Neville and Marie decided to drive to Miss Wheatley's house. It turned out to be a good decision as it was further than Marie had imagined. The houses on either side of the road were smooth brick Victorian terraced with the front doors on the pavement. As they drove further down the road these were replaced by similar style houses but set back from the pavement and small front gardens surrounded by low stonewalls or wooden picket fences. The terraced houses were then replaced by semi detached and detached houses but still with small front gardens. Miss Wheatley's house was just as Marie had described it; a front garden so long that the house hardly seemed to belong to the street. Anyone driving past, concentrating on the road could easily have driven past it not knowing a house existed at the end of this stretch of lawn. Ivy covered the brickwork and created a camouflage effect, further hiding the house from the gaze of a casual passerby. Squares and rectangles, cut in the ivy like holes in the balaclava mask of a bank robber, revealed the first and second floor windows and a solid oak front door.
A well-maintained crazy paved path ran along the side of the front lawn. The path then widened out into a semi-circle giving a paved access to the front door and the side of the house. As Marie and Neville walked towards the house, a figure appeared, silhouetted at one of the downstairs windows, and gestured for them to walk to the side of the house rather than the front door. At the side a voice could be heard calling through an open door,
"Come on in, the door is open."
The door gave access to a square kitchen. Around the walls were cupboards and drawers of all different shapes, sizes and colours. In front of a window, which during daylight hours gave a view over a back garden equally as long as the one at the front, stood a white ceramic Butler’s sink. The sink appeared to be standing on two pillars of bricks. The only work surface was a rectangular red Formica topped table in the middle of the room. Behind the table stood Miss Wheatley, her slightly greying brown hair hanging straight down to her shoulders. She wore a multi-coloured dress that seemed to include all the colours of the kitchen furniture.
"I don't very often use the front door, so I hope you don't mind coming through the kitchen. The door has this enormous mortise lock and a very large heavy key. It's much too large to carry in my handbag so I've put it away somewhere and I don't seem to be able to find it. It's not lost; it's just that I don't know where it is. Nothings ever lost, everything has to be somewhere and the more you look for it the more lost it will stay. It's like when you are trying to remember someone's name, it' on the tip of your tongue and the harder you try to remember the less likely you are to succeed. However, if you just forget about trying to remember, the name will pop into your head, just like that pop. I will find the key the same way; it will just appear one day - pop - just like that. Don't you agree?"
Neville began to think that Miss Jane Wheatley was quite mad. He didn't know if her strange question required an answer, but before he had to make a decision she continued.
"I've just finished my dinner. I assumed as you rang me from a restaurant that you too will have already eaten, so I will not offer you anything to eat, however, I have plenty of tea in the pot if you care for a drink. It's my own blend and I'm sure you'll like it."
Neville glanced around the room expecting to see a steaming cauldron. He was trying to think of the words to decline the offer politely but two cups had already appeared and were being filled with a hot reddy brown liquid.
"You won't need milk or sugar I'm sure. Drink it while it is still hot."
To Neville's surprise, the drink was very refreshing and although it didn't taste like tea he felt he would probably survive the experience.
"Well Marie, and how are you getting on working at the library? It came as quite a surprise when I heard you had taken the job, as you didn't seem to have too much interest in English Literature when you were in my class. If I remember correctly, you seemed to spend most of your time drawing sketches of ladies fashion. I thought you might be better suited as a fashion designer. And this is your young man; you do make a handsome couple. And what do you do young man?"
Marie felt intimidated in the presence of her old school teacher but felt there were some corrections she needed to make.
"Miss Wheatley I think you are confusing me with Helen Gardener, she was the one always doodling. She went on to Art College if you remember?"
"Oh yes, I remember now, the two of you were so alike."
Marie did not think there was any resemblance between her and Helen Gardener, but she did not want to pursue it.
"And also Miss Wheatley this is not my young man. We only met this afternoon at the library. He is doing some research for a book and I helped him find some material in the reference section. I mentioned it when I called you on the phone earlier; he would like to ask you some questions if that is OK?"
