and starve me, I shall go back with Fanny if she’ll take me.’
‘Good God, I thought it was a budding songstress we had here, not a Sarah Bernhardt,’ Nick snapped. ‘There’s no need to be quite so melodramatic, Wenna.’
