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Great Writing - Home > Extended > The Polish Connection - Chapter 8
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Extended Work
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| The Polish Connection - Chapter 8 | |
| By jean.day | ||||||||||
| 04 October 2006 | ||||||||||
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August 1915 Our days went on much the same for several weeks. On the weekends, I arranged for us all to meet up with Peter in a thick woodland near Strines. We could then behave like normal families do and Beth could fully enjoy her father’s company, and he hers, without anyone being the wiser. And I managed on most nights to have a hot meal and a glass of wine waiting for Peter, and despite my feelings of guilt, these times became more intimate as time went on. I suppose that with us both being young and normal people, without having had any tenderness shown us for some time, it was inevitable that it should happen. I am not proud of it, in fact I am very embarrassed that I let it happen. But I cannot honestly pretend that I didn’t wish it to happen, and that I didn’t enjoy it when it did happen. When I wrote to John about Beth, I purposely didn’t mention how big a part her father was playing in our lives. I also cautioned Rebecca that in her letters to her father she should be circumspect in what she revealed, so as not to make her father worry unnecessarily about any danger that might come to us from harbouring illegal immigrants, no matter how charming and wonderful they turned out to be. Of course, now that Peter and I had become intimate, although so far it was only a kiss, I felt even worse when I wrote my letters to John telling him how much I missed him. Of course I missed him. I love my husband very much, but still my heart beats faster when nine o’clock approaches each evening. It happened by accident almost. I lost my balance and fell against him, and as he caught me, he held me in his arms, and then kissed me most tenderly. But I pulled myself away, with difficulty I must admit, and I must be careful to not let things go farther between us. I am a married woman and I love my husband and I must not let my emotions overtake my common sense. Since June, with it being lighter in the evenings, I suggested that Peter delay his trip upstairs until it is properly dark. So far I don’t think we have given anyone cause for concern, as we have been very quiet and no hint of gossip has reached me. But the chance of someone sitting out in the garden in the evenings up til later is now very possible, and I do not know what excuse I could make if someone saw Peter coming in and challenged him and me on what he was doing here. Beth is progressing so well. She will be five soon, and she is putting on weight to fill out her tall frame. She has inherited her father’s height and his dark eyes but her rich auburn hair must have come from her mother as his is much darker. She will one day be a very beautiful woman. I wonder what her mother looked like. I must ask Peter sometime. Beth is very chatty and clever, and her favourite game is to sit on the top of the stairs with me at the bottom with a huge pail by my feet. I throw the ball up to her, and she tries to throw it into the bucket. When she does well, we both clap and laugh. And of course we count all the attempts. And I am teaching her how to play simple card games too – Pelmanism and Happy Families and Old Maid. She is such a delight to me and I feel very much like she is my own child. Her vocabulary grows each day and her confidence with it. And Peter is so pleased to see how well she has settled in and become a part of our family and Rebecca loves her as much as I do. We had another letter from John the other day. Sometimes it is months between letters, and then we get several all together. “Dear Barbara and Rebecca, How nice to hear from you and how exciting to hear about having another member to our family. I am very anxious to meet Beth when I get leave, which I hope will be about Christmastime, if things don’t hot up around here. I can’t think of anything you need to send me as we are well supplied with food and such like. Just your letters are all I am interested in getting at the moment. And perhaps a photo or two if you can manage that these days. You asked about my work. Much of it I cannot divulge for security reasons but just recently I have had quite a different task – to be the property manager for the mess. This means that I have to account for everything from the beds to the clock on the mantelpiece. The army property is relative easy as it is in accounted for the basis of when it wears out. However, the private mess property e.g. dart board, bar equipment, etc. will become less valuable at a rate of depreciation on a compound interest law i.e. it never becomes worthless as it always decreases at a fixed percentage of the rate at the beginning of the quarter. When it becomes worth less than about 1 shilling it is written off, even if it is still quite serviceable. Each item depreciates at a different rate, thus I shall be quite busy working out the £,s,d for the next few weeks. The whole system is ridiculous in any case, since they have the most extraordinary rates of depreciation – eg wine glasses are set at 50%. This is obviously silly as the wine glass is either intact in which case it is worth its full value, or else it’s broken in which case it is worthless. Quite how it can halve its value every quarter beats me. Still I don’t have to pay, so why worry. Our days and nights are very hot, but we do occasionally get the odd swim in the sea – taking our pistols with us of course, under the towels while we go for a dip, and we must always go with at least one other from the unit. How is the weather doing in England? Have you enjoying your four weeks off school, Rebecca? What sorts of things do you get up to with your new cousin? I would love to have you write me all about it. Must get on with my jobs. Much love, John (Daddy)”
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