Time for Silence

I went straight to my old room. So familiar and yet…But of course it had not changed. There were the banisters through which I had watched guests arriving at my parents’ parties; there was the staircase at the top of which they had stood to receive guests; there was the dear old cubbyhole where I had shared secrets with Annabelinda, and where Charles had tried to listen to what we were talking about. But the old familiar places seemed to have become a little different. It was a house in which a spy was lurking.

A German spy! I thought. I wondered what he would look like.

But my father did not really think he was a member of the household. That seemed impossible. The staff was depleted now. Fewer servants were needed. Just enough, as my mother said, to keep the place ticking over. Some had gone to Marchlands, some had been called up to the army, others were doing war work of some nature.

“It’s different in wartime,” said my mother. “We only need a skeleton staff.”

That was what we had in London now.

I considered them all. There were the Cherrys, butler and housekeeper, who really had become custodians, there to make sure that everything was kept in order and that my father was looked after while he was in residence. They had been with us for years. I could not imagine them, under any circumstances, turning into spies. Mrs. Cherry was extremely patriotic and ready to tackle anyone who had a word to say about the old country. Mr. Cherry was a firm supporter of Mr. Lloyd George and talked knowledgeably about the Welsh Wizard. Mrs. Cherry looked up to Mr. Cherry. She was the loyal, adoring wife, accepting his superiority on all matters concerning the war while she herself remained controller of the household.

For the rest there was only the housemaid, parlormaid and tweeny: Alice, Meg and Carrie. Alice was fortyish and had been with us since she was twenty; Meg was eighteen or so and deeply involved with a young man who was somewhere in France; and Carrie was fifteen and simple.

“You take what you can get in wartime,” my mother had said of her.

I could not imagine any of them copying documents and conveying them to the enemy. I believed Carrie could not write; and when Alice corresponded with her sister in Devon it was a laborious business. She would sit at the table, holding a pen, which she regarded as though it were a dangerous implement, her tongue peeping out at the corner of her mouth while she showed the utmost concentration. As for Meg, she might have been more able, but she seemed to think of nothing but when her Jim was coming home and they would “get engaged.”

There were, of course, people in the mews. Mr. and Mrs. Menton had been there for years. And there was young Eddie—I don’t remember hearing his surname—who had come in when James Mansell had been called up for the army.

Much to the delight of Mrs. Cherry and the other females of the household, Andrée arrived with Edward the next day.

There were gasps of wonder at the sight of Edward.

“My goodness gracious me, hasn’t he grown?” cried Mrs. Cherry.

“How old are you, love?” asked Alice.

“I’m four and a bit,” Edward told her. “Next year I’ll be five.”

“Would you believe it?” said Mrs. Cherry. “Some people are clever. Five and all.”

“It is not clever,” Edward told her rather scornfully. “Everybody is five after they’re four.”

“My word, here’s a sharp one.”

Edward looked a little dignified. I could see he was determined to make them understand that he was no longer a baby and must not be treated as one. Mrs. Cherry made the mistake of calling him “Eddy-Peddy” which aroused his indignation.

“It is an Edward,” he told her. “Not an Eddy-Peddy.”

How they laughed at his “old-fashioned ways”!

“He’s a real caution,” said Meg. And they enjoyed having him in the house, as I knew they would.

In the evening I dined with my father. I said the mystery had deepened for me since I came to the house, for I was certain that none of the people here could possibly be concerned with the leakage of information.

“I am coming more and more to the conclusion that it must be some workman. But it has happened fairly consistently, so be on your guard,” he said.

I assured him I would be.

Three days after my arrival, Annabelinda came to the house. She was quite exuberant and seemed very happy.

“Oh, Lucinda!” she cried. “It is wonderful to see you. I’m glad you’re going to be in London for a while. We’ll be able to see something of each other. How are you?”

“Very well. No need to ask how you are.”

“Everything is perfect. I am so happy, Lucinda. Marcus is just marvelous. I’m meeting lots of people, too…interesting people. Army and all that. The trouble is we can’t entertain as we would like to. This place we’re in…well, it is only temporary, and when Marcus was there just alone it was all right. But it’s different now.”

“Now that he has a dazzling wife to show off to his friends.”

She smiled. “I’ve made him see that we have to get a house.”

“What, now? With everything so uncertain?”