Chapter Eight

The Party

Peter Robinson: June 1939

‘Hurry up Pete,’ complained Danny Parnell, ‘we haven't got all day.’

We were crossing the quaint, arched, Hythe Bridge, over the River Isis on the outskirts of Oxford. ‘Well, actually Danny,’ I said teasingly ‘we have all weekend.’

He looked at me with disgust and did not deign to answer. Danny had been growing more and more impatient, on a slow train up from London, until he was almost bursting with excitement. He had met a girl and in his own words was, ‘rather falling for her.’

He had gone out dancing with the girl a number of times. For weeks, following these nocturnal forays, he hadn't stopped raving about her beauty and poise.

None of the other lads from the squadron had met her. There were several stories doing the rounds to explain this fact: she was a real beauty and he wanted to keep her to himself, lest someone else steal her; she didn't actually exist, that was she was a figment of his imagination; or, she was actually ugly and he didn't want anyone else to know.

I did not know what to think and then she had apparently gone back to Oxford, where she had a flat. Danny hadn't seen her for about three weeks. He had moped terribly, his flying had suffered, and worst of all, he had driven us to distraction, even more than usual.

So when she telephoned and suggested to him he come to a party, he had leapt at the opportunity. Apparently, as an afterthought, she suggested that he should bring a friend for the weekend.

As I was the only person in the squadron who qualified as a friend, Danny had invited me. I had almost refused, as I hoped to log a few hours on one of the Spitfires that our sister squadron had converted to just recently. I itched to compare the new star aircraft with our trusty Hurricanes.

However, on inquiring, I had found that the aircraft would be grounded for maintenance over the weekend. That disappointment, coupled with an intense curiosity at meeting Danny's erstwhile love, swung me over to agreement.

So here I was, following a lovesick Danny through the cobbled streets of Oxford. I actually wished he would slow down a little, as I hadn't been to Oxford for many years, and the mellow stone and spires of the university town were beautiful in the evening light.

But love it seemed, was not to be denied and so we were hurrying as fast as Danny could make me go. We passed Worcester College and went on a bit before turning into a side street. Finally, we ended up in front of a Victorian monstrosity of a house. All of a sudden and quite by surprise, Danny seemed hesitant, as if he were entering a dragon's lair. ‘She said her flat is upstairs at the back,’ he muttered nervously, ‘do you think that means we should just go in?’

I looked at his anxious face impassively, ‘As a superior officer, I will not tolerate you displaying a lack of moral fiber. Of course you should.’

I had earned the rank of flight officer some three months before Danny and was thus technically entitled to claim seniority, but I certainly hadn't come all the way to Oxford to simply catch the first train back. I pushed past him and opened the front door, ‘Nothing ventured, and nothing gained. Come on.’

We found ourselves standing in a timber-paneled hallway. A set of stairs on the left led up towards a landing. ‘This way’ I said, starting up the stairs.

Danny followed me almost reluctantly; I virtually had to drag him. Two imposing doors led off the landing, each with a brass number screwed onto the paneling. Danny followed me towards the rear door, it was labeled with the number four. I paused at the entrance, the sound of a gramophone, and the hubbub of chatting voices penetrated the solid timber of the door. I half turned towards my companion. Strangely, after all his eagerness to get here, he looked as if he was about to make a run for it. I clearly had to show some initiative, or we would still be forced to take the train back to London.

The thought of another slow trip with a lovesick Danny nearly curdled my blood. Clearly someone had to show some spine, I sighed and knocked on the door. Nothing happened, the noise inside continued. I waited a moment and knocked again, this time louder. We waited a little longer, I was just about to knock a third time, when the door opened.

A tall, slim, dark-haired girl stood just inside the threshold. If she was the girl in question, I could certainly see why Danny was so smitten. She was a beauty, cool grey eyes looked me up and down. She had a neutral, almost disinterested look on her face. I wondered briefly, if I came up to scratch, then her eyes flicked past me and fell on Danny.