"Of course - I hope I can be of some help, and please call me Jane, we are not at school now."
Neville felt very uncomfortable, it was not going quite as he had imagined and he was about to ask some very personal questions about her husband who was lost in such tragic circumstances. He wanted to stop and walk away but having come this far he took a deep breath and explained the reason for their visit.
"Miss Wheatley, Jane, my name is Neville Conrad I work for a local newspaper in Eastbridge. I am writing a series of articles about marriage, its role in society, and how, as an institution, it has changed over the years. As Marie said, I was looking through the archives of some newspapers in the library, looking for background information on war brides, when I noticed the report of the terrible death of your husband and some of his friends."
"How silly of me, I've offered you some tea but I've just realised we've been standing all this time. Please sit down."
Neville sat opposite Jane Wheatley. There did not seem to be any physical reaction to the mention of her husband's death, no sign of blushing of the cheeks or tension in her face. Maybe the offer to sit down was delaying tactics on her part, to give herself time to think, to consider how she would respond to any questions about her husband.
"I will not use yours, or anyone else's names in anything I write, you can be assured of that and of course you do not have to answer any of my questions. Is that OK with you?"
Jane nodded.
"The report in the newspaper said that you had only been married 48 hours when your husband James returned to his regiment and of course that was to be the last time you saw him. Had you known James long before you was married?"
Jane swiveled on her chair and crossed her legs under the table. Initially when she spoke the words had been rapid fire, hardly pausing for breath between sentences. Now she was calmer, more considered, in control.
"James and I had known each other all our lives. We were part of a group of friends that played together from the earliest age. We were together throughout our school life. For most of those years our relationship was like brother and sister, it was the same for all of us in that group, but with James and me it grew into something else. So you see, although we were only married for such a short time we had our whole lives together, until he was taken."
"In the report it mentioned friends of James that were killed at the same time, were they part of that group you mentioned?"
"Yes, the boys were James, George and Albert. They were inseparable. I guess it was fate, if you believe in that, that they would all be taken together."
Neville wondered if he should tell her that Albert had survived but decided that it would have to come from Albert himself. The decision would have to be his.
"Were the others at the wedding?"
"No, they should have been. Albert was to have been the best man for both of them."
"What do you mean both of them?"
"It was to be a double wedding. George and Sarah were to be married at the same time. Sarah is my sister. The army had cancelled Albert and George's leave at the last minute. They had to go on some special training. Don't know what it was for. At that time, in the war, there was so much they couldn't tell you.
Neville reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a diary.
"Do you mind if I take a few notes?"
"No, of course not, I would expect my students to take notes."
Neville was no nearer finding out about Albert and his family but he felt the information about the wedding would be of interest to Albert so he wanted to capture all the details for their next meeting.
Jane suddenly stood up.
"There is something I would like you to see. After James was taken I would look at it all the time, but over the years it doesn't seem to matter quite the same. In fact, I only look at it now to remind myself that it really happened, that I really did get married. I'm sure I can find it; there are not many places to hide things in that room. My father would lose things all the time and so I'm sure that's why there are so few cupboards or drawers in that room. Nowhere to hide things you see."
The original Jane had returned her thoughts and words going in all directions at once. Neville wondered, is this the teacher the children saw, standing at the front of the class, throwing out a stream of words and ideas.
Jane walked towards a door in the corner of the kitchen.
"Come this way," she requested, "be careful you don't trip, the carpet is bare in some parts and there are some loose threads."
They followed her into a narrow hallway. It was so dark that it was not possible to see where the carpet might be frayed. By instinct, Jane found the knob to a door and opened it to access another room that was even darker.
"Stay there a moment; I'll put the light on."
Neville thought this was an excellent idea as his eyes had not become accustomed to the darkness of the room after the relative brightness of the kitchen and he suspected he was about to walk into any furniture that might be in the room. He heard the click of a switch and immediately a number of Tiffany lamps, suspended from the ceiling, bathed the room in a warm, but intense light. The room was a library with no windows. From floor to ceiling, shelves of books completely covered the walls. Most were leather bound and probably quite old. The only furniture was an upright wingback chair with a little wooden table at its side.
