We were in this state of uncertainty when Mary Grace came down to Caddington for the weekend. We talked about it and she immediately said that she was sure it would be possible for her to get me into the Ministry.

“I know they are short of staff in my department,” she added.

I had a sudden picture of sitting at a table, filing papers with those I had met at lunch. I thought of going to the restaurant with them for lunch—Home Pie, coffee, and talk, and my dear Mary Grace would be there. I felt a tremor of pleasure at the thought.

Mary Grace noticed my interest and went on: “I could try … if you’d like me to.”

We talked and my mother, sensing a certain enthusiasm in me, came down in favor of the idea.

“I’ll make enquiries,” said Mary Grace. “It would be wonderful to have you there.”

It was not until the New Year that I joined the Ministry. I had spent the intervening time between London, with Gretchen, and my parents at Caddington.

Dorabella had a part-time job in London which pleased her very well. Most weekends we spent at Caddington and we were with Tristan for a great deal of that time. It seemed a very satisfactory arrangement and Dorabella was very happy with life.

Richard Dorrington and I met fairly frequently—whenever he could get away—and I found our encounters very pleasant. He seemed quite content to let our friendship drift along. It was different from the way he had been when he was courting me with marriage in view. He was more restrained and never referred to the past or suggested a resumption of our previous relationship. Indeed, there were times when I thought he was on the point of sharing some confidence. This undemanding friendship suited me perfectly.

As we came into that year of 1944 there was an air of hope throughout the country. Germany was losing the war on the Russian front; we heard stories of the hardship their armies were facing, not only from the Russians but from the weather, which was more severe than any they had been prepared for. For the first time since he had made his bid for power, it really seemed as though defeat would be Hitler’s reward.

The chance of an invasion of Britain seemed remote. There were still raids from the air and some of our cities had been severely devastated, but hope was everywhere. The Americans were now our allies and we no longer stood alone.

In the middle of January, I joined the Ministry. I received a warm welcome from the friends I had already met during the preceding months for I had on several occasions lunched with Mary Grace, Florette, Peggy, and Marian.

It was fortunate that there was room at their table and, as I was a friend of theirs, I was given a place there.

We were in a large room with windows on either side taking up almost the whole of the wall space, which made the room very light but was something of a hazard if bombs were dropped in the vicinity. It was actually a table for six at which we sat, and, as there were only five of us working, we had some space to spread out our papers and work with ease.

Seated at his desk in the center of the room was Mr. Bunter, supervising the arrangements and instructing us in our work.

It was all very easy and I picked up what I had to do in a few days. I fell quickly into the routine, sharing the jokes, laughing often, joining in on the treats, when anyone had “a bit of luck.” Marian Owen, surprisingly, had what she called her one vice, which was backing horses.

“Just a shilling or two here and there, you know, to liven the days—and sometimes it comes off.”

When it “came off” we were all invited to have a drink at the Café Royal or some such place, and there was a great deal of bantering talk about the “racing millionaire.” Unfortunately, the wins were not very frequent but that made them all the more exciting when they came.

Florette brought her book of cuttings to show us; they contained pictures of actresses and were arranged to indicate their rise to fame. On the first page of this book was a cutting from a paper which informed the reader that Miss Florette Fields had won the singing competition at the Empire Music Hall with her outstanding rendering of “The White Cliffs of Dover” and “After the Ball Was Over.” She had been awarded the first prize of five pounds. Good luck, Florette.

We all admired it, and I told her not to fill up the book with cuttings about others, for she must save it for those about herself.

That delighted her. She said she kept the book by her bedside in case there was an air raid. I think the most precious thing in Florette’s life was that newspaper cutting announcing her triumph.

And we never failed to laugh when Peggy, overcome by some momentary annoyance, would cry: “Wouldn’t anyone like to take me as a pet?”

Little things amused us then.

It was March and I had been two months at the Ministry. My mother said it was the best thing I could have done. Dorabella agreed with her, and I was inclined to think that they were right. I very much enjoyed the company during working hours. Mary Grace was greatly admired for her ability to draw, and if any little incident occurred she would make a cartoon of it, depicting the people concerned in caricature. These used to be passed round the department and were greatly appreciated. When one of them fell into the hands of Billy Bunter, he tried to look stern, but he could not repress a smile and ever after referred to Mary Grace as “our artist.”

We never knew when we should hear the air raid warning. They came fairly frequently and were given in the first place if enemy aircraft were detected crossing the Channel. We were then supposed to leave our room with the many windows and descend to the basement, but very often these aircraft were prevented from getting very far and so much time was wasted trooping up and down to shelters, so that what was called an “Imminent” was instituted which meant that we should only be warned when the enemy aircraft were almost upon us. Then we should make all haste to take cover.

How quickly those days passed! The working week, the weekends at Caddington, meeting with Richard when he could get away, lunches at the teashop. Life was pleasant as it had not been since Jowan had failed to be among the survivors of Dunkirk.

It was the end of March when I noticed that Dorabella was brimming over with excitement.

