The FitzOsbornes at War

  About the Book

  A cold numbness had settled upon me the moment Mr Chamberlain had begun to speak. I’d been praying for a last-minute miracle. For Stalin to change his mind, for the Americans to intervene, for Hitler to fall under a train . . . anything. Now I understood how stupid I’d been.

  Sophie FitzOsborne and the royal family of Montmaray escaped their remote island home when the Nazis attacked. But now that war has come to England and the rest of the world as well, nowhere is safe.

  Sophie fills her journal with tales of a life in wartime. Stories of blackouts and the Blitz. Dancing in nightclubs with soldiers on leave. And desperately waiting for news of her brother Toby, last seen flying over enemy territory.

  But even as bombs rain down on London, hope springs up in surprising places, and love blooms. And when the Allies begin to drive their way across Europe, the FitzOsbornes take heart. Maybe, just maybe, there will be a way to liberate Montmaray – to go home again at last.

  Sometimes heart-stopping, sometimes heart-breaking, Sophie’s story will, as always, capture readers’ hearts.

  Praise for the award-winning Montmaray Journals

  ‘It’s I Capture the Castle meets the Mitfords in this entertaining confection.’ The Horn Book Magazine

  'Michelle Cooper brings together truth and fiction to create a breathtaking book.’ www.booktrends.org

  The Montmaray Journals

  Book One

  A Brief History of Montmaray

  Book Two

  The FitzOsbornes in Exile

  Book Three

  The FitzOsbornes at War

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title

  The Story So Far

  3rd September, 1939

  7th September, 1939

  15th September, 1939

  17th September, 1939

  21st October, 1939

  24th October, 1939

  23rd November, 1939

  5th December, 1939

  15th December, 1939

  24th December, 1939

  20th January, 1940

  16th March, 1940

  21st April, 1940

  13th May, 1940

  29th May, 1940

  9th June, 1940

  15th June, 1940

  20th July, 1940

  2nd August, 1940

  10th August, 1940

  15th August, 1940

  31st August, 1940

  5th September, 1940

  11th September, 1940

  23rd September, 1940

  16th October, 1940

  24th October, 1940

  18th November, 1940

  30th November, 1940

  24th December, 1940

  25th December, 1940

  19th January, 1941

  12th March, 1941

  6th April, 1941

  11th May, 1941

  28th June, 1941

  24th August, 1941

  21st December, 1941

  28th April, 1942

  14th May, 1942

  17th May, 1942

  26th May, 1942

  7th June, 1942

  19th June, 1942

  11th July, 1942

  5th September, 1942

  16th November, 1942

  12th December, 1942

  Boxing Day, 1942

  4th March, 1943

  29th April, 1943

  10th July, 1943

  21st August, 1943

  25th September, 1943

  27th September, 1943

  2nd October, 1943

  19th October, 1943

  26th November, 1943

  13th December, 1943

  28th December, 1943

  14th January, 1944

  17th January, 1944

  28th January, 1944

  21st February, 1944

  2nd March, 1944

  19th April, 1944

  8th May, 1944

  16th May, 1944

  Toby’s Account of Events from May, 1942 to January, 1944; transcribed 16th May, 1944

  20th May, 1944

  2nd June, 1944

  20th June, 1944

  28th August, 1944

  17th September, 1944

  29th October, 1944

  12th November, 1944

  30th November, 1944

  Four Years Later

  21st August, 1948

  Author Notes

  About the Author

  Ad

  Copyright

  More at Random House Australia

  The Story So Far

  IN A BRIEF HISTORY OF MONTMARAY, Sophie FitzOsborne lived in a crumbling castle in the tiny island kingdom of Montmaray, along with her tomboy younger sister, Henry, her beautiful, intellectual cousin, Veronica, Veronica’s father, the completely mad King John, and their housekeeper, Rebecca. Sophie’s brother, Toby, was at boarding school in England, and Rebecca’s son, Simon, worked in London.

