Despite Calder’s attempts to consume all the sandwiches, there was a large amount of food left that had not been eaten by those attending the funeral. A.J. was talking to his hotel staff deciding what to do with the remains. “Place some of the food in boxes and offer it to the guests,” he suggested, but many of the guests had already left. George was also missing from the room, enquiring as to his whereabouts A.J. was told he’d been seen sitting in the garden with the lady wearing the black ankle length dress.
George was taken aback by the approach of this mysterious Victorian lady, not only the familiar way she had kissed him on the cheek, but also she knew his name to be George.
“You really do not remember me?” the Victorian lady said, holding on to George’s arms and looking him straight in the face, “I’m Jane, Jane Wheatley. I received your letter; I did not know what to think at first, it was difficult to believe you were still alive. I thought it was some cruel joke or maybe some sort of prank. I had a visit from two young people some months before, asking me questions about the war and I suspected the letter was something to do with them, I believe you might know whom I’m talking about. I read it and reread it and was so undecided what to do I contacted my sister in Australia. In the meantime I read of your mother’s passing in the obituary column in the local newspaper which gave details of the funeral, so I thought if you were really alive you would undoubtedly attend the funeral so I decided to gate crash, as they say, and here you and here I am.”
Jane seemed to be pausing for breath and George saw his opportunity to ask questions but he was not quick enough.
“You might be wondering how I recognised you, well the three of you, that’s Albert, James and you, were so alike when you were young I’m sure that James, had he lived, would have looked just as handsome as you today. I’ve looked at his photograph so many times over the years and tried to imagine him getting older, his hair turning grey, a furrowed brow, perhaps gaining a little weight, and here he is standing in front of me just as I imagined. Do you think you could possibly get me a drink, fresh orange juice if they have it, freshly squeezed?”
“Of course,” George replied and walked towards the bar, his questions would have to wait.
When he returned with the drink, she was no longer standing in the function room where he had left her. A few minutes search found her sitting in the garden.
“Over here George,” she shouted and waved, “I’m always losing things and for a moment I bet you thought you had lost me?”
“Jane,” George started before she could start talking again, “you mentioned that you had written to your sister, is that Sarah?”
“Mmm, I wondered if you would remember Sarah.”
“No I don’t remember her, I don’t remember anything about her, I’ve been told that she and I were to be married at the same time you married James.”
Jane hesitated before continuing, studying her drink and the pieces of orange floating on the surface. Finally she sighed and said,
“It was to a have been a double wedding but the army decided that you were needed somewhere else and only James turned up that day. Sarah was devastated but nothing compared to when she received the message that you were missing in action, presumed dead. I received the message about James at the same time. We tried to comfort each other, told each other you were only missing, maybe you had been captured, but no further news came and we knew, or thought we knew, you had both been taken.”
The two sat in silence for a few moments, a silence that was finally broken by Jane recalling, “of course you don't remember, we were all so happy then, the poets sometimes describe it as being deliriously happy and that’s what it was. Perhaps it was the war and the thought that everything could be changed or destroyed in an instant. It was like living in each other’s dream, a dream we could control but also know that at any moment, we could awake and reality would flood over us like a wave on a shingle beach. Sarah described it like listening to beautiful church music and the last note drifting away like a wisp of smoke, dispersed by the softest breeze. What was left was a silence that was so loud you had to cover your ears to prevent the pain.”
George was close to tears. He stood up, as he saw A.J. approaching, trying to recover his composure.
“This is where you are,” A.J. said, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“A.J. this is Jane, Jane Wheatley,” George said gesturing to Jane.
“My goodness, Jane Wheatley,” A.J. exclaimed, “It’s a long time since we last met, I was probably still a teenager.”
“And it’s so nice to meet you and George again,” Jane replied, winking at George.
“So you know about,” A.J. started to say when George interrupted.
“Yes, Jane knows everything, I’ve told her all about me.”
“Good,” exclaimed A.J. rather surprised, “that’s very good. I am sorry to interrupt you two but I have just had a call from someone called Armstrong, he says he is mother’s solicitor, or rather his father was. He says that mother left a will. I didn’t know she had a solicitor or a will. I mentioned it to her many times but she just said that she didn’t have anything worth leaving so didn’t think it was necessary. I have arranged for this chap to come here tomorrow and I think it would be a good idea for you to be here George. I don’t know what you were planning to do but I suggest staying here in the hotel tonight so you can be on hand for the meeting tomorrow.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Jane exclaimed rather indignantly, “if George is to stay, then he must stay with me at my house. We have so much catching up to do and there are some things I want to show him.”
