Since it was such a heavenly morning, I decided that Silvie and I deserved a treat after our choir competition victory. I felt an urge to pretend—at least for one day—that the war wasn’t happening. So I flung open my bedroom window to feel the warm yellow sunlight on my face, smelling that fresh piney scent of a sumptuous spring morning. It was so utterly perfect that I decided to dedicate the day to a search for lost time, and to recapture some of my childhood.
On days like these before the war, we used to get dressed up and go on picnics with the Tillings or the Brampton-Boyds, the girls in summer frocks, the boys in smart suits. Proggett would get Cook, who has now left to make tanks in Tonbridge, to prepare a picnic luncheon packed with pies and cherries and madeleines. Mmm, the smell of those delicious buttery cakes always takes me back to waiting eagerly in the kitchen before tasting the first warm bite of the fresh cakes as they come off the cooling racks. Today we had to make do with Elsie putting some jam sandwiches together in a terrifically offhand manner, asking all kinds of questions about Henry.
Questions Elsie wanted to know about Henry
What’s his favorite food? Roast pheasant, of course, and spotted dick pudding
What’s his favorite sport? Shooting, fox hunting, and cricket
Does he like Venetia? No, of course not
Does he have a girlfriend at his base in Hampshire? No, of course not
What’s his favorite color? Azure blue
What does he like to do for fun? Picnics, parties, and he’s rather good at croquet
I think she was trying to help me win him over, although she wasn’t being terribly useful. Silvie nudged me, whispering that I shouldn’t tell her anything, although I have no idea why. Sometimes Silvie seems to completely misunderstand what’s going on.
After we’d sorted out the sandwiches, Silvie and I had the important task of choosing our dresses. I took Silvie to my room and found one of my old ones for her, the white one with tiny turquoise flowers, the one that I wore the time Henry proposed to me. It brought back the flood of memories—boating on the lake, Venetia storming off up the banks, Henry stumbling after her and landing me in the bracken, getting my dress muddy, him promising to love me forever if I forgave him, and then roaming the countryside with him, calling Venetia’s name until we found her on top of a hill sulking beneath a sprawling oak tree. She refused to speak to Henry and would only come back to the picnic with me, gloomily trudging back as I skipped for joy, thrilled that my future had been mapped out to perfection.
In the spirit of remembering, I decided that I should wear Venetia’s sky-blue dress, as that was the one she was wearing that day, and I stole into her room to borrow it. Although it was a little large, it was perfect.
Silvie and I sneaked into Mama’s dressing room to peer at ourselves in her big mahogany mirror. We looked impeccable. The sky-blue dress was just the thing for a picnic, and Silvie looked lovely, too, in the white frock. She’s a pretty girl, with her unruly dark curls always plastered behind her ears, although she hardly says a word. We used to think she was quiet because her English wasn’t very good, but now we know that her English isn’t bad at all—except when she misunderstands things, like the whole Henry situation. So when she doesn’t talk it’s simply because she doesn’t want to. I sometimes ask her about her secret, but she looks very alarmed and stops speaking immediately.
I often wonder what her life was like back in Czechoslovakia. The food was different, that’s for certain. She barely touched anything for weeks when she arrived and has been living on bread rolls and jam for the main part. Mama tries to tempt her with bacon or roast beef, but she won’t touch a thing.
The difference between Czechoslovakia and Chilbury, from what I can gather
Czechoslovakia has more chocolate (Silvie adores chocolate, and it’s rare here now the war’s on)
Chilbury has hills with fields and woods, whereas Czechoslovakia has more forests
They both have horses (Silvie loves horses)
In Czechoslovakia, Christmas is always snowy and there are magical Christmas markets
There was no war in Czechoslovakia, the Nazis simply took over one day
All Silvie’s belongings are in Czechoslovakia, in her big house with a veranda
All Silvie’s family are in Czechoslovakia, waiting for her by the front door, her mother wearing a white spring dress like the day she waved good-bye at the station, her father in his suit and hat with a big smile warming her chilling bones, and her baby brother, Mila, giggling in his blue blanket as she takes him from her mother’s arms for one final kiss
With a last look at our reflections in the glass, we decided we were ready, and dashed downstairs, scooping up the picnic basket as we raced through the kitchen and side door into the pale, clear morning.