by Daisy Styles
Ada gave a wise smile. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, dear.’
While Zelda was busy mixing her salves and tinctures, Gracie, now hugely pregnant, spent a lot of time with Diana, who was slowly regaining her strength if not her spirits after the birth of her son. Worried Ava regularly found Diana feeding Teddy with silent tears streaming down her face. Taking Gracie into her confidence, Ada asked a favour.
‘Keep an eye on Diana, will you? I’m concerned about her spending too much time on her own and getting full-blown post-natal depression.’
Gracie looked anxious. ‘I’m good at telling jokes and making people laugh, Ada, but this is serious. What should I talk to Diana about that won’t upset her? Should I mention her boyfriend, or should I avoid the subject altogether?’ she blurted out.
‘If Harry naturally comes into the conversation, you should pursue it,’ Ada advised. ‘Don’t avoid it, or blank it: it would do Diana good to talk about him.’
‘I see her brooding all the time,’ Gracie said sadly. ‘I just don’t know what to do for the best.’
‘Spend some time with her and you’ll find out,’ Ada predicted.
One bright, clear December afternoon, while Teddy was sleeping in the nursery alongside George, Gracie suggested that she and Diana went for a walk on the marsh. To her surprise Diana eagerly accepted her invitation.
‘A brisk walk will blow the cobwebs away,’ she said with a smile.
Out on the vast marsh the wind whipped in from the Irish Sea, buffeting the two women, who walked somewhat unsteadily along the sandy path left by the outgoing tide. At first it took all their breath just to stand up straight in the face of the wind, but, as it dropped, they were able to hear each other speak.
‘I can’t believe I’m ever going to have this baby,’ Gracie groaned as she held on tightly to her tummy. ‘I sometimes think I’ll look like a barrage balloon for the rest of my life.’
‘You’ve not long to go now, Gracie,’ Diana assured her. ‘You’ve been so fit and lively throughout your pregnancy – just a few more weeks and it will all be over.’
‘I know I’ve been lucky compared with some of the girls who’ve been sick and weak –’ Gracie stopped short and blushed. ‘Heck! I’ve gone and put my foot in it,’ she muttered with a self-conscious blush.
Diana laughed. ‘If you’re talking about me, don’t apologize. I know I didn’t handle pregnancy very well.’
‘You had a nightmare time, Di,’ Gracie said sympathetically. ‘I thought when your fella was reported missing, then dead, you would give up the will to live.’
‘It’s true, I wanted to die,’ Diana confessed. ‘I have no idea how I’m going to face the future without Harry, but my son has given me a reason to get up every morning. For his sake I put a smile on my face and eat enough food to feed him and help him grow big and strong. It’s one day at a time for me, Gracie. If I can do that, hopefully Teddy and I will both survive.’
Gracie gulped in a breath of fresh air before she had the nerve to ask, ‘What was he like, your young man?’
‘Harry.’ Diana smiled as she said his name out loud. ‘Tall, handsome, clever, brave, the strong, silent type. I never knew where he was or what he was doing when he was alive.’ Staring out at the churning grey sea where roaring waves seem to vie with the raging wind to create the loudest noise, she murmured, ‘Now he’s dead, and I don’t even know where he’s buried.’
Feelingly achingly sorry for her friend, Gracie laid a hand across her shoulders. ‘You’re such a brave woman, Di. I don’t know how you bear it.’
Diana turned her cornflower-blue eyes on Gracie. ‘There’s nothing brave about me; I bear it because there is absolutely nothing else I can do,’ she explained in a voice that was hollowed out with grief.
Walking back as the sun began to slide like a flaming ball of fire over the dark horizon, the two women stopped to watch the brilliant colours of the setting sun blaze dark crimson and purple on the crashing waves. As the winter light faded, the northerly wind seemed to be even colder.
‘Let’s get back to Mary Vale,’ Gracie urged.
Turning towards the big old building standing on a promontory overlooking the sea, Diana smiled. Teddy would be waiting for her, and so would George, both with smiles on their dear little faces, both desperate for her return.
‘Yes,’ she said, as she quickened her pace. ‘Let’s go home.’
