Octavia's War (6 page)

‘Of course it would help us if we knew how long we've got,' Alice Genevra said.

‘It could be months,' Morag told her. ‘It could be years. It all depends on that wretched man and what he does next.'

That wretched man kept rather quiet that winter, except for giving a speech in which he claimed that there was no room for independence in the rearing of children and that in future, every German child would grow up knowing only Nazi values.

‘Odious little man,' Octavia said to her father.

‘He is afraid of anyone who can think for himself,' J-J said. ‘That is the mark of a dictator. Everybody has to agree with him or run the risk of being sent to a concentration camp.'

‘Exactly so,' Octavia said. ‘He's an odious little man.'

But Christmas was coming and baby Joan was crawling about and Johnnie had written home to say he'd wangled some Christmas leave, so she put the coming war out of her mind for the holiday. After that the spring term was so busy she barely had time to think of anything beyond the needs of the day.

First of all, they had to have a gas mask drill, which the girls
made a great joke of. Then, they were given instructions as to what they would have to do when evacuation was ‘imminent' and told that further and more detailed instructions would follow ‘in the event'. And then when the staff were scrambling to write the last of their syllabuses, news came through that the German army had invaded Austria, apparently ‘by invitation' of the new Austrian leader, Seyss-Inquart, who had pushed his predecessor aside only the previous day.

‘Now we're for it!' Joan Marshall said, flexing her muscles, as if she were about to oppose the invasion single-handed. ‘They won't let him get away with this.'

But nothing was done and three days later triumphant German troops escorted their Führer through Vienna in a precision of jackboots, tanks and field guns, to what was described as tumultuous applause. There was newsreel footage of young girls in national dress throwing flowers into Hitler's car and shots of young people waving and cheering. Austria was now part of the new German empire and all of it done without a shot being fired.

Within a week the German newspapers were bragging that Austria was being given ‘a spring cleaning'. Jewish judges had all been dismissed before they could protest and Jews were now banned from all the professions. It was soon plainly obvious that another vicious pogrom had begun. The plebiscite that followed in April was a foregone conclusion. Ninety-nine per cent of the Austrian population, no less, voted in favour of Hitler's annexation of their territory.

‘Of course they have,' Octavia said, giving her copy of
The Times
an angry shake. ‘Who would vote against him? They wouldn't dare. Mr Chamberlain must take action now. He can't go on appeasing the man for ever.'

Mr Chamberlain's policy of appeasement was discussed
with more and more heat at every dinner party she and her father gave during the following winter. Tommy, playing the statesman, did his best to point out that their Prime Minister was doing everything he could to avoid another war and argued that his actions were understandable if not exactly admirable. Emmeline took his side every time, saying none of them wanted to see another bloodbath like they had last time. Frank Dimond, on the other hand, had no doubt at all that a war would come sooner or later, and said that the sooner it came the better.

‘Jews are being rounded up all over Austria,' he told them passionately. ‘Rounded up and sent to concentration camps. Are we to sit by and let it happen? We must take action. Or be branded moral cowards.'

‘Better a moral coward than dead,' Emmeline told him fiercely. ‘We lost enough young men in the Great War. A whole generation blown to pieces. Are we to go through all that again?'

‘We must hope not,' Elizabeth Meriton said gently. ‘If there is a peaceful and honourable way for these difficulties to be resolved, I'm sure Mr Chamberlain will find it.' And she changed the subject in her usual deft way. ‘Have any of you been to the new cinema in Victoria? I'm told it's very splendid.'

Meantime, Octavia thought, we go on waiting and worrying and none of us getting anywhere. It's dreadful to have to face it, especially for poor Em, but Frank is right. This war will come, sooner or later, no matter what we think about it.

As it did.

Being Miss Smith's secretary at the famous Roehampton School was a position of considerable responsibility. Maggie Henry, who'd held it for more than fifteen years, was totally devoted to it and never stopped bragging to her friends about her Miss Smith – she always spoke of Octavia as her Miss Smith – who was the most wonderful woman alive and an absolute inspiration, although she did occasionally add that there
were
times when she thought her heroine worked too hard. Take this last week as an example.

It was all very well saying it couldn't be helped because they were all waiting for this dratted war to be declared. She knew that. Everybody knew it and they had known it ever since Hitler started arresting Polish shipworkers in Danzig for some unaccountable reason and arguing about some place called the Polish corridor, that no one had ever heard of. Provocation, that's all it was, although why he should want to provoke a war with Poland over a small port and a little bit of land was beyond her comprehension. But there you are, he did, and he'd done it. And now there were German storm troopers swarming into Poland and Mr Chamberlain had sent him an ultimatum about it, which everybody knew he'd ignore, and they were all waiting for the war to start and her
school was waiting to be evacuated, and life was altogether extremely difficult.

