Anne Bennett - If You Were the Only Girl

‘This,’ Clive said, as he drew Lucy along behind him, ‘is the scullery maid, Lucy Cassidy. And in case you think my parents are involved in child labour, for all Lucy’s size, she assures us she is fourteen.’

Cook saw Lucy’s flushed face and said, ‘Shame on you, Master Clive. Lucy doesn’t like the constant reference to her size, which she can do little about, as much as I don’t like being referred to as fat.’

‘Sorry,’ Clive mumbled, though Lucy saw the spark of mischief was still there behind his eyes. ‘No offence intended. And, Ada, if you were any slimmer, who would I put my arms around when I came home?’

‘Master Clive,’ Cook said, and there was a steely tone to her voice, ‘I suggest you take your guests out of the kitchen before I feel the urge to wrap the rolling pin around your neck.’

‘I think a tactical withdrawal is best,’ Clive said, but he planted a kiss on Cook’s cheek before turning to his friends. ‘Let’s leave these good people to have a well-earned rest after all their hard work, and return to my father before he has drunk all the port.’

The kitchen seemed a duller place when they had gone, and Lucy couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy that Master Clive and his friends seemed to live in a different world from her.

The house was a much noisier place suddenly, with boots ringing on the stairs or sudden guffaws of laughter emanating from one or other of the young men. They never seemed to stay still a moment. As they all liked to ride, Lord Heatherington hired mounts for them. Lucy loved the regal stance of them as they led the horses down the drive, but to her there was no nicer sight than that of them all galloping over the hills.

‘Those young men seem to enjoy everything,’ Mr Carlisle said one day, bringing back empty plates. ‘Though their manners are impeccable and they are respectful, there is more fun and laughter around the table at luncheon or dinner than I have ever seen. They are a tonic to have in the house.’

Lucy and the rest of the kitchen staff saw a lot of Clive and his friends, for, despite the sumptuous and very satisfying meals that were offered to them three times a day, they were forever on the scrounge between times. Cook said she had never cooked so many cakes and biscuits and scones in her life before, and Clara added hefty slabs of fruit bread to her tasty tea-time pastries. Cook was convinced that the lads either had worms or hollow legs, but despite the extra work, everyone in the household appeared happier. The young men were always very appreciative as well as being full of fun and ready for a good laugh, often at themselves. With the kitchen staff, they took their lead from Clive and, as he singled out Lucy and Cook, they did the same. Though Lucy often blushed to the roots of her hair and sometimes protested, secretly she enjoyed the extra attention.

The time when the boys would leave for their European tour drew closer. They were so excited it was hard not to get caught up in it, though everyone knew that when they left they would be missed. In the relatively short time they had been at Windthorpe Lodge, they had made an impression on everyone.

‘Even the Mistress liked them,’ Norah said. ‘Said to me that it was gratifying to see that Master Clive has such nice friends and it has eased her mind about him going abroad with them.’

Lord and Lady Heatherington were going with them as far as the port in Belfast. The morning they left in two taxis, all the staff came to wave them off. As they returned to the kitchen, Mr Carlisle declared, ‘Well, that’s that, and for many weeks. Now our lives can get back on an even keel.’

Lucy stared at him but didn’t dare say a word. In bed that night, she said to Clodagh and Evie, ‘Don’t know about you but I think an even keel is a very dull and dreary place to be.’ With heartfelt sighs the other two girls agreed.

They all looked forward to the postcards, which began to arrive not long after the boys reached France on 10 July. The first was a view of the French countryside with a message scrawled across it: ‘Parts of Northern France are very flat. Can see now why a lot of the Great War was fought in trenches.’

‘He doesn’t say much,’ Clodagh said, ‘but then I suppose he writes to his parents as well.’

‘What we need is some sort of board to fasten them to,’ Rory said. ‘I’ll have a look round and see if I can find anything that will do.’

He was as good as his word. By the time Clive’s next card arrived, the board was in place and Mr Carlisle bought a map of Europe, which he pinned up beside the cards. The second card carried a picture of Lyons and Clive wrote that they had intended to travel to Spain next but were advised not to as there was trouble brewing there.

‘I wonder what the trouble is in Spain?’ Cook said, with a worried frown.

‘I shouldn’t let it bother you,’ Mr Carlisle said. ‘These Latin countries are very hot-headed and trouble is never that far away. Spain has had periods of unrest for years.’

The next postcard was from Lombardy, on the borders of Switzerland, and featured beautiful, snow-covered mountains that Mr Carlisle told them were called Alps. Lucy felt she would give her eyeteeth just to get a glimpse of those mountains.

However, by the time Clive and his friends sent the postcard from Prague, the trouble in Spain had erupted into civil war. He didn’t mention it, but Mr Carlisle said English newspapers might be difficult to find.

The news about Spain got worse. Cook said some war in far-off Spain was nothing to do with them and they had to let the Spanish get over it in their own time and in their own way. She was just glad that Master Clive and his friends, now ensconced in Berlin, were miles away, according to Mr Carlisle’s map. As they waited for the Olympic Games to start, they went out and about in the city and so the first postcards showed the Berlin Cathedral, a spectacular edifice, the elegant and embellished bridges over the River Spree, the wide thoroughfares, colonnaded and castellated buildings. When the Games began, however, although they still received postcards of the stadium itself and others of the tiered amphitheatre beside it, the messages had changed. Instead of explaining what the things were in this city that Clive originally thought so wonderful, they were cryptic sentences: ‘ Things aren’t always what they seem ’ or, ‘ I have never seen so many soldiers, and all with serious faces. I think we are entering worrying times .’

No one knew what to make of what he seemed to be trying to say. The Games drew to a close and the postcards ceased.

It was a surprise to everyone when, a few days later, Clive arrived back home. Gone was the carefree youth that had travelled out with such enthusiasm.

He asked to speak with both his parents immediately, and barely had they reached the sitting room before Charles said, ‘What went wrong, son? You were supposed to stay in Europe until the university term was due to begin.’

‘I know that, Father,’ Clive answered, ‘but things happened in Germany that have changed everything for me and my friends.’

‘Well, I will say the tone of the last letters you wrote was quite worrying,’ Amelia said. What do you mean when you say that things have changed for you?’

‘Well, for a start I don’t want go to university just now.’

‘Why on earth not?’

‘I feel there is something more important that I can and must do.’ Clive looked from one to the other of his parents, but it was his father he addressed. ‘Berlin is a beautiful city, the home to many wonderful buildings and sculptures, and some of their churches are magnificent. The German people are always considered cultured and erudite. Isn’t that so?’