  Their only visitors on the island were Captain Zuleta, whose cargo ship brought supplies, and Julia Stanley-Ross (the sister of Toby’s best friend, Rupert), along with Julia’s fiancé, Anthony. However, not long after the last remaining villagers (Alice, Mary and Jimmy) left the island, a German historian, Otto Rahn, and a Nazi officer, Hans Brandt, arrived on a search for the Holy Grail. Ignoring Veronica’s orders to stay away from the family, the Germans broke into the castle. Brandt was killed by mad King John, and Sophie and Veronica, aided by Rebecca, hid the mutilated body. A high-ranking officer named Gebhardt was sent to investigate Brandt’s disappearance. Gebhardt was injured in a confrontation with King John and left the island, vowing revenge. The King died later that day.

  At King John’s funeral, Rebecca revealed that Simon was the King’s son, but the subsequent dispute over the throne was put aside when Toby was badly hurt in an accident. He and Henry were evacuated by Anthony in his aeroplane. Before the others could leave, though, Montmaray was attacked by German bomber planes. The rest of the family escaped from the island with the help of Captain Zuleta and Julia’s uncle, Colonel Stanley-Ross. The journal ended as Sophie arrived at her Aunt Charlotte’s country house in England, with Veronica injured by Rebecca in an attempted murder, no clear heir to the throne and their island home destroyed.

  IN THE FITZOSBORNES IN EXILE, Sophie recounted the difficulties she had adjusting to her new life. Aunt Charlotte’s campaign to find Sophie and Veronica rich, titled husbands got off to a bad start at their first dinner party, when Veronica had a loud argument with Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists. Sophie and Veronica then moved to Montmaray House in London, where they attended debutante balls, were presented at Court, and became close friends with Rupert, Julia and the extended Stanley-Ross family. The girls also got to know the children of the new US Ambassador, Joe Kennedy, and unwittingly made enemies of the British royal family. Despite being strictly chaperoned, Veronica managed a couple of meetings with Daniel, her former tutor, who was now running a Socialist newspaper.

  In 1937, when Guernica was bombed during the Spanish Civil War and it became apparent that the Nazis were using Montmaray as a military base, the FitzOsbornes tried to convince the British government to take action against Germany. Meanwhile, the girls set up a house in Milford to care for Basque refugee children, including Carmelita, who became firm friends with Henry.

  Veronica’s outspoken nature and left-wing political beliefs led to her receiving threatening letters, and she was attacked at Julia and Anthony’s wedding. Veronica’s assailant was later revealed to be a passionate Mosley supporter – and a former patient of the psychiatric clinic where Rebecca had been confined.

  Veronica and Simon eventually put aside their l
ongstanding enmity to join forces and petition the British Foreign Office to assist in the removal of the Germans from Montmaray, but the government was anxious to avoid any conflict with Hitler. With the help of Daniel, they wrote to Otto Rahn, asking him to support their case against Gebhardt. Otto agreed, but died soon afterwards in suspicious circumstances.

  With war in Europe increasingly likely, Britain introduced conscription and Toby joined the Royal Air Force. In a last attempt to regain their homeland, the FitzOsbornes accepted an invitation to address the League of Nations in Geneva. Toby, Simon, Veronica and Sophie sneaked off, against their aunt’s wishes, but were spotted by Gebhardt and his men, who were determined to stop the FitzOsbornes revealing the truth about Montmaray’s invasion. After a terrifying chase across France, the FitzOsbornes evaded the Nazis and Veronica delivered her speech to the League of Nations, to great acclaim.

  Colonel Stanley-Ross met them afterwards with the news that Germany and the Soviet Union were about to sign a military pact, leaving Germany free to invade Poland – an act that would inevitably lead to Britain and its allies declaring war against Germany. Sophie ended her journal dreading the start of the war, but grimly determined to do all she could to defeat the Nazis.

  3rd September, 1939

  I’M QUITE SURE THAT, in twenty or thirty years’ time, people will say about this morning, ‘I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the news.’ They’ll say, ‘I was sitting in church and the vicar was halfway through his sermon’ or ‘We were washing up after breakfast and my sister decided to turn on the wireless’ or ‘I’d just come back from a long ride through the woods and I handed my horse over to the groom and he told me.’