A radiant smile lit the girl's face and even more I could see why Danny had been so desperate to get here. She was clearly, nearly as silly about him, as he was about her. I found that more than a little odd. Danny was by no stretch of imagination handsome, and often seemed more like a pathetic schoolboy, rather than a dashing fighter pilot. Still there is no accounting for taste, maybe his helpless air encouraged some nurturing instinct.

The girl stepped past me and, throwing her arms around him, gave Danny a passionate kiss. When he got his breath back, Danny made a clumsy introduction; it seemed she went by the name of Penny.

Formalities apparently concluded, they disappeared inside leaving me standing on the mat. Somewhat bemused, I followed them into the living room that lay beyond the door. It was a large room, as far as I could tell, tastefully furnished. There were about twenty people there, all apparently trying to talk over the gramophone that bravely soldiered on in the corner.

Liberating a flute of champagne from a tray, I began moving around the room, trying, without much luck, to enter one of the many conversations. It seemed most of the guests were reading politics, literature, or history, at the various university colleges scattered around the town. I had some interest in both politics and history, but the subjects that were on discussion went right over my head. I held my own for a moment in one group as they talked about recent fighting in Spain. But then the conversation switched, to the implications of Franco's victory on worldwide attitudes towards socialism. I fear my eyes must have glazed over, and I moved along.

Eventually after an hour or so, I found myself trapped in the kitchen by an intense young woman with thick glasses. She insisted that the indoctrination of the capitalist system had blinded me to the inevitability of worldwide revolution. After listening with growing confusion, for about ten minutes, to a lecture on the benefits of the coming Marxist revolution, I made an excuse about needing another drink and pushed past her out of the kitchen.

During my sojourn in the kitchen the focus of the party had, incredibly, shifted to Danny. He was in front of the mantelpiece, laughing and joking, his nerves of an hour before apparently totally forgotten. Penny sat nearby obviously enchanted. What a different picture of Old Parnell!

I, on the other hand, still felt out of my depth. I pushed over towards Danny and Penny. ‘I have a beastly headache, I'm going out to get some air.’

Penny deigned to smile sympathetically at me, ‘I’ve some Aspirin in the bathroom.’

‘Honestly, I think a breath of fresh air will do the trick.’

‘Why don't you go out on the balcony? It will be quieter out there.’

‘Excellent idea. How do I find the balcony?’

‘You just go out through the window, in either of the bedrooms.’

I pointed ‘Through there?’

‘Yes, either of those doors. You just lift the window and you can step through.’

With some trepidation I entered the bedroom on the left. A lot of alcohol was being consumed at this party, and in my experience, bedrooms are often best avoided in such situations. Unless, of course, one has some sort of extra-curricular activity in mind. To my relief nothing occupied the bed, other than some coats. There were two windows, one looking straight out onto the street, and the other opening onto the balcony. The window out onto the balcony was already open a couple of inches, and it easily swung up the rest of the way.

I ducked through onto the balcony. The sun had set, half blind in the dim light I lent on the balustrade and looked out. It had been worth coming out just for the view. The balcony looked out over Oxford town. The towers and spires of the city stood darkly silhouetted against the rich twilight of a summer evening, which dimly lit the western sky. Where the shadows stood deeper, dozens of lights twinkled at me. It was one of those moments when I was in danger of being poetic.

As beautiful as the view was, I was still feeling I had made a wasted trip. Yes, it was almost worth coming to meet the beautiful Penny, but other than that it seemed very like a washed out cricket match. I sighed, give me a pub with a piano and few RAF mates and I would be happy. I consider my self a canny chap, but this bash was decidedly not my cup of tea. I pulled out my cigarette case. Shaking a single cigarette from the case I patted my pockets. No luck, I'd come out matchless. I sighed again, I needed a cigarette but the idea of enduring Penny's odd friends, even only to beg a match, seemed just too much.

Reluctantly I slipped the cigarette back into its home, and the case back into my pocket. I leant on the rail looking back out over the vista. Then I had a brainwave, this was a superior establishment, there was bound to be a table on the balcony. There might even be an ashtray and, if I was really lucky, a table lighter as well.

