Family Divided

by Allen, Anne

  protested his innocence, but, according to the diary, he was shot regardless by the Germans. Madeleine noted

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  the investigation was quietly dropped. Within four weeks the war was over and everyone had more pressing

  things to consider. The Liberating forces arrived on 9th May aboard the HMS Bulldog and the Germans

  surrendered before the Union Jack was raised on the Royal Court. Madeleine describes how she hitched a lift

  into St Peter Port to join in the celebrations, although “heartsick my beloved Edmund wasn’t there to celebrate

  with me” .

  Charlotte had realised Madeleine must have been pregnant by this time, although it seemed she had yet to

  find out. She returned, almost reluctantly, to read what happened over the following months. The pages of

  sprawling, blotched writing described Madeleine’s decision to leave Guernsey where she felt betrayed and

  unwelcome, and go to live in France with her late mother’s family in Normandy. The move was arranged via a

  series of telegrams in the weeks following the Liberation. Once she had ordered a memorial for Edmund’s grave,

  using her meagre savings, she left. By the end of June Madeleine was reunited with her French cousins. It was

  not until then she realised she was pregnant, but this at least was good news.

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  chapter fifteen

  Andy was pottering in the kitchen on Wednesday evening when the phone rang. Hoping it wasn’t another call

  from the extremely fussy client he’d been on the phone to earlier, he picked it up gingerly.

  ‘Andy, it’s me. I’ve read more of the diary and there’s a lot to tell you…’ He listened with increasing feelings of

  anger towards Harold, Neville and all those who had deserted Madeleine when she needed them most. By the

  time Charlotte had finished he was ashamed of being a Batiste.

  ‘What happened to my grandmother was inexcusable, no wonder she never talked about it much to Dad. I

  always wished I’d met her but she died when I was a baby. She sounds very brave.’ He remembered a photo of

  Madeleine, taken by his father when she was in her forties, and now kept on show in his parents’ sitting room.

  What struck Andy, apart from her beauty, was the air of sadness around her. Madeleine’s soft brown eyes gazed

  into the distance and a barely formed smile hovered around her mouth, as if she was afraid or unwilling to smile

  properly. Andy had often wondered what had been going through her mind. Perhaps now he knew…

  ‘She was brave. To be forced to leave her home when she’d lost her husband…what reading the diary has

  done, Andy, is to make me even more determined to find out what really happened to Edmund,’ Charlotte said,

  finding it hard to let go of the imagined picture of Edmund’s body lying shattered on the rocks. She cleared her

  throat. ‘By the way, I visited the cemetery yesterday and noticed someone still leaves flowers on his grave.’

  ‘I take some every once in a while. For some reason, Dad says he doesn’t like going, and it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘That’s kind of you. Not everyone can cope with cemeteries.’

  Andy was silent, unsure whether to mention the proposed lunch on Saturday, when Charlotte said, ‘Still on

  for Saturday, are we? I’m looking forward to seeing your home as I don’t think I’ve seen inside an architect’s

  house before. I always imagine they’re terribly up to date and full of gizmos. Very avant-garde.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, you’ll be disappointed with mine! It’s an old cottage which I’ve renovated but kept the

  original features. And Guernsey doesn’t really do avant-garde, the planners prefer the cosy cottage look. Of

  course it’s still on for lunch. I thought about one o’clock, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll see you then, but will phone if I learn anything I simply have to share. Goodnight, Andy.’

  ‘Night.’ He poured himself a glass of wine while mulling over what Charlotte had told him. He’d dearly love to

  grab hold of Harold and shake him until he admitted what had really happened in ’45. But he began to feel a

  glimmer of hope they were getting closer to the truth and he thanked heaven for sending Charlotte to him. Until

  she started searching the archives he’d completely forgotten about his grandmother’s diary. And as well as her

  gift for research, she was one hot lady and he wanted to take her to bed. If she’d let him – although he was

  dubious about becoming involved with an upper class lady like Charlotte. And he did not see her as someone

  happy to enjoy one-night stands. Groaning, he finished his wine.

  ~ ~

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  When Charlotte walked into the kitchen on Thursday morning she found Louisa had already prepared breakfast

  for them both and was dancing around to Guernsey FM on the radio.

  ‘Morning. You look happy. How did the meal go last night?’ Charlotte said, smiling at Louisa’s impromptu

  dance. She sat down at the table and Louisa sashayed towards her with the coffee pot.

  ‘Fine. I like Gillian, she’s fun and I can see why Dad fell for her as she’s so warm and friendly. As well as pretty

  attractive for a woman in her sixties. They’re both coming to La Folie today and Dad will no doubt be giving her

  the grand tour. He’s out to impress her, all right.’ Louisa sat down, looking pensive. ‘I think he wants Gillian to

  fall in love with Guernsey and consider moving here. He was in full sales pitch mode last night.’

  ‘How would you feel about that?’

  ‘Oh, okay. I’d rather she came here instead of Dad going to England. But her son Matthew’s there and she’s

  bound to have friends and family so…’ Louisa shrugged.

  ‘Well, I look forward to meeting the lovely Gillian. Are you inviting her round here before she leaves?’

