Gossamer Cord

“The fact is, there is a growing fear of war. Hitler will take Czechoslovakia. People here say, ‘It is a long way off. What is it to do with us?’ They can’t see any farther than their noses. All they can do is bury their heads in the sand. They call those who see the danger ahead ‘war mongers.’ We should be arming. Chamberlain knows it. I believe he is abandoning his policy of appeasement. He wants us to arm ourselves as quickly as we can.”

“Do you think there will be a war?”

“It’s a possibility. And we should be unprepared if it happened now. Even so, there are those who vote against arming ourselves. The Labour Party, the Liberals, and a few Conservatives will vote against it…and then…”

“You paint a gloomy picture, Richard.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. But the way we are going, it does seem grim. They can’t really think that Hitler will be satisfied with Austria. He’ll soon have Czechoslovakia. Then he will try for Poland, and after that…what? It is the people who scream for peace who make the wars.”

“Let us hope it never happens.”

“None of these catastrophes would happen if people would only show a little foresight.”

“Do you think something can be done now?”

“It’s getting late. But if we and the French and the rest of the world stood together, that could be the end of Hitler’s search for Lebensraum.”

I said: “I think of Gretchen.”

“Yes, poor girl. I know she is very anxious indeed.”

“I am glad she is here with Edward.”

“She thinks of her family and her country.”

“Isn’t it sad to contemplate what can happen to people?”

I was looking down at the beach and in my imagination she was there, throwing off her robe, running into the sea.

No, no, I thought. I cannot believe it of Dorabella. There would be a chill in that sea…most people did not bathe until May at least. Dorabella had liked comfort. She was inclined to be lazy. I did not believe it. I could not.

I was aware of Richard beside me. “Don’t think I am not interested in what you are saying,” I murmured. “It’s just that I can’t stop thinking of Dorabella.”

“You should get away,” he told me. “It’s the best thing. Get right away from all this.” He took my hand and pressed it. “In London…it would be different. There’s so much to do. You wouldn’t have time for brooding.”

“Perhaps you are right,” I said. “But not yet, Richard. I have to wait. I have to make myself see what I should do.”

He nodded patiently and we went on sitting there. Matilda came out to join us.

“I do hope you’ll stay to dinner,” she said. “It is so nice for Violetta to have her friends down from London.”

Richard accepted the invitation.

Before he left he reminded me that he had to get back to London and tomorrow would be his last day.

“We’ll do something special,” he said.

It was early morning of that Saturday when Nanny Crabtree burst into my room. I had just awakened and was lying in my bed, contemplating getting up. Richard would be coming at ten o’clock. I must be ready. I would try to make up to him for the disappointment of the previous day.

I saw at once that there was something wrong. Nanny Crabtree was pale and her eyes were fierce. She was greatly agitated.

“I want the doctor at once,” she said.

I struggled up.

“It’s Tristan?” I cried. “He’s worse…I’ll telephone the doctor right away.”

“Do that. It’s on his chest…having difficulty breathing. Get him quick.”

I picked up my dressing gown and ran downstairs, Nanny Crabtree at my heels.

She stood beside me while I telephoned.

The doctor said he would be with us in an hour.

“How bad is he?” I asked Nanny.

“God alone knows. Four o’clock this morning, it was. I thought I heard him cough. It woke me. It’s a habit you get when you’re with children. I went in and there he was…all the bedclothes off…and, could you believe it, that window beside his cot was open…just enough to let in a draught. I couldn’t believe it. I had tucked him in so he couldn’t throw anything off. I had that window shut. There’s a cold wind blowing in from the sea. It must have been one of them maids, though what she was doing in my nursery I don’t know. I’d seen to him and he’d gone off to sleep…”

“He must have been terribly chilled.”

“To the bone. That’s what’s brought this on. I only hope it’s not going to turn to pneumonia. He’s too little. If I find out who opened that window, I’ll be ready to kill the one who did it.”

I went up to see Tristan. He was tucked in with extra blankets and there were hot water bottles on either side of him. His face was flushed and he was shivering every now and then. His eyes had lost their brightness. He opened them for a second or two and then closed them. I felt sick with anxiety. I knew that he was very ill.

“I wish that doctor would come,” said Nanny Crabtree. “He’s taking his time.”

“He said in an hour. It’s not fifteen minutes yet. Nanny…how is he, really?”