Not that it needed to be. The authorities could have made a better fist of this evacuation if they'd put their minds to it. She could have organised it with one hand tied behind her back. It had been a week of bedlam in the school. Absolute total bedlam, with her Miss Smith on the go from early morning to late at night, her brown button boots going tweak, tweak, tweak along the corridors and papers sticking out of the pockets of that old tweed suit, and her fuzzy hair so wild it looked as though she hadn't combed it for weeks, and the staff packing up their books – there were tea-chests in every room – and the phone continually ringing. It's a wonder we're not all exhausted. And now they had the girls sitting about in their winter uniforms for the second day running – and it was so hot, poor things, they must be baking – with their gas masks and their luggage all mounded up round them – and a nice old muddle that was – waiting for the signal to leave. And there were people all over the place checking lists. There was no end to all the lists. Lists of books, lists of the helpers who were going to accompany them and make sure that everybody got onto the train – that nice Mrs Meriton was one of them – lists in the registers of all the girls who'd signed to be evacuated so that they didn't leave anyone behind. As if Miss Smith would allow that! Even the house officers had lists and were checking that the girls in their group were wearing their name tags and had all got their gas masks and their stamped postcards so that they could write home to their parents at the end of the day. And that dratted phone, brr, brr, brr all the time. Could they speak to Miss Smith?

There it was again.

‘Roehampton Secondary School,' she said politely. ‘How can I help you?'

‘I'm calling from County Hall,' a man's voice said. ‘I have a message for the headmistress.'

This is it, Maggie thought, but she stayed calm and polite although her heart was racing. ‘If you will hold the line, please,' she said. ‘I will get her for you.'

It took a little while even though she walked through the throng as quickly as she could, with the girls pulling their luggage out of her way and standing aside to let her pass. She found her heroine in the music room talking to Miss Jones. ‘Excuse me, Miss Smith,' she said. ‘You've got a call.'

Octavia was alerted by Maggie's expression. ‘
The
call?' she asked.

‘I think so.'

‘Very good,' Octavia said. And she walked off at such a pace that Maggie couldn't keep up with her.

Two minutes later she was standing on the platform blowing her whistle. The crowded hall was instantly attentive.

‘Girls,' she said. ‘I have just heard from County Hall that it is time for us to walk down to the station.' There was an instant buzz of excitement and apprehension and some of the first-formers looked up at her anxiously. Poor little things, she thought, smiling at them. It will be very hard for them to leave their homes and their friends and come away with us when they're so new to the school. They hardly know us at all. She held up her hand to still them all into attention. ‘There is no rush,' she said. ‘The train will be waiting for us. We will leave in our house groups through the foyer, exactly as we did in our rehearsal yesterday, and Miss Henry will be at the door to check with each house officer in turn that everyone in her group is present. Miss Fennimore has our school number and
will lead the way. If you will raise your pole, Miss Fennimore, so that we can all see the number. Thank you. If you can't see Miss Fennimore, you will certainly see our number.'

Miss Fennimore raised the pole even higher and turned it from side to side so that they could all see it. There was a ripple of laughter. That was better.

‘However, before we set off,' Octavia said, changing the tenor of her voice, ‘I have something to say to you all and I hope you will take it to heart. Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest as our Miss Gordon would say.' Another ripple of laughter and Miss Gordon waved at them, turning her grey head from side to side so that she could look at them all, smiling. ‘What I have to say to you is this. Nobody can predict what lies ahead of us. Wars are unpredictable by their very nature. There will be good times but there may also be bad ones. The staff and I will do everything we can to ensure that the life and spirit of this school continue as they have always done but there are bound to be changes. I don't need to tell you that if you welcome change and are not afraid of it, it is easier to cope with. You are strong, resilient young women and all of you are capable of standing on your own feet and thinking things out for yourselves. That is the gift that the Dalton System has given you. You are also generous and compassionate. If there are people in need of help and comfort I know you will give it. But don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it yourself. Don't keep your own grief and difficulties hidden. We are all in this new adventure together and we will all help each other.

‘Now I want to say a special word to our first-formers. Coming to a large school for the first time after being in a much smaller one is always daunting and you have come to this school for the first time in very unusual circumstances. You have a different journey ahead of you from anything that
any of our previous first-formers have ever undertaken, so you are special. If you need help, no matter where you are or what it is, talk to your house officer. She is the one who has been elected to look after you. And if you can't find her, which might happen – who can tell? – and if you can't find a member of staff, then look for any other girl who is wearing our uniform and a house officer's badge. You know what that looks like, don't you? Good. Find a house officer and she will help you.

‘And now, as this is the first day of a new term and a new school year, we will sing the first verse of our usual opening hymn, “Lord behold us with Thy blessing, Once again assembled here.” We don't need hymn books, do we? No, I thought not. When you're ready, Miss Jones.'

There was a moment while they all stood up as well as they could among their bags and baggage and then the hymn was sung lustily by everybody in the hall except for the
first-formers
and the helpers.

‘And now,' Octavia said. ‘If our helpers would join their groups please, you can start moving out as soon as your group is ready. Good luck to all of us!'

Lizzie Meriton took her headmistress's words to heart, as she always did, and started looking after her own first-formers straight away. There were two of them, a tall girl called Sarah who had the longest plaits she'd ever seen and a little girl called Iris who had green eyes and very dark hair. They were both very quiet so they were probably nervous.

