Octavia's War Read Online Free

company.’
    â€˜A lovely dinner, Emmeline,’ Mrs Dimond said. ‘Splendid food, lovely wine, good company, what more could anyone want?’
    They left smiling and Octavia smiled too, although rather absent-mindedly. She was wondering when Mrs Hutchinson would get in touch and what she would say when she did.
    Her phone call came two weeks later. And it caused a row.

Chapter Two
    Octavia had spent the morning in her school. The start of the autumn term was only nine days away and she wanted to be sure that everything was ready for it, that the new stock had been delivered, that the repairs to the science rooms were completed, that everything was clean and in order. She and Maggie Henry, the school secretary, had inspected every room, noting everything that wasn’t entirely to her satisfaction and she’d returned to Parkside Avenue, with Maggie’s notes in her attaché case, ready to deal with anything outstanding. That afternoon she sat in the garden, smoked a few necessary cigarettes and wrote a lot of necessary letters, while her father talked to Emmeline and enjoyed the afternoon tea she’d provided for them. The sound of the phone suddenly trilling inside the house was decidedly unwelcome. It had to be answered, of course, the new term being so close, because there was no knowing who it might be, but it was a nuisance.
    â€˜Yes,’ she said shortly into the receiver.
    The voice that answered sounded unsure of itself. ‘Miss Smith?’ it asked.
    â€˜Speaking.’
    â€˜Ah,’ the voice said and gave a nervous cough. ‘Um, my name is Stella Hutchinson. Mr Dimond asked me to contactyou. Is this an inconvenient time?’
    Frank’s committee, Octavia thought. Of course. She’d been so busy she’d forgotten all about it. She moderated her tone at once. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘I’ve just rushed in from the garden that’s all. I’m a bit breathless. How I can help you?’
    â€˜Well…’ Mrs Hutchinson said, ‘how much do you know about our organisation?’
    â€˜Only what Frank told me,’ Octavia admitted, ‘which wasn’t a great deal. I know you’re trying to get as many Jews out of Germany as you can, which seems admirable to me – and necessary given what’s going on there.’
    â€˜You know about the concentration camps then.’
    â€˜I’ve heard rumours. Yes.’
    â€˜From the newspapers?’
    â€˜Yes. I have no other source of information.’
    There was a pause, then the gentle voice went on, ‘The situation is much worse than anything you’ll read in the newspapers. Worse than you could possibly imagine. From what our refugees have been telling us, it looks as though the camp guards are deliberately starving the inmates to death.’
    The voice was cool, quiet, almost emotionless but that made the impact of the words even more terrible. ‘That’s appalling,’ Octavia said, and instantly began to think of some action she could take. Some action she must take. It was imperative. A letter to The Times perhaps. A petition. ‘Something must be done,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’
    â€˜Our most pressing need at the moment,’ Mrs Hutchinson said, ‘apart from raising funds, is to find people in London who could offer our new arrivals temporary accommodation until we can move them on to something more permanent. Would that be possible?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Octavia said at once. ‘Of course. We’ve got a spare room they could have.’
    The voice changed, became businesslike. ‘How many does it sleep?’
    â€˜There’s a double bed and a small single but we could squeeze another single in if there were four of them.’
    â€˜When could it be ready?’
    â€˜When would you want it?’
    â€˜Would next Tuesday be possible?’
    â€˜Of course,’ Octavia said. There was no doubt in