“Buenos Aires has a large British colony, and I felt as if I was back in England, circa 1910. All the upper-class b.s. I had left behind was alive and well in Argentina. The only person who disliked it more than I did was Jack. I didn’t realize how much he hated his job, and he didn’t enlighten me. And me? I made a lot of wrong assumptions that very nearly ended our marriage.
“One evening, while attending a company party, Jack’s boss, who was three sheets to the wind, came up and slapped him on the back and said, ‘Jack’s the best. He’s the only one who doesn’t complain when we send him to some god-awful hellhole. He’s even volunteered to go to some of these dumps.’ That statement opened my eyes. In India and Argentina, I could rarely visit Jack at his job sites because of disease or unrest or other dangerous situations. Now I believed that Jack had asked for these assignments for the very reason that they were so inaccessible. I was wrong, but that’s what I believed at the time.”
A look of resolution came over Beth’s face. “I decided that if I wasn’t wanted, I bloody well could be unwanted in England. At least I would be with my sons. I told Jack that I was returning to England to help his mother care for his father, who was in decline because of heart problems. On the long trip home, all I could think about was what a sham our marriage had been.
“In late 1938, all eyes were on Germany, which, once again, was beating the war drum. For Great Britain, a country that had lost 700,000 men in a war with Germany, there was an underlying panic that it could happen all over again. When Hitler threatened war over the Sudetenland, Britain signed a pact agreeing to the separation of that region from Czechoslovakia, which then became a part of a greater Germany.
“Neville Chamberlain has been vilified for the concessions he made to Hitler at Munich regarding the Sudetenland, but I can tell you he would have been strung up by his toes in Trafalgar Square if he hadn’t done just that. People forget that Chamberlain was met by cheering crowds at Heston Airfield when he returned from the Munich conference. The British did not want another war. The French did not want another war. But we were going to get one because now Hitler was talking about Poland.
“Jack was still in Argentina when war was declared in September ’39. When he arrived at Crofton Wood shortly before Christmas, I had not seen him for half a year, not since his father’s funeral in May. Jack got a job right away because England was rapidly converting civilian plants to military uses. He was even busier in 1940 with the Battle of Britain, trying to repair infrastructure faster than the Germans could bomb it. Then came the Blitz. I saw very little of him in the first half of ’41.
“Jack had his own moment of clarity that year. He told me he would be away for weeks at a time because of the extensive damage done to England’s industrial cities. I told him I expected that even though nearby Liverpool and Birmingham had been pummeled, it would be absolutely necessary for him to work in Southampton, which was as far away as he could get from Crofton and me. He just stared at me, but he didn’t dispute it.
“In late ’42, when the wounded started to come back to England from the desert campaigns in North Africa, I was working at a hospital in Sheffield as a nurse’s aide, a Volunteer Aide Detachment. In the First War, we had a code of conduct that stated, ‘Do your duty loyally; Fear God; Honour the King.’ It was a simpler time. We dealt in moral and patriotic absolutes, which is why the country didn’t scream bloody murder when 60,000 of our boys died in one battle with nothing to show for it.
“At first, I handed out coffee or tea and sandwiches to returning soldiers at train stations where the waiting rooms had been turned into reception centers, but after Jack went to France, I received extensive medical training at a London hospital and was assigned to the hospital ships sailing between Boulogne and Folkestone. The orderlies walked between double-tiered bunks asking, ‘Where in Blighty do you live?’ That’s what they called England — Blighty. They wanted to get the men to a hospital closest to their home.
“In February 1917, Jack was wounded when an ammunition storage facility exploded sending shrapnel everywhere. He was sent back to England with an infected arm. I received permission from my head matron to go to him, but only after producing a certificate of marriage. These matrons were tough, very tough, and they didn’t tolerate any nonsense or fooling around from their volunteers. They cared so much for their patients, but frankly, until you proved yourself, they didn’t give a shit about you.”
As serious as the discussion was, I couldn’t help thinking how different Beth was from the lady I had met the previous autumn. That Beth would never have said “shit” or drank whiskey “neat.” I liked this Beth a lot better.
“After Jack was discharged from hospital, he was given two weeks’ leave and two weeks of light duty, but I got only ten days because my time with him when in the hospital was considered to be leave. But it was a wonderful ten days. We went to Lyme Regis in Dorset right on the Channel. You might have read about it in Jane Austen’s Persuasion. It rained most of the time, but we snuggled in bed or sat in the public room in front of a fire. After Lyme Regis, we’d see each other whenever we could, because I was working, and then he was back to France.”
Beth stopped talking and started to rub her arms, as if these memories had brought on a chill of their own. “In April 1917, I was assigned to the hospital in a casino at LeTouquet that had been set up by the Duchess of Westminster. That’s where I was when the guns went silent on November 11, 1918.”
Suddenly stopping, Beth said, “My God, what a tangent I just went off on.” Beth stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s get some coffee going.” After returning with a fresh pot, courtesy of the Army Exchange Service, she continued her story.
“What I started to say was that I had a particularly bad week at the hospital in Sheffield. After Freddie picked me up at the Stepton station, he insisted I come back to Montclair for a drink. Remember, at this time, Montclair was being used by the RAF as a retreat. I went into the drawing room, and Freddie introduced me as the ‘Mistress of the Manor’ to all the officers. I met a captain from the Royal Canadian Air Force.”
I closed my eyes because I was afraid of what Beth was about to say.
“Maggie, you may open your eyes. I did not have an affair.” I let out a sigh. I cared so much for Jack and Beth I didn’t want to think either had been unfaithful. It was upsetting enough to learn their marriage had been so troubled. “But I came pretty close to it. But Peter was married and had a son, and his wife didn’t deserve that. He missed his family, and I was very lonely after years of Jack being gone so much. Peter treated me with such kindness. We mostly talked, held hands, went for long walks, and kissed quite a bit, but it lasted all of seven days, and I never saw him again.”
Looking at me, Beth asked if I thought less of her because of her flirtation, but after hearing about her life with Jack, I couldn’t judge her. “No,” I said, “I just wish it had been different.”
Beth smiled and then continued, “I believe Freddie said something to Jack. As a result, we had our first serious discussion about our marriage.” Beth stopped talking and looked out the window trying to think of the right words to use. “Jack told me that one of the reasons he took the job in India was because it was the only way he could provide for me in the same manner in which I had been brought up at Montclair. If we had stayed in England, he could never have afforded to hire nurses and governesses for the children or maids for me. The hurt I felt went to my very soul. I asked him if he truly believed that having servants was more important to me than having a husband. And what about his sons? They hardly knew him.