I’ve been rekindling my friendship with Hattie, even though she’s become as boring as boiled cabbage since she’s been pregnant. I went around for afternoon tea yesterday. She’d redecorated the baby’s room a ghastly green as that’s the only paint she could find. Her terraced house on Church Row is excruciatingly tiny. I don’t know how she can bear it.
“But it’s next door to Miss Paltry, the midwife!” she exclaimed, inexplicable joy on her pretty face, her long dark hair especially unruly since she’s been pregnant. “Don’t you see how useful that is? Although Mrs. Tilling is to be my main attendant at the birth. She’s like family to me with my parents gone.”
“And Mr. Slater lives on the other side of you. That’s infinitely more exciting.” I laughed, wondering if all this tedium was ruining my lipstick. I didn’t want to bump right into him without looking perfect.
“How is your bet going?” she asked.
“Not well. I confess I don’t know what to make of him.”
“I know what you mean. I do wonder what he’s up to. I always see him going out, in his motorcar or on foot, with not so much as a paintbrush, and he doesn’t come home for hours.” Hattie’s always acting the sensible older one. She thinks being two years older makes her wiser. And now that she’s going to have a baby, she’s insufferable.
“Maybe he’s really a movie star!” I laughed. “He certainly has the looks.”
She didn’t laugh. “Maybe you’re better off chasing someone else.”
I looked at her, in her dreadful maternity dress, the lonely quietness of the poky little house, but I knew she was tediously happy. I have to confess that a flash of envy crossed my mind. But don’t worry, I soon snapped out of it. Who wants Victor Lovell, after all? Who wants to be pregnant when there’s so much excitement with this war? All the new things a girl can do. We’d never have got our clerical jobs with the War Office, and you would never have been sent to live in London by yourself. All the parties and freedom. I heard that Constance Worthing is even ferrying planes for the war effort.
I suppose Hattie’s always been the sensible one, but she seems so annoyingly settled. I remember when we were young, the three of us in the Pixie Ring shouting, We are as strong as the snakes, as fierce as the wolves, and as free as the stars.
“I’m still the same person as before,” she said suddenly, as if reading my mind—funny how she does that—and I knew she hadn’t changed at all.
I thought about Hattie having a baby as I walked home. I’m not sure I’d like being a mother, but perhaps it isn’t as bad as all that.
Silvie came into my room when I was home, her quiet little feet treading carefully to the dressing table. She scoured it for treasures, asking me what various items were. Sometimes I make up stories about them: a necklace from the deep, a lipstick lost by a princess.
“Do you like Mr. Slater?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Kitty told me,” she said simply. “I hope he is kind. Like you.”
I smiled and gave her a cuddle. I’ll have to make sure Kitty regrets telling my secrets, and doesn’t hear any more.
Do write soon, Angie, as I heartily miss your mischief making. I do wish they’d send me to London with you, although now that I have Mr. Slater to tantalize me, perhaps not quite yet.
Much love,
Venetia
3 CHURCH ROW,
CHILBURY,
KENT.
Thursday, 4th April, 1940
Dear Clara,
The deal is done. We’ll be wealthy beyond our wildest dreams, dear sister. I went to meet the Brigadier, as arranged, in the deserted stone outhouse in the wood.
He was already there, crossly getting out his silver pocket watch. “You’re late.”
“Am I?” I smiled politely. “What a shame!”
He snorted at the unmistakable irony in my voice. “Well? Do you think you can do it?”
“Swap the babies, you mean?” I kept the smile off my face, although I still found it hilarious that he was suggesting just that. “Nip between the births and make both women believe they gave birth to a different baby?”
“Yes, damn it, woman,” he shouted. “Or should I find someone else?”
“I doubt you’ll find anyone as trustworthy.” Then I added with a little laugh, “Although Mrs. Tilling has midwife training, if you’d like to ask her?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he bellowed. “Just answer me. Will you do it?”
“Depends how much we’re talking.”
He snorted like a disgruntled bull. “I’ll give you five thousand.”
I stopped breathing for a split second. Five thousand pounds is a vast sum—ten times what I earn in a year. But I wasn’t willing to leave it there. The old rascal is worth far more than that. I’ve seen the finery, the crystal chandeliers, the crown sodding jewels.
“I wouldn’t be able to work again, and I’d need to leave the village afterward,” I said, looking as sorrowful as I could. “I’d need twenty to give it a thought.”
He was furious. “Eight thousand then. That should be plenty for a woman like you.”
“A woman like me?” My face shot up to meet his gaze, and I raised an eyebrow. “A woman like me can kick up a good storm, you know?”