  But the thing is, we could all be dead in twenty years’ time, or even twenty days’ time, the way the world is going, and so, for the record: when the British Prime Minister announced that the country was at war with Germany, I was in the breakfast room at Milford Park. My cousin, Veronica, was perched on the edge of the windowseat, and my brother, Toby, was sprawled across the rest of it. Veronica was rigid with barely suppressed fury; Toby appeared to be asleep, although the tiny, unfamiliar dent between his eyebrows suggested he was listening as hard as anyone. My little sister, Henry, was kneeling at their feet, spreading anchovy paste on bread crusts and silently handing them to our dog, Carlos, who’d been allowed upstairs due to the significance of the occasion. And Simon, my other cousin, was hunched over the wireless (which tended to lapse into static unless someone stood beside it, twiddling the knobs). Simon’s face was utterly blank – impossible to read, despite all the years I’d spent studying him.

  ‘Now, may God bless you all,’ the Prime Minister quavered.

  (Veronica gave a derisive snort.)

  ‘It is the evil things we shall be fighting against,’ went on Mr Chamberlain. ‘Brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution. And, against them, I am certain that the right will prevail.’

  There was a moment of crackling quiet, then ‘God Save The King’ began wheezing out of the wireless. Simon switched it off.

  ‘What a hypocrite that man is!’ Veronica burst out, jumping to her feet. ‘He didn’t consider them “evil things” last year, when he was hobnobbing with Hitler in Munich and handing over entire countries to the Nazis!’

  ‘Toby,’ said Henry urgently, twisting around to look at him, ‘Toby, do you have to go back to your squadron now, this very minute?’

  ‘I don’t have a squadron, Hen, not yet,’ said Toby, easing himself up on his elbows. ‘The air force won’t assign me to one till I’ve finished advanced training.’

  ‘If Chamberlain had any decency, he’d resign!’ said Veronica, still glaring at the wireless.

  ‘But Toby, when do you have to go back?’ Henry persisted.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Toby.

  ‘Oh,’ Henry said, blinking. Her face was easy to read. I saw, in rapid succession: dismay that he’d be leaving so soon; patriotic pride at having a brother already in the services; and burgeoning curiosity about what might happen to her now. ‘I suppose,’ she added, almost wistfully, ‘that the war will be over by the time I’m old enough to fight.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ I said shortly. I was having trouble making my lips work, because a cold numbness had settled upon me the moment Mr Chamberlain had begun to speak. As inevitable as this announcement was to everyone else, I realised I’d been praying all along for a last-minute miracle. For Stalin to change his mind, for the Americans to intervene, for Hitler to fall under a train . . . anything, anything at all. Now I understood how stupid I’d been.

  ‘Don’t worry, Soph, it’ll be over by Christmas,’ said Toby, flashing me a smile. ‘Isn’t that what they said last time?’

  ‘And that went on four whole years,’ I said bleakly.

  ‘Besides, Henry, you couldn’t fight, even if you were old enough,’ Veronica said, frowning down at her. ‘You’re a girl.’

  ‘So what?’ retorted Henry. ‘Girls can join the air force, Julia told me! And the army, and the navy, too! It’s just that the women’s services have silly names, like “Wrens” for the navy. Wrens, how idiotic, it ought to be “Albatrosses” or “Razorbills” or something like that. But that’s the one I want to join, ’cause I can sail and row and –’

  Carlos placed a paw on her arm and gave her a meaningful look.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Carlos,’ she said, handing him the piece of bread she’d been waving around.

  Toby sighed and slumped back against the window frame. ‘It’s so odd, isn’t it?’ he remarked to no one in particular. ‘I mean, all those times when it seemed about to start, and then everything went back to normal. And now . . . Oh Lord, to think of old Ribbentrop being responsible for this! I met him, you know, I actually had dinner with the man who got the Soviets to join up with the Nazis. The Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact, isn’t that what it’s being called?’