Abandoning the view, I turned away from Oxford to search the balcony. In the dim light I saw that there was a table and some chairs. Then with a start, I realized I was not alone; I dimly perceived the outline of a woman, sitting on one of the chairs. Apparently she had sat there the whole time, quietly watching me. I almost jumped out of my skin with surprise, ‘I am sorry.’

It was a soft voice that replied, with a notable accent. ‘For what are you sorry?’

‘For intruding.’

‘You do not intrude. This is not my balcony.’

A Bavarian accent, for that is unmistakably what it was, can often make its user sound almost whining. But this girl had a delightful voice, all the more interesting for her accent. Yet she sounded impatient, or irritated, I ignored this and went on. ‘But like me, you were probably trying to get away from the crowd.’

‘You also find Penny's friends trying?’

It seemed I had a way in. At least we might have something in common. ‘If I am to be diplomatic, I would just say, I don't share their views.’

‘Ja, Ja, but this is just being polite. They are intelligent, sophisticated people, who have no idea of the real world.’

I laughed, ‘Yes, their conversation is all above my head. Marx and Keynes and all the rest.’

‘You are more practical?’

‘I suppose so, I am a pilot in the RAF. It's a technical, not theoretical occupation.’

Her voice seemed to suddenly become cold. ‘So you are a military man?’

I sought a way to sidestep the question. I had no desire to defend myself from the fevered attack of some pacifist. ‘I am sorry, I have to ask, from your accent you're German.’

The woman laughed, ‘Is my accent so strong?’

I switched to German. ‘I can even place your accent. I would guess you are Bavarian. My mother, my aunt and my cousins all sound exactly like you when they speak English.’

The girl stayed with English, ‘Your German is very gut, good. Ach, German relations and their poorly spoken English. I am Penny's cousin, and my English is lacking also.’

I switched back to my native tongue, ‘Your English is fine.’

‘Now you patronize. My vocabulary is gut, GOOD, but my grammar is poor, and my accent… terrible!’

I had to laugh, ‘It is rather noticeable, but terrible? Never!’

‘Again you are condescending, but I will forgive you. You said your mutter and cousin are German?’

‘Yes, my mother is from Bavaria, South-East of Munich.’

‘Not so far from my home. Let me see you. There is a light switch by the window.’

I stepped over to the window and fumbled for the switch. As I found it, the balcony was suddenly bathed with light. I blinked a couple of times, at the sudden flood of illumination. As my eyes adjusted, I got my first good look at her. I could see a strong resemblance to Penny; they looked more like sisters than cousins. But where Penny was pretty, even beautiful, this girl took my breath away.

Penny's features were pleasing, but this girl's were exquisite. She had an almost oval face framed by thick flowing blonde hair. Delicate cheekbones and graceful brows framed her vivid blue eyes. What eyes they were, they sparkled with reflected light like deep blue sapphires. Her perfectly sculpted nose, and full, elegant, lips completed the package. She sat lightly on the chair, her long legs casually crossed and draped in simple slacks, yet her bearing was as if she owned the world. However despite her apparent poise, I felt an air of sadness about her.

I felt quite breathless, excited by her exotic presence. Yet I had a strange feeling, I knew her, or had at least seen her before. Surely, I should be able to think where; I didn't run into such unforgettable individuals on a daily basis.

I guessed at first I had seen her in the theatre. Then I realized who she was. It was her vivid eyes that reminded me. I had thought she was pretty when I last saw her, but either I had been wrong, or the intervening years had matured and subtly changed her face, so now she was truly striking. Perhaps it was her hair. When I had seen her before it had been pulled severely back, but now it gently framed her face in all its golden glory.

‘I know who you are.’

She looked startled ‘Vot?’

‘I met you once, in thirty-six, in Berlin, at the Games. My cousins and I watched your final, because they said you were a Bavarian like them. We found you in the Olympic Village afterwards. You signed autographs for Gerda and Karl. I have never forgotten that day. My cousins called you. Let me think, 'The Mad Princess', but your name was.’ I paused for a moment recalling, ‘Die Prinzessin von Brunnenstadt. You are Katharina von Brunnenstadt.’

Her confidence seemed to drain away. It was as if suddenly she was bearing the weight of the world. I wasn't sure what I had done, so I shut up. She spoke quietly, ‘Now it is for me to be sorry. I do not remember you.’