George was somewhat taken aback by this sudden outburst, but turning to A.J. and raising his eyebrows remarked, “It seems I am spending the night with Jane.”
George was sure that Jane was normally a good driver. He told himself it was only her long dress that made it difficult for her to operate the pedals and the gear stick. Her red and white Citroen deux chevaux reminded him of a car he had seen at a circus, driven by clowns before a large explosion caused the doors to drop off. He was pleased that Jane had stopped talking and was concentrating on her driving, and was even more pleased when she finally announced, “here we are!” as she stopped the car in front of her house. They entered the house using the side entrance. She suggested George make himself comfortable in the kitchen, whilst she changed into something more sensible. Jane reappeared wearing what George thought were silk pajamas. She explained that Sarah had bought them for her during a trip to Hong Kong.
“How long have you lived in this house?” George asked.
“All my life, this is where I and Sarah were born and lived with mother and father. Mother left us when we were both young and father brought us up on his own. Would you like a drink?” she asked, sure that George was just about to ask questions about Sarah. “I have some homemade Elderberry wine I’m sure you will like.”
George was not sure he would like it but there did not seem to be an alternative on offer so said he would love some. The wine was surprisingly good and Jane’s face was soon flushed with its effect. She produced the box of photographs that she had previously shown to Neville and Marie. She placed to one side the letters, bound with a ribbon threaded through a gold ring, as she showed George the pictures of himself and his friends in their army uniform and a photograph of Jane and James on their wedding day.
“As you know this was also to be your wedding day,” Jane explained, “here is a picture of Sarah taken on the same day.”
George held the photograph like it was a piece of ancient parchment that would crumble to dust at the slightest touch. It showed a young woman in a plain dress standing alone with a church in the background. He studied every minutest detail and when the photograph could not reveal any more secrets, he carefully placed it on the table.
“She looks sad,” George observed.
“It was a very difficult day for her. She was happy for James and me but of course she was desperately sad and disappointed you could not be there. We had planned the wedding when you and James were on leave two months earlier. I was concerned there might be a problem getting leave for the wedding so close to the previous visit, and as it turned out my fears were correct.”
George glanced at the bundle of letters but Jane replaced them in the box without any mention of what they might contain.
“You can keep the picture of Sarah if you wish?” Jane suggested.
“No you keep it, keep it with the others, somehow I feel that’s where it belongs.”
Jane suggested they sit somewhere more comfortable and showed George into the sitting room. He felt it was the most welcoming and homely room he had ever experienced. It wrapped itself around him like a feather duvet on a cold winter’s night and he could not have felt happier if he was destined to spend the rest of his days in that room. Jane made some supper, which George did not dare ask what it was but enjoyed it all the same, and opened another bottle of the elderberry wine. They talked freely for the rest of the evening until the effects of the day and the wine resulted in George falling asleep in his chair.
A shaft of morning sunlight, formed by a narrow gap in the curtains, slowly made its way across the sitting room floor until it fell on George’s face causing him to wake. Jane, who was already dressed, presented him with a cup of tea and a clean shirt. She explained that most of her father’s clothes had been removed after he died but some which were new, and never been worn, she had kept for some reason.
“I hope it will fit you,” Jane said removing it from the original wrapping, “the collar might be a little tight, but it should look better than the one you have slept in. I need to go to the school this morning so I can give you a lift to the hotel on the way.” She explained that she still taught at the local comprehensive school but had decided to retire at the end of the Christmas term. There were only a few weeks remaining and she was in the process of handing over to the teacher who would be continuing to teach her classes in the spring.
Jane was wearing a light coloured trouser suit that George thought was much more sensible attire for driving, and hoped her driving would improve accordingly. He was sadly mistaken and wondered if she had ever taken a driving test. She apologised for not talking whilst she was driving, explaining that there were so many bad drivers on the roads these days she really had to concentrate. George hoped the other drivers were also concentrating.
“How long is your meeting with A.J.?” Jane asked as George got out of the car at the Grenadier Hotel.
George had never attended the reading of a will but assumed it would only take a few minutes. He suspected that A.J. would return to work as soon as the meeting was over and therefore there was no reason for George to stay. However, at Jane’s insistence, he agreed to wait at the hotel until she was able to meet him there later in the day.
“Do you have a car?” Jane asked.
As far as George knew, he had never owned a car or learned to drive.