"My father created this room, he collected the books over many years, and it was his pride and joy. He didn't believe in paperbacks, as you can see. He thought the cheap mass produced books would be the end of the written word. He would sit here for hours, in that chair, and sometimes we would find him asleep slumped in the chair in the morning, an open book on his lap or on the floor. This section over here is a false front and if I pull on this book it is actually a drawer."
A drawer slid out with the leather ends of imitation books forming the front of the drawer. Jane took out a wooden box and placed it on the table. The box contained photographs, together with a faded pink ribbon threaded through a gold wedding ring, loosely binding some folded letters.
"These are letters from James, but this is what I want to show you. This is the photograph taken at the wedding," as she carefully laid it on the table.
Neville recognised it as the same one he had seen in the newspaper article.
"And this is a photograph of the boys in their uniforms just after they were called up."
The black and white photograph showed three men probably in their late teens or early twenties but somehow looking older with their hair shaved high above the ears. Neville looked to see if he could identify one of the men with a piece missing from his ear but there was no evidence. Perhaps the pose meant the damaged ear was deliberately away from the camera. They had lived like brothers and their similar features suggested they could be brothers. Is this the answer to the missing brother? Maybe Albert didn't have a brother and he was just confusing one of his friends. People constantly remarked on how they lived like brothers and now he could see they even looked like brothers, was this the explanation?
"The one on the right is George, James on the left and Albert in the middle. Albert was always at the centre of things. If we arranged to meet he would always be last to arrive. Even though he was the only one who had transport with his motorbikes, he always arrived with his hands covered in grease having fixed his latest wreck at the roadside. Oh and here is my spare pair of reading glasses," as she pulled them out of the wooden box, "I wondered where I'd left them. They're not really my spare pair they're my spare pair for my spare pair if you understand what I mean. It's such a long time since I last opened this box they must have been here for months. Glasses are the easiest of things to lose and the hardest to find, don't you agree?"
Neville had nearly forgotten that Marie was in the room when she suddenly asked.
"Did you keep in contact with any members of James' family or the families of the other boys?"
"No - it was just too painful you see. You would expect us to stay together as some sort of comfort, but the memories it was just too painful. We really couldn't bear to see each other and even tried to avoid each other in the street. We could have got back together later on but too many years had gone by then, it just didn't happen."
Neville was grateful that Marie had brought the conversation back from lost glasses and saw an opportunity to inquire about Albert's brother.
"Did any of the boys have brothers or sisters?"
"Oh yes there were brothers and sisters, but they were different ages and not really part of our group."
He didn't want to ask specifically about Albert's brother, he thought it might be too obvious and raise suspicions about their visit.
"Do you see any of them now? Do they still live in the area?"
"No - I've completely lost touch with people from that time. As I said we all tried to avoid each other for so many years, there never seemed the need to go back. People can sometimes drift apart but we were torn apart and there was never any great desire to turn back the clock. The only one I still hear about is A.J. Waterson; he still gets his name in the papers occasionally."
"Sorry who is he?" Neville asked ready to take notes.
"A.J. - he's George Waterson's brother. He was in a scandal a few years ago, even got mentioned on the local TV news, something to do with using his position on the Council to award himself some building contracts."
"I think I remember that," Marie interrupted, "It was a few years ago now but I remember my father going on about it."
"You say he still gets mentioned in the papers?" Neville asked.
"Yes, he must have turned over a new leaf. He's still a big noise in the area but most of the reports seem to be about charity work and the like."
Jane started to put the letters and photographs back in the box, the reading glasses she placed on the table. Neville and Marie looked at each other and with a sideways glance of their eyes towards the door suggested that the interview was over and they should leave.
"Thank you very much Miss Wheatley," Neville said as he moved towards the door of the library, "We have taken too much of your time but you have been very helpful."
"Well I'm glad I've been able to help you with your - articles."
The way she emphasised the word articles suggested she did not believe a word of their story. She had heard too many white lies from her students over the years to know when someone is not quite telling the whole truth.
