Anita Frank - The Lost Ones

I slipped my shoe back on and continued to the house, wishing I had not allowed my mind to stray onto such unhappy recollections. I did not like to dwell on the night of the fire; doing so evoked upsetting memories and raised disturbing questions that I had spent the last ten years doing my best to ignore.

I entered by the door that led into the rear hallway and began stripping the gloves from my hands. I could hear muffled voices as I approached the drawing room and realised Mother must be entertaining. I had no wish to be embroiled in one of her tedious meetings, so I kept my head down and picked up my pace as I passed the open doorway, but all to no avail.

‘Oh, there she is. Stella!’

I made no attempt to stifle my exasperated sigh. I spun on my heel and headed towards the door. I stopped in the opening.

A tall man in uniform stood with his back to me, his brown hair neatly clipped to his nape, while Mother stood facing me.

‘Look who has come to see us!’

For a split foolish second, I felt a burst of unimagined joy: Gerald – it had all been a terrible mistake! A rapturous smile pulled my lips and my heart leapt, but as the officer turned to face me, the smile dissipated, and my effervescent joy stilled, as reality reasserted itself.

‘Hector. How lovely to see you.’

My brother-in-law, Hector Brightwell, smiled broadly and manoeuvred himself from behind the sofa to greet me. He held the tops of my arms as he kissed my cheeks. ‘Hello, Stella.’

‘I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t be back in time to say hello,’ Mother said.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were expected.’ My absurd disappointment began to fade.

‘Oh, I called by on the off-chance. Work brought me this way and I thought I should pop in and see you all.’

Hector had by some good fortune – I suspect linked to his family’s considerable fortune and influence – secured a safe uniformed position in Whitehall for the duration. I tried not to resent him for this, something I found especially difficult after Gerald was killed. I did not dislike him – he was intelligent and affable, though a little stiff at times – and I could not fault his devotion to my sister.

‘Well, it’s very nice to see you, Hector. How is Madeleine?’

My sister had telephoned a few weeks previously to give us the most welcome news: she was expecting a baby. It had been the first time since Gerald’s death that I felt actual happiness. Madeleine was cautiously buoyant, tempering her excitement with the acknowledgement it was still early days, but ever the pragmatist, at three months along she knew she would soon be showing so felt we ought to know.

‘She is well, thank you, very well.’ Hector retook his seat whilst I settled myself down and Mother poured out some more tea. ‘She may have told you, she’s gone to stay with my mother at our country estate, Greyswick.’

‘Oh yes, she mentioned that in her last letter. The Zeppelin attacks on London must be terrifying.’

‘I know they can be a bit hit and miss, but quite frankly I would rather Madeleine wasn’t anywhere near them, especially given the circumstances. And in all honesty, I’m unable to spend much time with her, what with things the way they are.’

‘Of course. Well, I’m glad to know that she will be safe. It is all such a worry.’ My mother paused. ‘And she is well , Hector?’

‘Quite, quite well,’ he assured her with a gentle smile. ‘She’s doing wonderfully.’

He and my mother talked on, but for me Hector’s presence had brought back memories that were bittersweet. The last time we had been at Haverton Hall together was the wedding. By some miracle Gerald and I had both managed to wangle leave, enabling us to attend together. In a way I wish it had been the last time I had seen him. Perhaps it would all be easier if I could remember him like that – handsome in his dress uniform, laughing, a glass of champagne in his hand, carefree in the sunshine. But we were to meet once more, in tragically different circumstances.

Hector’s apologies as he rose to depart brought me back to the present.

‘I’ll have your driver bring the car round,’ Mother said, tugging the thick bell-pull that hung by the fireplace. Hector crossed to her and bade her a fond farewell, but as he came towards me, running his cap through his fingers, he stopped.

‘Would you walk me out, Stella?’

‘Of course.’ I set down my teacup, taken aback by the unexpected request.

We walked through the hallway together, Hector opening the large front door to allow me out onto the steps first. The sky had clouded over to an impenetrable white layer. Looking up, I could see the gauzy glow of the sun trapped behind it. A stiff wind cut through my clothing, and I hoped he wasn’t going to keep me outside for long.

‘I didn’t just happen by today. I very much wanted to speak to you,’ he admitted.

‘Oh?’

He pulled the peak of his cap down low over his brow. ‘It’ll take my driver a while – shall we walk?’

We crossed the gravel driveway and ambled over the lawn at the front. In the distance the lake stretched across the horizon, the wind rippling its surface. I noticed that Hector drew to a stop before we got too near, perhaps fearing its appeal might prove irresistible to me.

‘I’ve actually come to ask you a favour.’

‘A favour?’ I failed to mask my surprise. He might be my brother-in-law, but Hector was almost a stranger to me. I was already stationed in France when he met Madeleine at a fund-raising event in town. He was someone I read about in letters – a one-dimensional creation, a list of descriptive words. I met him for the first time at the wedding, when, selfishly perhaps, I was more intent on spending precious time with Gerald than with my new brother-in-law and the pompous entourage he brought with him. Since my return I had only seen him a handful of times, all brief encounters, where pleasantries were exchanged but little familiarity gained. But now he had come for the sole purpose of exacting a favour from me.

‘I was wondering whether you might consider visiting with Madeleine for a while – at Greyswick.’

It was hardly an onerous request. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to visit my sister, and no doubt we would have come to the arrangement ourselves in a few weeks. I hadn’t seen her now for a couple of months and I missed her company and support, but I was alerted by the undercurrent I detected in the question.

‘Hector, of course I will. Is everything all right?’

His eyes pinched as he focused on the skyline. I realised I was holding my breath, waiting for him to break the silence.

‘I’m worried about her.’

‘Why?’

He seemed loath to answer. He pulled his cap from his head and raked his fingers through his neatly combed hair. I could tell he was biding his time, contemplating his response. I felt a spike of unease.

‘She doesn’t seem to be at all herself.’ The words spilled from him. He stopped. I was impatient to hear more, my concern acute now; my fingers flexed as I resisted the urge to shake him. Sensing my rising agitation, he stumbled on. ‘She’s so quiet and withdrawn. Mother’s constantly complaining about how jittery she seems, scared of her own reflection.’ He let out a sharp breath. ‘I think she’s terrified something’s going to happen – to the baby.’

I relaxed at once on hearing this, rather relieved. It was perfectly natural of course that Madeleine should be unsettled. She had always been the more sensitive of us two, the one more prone to worry, to fear the worst – ironic really, given the way things had turned out.

‘Well, I’m sure that’s to be expected. It’s an anxious time for her – for any new mother – but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’