  Everyone’s a political expert, these days. Even I knew that if that pact hadn’t been signed, Germany wouldn’t have invaded Poland and we wouldn’t be at war now.

  ‘And he seemed such a joke back then!’ Toby continued. ‘Simon, don’t you remember, that party at the Bosworths’? When he was still the German Ambassador and all the girls were calling him “von Ribbensnob” and you spent ages chatting to him about –’

  Simon shot Toby a withering look.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Toby. ‘Sorry.’ That dinner party had been the beginning of the end, for Montmaray. If Ribbentrop hadn’t passed Simon’s information on to those Nazi Grail hunters, then perhaps our home would never have been invaded . . . But what did it matter, now that the whole of Europe was at war? Which reminded me of something else.

  ‘Do we have to declare war on Germany ourselves?’ I asked. ‘On behalf of Montmaray, I mean?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Veronica, her frown digging further into her forehead. ‘Yes, we’d better send a letter to the German Embassy straight away. And another one to the Foreign Office, reminding the British that we’re their allies. Otherwise, we might get interned as Enemy Aliens. They’ve already started rounding up Germans in London, Daniel was saying yesterday. Anyone who isn’t a British subject –’

  Carlos suddenly tilted his head towards the window and crinkled his brow.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ asked Henry.

  Veronica turned to stare in the direction of the village. ‘Surely it couldn’t be –’

  ‘Air raid siren,’ said Toby, scrambling to his feet as Carlos added his howl to the rising cacophony. ‘Grab your gas masks and let’s go!’

  ‘Mine’s upstairs,’ said Henry. ‘Or hang on – did I leave it in the stables?’

  ‘Henry!’ snapped Veronica. ‘I told you to keep it with you!’

  There were thumps and shouts from the corridor, and a couple of maids rushed past the open door, trailing mops and dusters. I stood where I was, frozen with horror.

  ‘You see, I took Lightning out for a ride before breakfast,’ said Henry.
‘Or maybe it’s –’

  ‘What’s that under the table? Isn’t that yours?’ asked Veronica.

  ‘Oh, right. But, you know, it really isn’t fair, Carlos doesn’t have a gas mask, nobody ever thinks about the poor animals –’

  Harkness, our intimidating butler, loomed in the doorway, accompanied by several white-faced footmen. ‘Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, may I suggest you join us in the cellars immed–’

  ‘Just a moment,’ said Toby, raising a hand. We listened in the abrupt stillness. The rise and fall of the siren had changed to a steady blare.

  ‘That’s the All Clear signal,’ said Veronica.

  ‘Must have been a false alarm,’ said Toby.

  We looked out the window at the serene countryside, then up at the vast expanse of pale autumn sky, utterly devoid of aeroplanes. I sank into a chair, limp with relief.

  ‘We really ought to have a drill,’ said Veronica crossly. ‘Practise what to do in a real emergency. That was just hopeless.’

  ‘I shall make arrangements for it at once, Your Highness,’ said Harkness, bowing. At no stage had he looked anything other than his usual imperturbable self. He swept the maids back down the corridor with a wave of his hand, gathered up the footmen and disappeared.

  ‘Well, that’s it, then,’ Toby said, rubbing his forehead. ‘Come on, Hen, you can help me pack up my room . . . Yes, all right, Carlos can come, too.’ The three of them went off, followed by Veronica, who announced that if anyone needed her, she’d be in the library, drafting a letter to the German Embassy.

  They left a ringing silence in their wake. I took an unsteady breath and looked down at my hands. They were quivering – as though a bomb really had exploded and the shock waves were still reverberating around the room.

  ‘Although it’s pretty unlikely the Germans would drop a bomb in the middle of Dorset,’ I said to Simon, who was unplugging the wireless. ‘I mean, it’d be a complete waste of time and effort for them, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Would it?’ he said. ‘There’s an airfield not far from here.’

  ‘Simon, you could at least pretend to be reassuring.’

  He turned and gave me a look that spoke volumes.