“You must get yourself a car,” Jane insisted, “and I’ll teach you how to drive.” Her voice trailed away as she drove out of the car park leaving George, looking at the entrance to the hotel, imagining the horrors of Jane teaching him to drive.
George was taken aback by the approach of this mysterious Victorian lady, not only the familiar way she had kissed him on the cheek, but also she knew his name to be George.
“You really do not remember me?” the Victorian lady said, holding on to George’s arms and looking him straight in the face, “I’m Jane, Jane Wheatley. I received your letter; I did not know what to think at first, it was difficult to believe you were still alive. I thought it was some cruel joke or maybe some sort of prank. I had a visit from two young people some months before, asking me questions about the war and I suspected the letter was something to do with them, I believe you might know whom I’m talking about. I read it and reread it and was so undecided what to do I contacted my sister in Australia. In the meantime I read of your mother’s passing in the obituary column in the local newspaper which gave details of the funeral, so I thought if you were really alive you would undoubtedly attend the funeral so I decided to gate crash, as they say, and here you and here I am.”
Jane seemed to be pausing for breath and George saw his opportunity to ask questions but he was not quick enough.
“You might be wondering how I recognised you, well the three of you, that’s Albert, James and you, were so alike when you were young I’m sure that James, had he lived, would have looked just as handsome as you today. I’ve looked at his photograph so many times over the years and tried to imagine him getting older, his hair turning grey, a furrowed brow, perhaps gaining a little weight, and here he is standing in front of me just as I imagined. Do you think you could possibly get me a drink, fresh orange juice if they have it, freshly squeezed?”
“Of course,” George replied and walked towards the bar, his questions would have to wait.
When he returned with the drink, she was no longer standing in the function room where he had left her. A few minutes search found her sitting in the garden.
“Over here George,” she shouted and waved, “I’m always losing things and for a moment I bet you thought you had lost me?”
“Jane,” George started before she could start talking again, “you mentioned that you had written to your sister, is that Sarah?”
“Mmm, I wondered if you would remember Sarah.”
“No I don’t remember her, I don’t remember anything about her, I’ve been told that she and I were to be married at the same time you married James.”
Jane hesitated before continuing, studying her drink and the pieces of orange floating on the surface. Finally she sighed and said,
“It was to a have been a double wedding but the army decided that you were needed somewhere else and only James turned up that day. Sarah was devastated but nothing compared to when she received the message that you were missing in action, presumed dead. I received the message about James at the same time. We tried to comfort each other, told each other you were only missing, maybe you had been captured, but no further news came and we knew, or thought we knew, you had both been taken.”
The two sat in silence for a few moments, a silence that was finally broken by Jane recalling, “of course you don't remember, we were all so happy then, the poets sometimes describe it as being deliriously happy and that’s what it was. Perhaps it was the war and the thought that everything could be changed or destroyed in an instant. It was like living in each other’s dream, a dream we could control but also know that at any moment, we could awake and reality would flood over us like a wave on a shingle beach. Sarah described it like listening to beautiful church music and the last note drifting away like a wisp of smoke, dispersed by the softest breeze. What was left was a silence that was so loud you had to cover your ears to prevent the pain.”
George was close to tears. He stood up, as he saw A.J. approaching, trying to recover his composure.
“This is where you are,” A.J. said, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“A.J. this is Jane, Jane Wheatley,” George said gesturing to Jane.
“My goodness, Jane Wheatley,” A.J. exclaimed, “It’s a long time since we last met, I was probably still a teenager.”
“And it’s so nice to meet you and George again,” Jane replied, winking at George.
“So you know about,” A.J. started to say when George interrupted.
“Yes, Jane knows everything, I’ve told her all about me.”
“Good,” exclaimed A.J. rather surprised, “that’s very good. I am sorry to interrupt you two but I have just had a call from someone called Armstrong, he says he is mother’s solicitor, or rather his father was. He says that mother left a will. I didn’t know she had a solicitor or a will. I mentioned it to her many times but she just said that she didn’t have anything worth leaving so didn’t think it was necessary. I have arranged for this chap to come here tomorrow and I think it would be a good idea for you to be here George. I don’t know what you were planning to do but I suggest staying here in the hotel tonight so you can be on hand for the meeting tomorrow.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Jane exclaimed rather indignantly, “if George is to stay, then he must stay with me at my house. We have so much catching up to do and there are some things I want to show him.”
George was somewhat taken aback by this sudden outburst, but turning to A.J. and raising his eyebrows remarked, “It seems I am spending the night with Jane.”