“Something has happened,” I said.

She shook her head from side to side in a maddening fashion.

“I shall tell you … with the others this time. I shall make an announcement … at supper, I think … when both parents are there.”

She pursed her lips together, as though fearing to betray her news.

We were never sure at what time we should arrive at Caddington, so my mother always had a cold supper awaiting us and my father made a point of being there, so there were just the four of us—unless Mary Grace happened to be there with us for the weekend.

We would sit in the darkness, so that we did not have to draw the black-out curtains, and we would talk about the week’s adventures. They knew of Florette’s secret ambitions, the dark secret which we believed Marian was guarding, and Peggy’s desire to be adopted as a pet.

As we sat down, I could see that Dorabella was finding it hard to restrain her excitement, and as soon as we were seated she said: “I have an announcement to make. James and I are going to be married.”

There was a brief silence. Then my mother went to her and kissed her.

“Oh, my darling, I hope …”

“It’s all right this time,” said Dorabella. “I am sure. James is sure. And so, it must be right.”

She was clearly so happy that we had to share in it. It was only because we had seen that other disaster that we hesitated.

“You’ll love James,” said Dorabella. “Everybody likes him. He is the most wonderful man in the world. Don’t look at me like that, Violetta. It’s right this time. I’m experienced now. I know what love means. Stop worrying.”

My mother said: “Well, you have known him for a little time.”

“For ages!” said Dorabella. “It’s perfect. I want Tristan to love him.”

“That is very important,” said my mother solemnly.

“Oh, come on!” cried Dorabella. “This is supposed to be a matter for rejoicing. Daddy, why don’t you suggest champagne?”

“I think there are a few bottles left,” he said. “Yes … we must drink to this. I am sure you will be very happy, my darling.”

“And I,” said Dorabella firmly, “know I shall.”

I knew my mother would come to my room that night when I retired. It was a habit of hers when she was worried about Dorabella.

“What do you think?” she said.

“One never knows with Dorabella.”

“You’re thinking of Dermot?”

“Of course. She gets these wild enthusiasms and in wartime people can do rash things.”

“Dorabella can do rash things at any time.”

I laughed and nodded.

“This young man …”

“He has an important job with the army, as we found out when Tristan was kidnapped. He is very charming and Dorabella has been fond of him for some time.”

“And he cares for her, I suppose?”

“He must to suggest marrying her.”

“Your father and I feel a little uneasy about her after what happened before. There was that jaunt to France … and all she did …”

“She may have learned some lessons. She was very upset about Tristan and ever since she has been absolutely devoted to him. She is very happy now …”

The door opened suddenly and Dorabella came in.

“I have been listening to you two … putting your heads together,” she said. “I can tell you, it’s all right. I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. I adore James and he adores me. So, stop acting like a couple of old witches prophesying gloom, and rejoice with me.”

Though we could not help our skepticism, I think both my mother and I felt it must be all right this time. Dorabella was so happy now and she carried us along with her.

We decided that if Dorabella was happy, that was all that mattered. We would take care of the future when the time came.

The following weekend James Brent came to Caddington. My parents had not met him before and they were favorably impressed. Captain Brent was urbane, much traveled, and an expert in many matters. He knew something about estates as his family owned one on the West Riding of Yorkshire, and before the war he had helped to run it.

My father obviously liked him and there was some interesting talk about the war, though guarded on the captain’s side, which made it the more exciting.

He said that there would have to be a landing on the Continent, and that now the enemy was in a weakened state, in his opinion it would not be long delayed.

They discussed the wedding. There was no reason for delay. I gathered that he expected, when the invasion of the Continent began, he would go overseas. There was a feeling of urgency in the air and we understood that, before the great battle started, he wanted to be sure of a little happiness with Dorabella.

Before the weekend was over, my parents’ doubts were diminished and they were caught up in the excitement of the preparations for the wedding. It should be a quiet affair and take place within the next few weeks.

Tristan liked Captain Brent from the start, and it seemed that everything was working out in the best possible way.

They were married in a registry office at the end of April; several others were married on the same day—men in uniform with their smiling brides.

Naturally I thought of Jowan and could not help the pangs of envy which beset me.

There was a small reception afterwards in a hotel in Kensington and I asked the girls from the Ministry to join us.

My mother was eager to meet the people of whom she had heard so much. Florette was rather flamboyantly attired, as became the great star; Peggy looked like a mournful puppy watchful for a home; Marian was at her most graciously refined and was very impressed to converse with Sir Robert and Lady Denver.

Afterwards my mother said: “They were perfect. Just as you described them. It was lovely to meet them in the flesh.”

And then a radiant Dorabella and her very attractive husband went off to spend a brief honeymoon at Torquay.

Richard had two days’ leave. I met him as usual and he was rather excited because a friend of his, who had a little service flat just off Victoria, had offered it to him to use at any time he cared to. The friend had been sent off to the north of England so the flat would be vacant and Richard might find it useful during his occasional leaves.