‘Yes. We wondered whether we should tell you at the time, but decided it would be best if you stayed on your guard. Eventually David Sutherland and his fascist blackshirts must have been satisfied that you didn’t know anything, because he stopped following you. However,’ Natalie said, her tone serious, ‘if they find out you know now, you will be in danger again. Sutherland may be in prison, but there are many others.’
‘I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. I won’t even let George know you’ve told me.’ Margot finished her coffee. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do, you will let me know, won’t you?’
Natalie put her hand on Margot’s and nodded. ‘Of course.’ After pouring them both a second cup of coffee Natalie said, ‘You’re looking much better today. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes I did. And I’m feeling better too, so I’m going home.’
‘Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Bill can stay too. It will be like old times,’ Natalie said, smiling at the memory.
‘I don’t want Bill to stay here. And I don’t want him to know I’ve been staying here.’
‘But surely you’ll tell him that you’ve been unwell, Margot?’
‘No, he’ll only worry. Besides, I’m better, so there’s no need.’
At that moment Anton walked in and Natalie went over to the stove. ‘What do you want for breakfast, darling?’
‘Nothing, thank you, there’s no time.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Got a breakfast meeting with the Association of West End Theatre Managers. I’ll see you later,’ he said, taking a drink of Natalie’s coffee, before kissing her goodbye. ‘Ready, Margot?’ he called, leaving the kitchen.
‘Yes, my bag’s in the cloakroom. Thank you for looking after me, Natalie,’ she said, hugging her friend. ‘I appreciate all you’ve done for me this week, but I need to be at home when Bill gets back.’ At the front door, Margot hugged Natalie and thanked her again. ‘You won’t tell Bill I was-- that I’d been drinking and I’ve been staying here with you and Anton, will you?’
Natalie shook her head. ‘It isn’t my job to tell him, Margot, it’s yours.’
‘And I will tell him, I promise, but not just yet. With our workloads we hardly see each other as it is. I don’t want what little time we have together spoiled because Bill’s worrying. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!’ she said, kissing her friend, before running down the path and jumping into Anton’s car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The wireless crackled and spat for a few seconds before sparking into life with the voice of Winston Churchill. “Hostilities will end officially at one minute after midnight tonight, Tuesday, May 8th, but in the interests of saving lives the cease fire began yesterday.” Margot cried with joy. Unable to see through her tears, she brought her attention back to the broadcast. “… celebrating today and tomorrow as Victory in Europe days.”
Switching off the wireless, she grabbed her handbag and house keys, and ran downstairs. She flung open the street door and ran into the Mews to the sound of bells. The bells of St Paul’s Cathedral were ringing for the first time since September 1939. Laughing and crying at the same time, she hugged and kissed everyone who lived or worked in the Mews as they came out of their homes and offices to share the good news.
She pushed her way through the crowds and made her way to Covent Garden. There was a party in almost every street and Margot was offered glasses of beer or cups of tea at every turn. Eventually she arrived at the Strand. Standing in the doorway of the theatre to protect her ankle from being trampled on, she listened to the horns of the river tugs as they sailed up the Thames. Suddenly they were drowned out by the drone of aeroplanes. Everyone looked up at the sky as five Spitfires roared overhead. The crowd went crazy, cheering and waving.
Margot searched the sea of faces hoping to see her friends. It was impossible to distinguish one face from another as thousands of people poured out of the underground stations. Someone pushed a Union Jack into her hand and pulled her into the crowd. She had no choice but to join the throng and go with the flow. Waving the flag high in the air, she was carried along the Strand, singing and dancing – and praying she wouldn’t damage her ankle.
As Trafalgar Square came into view, Margot gasped. She could hardly believe her eyes. Tens of thousands of people were cheering and waving. Youths were climbing on the lions, draping them in red, white and blue bunting. Others were splashing about in the fountain. The fountain! Margot laughed out loud. When she first came to London in 1939 the fountain had been turned off to conserve water. She had walked through Trafalgar Square hundreds of times and never seen water coming from it. Now, for the first time in six years, people were jumping in it, cheering and laughing, scooping water up in their hands and throwing it over each other as if it were a symbol of freedom. In a way it was.
Suddenly a great snake of people dancing the conga passed and a soldier pulled Margot in. She danced along until she reached the steps of the National Gallery, where she ducked out.
‘Margot?’ she heard someone call. ‘Margot?’
She looked around.
‘Up here. On the steps.’
Looking up, Margot saw three American air force officers. One of them was First Lieutenant Boyd Murphy. ‘Come up!’ he shouted.
Margot wanted to but knew she shouldn’t. Not after…
Suddenly the American film maker was at her side.