24. Ditched
In the period that Harry was ‘Missing, assumed dead’, he was, in fact, struggling to survive in the German occupation zone in France. As Diana, nursing her new son, grieved for the man she had lost, Harry had been secretly transporting Special Ops agents in and out of France. Harry’s sudden disappearance off the radar happened on a dark, cloudy night when his Lysander aircraft crashed just as he had been airborne again after discharging a passenger.
Gliding the Lysander soundlessly down, Harry felt as if he had been floating for ages in a strange, silent world, with no way of telling what sort of terrain the Lysander might land in. Grateful that the drifting moon was presently obscured and therefore not able to throw light on his descent, Harry brought the aircraft down with an alarming bump, followed by loud bangs and rattles that shook the plane as it shuddered to a stop in what looked like a field of sugar beet. Knowing he had only hours to disappear, before the German soldiers with their dreaded sniffer dogs were on his trail, Harry unbuckled his seat, then wrenched open the cockpit. Breaking into a run, he stumbled over fallen logs and trailing blackberry bushes, until the sky paled and he was forced to stop to catch his breath.
‘Oh, God,’ Harry groaned. ‘I’ll be picked up at first light if I’m spotted in this wretched RAF uniform.’
Forcing himself to concentrate, Harry spotted a gap in a hedge, which he wriggled through, then found himself standing on a narrow track that led to a small farmhouse. As Harry dithered by the roadside, he heard children’s laughter coming from inside the house; reassured by the sound, he took a deep breath and rapped on the door. The door slowly creaked open to reveal a couple in their early thirties and their two young children, who were in their nightclothes. Grabbing his wife by the shoulder, the farmer pushed her behind his back and stepped boldly in front of Harry, who babbled in his rather poor French that he was desperately in need of assistance. Knowing full well the consequences of harbouring the enemy, the poor woman covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her fearful cry.
‘I’m so sorry to put you in danger,’ Harry cried in the best French he could muster. ‘If you could just tell me where I am,’ he added, as he produced a little silk map the size of a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it on the table. Pointing to it, he asked in French the position of the hamlet he was presently in.
‘Ici,’ the man said, jabbing a finger at the map. ‘Near Nantes.’ Obviously keen to get rid of Harry, the harassed farmer all but pushed him out of the door. ‘I will take you – vite!’
Directing Harry to an ancient pickup truck, the farmer pointed at a large, smelly tarpaulin sheet in the back and indicated that Harry should hide under it. Just as her husband was about to drive away, the farmer’s wife came running out of the house.
‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘Take these,’ she said, as she handed Harry a pair of grubby dungarees and a rather threadbare jacket. ‘Bonne chance,’ she whispered breathlessly before she rushed back to her children.
As the taciturn farmer rumbled along the narrow lanes, Harry wriggled out of his uniform and donned his grubby disguise. His shiny RAF shoes were far too smart for the ragged clothes he had been given but hopefully he would be able to sort that out when they reached Nantes.
‘If I get to Nantes,’ Harry thought grimly.
In the back of the rattling truck Harry tried to observe through a rip in the tarpaulin any significant landmarks, but no matter how hard he tried to concentrate his eyes drooped; the effects of a night without any sleep finally caught up with him and he lost consciousness. He awoke wit
h a start as the truck ricocheted to an abrupt stop. Suddenly he felt a hard hand on his leg.
‘Nantes,’ said the farmer, as he helped Harry out of the truck. ‘Bonne chance.’
Mercifully the farmer had dropped Harry off in a quiet side street that was dominated by a rather splendid large sandstone church. Desperate to be out of the public eye, Harry walked briskly towards the church and slipped inside, grateful for the gloomy quietness that met him. Only a few people were there: mostly the old, kneeling at prie-dieux and muttering prayers to statues of the saints with stony-cold expressions. Seeking out the darkest part of the church, Harry hid in the shadows, where he slowly felt his pulse return to normal.
‘Well,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ve survived a plane crash and a lift in a truck with a total stranger who’s dumped me in a town I now have to figure out how to get out of.’