"If there is anything more I can help you with then don't hesitate to call again, but I suspect you won't."
"There is one question," asked Neville as he was about to walk through the open library door, "Did Albert have a girlfriend, was there the possibility of it being a triple wedding?"
"Oh no he was always more interested in his motorbikes than girls, he would rather sleep in the garage next to a broken down motorbike than go out with a girl."
They were ushered through the hall and the kitchen and out into the darkness at the side of the house. The kitchen door closed behind them.
A well-maintained crazy paved path ran along the side of the front lawn. The path then widened out into a semi-circle giving a paved access to the front door and the side of the house. As Marie and Neville walked towards the house, a figure appeared, silhouetted at one of the downstairs windows, and gestured for them to walk to the side of the house rather than the front door. At the side a voice could be heard calling through an open door,
"Come on in, the door is open."
The door gave access to a square kitchen. Around the walls were cupboards and drawers of all different shapes, sizes and colours. In front of a window, which during daylight hours gave a view over a back garden equally as long as the one at the front, stood a white ceramic Butler’s sink. The sink appeared to be standing on two pillars of bricks. The only work surface was a rectangular red Formica topped table in the middle of the room. Behind the table stood Miss Wheatley, her slightly greying brown hair hanging straight down to her shoulders. She wore a multi-coloured dress that seemed to include all the colours of the kitchen furniture.
"I don't very often use the front door, so I hope you don't mind coming through the kitchen. The door has this enormous mortise lock and a very large heavy key. It's much too large to carry in my handbag so I've put it away somewhere and I don't seem to be able to find it. It's not lost; it's just that I don't know where it is. Nothings ever lost, everything has to be somewhere and the more you look for it the more lost it will stay. It's like when you are trying to remember someone's name, it' on the tip of your tongue and the harder you try to remember the less likely you are to succeed. However, if you just forget about trying to remember, the name will pop into your head, just like that pop. I will find the key the same way; it will just appear one day - pop - just like that. Don't you agree?"
Neville began to think that Miss Jane Wheatley was quite mad. He didn't know if her strange question required an answer, but before he had to make a decision she continued.
"I've just finished my dinner. I assumed as you rang me from a restaurant that you too will have already eaten, so I will not offer you anything to eat, however, I have plenty of tea in the pot if you care for a drink. It's my own blend and I'm sure you'll like it."
Neville glanced around the room expecting to see a steaming cauldron. He was trying to think of the words to decline the offer politely but two cups had already appeared and were being filled with a hot reddy brown liquid.
"You won't need milk or sugar I'm sure. Drink it while it is still hot."
To Neville's surprise, the drink was very refreshing and although it didn't taste like tea he felt he would probably survive the experience.
"Well Marie, and how are you getting on working at the library? It came as quite a surprise when I heard you had taken the job, as you didn't seem to have too much interest in English Literature when you were in my class. If I remember correctly, you seemed to spend most of your time drawing sketches of ladies fashion. I thought you might be better suited as a fashion designer. And this is your young man; you do make a handsome couple. And what do you do young man?"
Marie felt intimidated in the presence of her old school teacher but felt there were some corrections she needed to make.
"Miss Wheatley I think you are confusing me with Helen Gardener, she was the one always doodling. She went on to Art College if you remember?"
"Oh yes, I remember now, the two of you were so alike."
Marie did not think there was any resemblance between her and Helen Gardener, but she did not want to pursue it.
"And also Miss Wheatley this is not my young man. We only met this afternoon at the library. He is doing some research for a book and I helped him find some material in the reference section. I mentioned it when I called you on the phone earlier; he would like to ask you some questions if that is OK?"
"Of course - I hope I can be of some help, and please call me Jane, we are not at school now."
Neville felt very uncomfortable, it was not going quite as he had imagined and he was about to ask some very personal questions about her husband who was lost in such tragic circumstances. He wanted to stop and walk away but having come this far he took a deep breath and explained the reason for their visit.