‘We weren’t introduced, you were signing dozens of autographs. I remember you shook my hand and kissed Karl on the cheek.’

She paused before she spoke again, ‘I only use my other names now, Victoria Chesterfield.’

‘I have upset you. Perhaps you would like to be alone.’

I made as if to leave. ‘Wait, you have not told me your name.’

I hesitantly turned back towards her, ‘I'm Peter, Peter Robinson.’

‘No, I would not like to be alone, Peter. Please, stay and talk.’

The weight seemed to vanish from her shoulders and she laughed, a magical sound. ‘Besides, no doubt Penny has sent you out here as a test. Believe me, we do not wish to disappoint Penny.’

So I stayed. We talked for I don't know how long. First we talked about the Bavarian countryside. She was clearly homesick for the mountains and wooded slopes of her country.

Later, our conversation switched to the situation on the continent and the inevitability of war. She was obviously a passionate hater of the Nazis and all they stood for. I had always been reserved about the effect the Nazis were having on Germany. However, I had not formed a deep animosity towards them. Rather, I had seen them as a quirk of German politics. Victoria's burning passion made me revisit my views, and question whether I had taken the Nazis seriously enough. If half of her conclusions were soundly based, they were an evil that had to be fought with all possible means.

Still later, we talked of more personal things. Victoria was staying with her cousin Penny because her father had felt she should, ‘Meet people her own age.’

It had proved a failure, because while she liked her cousin, she had detested all Penny's friends. ‘Also I do not understand Penny, she has all these friends she does not really like. It is like, like she is a chemist mixing them together and watching the results.’

Finally we talked about the RAF. To my surprise, she seemed to understand my passion for flying like no other person. Then I realized she shared an equal obsession in her running. It seemed she derived something like the same euphoria, from pushing herself physically, to that I gained by throwing a high-powered aircraft around the sky.

I wished that night could last forever, but suddenly, in the early hours of the morning, we were interrupted by the arrival of Penny on the balcony. I hastily stood, knocking over my chair. She looked at us speculatively and half smiled, and then she became more serious. ‘I need some help with Danny. I am afraid, he has had rather too much to drink.’

I turned to Victoria. ‘I am sorry, I must see to my friend.’

‘Oh, of course.’

I followed Penny back to the living room. Most of the guests had by now departed and the room was almost quiet. Danny had reverted to type. He was slumped across a chair, snoring loudly. I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do with him. We had booked rooms at a hotel, but I was unsure how welcoming they would be to a drunk at this time of the morning. ‘Er, what do you think I should do with him?’

Penny replied, ‘Where are you staying.’

‘The King's Head Inn.’

‘They will be alright, they're used to students coming in at all hours.’

I grabbed Danny and hauled him to his feet. ‘Come on old man.’

With his arm over my shoulder we staggered towards the door, which Penny held open for us. ‘I must apologize for this lout. He never could hold his drink.’

Penny smiled, ‘Never mind,’ she frowned thoughtfully, ‘look, if Danny is up to it why don't you both come for tea tomorrow... I mean this afternoon.’

I smiled gratefully, ‘Thank you, I'll make sure we're here.’

I half carried, half dragged, Danny down the stairs and out through the front door. As I tried to get my bearings in the street, I realized that we were not alone. Victoria had come up behind me. I turned, almost dropping Danny in the process.

She was at least as tall as Penny. Her eyes, a much deeper blue in the dim light of the lamppost, were almost level with mine. ‘I will be on the canal tow path, soon after dawn for my run. Would you like to come?’

‘I would love to. But, I don't know how to find it.’

‘Go to the Hythe Street bridge. Follow the path to the north, the canal branches off the river a little way along. Keep going north along the canal towards Lower Heyford. Keep walking and I will find you along there.’

She leant towards me and kissed me lightly on the cheek. The silken touch of her lips on my face sent a tingle shooting through me. Then she turned and was gone, lightly leaping up the stairs. She moved as gracefully as a dancer. I stood staring up after her entranced. But my mood was spoiled as Danny grunted, and I came back to earth.