He looked uncomfortable at her question. ‘No,’ he replied, his eyes downcast, lost behind his fringe.
‘Well, you are now, you can escort Annelise and me.’
‘Isabella!’ remonstrated Annelise. ‘You can’t railroad him like that. Now he’ll feel obliged. And anyway, I’m quite capable of attending a party unaccompanied.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I haven’t railroaded anyone. Do you feel obliged, Stanley?’
He looked uneasy. ‘If Annelise would rather I didn’t take her,’ he said, ‘I’d quite understand.’
‘Why did you have to make me look so ungracious?’ Annelise demanded when lunch was over and she followed Isabella upstairs to what had been her old bedroom before she went to live with Elijah. Downstairs Hope was still bending Stanley’s ear, and Edmund had returned to his surgery.
‘I think you’ll find you did that all by yourself,’ said Isabella. ‘Honestly, why did you have to be so churlish? I was just trying to make lunch a bit jollier. What’s going on between Hope and Edmund?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Goodness, Annelise, for such an intelligent girl you can be remarkably obtuse. Hope keeps sniping at Edmund. She did it last night too.’
‘You know what Mums is like when she’s under pressure; she gets all cranky. As soon as she’s finished this latest book she’ll calm down. She’s a perfectionist, that’s the trouble.’
‘No,’ said Isabella, joining Annelise at the window where she was looking down at the garden, ‘the real trouble is, she doesn’t know how to relax. When was the last time she cleared her diary long enough to go on holiday with Edmund? Or even go to the theatre for that matter? She does nothing but work. It’s like a drug for her. An obsession.’
‘It’s her passion. It always has been. I would have thought you of all people would understand that.’
‘Of course I’m passionate about what I do, but I still want to have fun in my life. Otherwise what’s the point? And you know what, Romily used to have fun too, but I’ve noticed lately that work dominates everything she does. Look how she was meant to be home this weekend for the party, but she’s allowed work to keep her there in America.’
‘We don’t know that it’s work.’
‘What else could it be?’
‘Even if it is, you and I would have done the same. It’s called seizing an opportunity. As women we have to work that much harder in our chosen professions to get where we want to be.’
Isabella hated it when Annelise was right, but unable to let her have the last word, she said, ‘And where do you want to be, Annelise, in, let’s say, five years’ time?’
‘With Castro urging the Soviets to attack America with a nuclear missile, I don’t think there’s much point looking too far into the future, do you?’
Isabella tutted. ‘In the hope that doesn’t happen, where do you see yourself in five years?’
‘I don’t know. But one day, when I’m a lot older, I’d like nothing more than to be the Dean of St Gertrude’s. What about you?’
‘Does marriage not figure in your ambition?’ Isabella replied without answering the question.
For a split second, Annelise’s expression faltered. ‘I don’t think I’m the marrying sort,’ she said, running a finger along the windowsill.
Storing away that hesitant response from Annelise, Isabella smiled. ‘Well, I plan to marry at least three times. The first time to further my career. The second for money. And the third for love.’
Annelise’s face was a picture of scandalised shock. ‘That’s dreadful, even by your standards.’
Isabella laughed. ‘I’m joking! You really need to lighten up; you’re much too serious these days. Which brings me back to Hope. She needs to watch out, because if she’s not careful, she’ll push Edmund too far. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes, or more precisely, I’ve been on the receiving end of a neglected husband’s need to feel wanted. It never fails to amaze me how fragile the male ego is.’
Annelise looked aghast. ‘You can’t possibly think Edmund would stray. He’s not like those unprincipled actors you mix with. He’s a decent and honourable man, the epitome of a loyal and utterly trustworthy husband. What’s more he loves Mums.’
‘All of which may well be true. But a man can only be pushed so far before his principles fly out of the window.’
‘I can’t believe you’re talking this way. You’ve become so cynical.’
Accepting there was no point in going any further with the conversation, Isabella decided to change the subject.
‘What are you wearing for the party tonight?’ she asked. ‘Can I see? After all, we don’t want to clash, do we?’
Chapter Sixteen
Island House, Melstead St Mary
October 1962
Annelise
Alone in her bedroom, Annelise stood in front of her writing desk with its view of the garden. The leaves on the trees had turned, and in the afternoon sun, rich autumnal hues of rust, copper and gold were perfectly reflected in the still surface of the pond. She loved autumn.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw Isabella in the garden below. Annelise watched her walk across the lawn, then disappear through the archway in the hedge. She knew exactly where Isabella was going; she was following the path that led to the churchyard where Elijah and her mother were buried. She went there every time she came home. It was a pilgrimage for her.
Isabella may not have known the woman who had given birth to her, and given her own life in the process, but she had a tangible connection, a gravestone she could touch, a place where she could lay flowers. Annelise envied her that. She had nowhere close at hand where she could go to mourn the passing of her parents.
Thanks to the meticulous records kept by the Nazis, Annelise knew that her mother had been sent to Ravensbruck, where eight months later she had died of typhus. Her father had been sent to Buchenwald to work in the infirmary of the camp, but died two years later of hypothermia. He had been forced to stand naked in the snow for disobeying an order.
In Oxford Annelise had been encouraged by Rebecca Hoffman, a friend and colleague at St Gertrude’s, to observe the Sabbath, the Jewish holy day. Rebecca had invited her to join a group to celebrate Shabbat. She had accepted the invitation in the hope that she would feel some kind of connection to the people and the ritual, but mostly she had wanted to feel connected to her parents. But she had felt nothing, other than that she was an outsider, as though she were a spectator watching a performance that had no relevance to her life. Rebecca had sympathised, saying it was the lack of familiarity that had made Annelise feel the way she had, that regular attendance would change how she felt.