Time for Silence

I turned to him and put my arms around him and for a few seconds he held me against him.

“Yes, Robert,” I said. “Just a little time, please.”

“That’s fine. I’ll ask you again. There’s one thing I haven’t told you.”

“What is that?”

“I have to go before a medical board in three weeks’ time.”

“What does that mean?” I asked in alarm.

“They’ll assess how fit I am.”

“They couldn’t possibly send you out there again!”

“We’ll have to see.”

Some of the guests were coming out into the garden and Aunt Celeste joined us.

I felt very unsettled and disturbed. I could not bear the thought of Robert’s leaving England.

I was relieved when Robert’s visit to the medical board had to be postponed. There was a slight complication with his leg. It needed more rest, Dr. Egerton decided, and therefore the medical board would have to wait for a few weeks.

Edward was now four years old. I was not sure of the actual date of his birth, but my mother had suggested we make it the fourth of August. That was the date when Britain had declared war on Germany.

“Let us have something pleasant to remember it by, as well as all the horror,” said my mother.

Edward was now quite a person. He was very curious about everything, full of energy, quite fluent and very amusing. We all thought he was an exceptionally bright child, and it was a little more than prejudice, I do believe, that made us feel this.

He was interested in birthdays because they meant parties. He had been to one or two with other children in the neighborhood and now it was his turn.

We invited about ten local children. There was a cake with four candles, and Andrée and I, with help from my mother when she could spare the time, planned some games that would be suitable for the children.

Edward was devoted to Andrée, but I think he had a rather special feeling for me. I had always tried to be with him as much as possible. In spite of the fact that I myself had had an excellent nanny, my mother had always been closer to me than anyone else. I wanted Edward to feel the same about me. I wanted to make up for his mother’s callous desertion and the loss of his loving foster-mother. I did not want him to be deprived of anything in life.

I used to read a story to him every night before he went to sleep, and I knew how much he looked forward to that.

Andrée used to say, “He loves me as his nanny, but you as his mother.”

“Poor child,” I said. “How sad it all was for him.”

“Don’t expect me to feel pity for him!” she retorted. “I think he is one of the luckiest of children. Here he is, with every luxury…surrounded by love. He’s got your mother, you, me…and the servants all dote on him and would spoil him if I didn’t look out.”

“It’s because he is adorable.”

I could see she was thinking of her own childhood, which had been so different. Poor Andrée! I was so glad that she seemed happier with us.

There were ten children in all at the party. But the nursery was a big room. It would be the schoolroom later, as it had been such a short time ago when I had studied with Miss Carruthers. Books were stacked in the cupboard; the big table with the ink stains on it was covered by a white cloth. On it were jellies, tarts and scones, and in the place of honor, the birthday cake.

There was great fun with Edward’s trying to blow out the candles, and then the children crowded around and consumed the treats with relish. After the food was cleared away, we played games.

There was a good deal of laughing and shouting. “Pass the parcel” was a great favorite, with everyone shrieking with delight when the music stopped and the one who was holding the parcel took off another wrapper; there were more expressions of delight when the music started again and the parcel went on its way, to fall as a prize into the hands of the child who held it when the music finally stopped and a paint box was revealed.

They scrambled their way through “musical chairs” and “statues.” Andrée was a very good organizer and was able to control the children with the right amount of benevolent authority that is essential on such occasions.

As it was a fine day, we went into the garden and there they could run about as much as they wished. When it was time for the guests to go, Edward, standing beside me, received their thanks with dignity. Andrée had gone up to the nursery, and Edward and I were alone.

I smiled down at him. “It was a good party, wasn’t it?” I said.

“It was a good party.” He had a habit of repeating such statements as if he were in agreement with them.

“So now,” I went on, “you are well and truly four years old.”

“Next time I’ll be five.”

“Yes, five years old.”

“Then six, seven and eight.”

“You’re making the years go too quickly.”

“When I’m ten, I’ll go riding without James.”

“Yes, I daresay. Where do you like to ride best?”

“I like the forest best.”

“Do you ride there with Andrée?”

He nodded. “James, too. Sometimes just Andrée.”

“And you like that?”

He nodded again, “I like the forest.”

“Why?”

“Trees,” he said. “And people.”

“People?”

“The man.”

“What man?”

“Andrée’s man.”