Private Gollantz (The Gollantz Family Saga Book 5) by Naomi Jacob

Author:Naomi Jacob [Jacob, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Jewish family saga, Jewish history, Jewish families, antique business, Jewish soldiers, historical family saga, Jews in the second world war
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Family Saga)
Published: 2016-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

He had lunched with his mother. She had been gay and laughed at all his small jokes. Max had joined them rather later, and now he and Angela had left to drive back to Ordingly. Emmanuel made his way to Vivian Mallet’s little house in Kensington. Her drawing-room held a restful quality which soothed Emmanuel.

He said, ‘This is what I miss in the Army, you know.’

‘What? China tea and thin bread-and-butter?’

‘No ‒ not quite. All the small nice things ‒ thin, old silver spoons, and cups with pleasant colours ‒ these are Worcester, aren’t they? ‒ and fine napkins. Not of necessity luxurious things, but ‒ all those little attractivenesses which make life so delightful. There isn’t much charm in the Army ‒ and why should there be, after all?’

‘But you don’t actively hate it?’ Vivian asked.

‘No, no. On the other hand, I don’t actively love it. There will be a certain excitement in going overseas ‒’

‘Quite a lot of excitement,’ she said drily.

‘Possibly. If I have a definite grouse against the life it’s the monotony. Yet that’s part of the system. And after all ‒ as a system I suppose one has to admit that it’s worked pretty well.’

As he watched her he thought how attractive she was, and how much he liked her. She never chattered, she talked well, and listened admirably. Her gravity never became heaviness, her laughter when it came was spontaneous and wholehearted. Her hands pleased him, they were well kept, they moved with sureness. He felt that she would never fumble nor drop things which she handled.

She looked up and found him watching her.

‘You’re looking very intently at me,’ she said, smiling.

‘I was thinking how much I admired you,’ Emmanuel said.

‘That’s very nice to hear.’

‘You’re not annoyed with me for saying that?’ he asked.

‘Annoyed! Of course not; how could I be?’

He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go ‒ Vivian, write to me when I’m away, will you? Not only letters telling me about the latest play, or where you have been and whom you have seen and talked to ‒’

‘Then what shall I tell you?’

‘Oh, tell me what you’re thinking and reading, and what ideas you have about things. Let me get really to know you while I’m away.’

He had not realized that he was holding her hands in his; now he did so, and raising one kissed it gently.

‘Take care of yourself, Vivian ‒ and ‒ if necessary ‒ if it seems wiser ‒ leave London.’

‘That’s not very easy,’ she said, ‘I’m in the Fire Service. You’d not like me to run away, would you?’

He smiled down at her. ‘I think if you ran to safety, I could find it quite easy to forgive you! There, I must go.’

‘Good-bye, Emmanuel, and God bless you.’

During the journey down to Dimstoke he leaned back in the corner of the carriage and closed his eyes. He tried to look back to the past months, tried to see clearly and judge rightly. Cynthia Crawley had attracted him; he had liked her vitality, her energy, and her general air of complete smartness.

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