George was sure that Jane was normally a good driver. He told himself it was only her long dress that made it difficult for her to operate the pedals and the gear stick. Her red and white Citroen deux chevaux reminded him of a car he had seen at a circus, driven by clowns before a large explosion caused the doors to drop off. He was pleased that Jane had stopped talking and was concentrating on her driving, and was even more pleased when she finally announced, “here we are!” as she stopped the car in front of her house. They entered the house using the side entrance. She suggested George make himself comfortable in the kitchen, whilst she changed into something more sensible. Jane reappeared wearing what George thought were silk pajamas. She explained that Sarah had bought them for her during a trip to Hong Kong.
“How long have you lived in this house?” George asked.
“All my life, this is where I and Sarah were born and lived with mother and father. Mother left us when we were both young and father brought us up on his own. Would you like a drink?” she asked, sure that George was just about to ask questions about Sarah. “I have some homemade Elderberry wine I’m sure you will like.”
George was not sure he would like it but there did not seem to be an alternative on offer so said he would love some. The wine was surprisingly good and Jane’s face was soon flushed with its effect. She produced the box of photographs that she had previously shown to Neville and Marie. She placed to one side the letters, bound with a ribbon threaded through a gold ring, as she showed George the pictures of himself and his friends in their army uniform and a photograph of Jane and James on their wedding day.
“As you know this was also to be your wedding day,” Jane explained, “here is a picture of Sarah taken on the same day.”
George held the photograph like it was a piece of ancient parchment that would crumble to dust at the slightest touch. It showed a young woman in a plain dress standing alone with a church in the background. He studied every minutest detail and when the photograph could not reveal any more secrets, he carefully placed it on the table.
“She looks sad,” George observed.
“It was a very difficult day for her. She was happy for James and me but of course she was desperately sad and disappointed you could not be there. We had planned the wedding when you and James were on leave two months earlier. I was concerned there might be a problem getting leave for the wedding so close to the previous visit, and as it turned out my fears were correct.”
George glanced at the bundle of letters but Jane replaced them in the box without any mention of what they might contain.
“You can keep the picture of Sarah if you wish?” Jane suggested.
“No you keep it, keep it with the others, somehow I feel that’s where it belongs.”
Jane suggested they sit somewhere more comfortable and showed George into the sitting room. He felt it was the most welcoming and homely room he had ever experienced. It wrapped itself around him like a feather duvet on a cold winter’s night and he could not have felt happier if he was destined to spend the rest of his days in that room. Jane made some supper, which George did not dare ask what it was but enjoyed it all the same, and opened another bottle of the elderberry wine. They talked freely for the rest of the evening until the effects of the day and the wine resulted in George falling asleep in his chair.
A shaft of morning sunlight, formed by a narrow gap in the curtains, slowly made its way across the sitting room floor until it fell on George’s face causing him to wake. Jane, who was already dressed, presented him with a cup of tea and a clean shirt. She explained that most of her father’s clothes had been removed after he died but some which were new, and never been worn, she had kept for some reason.
“I hope it will fit you,” Jane said removing it from the original wrapping, “the collar might be a little tight, but it should look better than the one you have slept in. I need to go to the school this morning so I can give you a lift to the hotel on the way.” She explained that she still taught at the local comprehensive school but had decided to retire at the end of the Christmas term. There were only a few weeks remaining and she was in the process of handing over to the teacher who would be continuing to teach her classes in the spring.
Jane was wearing a light coloured trouser suit that George thought was much more sensible attire for driving, and hoped her driving would improve accordingly. He was sadly mistaken and wondered if she had ever taken a driving test. She apologised for not talking whilst she was driving, explaining that there were so many bad drivers on the roads these days she really had to concentrate. George hoped the other drivers were also concentrating.
“How long is your meeting with A.J.?” Jane asked as George got out of the car at the Grenadier Hotel.
George had never attended the reading of a will but assumed it would only take a few minutes. He suspected that A.J. would return to work as soon as the meeting was over and therefore there was no reason for George to stay. However, at Jane’s insistence, he agreed to wait at the hotel until she was able to meet him there later in the day.
“Do you have a car?” Jane asked.
As far as George knew, he had never owned a car or learned to drive.
“You must get yourself a car,” Jane insisted, “and I’ll teach you how to drive.” Her voice trailed away as she drove out of the car park leaving George, looking at the entrance to the hotel, imagining the horrors of Jane teaching him to drive.