"Miss Wheatley, Jane, my name is Neville Conrad I work for a local newspaper in Eastbridge. I am writing a series of articles about marriage, its role in society, and how, as an institution, it has changed over the years. As Marie said, I was looking through the archives of some newspapers in the library, looking for background information on war brides, when I noticed the report of the terrible death of your husband and some of his friends."
"How silly of me, I've offered you some tea but I've just realised we've been standing all this time. Please sit down."
Neville sat opposite Jane Wheatley. There did not seem to be any physical reaction to the mention of her husband's death, no sign of blushing of the cheeks or tension in her face. Maybe the offer to sit down was delaying tactics on her part, to give herself time to think, to consider how she would respond to any questions about her husband.
"I will not use yours, or anyone else's names in anything I write, you can be assured of that and of course you do not have to answer any of my questions. Is that OK with you?"
Jane nodded.
"The report in the newspaper said that you had only been married 48 hours when your husband James returned to his regiment and of course that was to be the last time you saw him. Had you known James long before you was married?"
Jane swiveled on her chair and crossed her legs under the table. Initially when she spoke the words had been rapid fire, hardly pausing for breath between sentences. Now she was calmer, more considered, in control.
"James and I had known each other all our lives. We were part of a group of friends that played together from the earliest age. We were together throughout our school life. For most of those years our relationship was like brother and sister, it was the same for all of us in that group, but with James and me it grew into something else. So you see, although we were only married for such a short time we had our whole lives together, until he was taken."
"In the report it mentioned friends of James that were killed at the same time, were they part of that group you mentioned?"
"Yes, the boys were James, George and Albert. They were inseparable. I guess it was fate, if you believe in that, that they would all be taken together."
Neville wondered if he should tell her that Albert had survived but decided that it would have to come from Albert himself. The decision would have to be his.
"Were the others at the wedding?"
"No, they should have been. Albert was to have been the best man for both of them."
"What do you mean both of them?"
"It was to be a double wedding. George and Sarah were to be married at the same time. Sarah is my sister. The army had cancelled Albert and George's leave at the last minute. They had to go on some special training. Don't know what it was for. At that time, in the war, there was so much they couldn't tell you.
Neville reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a diary.
"Do you mind if I take a few notes?"
"No, of course not, I would expect my students to take notes."
Neville was no nearer finding out about Albert and his family but he felt the information about the wedding would be of interest to Albert so he wanted to capture all the details for their next meeting.
Jane suddenly stood up.
"There is something I would like you to see. After James was taken I would look at it all the time, but over the years it doesn't seem to matter quite the same. In fact, I only look at it now to remind myself that it really happened, that I really did get married. I'm sure I can find it; there are not many places to hide things in that room. My father would lose things all the time and so I'm sure that's why there are so few cupboards or drawers in that room. Nowhere to hide things you see."
The original Jane had returned her thoughts and words going in all directions at once. Neville wondered, is this the teacher the children saw, standing at the front of the class, throwing out a stream of words and ideas.
Jane walked towards a door in the corner of the kitchen.
"Come this way," she requested, "be careful you don't trip, the carpet is bare in some parts and there are some loose threads."
They followed her into a narrow hallway. It was so dark that it was not possible to see where the carpet might be frayed. By instinct, Jane found the knob to a door and opened it to access another room that was even darker.
"Stay there a moment; I'll put the light on."
Neville thought this was an excellent idea as his eyes had not become accustomed to the darkness of the room after the relative brightness of the kitchen and he suspected he was about to walk into any furniture that might be in the room. He heard the click of a switch and immediately a number of Tiffany lamps, suspended from the ceiling, bathed the room in a warm, but intense light. The room was a library with no windows. From floor to ceiling, shelves of books completely covered the walls. Most were leather bound and probably quite old. The only furniture was an upright wingback chair with a little wooden table at its side.
"My father created this room, he collected the books over many years, and it was his pride and joy. He didn't believe in paperbacks, as you can see. He thought the cheap mass produced books would be the end of the written word. He would sit here for hours, in that chair, and sometimes we would find him asleep slumped in the chair in the morning, an open book on his lap or on the floor. This section over here is a false front and if I pull on this book it is actually a drawer."
