Happy Birthday: Part Twenty-Seven

~ beetleypete

This is the twenty-seventh part of a fiction serial, in 802 words.

As the weather cooled down that year, things were hotting up at Craigie House. They now had a whole department supplying and altering genuine French clothing for agents to wear. It was all thought through, even the style of underwear, the cosmetics used by the female spies, and the company names inside their shoes. As well as French cigarettes and matches, they also had empty wrappers from chocolate bars and bisuits sold in France. If the agent was ever stopped and searched, there would be nothing on them that wasn’t genuine.

And Hettie had a lover, something that left her ridden with guilt.

It had been on some late summer evening walks around the grounds. George always made her laugh, and relaxed her with his easy way of speaking. Although he was slightly younger than her at forty, that didn’t notice to either of them. Then on the way back to the house, he had put his arm around her, leaned forward, and kissed her.

Everything she knew about life changed in an instant. She should have been outraged; slapped his face, berated him for his presumption. But she did none of that, kissing him like her life depended on it, and allowing his hands to roam freely all over her.

Unable to go back to either of their rooms, it happened there and then, on the grass behind some tall trees. Hettie discovered an abandon she never knew existed in her, and George was both passionate and gentle in turn, the complete opposite of Edward.

Now the cold autumn winds had started, they had nowhere to hide away for their love-making. But they had wonderful memories of many previous occasions, and Hettie knew the feeling of being totally bonded to a man, so deeply in love it consumed her.

George had never married. He had been engaged to his teenage sweetheart many years earlier, but she had betrayed him with an older man at work when his regiment was away on manoeuvres. He admitted that after that he had a poor opinion of women, and used the easy ones in the same way his fellow soldiers did. On meeting Hettie, something had clicked between them, and George overturned his prejudices.

Unable to keep it to herself, she confessed all to Yvonne one night after they had enjoyed a few glasses of gin. If she had been expecting admonitions, she got none.

“Hettie there’s a war on, things happen. Your husband is dull, from what you tell me. He’s a good man, but unexciting. You got married because that’s what people do, and he acted like he felt he was expected to act because that’s what most men do. Make the most of it with George, enjoy yourself. Life’s too short to do the decent thing for all of it. And while we are on confessions, I should tell you that I like women. And one day I intend to find the right one and live with her in love and lust, whatever anyone else says or thinks”.

Unsure whether to take that as approval or to be shocked that her room-mate liked women, she ignored the latter and embraced the former. Two days later she arranged a secret meeting with George in an old disused ice-house in the grounds. She told him she was in love with him, but she could never leave Edward because he had never been anything but kind to her. George thought for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her. “Then we have to make the most of whatever time is left to us”.

And they did.

Nineteen forty-four was looming, and they did get Christmas leave, but only five days. Before she left, George gave Hettie a gift. It was a simple thing, but quite beautiful. A wooden letter H hand-carved, and with thistles carved on it. It must have taken hours, and the carving was exquisite. She left it in her room though, not wanting to explain it back in London.

Edward had a lot of news to tell her. “I got some letters, Het, but I didn’t bother to write to you about them, as I knew you would be back for Christmas. Rather than hand them to her to read, he sat by the fire and read them to her. Next year Alfred would be sixty, and taking his army pension after forty-three years in the artillery. He had arranged rooms with a war widow in Felixstowe, and would be taking Dorothy to live there. Mum was getting old, and a little forgetful, so she was finally giving up her job in Whitstable and moving back to London.

“Naturally, Het, I told her she would be welcome to live with us”. Hettie nodded, then felt herself hoping the war might go on a lot longer.

33 thoughts on “Happy Birthday: Part Twenty-Seven”

  1. When in a situation where one is all too aware that life could end at any moment, one reaches for the golden ring, as Hettie is doing. I only hope that she finds happiness at the end of the day, happiness that lasts longer than the war will.

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  5. (1) Splendor in the grass…
    (2) When George met Hettie, something clicked between them. George looked down at the ground. “Oh, I just stepped on a cricket clicker clacker!”
    (3) When I read the part about Hettie meeting George in an old disused ice-house, my heart melted.
    (4) George: “There, I’ve carved a wooden letter H for Hettie. Thistle ensure I’m never forgotten!”
    (5) Edward: “I got some letters, Het. I got three of them: t, i, and e. So from now on, I can call you Hettie!”
    (6) Felix Stowe was killed in battle. As a result, Madeleine is now a widow.
    (7) Mum was getting old, and a little forgetful. “I’m going to capture Imhotep’s heart, or my name isn’t Anck-su-namun! Now if I can only remember where I last saw him… Thebes, wasn’t it? Or was it Hamunaptra? I’m not sure!”

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  10. I’m not surprised Hettie and George got together. Stressful times cause people to do many things out of the ordinary, plus, her feelings for Edward had obviously waned. To be honest, I’m glad she found solace in George’s arms. Surely, that must have helped to ease the strain of living through a war.

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  11. What about poor George? My aunt was a WAAF. She met young pilot officers who went off and didn’t come back, so I think they had whatever joy they found, in the moment. Heart wrenching.

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    1. It had to be in the moment for most of them in those situations, Carolyn. Social acceptance was still considered to be essential. When my dad left my mum for another woman it caused all kinds of scandal, and that was in 1976.

      Best wishes, Pete.

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    2. Yes, poor Edward might have had a low sperm count! I don’t think it was ever considered, women just assumed to be barren! That would be a turn up. George would realise he had always wanted to settle down and have lots of kids!

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