‘As soon as Mary gets back with her mum, we can go,' she said to her group. ‘You two can walk with me and hold my hands, and then I shall know I won't lose you.' Her belongings were all in a knapsack, which had been Pa's idea so as to leave
her hands free. Dear Pa. He was always so sensible. It had been Ma who'd fussed. She'd had to talk to her quite sternly about it.

‘I don't mind you coming as a helper,' she'd said, ‘just so long as you don't expect to help me. I'm the one who has to do the helping now. Miss Smith said so.' She'd touched the little blue shield that was her badge of office and that Miss Bertram had pinned on her blouse in front of the whole house. She was very proud of being a house officer. It marked her out as someone important, someone the other girls knew they could depend on. When the votes had been counted and Miss Bertram had told them the result, she'd felt so proud to be chosen that her chest was almost bursting. And when the house meeting was over and Miss Bertram had spoken to all the house officers privately, she'd said something that made her feel prouder than ever.

‘You will probably be the most important house officers this school has ever had,' she'd told them. ‘There's a war coming – I don't have to tell you that, do I – and we shall be in the thick of it because this school will be evacuated into the country. It will be your job to look after all the girls in the house. It will be a great responsibility and a great privilege. I know I can depend on you.'

And now, here they were, packed into the school hall with their luggage all round them, and there was Mary O'Connor with her mother beside her and the group was all present and correct and they could go.

‘This is it!' she said, taking her two first-formers by the hand. ‘Follow me.'

It was extremely hot out there in the sun and walking made it worse. The pavements were hard under their feet, their winter
uniform was stifling and their luggage grew heavier and heavier and their gas masks more and more of a nuisance with every step they took. Lizzie held on tight to her first-formers' hands and jollied them along as well as she could, telling them they would soon be there, even though she knew they had at least half a mile to walk. Their long navy blue column marched on ahead of them and straggled behind them as far as she could see. She couldn't help thinking what a very big school they were and began to wonder whether there'd be room for them all on the train.

‘I'm baking,' Iris complained.

‘Soon be there,' Lizzie said again, and this time she meant it. ‘We're nearly at the end of Augustus Road now – do you see? – and then we'll turn the corner into Wimbledon Park and you'll see the station.'

What they saw were two more columns of laden children toiling along in the sunshine. One was a line of boys in full school uniform, caps and all, the other was a junior school with lots of little'uns, wearing enormous labels and holding on to one another's hands. Heavens above! Lizzie thought, stunned to see so many children. They'll never get all this lot on one train. Still, that's their problem. All I've got to do is make sure my group keep together and that we all get into the same compartment. ‘Don't get lost,' she said to them. ‘This could be quite a crush.'

‘Look!' Iris said. ‘There's a sweet shop. Can we stop and get a drink, Lizzie? It says soft drinks. On the placard.'

‘No, you most certainly can not,' Lizzie said in her sternest voice.

‘It wouldn't take a minute,' Iris persisted. ‘We're nearly there.'

Lizzie was adamant. ‘I'm not having you getting lost,' she
said. ‘Just keep on holding my hand. You can have a drink later on. There's Miss Henry, look, just by the entrance, waiting to check us in.'

‘How did she manage that?' Mary wanted to know. ‘She must have run all the way.'

‘She came in Smithie's car,' Lizzie said, spotting it beside the pavement on the other side of the road.

‘Heavens!' Mary said. ‘They
are
organised.'

‘Here we go,' Lizzie said, shepherding her group towards the entrance. ‘Keep together all of you.'

Her warning was timely because Southfields Station was crowded with children and their luggage. Miss Gordon was standing on the platform with the school number raised high and Miss Smith beside her, and there were teachers everywhere urging them to spread out so that they would all be in position and ready for the train when it came, but there was no sign of a train. The minutes passed and more and more children poured onto the platform. Lizzie took off her knapsack and put it down at her feet and the rest of her group followed suit. Iris said she was hot. They waited. And waited. A quarter of an hour went by according to the station clock. And they waited. And waited. When the train finally approached – much, much too slowly – they were so relieved they gave it a cheer. Then there were several minutes of jostling confusion as they picked up their luggage and struggled into the nearest carriages while their helpers ran up and down the platform trying to make sure their groups were all on board, but at last Lizzie and her charges were all together in one compartment and could take off their impossible hats and coats and put them in the luggage rack.

‘Sit tight for a minute while I open the windows,' she said, pulling on the leather strap to let the nearest window down.
‘Once we get going we shall get a breeze and then we'll all feel a whole lot better.'

But once the train began to move, her first-formers felt a whole lot worse and Iris began to cry. She didn't say anything, she simply sat squashed between Mary and Sarah while the tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped off the end of her nose. Lizzie couldn't think what to say to comfort her. ‘
It' ll be all right
' would be banal, especially when none of them knew whether it
would
be all right, and ‘
cheer up
' would be worse. But while she was trying to think of something suitable, Mrs O'Connor took action. She moved across the carriage, told Sarah to shove up, sat down between them and put her arms round them both.