Though his tummy rumbled with hunger – he hadn’t eaten since before the Lysander crash-landed – Harry remained where he was. Staring out across the long nave, Harry’s eyes were drawn to the beautifully carved altar, built of the same soft stone as the rest of the church and dominated by a massive crucifix vividly illuminated by tall candles that threw out a soft, glowing light. Feeling his body grow limp with fatigue, Harry laid his head against the back of the wooden pew and half closed his eyes. Though this church was five times bigger than the Shelford church where he had planned to marry Diana, he could nevertheless allow himself to imagine her walking down the aisle towards him.
‘Would she have worn a white wedding dress?’ he wondered. ‘God,’ he thought. ‘Diana would look stunning in white satin with a long lace veil over her silky blonde hair, covering her beautiful smiling face.’
He imagined Diana arriving at his side at the altar steps, where he would raise her delicate veil to smile into her cornflower-blue eyes, then kiss her pouting pink lips. The sound of close-by shuffling feet snapped Harry out of his fantasy, bringing him back to reality; quickly casting a glance around, he sighed with relief when he saw it was only an old lady stopping to light a candle in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary. Keeping his head down, Harry pretended to be deep in prayer, only relaxing when the old lady, leaning heavily on a walking stick, hobbled away.
Alone once more, Harry’s thoughts returned to Diana, whose wedding day he had succeeded in ruining.
‘I should have moved heaven and earth to get back to her,’ he charged himself. ‘What an utter bastard I’ve been to the poor darling girl.’
How would Diana ever know that he had sworn an oath to keep his clandestine missions secret? It wasn’t just his life that was at risk; if he were to blab dozens of other men would be in jeopardy too.
‘Who could blame the poor girl for thinking I had walked out on her, abandoned her when she needed me most?’
Slipping to his knees, Harry put his head in his hands and this time he genuinely did pray. ‘God forgive me for what I’ve done,’ he pleaded. ‘Please God help me find my way home to my darling Diana.’
As his hunched body shuddered with emotion, Harry suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Smothering a cry of fear, he whirled around and looked straight into the face of a priest wearing a long black cassock.
‘Can I help you, my son?’ the priest murmured.
For the second time in less than a few hours Harry took his life into his hands: again speaking in halting French, he told the gentle-eyed priest what had happened to him.
‘Follow me to the sacristy,’ the priest replied to him in good English. ‘Wait for five minutes before you join me,’ he warned.
Checking his watch, Harry did as instructed; though terrified of being spotted, he slipped down the dark side aisles to the sacristy, which smelt of candles and sweet communion wine.
‘Father, I do not want to get you into trouble,’ he immediately started. ‘If I can just hide in your church until nightfall, then I’ll be on my way.’
The priest answered him with a knowing smile. ‘I think I can do better than that: stay here, lock the door and wait until I get back’
In the silence that followed his departure, Harry locked the door, then sat cross-legged on the tiled floor, waiting for the priest to return. When he did, he was accompanied by a short, stocky man whom the priest introduced as one of his parishioners.
‘My friend here,’ the priest explained, ‘tells me you might have to go undercover for some time, but once the coast is clear he will link you up with a guide who has some experience in helping prisoners of war out of the country.’
Harry gratefully shook the stranger’s hand. ‘Merci, monsieur. I am in your debt.’
As they slipped out of the church, Harry dipped his hand into the holy water font and blessed himself – at least some of his prayers were being answered.
25. Cartmel Forest
Back at Mary Vale, Zelda cuddled Harry’s son in her arms. Marvelling at his silky soft hair and big blue eyes, she kissed his warm pink cheek. ‘He is so beautiful!’
Diana smiled indulgently. ‘He’s the spit of his father.’
Holding the gurgling baby up so she could smile at him, Zelda marvelled at how much Teddy had grown. ‘Aren’t you a lovely little boy?’ she cooed.
Teddy, who couldn’t quite smile yet, blew bubbles instead. ‘Cheeky!’ Zelda teased as she hugged him. ‘Oh, to think I’ll have my own baby to cuddle soon.’
‘Better get plenty of sleep: night feeding is a nightmare,’ Diana warned.
‘I plan to breast-feed, just like you,’ Zelda announced.
