The Polish Connection 8

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. 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 occasions 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.

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 an illegal immigrant, no matter how charming and wonderful he turned out to be.

Of course, now that Peter and I have 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 later in the evenings 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.

Beth is very chatty and clever, and I am teaching her how to play simple card games, Pelmanism, Happy Families and Old Maid. She is such a delight to me. 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 which I must admit worries me somewhat.

Dear Barbara and Rebecca,

How nice to hear from you and thank you for telling me about taking on this child who you say in a relative. Did her father provide any real proof of this? I hope you have made the right decision, but as it is such a huge undertaking, you must know that nothing about it is legal. What will you do if something goes very wrong? If you are serious about this, will you contact her father and get it made official that you are her temporary guardian? What if something should happen to you? Where would she end up then? And as you grow more and more fond of her, how will you feel when he comes back and takes her away, as he no doubt will? I doubt if you have given sufficient time to thinking this whole situation through. However, I can't see how I can do much about it on your behalf, but perhaps when I am next home we can think out all these things and have an emergency plan on hand. I presume you are still in some sort of contact with her father, or has he been detained?

I am very anxious to see you both and to meet Beth when I get leave, which I hope will be about Christmas time, 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 relatively easy as it is accounted for on 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 one 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 – e.g. 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)