She steered the conversation on to the latest news coming in from across the Channel. She had it on good authority from Tony that a small armada of vessels of various sizes was being amassed on the south coast in order to help with a massive rescue operation to bring home the stranded troops of the British Expeditionary Force. Florence was frantic for news about Billy; many others in the village were also waiting anxiously for the safe return of their loved ones.
With the household still in shock after the sinking of the Arcadia and Kit’s death, a small piece of good fortune had come their way in the arrival at Island House of seventeen-year-old Lotte Gelder. The moment Romily heard about the Jewish refugee through an agency in London that had been recommended to her, she had known in an instant that she would employ her as a maid. The girl was in need of work, but more importantly, she was in need of somewhere she could call home.
Lotte had arrived in England last year, leaving behind her family in Austria, and for various reasons had been shunted from pillar to post as a result of misfortune, as well as a series of appointed guardians failing in their responsibility to take proper care of her. With the help of a Quaker couple who had befriended her in St Albans, where she had been housed in a hostel for refugees, she had managed to obtain a domestic work permit. She had only been with them for a few days, but already Romily knew that she fitted in perfectly. Mrs Partridge had taken an immediate liking to her, as had Florence. She was a quiet girl, thoughtful too, but a willing worker, and always spoke politely in her clipped English, learnt, she said, from listening to the wireless since arriving in England.
‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?’ said Lady Fogg from across the table, a flash of her old feisty and scolding spirit surfacing.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Romily. ‘I was just thinking about how events have turned out recently, one really doesn’t know what’s around the corner, does one?’
Lady Fogg’s brow creased and she lowered the cup in her hand to its saucer. ‘You’re right, and I must confess to being more than a little surprised by your invitation.’
‘I’m sure you were. Doubtless you suspected my motives.’
‘I did. I thought perhaps you just wanted the opportunity to gloat over my unfortunate fall from grace.’
‘I’m sorry you would think that of me, but I do understand why you might have done. I assure you that wasn’t why I invited you. I don’t like seeing anyone down on their luck, or condemned out of hand; after all, let he cast the first stone who is not guilty of some crime or other. We’ve all had a lapse of conscience and done things we shouldn’t have and then had to face the consequences. But after that,’ she added, ‘in an ideal world it should be an end to the matter.’
‘I don’t think anyone here is going to let me forget what I did. My actions were selfish and very, very wrong, and counter to all that we’d been told.’
‘You don’t have to explain anything to me,’ said Romily.
‘But I’d like to, since you’ve gone to the bother to ask me here today.’ Lady Fogg took out a handkerchief from her handbag and gave her nose a long, hard blow.
‘You probably won’t believe this,’ she continued, ‘but I didn’t mean it to happen the way it did. I just thought it would be sensible to stock up on a few crucial items, things I know Archie is fond of, but before I knew it, it had all got out of hand and I couldn’t stop myself. It became so easy. And worse still, justifiable.’ She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a shaking hand, as though the confession was costing her dear.
‘The petrol wasn’t for me,’ she went on, ‘it was for Archie; he does so grumble when he can’t use the Daimler. I just wanted to see him happy. So little in life pleases him these days. Least of all me. And now I sound as if I’m looking for sympathy, which I’m not.’ She took a sip of her tea. Then: ‘You’re an intelligent woman, Mrs Devereux-Temple, so I’m sure you don’t believe a word about Archie having business commitments in London.’
Romily nodded, but didn’t say anything. She sensed that Lady Fogg wanted – maybe even needed – to unburden herself yet further.
‘He’s gone there to get away from me,’ she said, her voice low. ‘I have no idea when he’ll be back. He … he says I should stop badgering him and be grateful that he managed to pull the necessary strings to avoid me being punished as I ought to have been. He says he’s ashamed of me.’
‘How very pompous of him,’ remarked Romily, ‘and also, if you don’t mind my saying, how cowardly of him to run off to London. He should have stood by you. Jack would have stood by me no matter what I did.’
‘I admire your certainty,’ said Lady Fogg with a sniff.
‘But you don’t believe me, do you?’ said Romily. ‘You think Jack would have abandoned me in the same way as your husband has you.’
Lady Fogg shook her head. ‘I’ve learnt over the years that there are very few people in life one can rely upon fully.’
‘That’s probably true. But one would hope one’s own husband would be included in the few.’
‘You’re young; you still believe in the inherent goodness of others, don’t you?’
‘Now you’re making me sound as naive and gullible as a child who believes in the tooth fairy.’
‘In my experience, youth fills a person with far too much hope.’
‘I’m hardly youthful,’ Romily countered with a smile. ‘But I do believe there’s more goodness in the world than bad.’
‘Is that why you invited me here today, because you believed there might still be a spark of decency in me?’
‘No, I invited you out of friendship.’
‘Friendship?’ repeated Lady Fogg, recoiling from the word as though Romily had called her a harlot. ‘I don’t believe that for a minute; more likely I’m a charity case for you to be pitied. A pet project. Maybe something for you to put in one of your penny-dreadful books!’
Her voice had risen to its customary strident pitch, and in the confined space, there was no chance of people not hearing. Or even pretending they hadn’t caught every word and weren’t loving it.
‘Well,’ said Romily, amused, ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. Anything else you’d like to get off your chest now that you’re back to your usual malevolent self?’