‘It’s the best thing to start with, if you can,’ Diana agreed. ‘Apart from the cracked nipples,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Sister Ada has some marvellous cream for that particular problem, but I’m sure you, little herb-mixer,’ she teased, ‘will whip up a salve to solve the problem.’
Fed up with being dangled and admired, Teddy turned towards the sound of his mother’s voice. ‘Oh-oh! He’s getting restless,’ Zelda said, as she passed the fretful baby back to his mum, who quickly unbuttoned her blouse so Teddy could suckle. Twirling his little feet in the air, the baby latched on and sucked noisily.
‘Heavens!’ Diana laughed, as she readjusted him in her arms. ‘Take it easy, darling, or you’ll be sick.’
Zelda gazed fondly at her friend, who now had a little colour in her cheeks and, though still on the thin side, had put on a little weight despite her son’s lusty appetite. As if reading her thoughts, Diana turned to Zelda. ‘Joking apart, Zel, I can’t thank you enough for the tonics you’ve made for me,’ she said with a grateful smile. ‘At first I thought, how can a bunch of herbs make me feel any stronger, but now I really think they have made a difference.’ At that, Teddy gave a loud hiccup. ‘And Teddy thanks you too.’
Modest Zelda blushed, but it was clear from the sparkle in her eyes that she was, in fact, delighted by Diana’s kind words.
‘Ada and Sister Mary Paul have been looking after you too,’ she reminded Diana.
‘I know! Sister Mary Paul slipped a meat pie into my room the other day, and a little piece of cake too, dear sweet woman that she is.’ Diana sighed as she again rearranged her baby on her breast. ‘I honestly don’t know how I would have survived without Mary Vale,’ she admitted with tears in her eyes. ‘Having you, Gracie, Ada, and all of my friends, and the babies too, I feel like I have a real family here. God knows how Teddy and I will survive struggling along on our own.’
Zelda laid a hand on Diana’s arm. ‘Don’t think about that now,’ she advised, purposefully changing the subject. ‘How is baby George?’
‘Adorable!’ Diana declared. ‘They’ve been sleeping side by side in adjacent cots since the day they were born.’ She gave an amused smile as she continued, ‘Now that they’re a bit bigger, I lay them down on the nursery rug for a little roll around; you wouldn’t believe how much noise they make, or how they try to grab hold of each other with their little fingers. It’s so sweet.’
Zelda laughed. ‘When they’re bigger and
stronger, they’ll be rolling around on the floor like naughty lion cubs.’
Diana gave a wistful smile. ‘Sometimes I have the pair of them in my arms, one on the breast, the other on the bottle – it’s a bit of a juggling act – but I actually like the feel of two little boys in my arms.’ She paused before she added, ‘To be honest, I’m worried sick about what will happen to George.’
‘Has Father Ben found anybody suitable for him?’ Zelda asked.
Diana shook her head. ‘Not so far. He told me several couples were interested but had decided against it: they felt it was unfair to place a child of colour in an environment that was predominantly white. I can see his point, but I’d absolutely hate little George to go into an orphanage.’
‘Have you been in touch with Marie?’ Zelda enquired.
Diana nodded. ‘I write occasionally, but not as often as I promised; it seems wrong to keep going on about how adorable her baby is, like rubbing salt in a wound.’
Zelda nodded in agreement. ‘It might be painful to hear news of George if she’s in the process of trying to let go.’
‘Ada said more or less the same thing,’ Diana confessed. ‘She thought that Marie needed time to get over her loss, not to be constantly reminded of it.’
‘Poor Marie,’ Zelda said, as she rose to her feet, checking the time on the wall clock. ‘I’d better get back to work.’
‘What are you brewing up now, little Miss Magic?’ Diana teased.
‘I’ve just made a new salve for Frank that I need to pot and deliver to Ada,’ Zelda replied.
Diana smiled. ‘Who would ever have thought you would be on first-name terms with Frank Arkwright? You used to run a mile at the sight of him!’
‘We’ve settled our differences,’ Zelda said. ‘He even brings me logs for the wood-burner these days.’
Seeing Zelda grimace as she struggled to her feet, Diana frowned. ‘Is your baby sitting on a nerve? Towards the end Teddy always lay somewhere uncomfortable,’ she recalled.