A drawer slid out with the leather ends of imitation books forming the front of the drawer. Jane took out a wooden box and placed it on the table. The box contained photographs, together with a faded pink ribbon threaded through a gold wedding ring, loosely binding some folded letters.
"These are letters from James, but this is what I want to show you. This is the photograph taken at the wedding," as she carefully laid it on the table.
Neville recognised it as the same one he had seen in the newspaper article.
"And this is a photograph of the boys in their uniforms just after they were called up."
The black and white photograph showed three men probably in their late teens or early twenties but somehow looking older with their hair shaved high above the ears. Neville looked to see if he could identify one of the men with a piece missing from his ear but there was no evidence. Perhaps the pose meant the damaged ear was deliberately away from the camera. They had lived like brothers and their similar features suggested they could be brothers. Is this the answer to the missing brother? Maybe Albert didn't have a brother and he was just confusing one of his friends. People constantly remarked on how they lived like brothers and now he could see they even looked like brothers, was this the explanation?
"The one on the right is George, James on the left and Albert in the middle. Albert was always at the centre of things. If we arranged to meet he would always be last to arrive. Even though he was the only one who had transport with his motorbikes, he always arrived with his hands covered in grease having fixed his latest wreck at the roadside. Oh and here is my spare pair of reading glasses," as she pulled them out of the wooden box, "I wondered where I'd left them. They're not really my spare pair they're my spare pair for my spare pair if you understand what I mean. It's such a long time since I last opened this box they must have been here for months. Glasses are the easiest of things to lose and the hardest to find, don't you agree?"
Neville had nearly forgotten that Marie was in the room when she suddenly asked.
"Did you keep in contact with any members of James' family or the families of the other boys?"
"No - it was just too painful you see. You would expect us to stay together as some sort of comfort, but the memories it was just too painful. We really couldn't bear to see each other and even tried to avoid each other in the street. We could have got back together later on but too many years had gone by then, it just didn't happen."
Neville was grateful that Marie had brought the conversation back from lost glasses and saw an opportunity to inquire about Albert's brother.
"Did any of the boys have brothers or sisters?"
"Oh yes there were brothers and sisters, but they were different ages and not really part of our group."
He didn't want to ask specifically about Albert's brother, he thought it might be too obvious and raise suspicions about their visit.
"Do you see any of them now? Do they still live in the area?"
"No - I've completely lost touch with people from that time. As I said we all tried to avoid each other for so many years, there never seemed the need to go back. People can sometimes drift apart but we were torn apart and there was never any great desire to turn back the clock. The only one I still hear about is A.J. Waterson; he still gets his name in the papers occasionally."
"Sorry who is he?" Neville asked ready to take notes.
"A.J. - he's George Waterson's brother. He was in a scandal a few years ago, even got mentioned on the local TV news, something to do with using his position on the Council to award himself some building contracts."
"I think I remember that," Marie interrupted, "It was a few years ago now but I remember my father going on about it."
"You say he still gets mentioned in the papers?" Neville asked.
"Yes, he must have turned over a new leaf. He's still a big noise in the area but most of the reports seem to be about charity work and the like."
Jane started to put the letters and photographs back in the box, the reading glasses she placed on the table. Neville and Marie looked at each other and with a sideways glance of their eyes towards the door suggested that the interview was over and they should leave.
"Thank you very much Miss Wheatley," Neville said as he moved towards the door of the library, "We have taken too much of your time but you have been very helpful."
"Well I'm glad I've been able to help you with your - articles."
The way she emphasised the word articles suggested she did not believe a word of their story. She had heard too many white lies from her students over the years to know when someone is not quite telling the whole truth.
"If there is anything more I can help you with then don't hesitate to call again, but I suspect you won't."
"There is one question," asked Neville as he was about to walk through the open library door, "Did Albert have a girlfriend, was there the possibility of it being a triple wedding?"
"Oh no he was always more interested in his motorbikes than girls, he would rather sleep in the garage next to a broken down motorbike than go out with a girl."
They were ushered through the hall and the kitchen and out into the darkness at the side of the house. The kitchen door closed behind them.