  ‘Hadn’t thought about it but sounds a good idea. I’d like you to meet her, see what you think as you’re more

  impartial.’ Louisa buttered her toast before continuing, ‘I finish early this afternoon so could invite them round

  for supper tonight if you’re free.’

  ‘Perfect. And I’ll give you a hand with the preparation.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll give Dad a call in a minute. What are your plans for today?’

  Charlotte leaned back in the chair. ‘Nothing much. I’ll read the rest of Madeleine’s diary but as she’s now

  settled in France I’m not sure I’ll learn much of importance. Still,’ she yawned, ‘could be interesting. She’ll have

  given birth to Jim before the diary finishes and I’d like to know how she coped. Must be terrible to have a baby

  after losing your husband.’ She took a bite of toast before going on, ‘Which reminds me, how’s the therapy going

  with Jim? Andy’s said how much his dad misses his fishing.’

  Louisa frowned. ‘I can imagine, but he has to watch it or he’ll continue to have pain. My aim is to wean him off

  the prescribed painkillers, which aren’t good for him anyway, and I will ask Paul about a herbal alternative. He’s

  a whizz with his concoctions and helped Dad when they met in India. If he wasn’t so busy, I’d suggest he set

  aside more time for his herbal treatments.’

  ‘Can his herbs help with life-threatening illnesses like…cancer?’ Charlotte asked, thinking of her mother. If

  the test results weren’t good then perhaps…

  ‘He hasn’t said so, but maybe. Why? Do you know someone with cancer?’ Louisa gave her a searching look.

  ‘My mother was di
agnosed with…with breast cancer and had chemo and radiation more than a year ago. It

  was horrible and if she were to, to get sick again I wondered–’ she dug her nails into her hand.

  Louisa gasped. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry! You told me she’d been ill, but not what it was. You poor thing. And your

  mother! You should have told me before.’ Louisa gripped her hand. ‘If the cancer came back I’m sure Paul would

  help in any way he could. Does your mother agree with alternative therapy?’

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  She frowned. ‘That’s the problem, I doubt it. She’s one of those people who think doctors are omnipotent.

  Still, if the cancer has spread and the doctors can only offer limited treatment, Mother might be persuaded to try

  an alternative.’ Charlotte hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but her stomach still knotted up every time she thought

  about it. The first time it was diagnosed she was sure her mother would die, from the treatment if not the

  cancer. She had been so ill…but it felt good to know there might be another option. La Folie’s team of therapists

  had given her such care and support, she felt sure her mother would also benefit from a stay.

  ‘Are you okay?’ She heard the concern in Louisa’s voice.

  Lifting her head, she smiled at her friend. ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, knowing she was anything but. The

  spectre was ever present. ‘The problem is, as I mentioned that day in Sark, Mother and I have a tricky

  relationship. She never listens to me and can’t abide being told what she should do, so…’ She spread out her

  hands. Not wanting to say more, she added briskly, ‘Now, weren’t you going to phone Malcolm about tonight? If

  they’re coming round I’ll tidy up.’

  Louisa, looking as if she wanted to say something but changing her mind, reached for the phone while

  Charlotte cleared away the breakfast things. She loaded the dishwasher in silence while Louisa chatted to

  Malcolm. Coming off the phone, Louisa said, ‘It’s all arranged. They’ll be here at seven and as I know Dad loves

  fish, I think I’ll cook some wild salmon and steamed veg. Gillian’s into healthy eating so I can’t go wrong with

  that.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Right, I’d better get a move on. See you later.’

  Charlotte called goodbye as Louisa shot out of the kitchen and headed for the front door. Satisfied the room

  was clean and tidy she walked through to the dining room and picked up the diary. Her mind was full of all the

  things unsaid to Louisa but hoped the diary would prove a distraction. The last entry she had read was when

  Madeleine had discovered her pregnancy and was experiencing a mix of hormonally-charged emotions.

  “I came back from the doctor’s and hid myself in my room. Such a shock! We had so wanted to have children but

  dare not. Now Edmund’s baby is growing inside me but he has gone. Oh, my darling, I’m so happy to have your child

  but so sad you can’t be here. I know you would be so proud to be a father! And a wonderful father. Oh, how am I

  going to manage without you, my love? Our child will be fatherless…”

  The entry was blotched with what Charlotte assumed were tears. Madeleine continued to pour her heart out

  onto the page, writing as if she were talking directly to Edmund. Charlotte began to find it too painful to read

  and skimmed through to see if there was any mention of Guernsey or the Batiste family. But on that subject

  Madeleine was silent. Once she had shared the news of her pregnancy to her aunt and cousins, Madeleine was

  swept up in a wave of congratulations and excited plans. Her family were farmers and provided her with a small

  cottage on their land which had lain derelict for years. In return for her help on the farm, for which she was

  amply qualified, her family asked for no rent and paid her a small wage. Her gratitude shone through her words:

  “My own little home! For myself and my child – I could not be more content except if Edmund were to walk through

  the door! Such generosity I had never met until now. And Aunt Therese has promised to help when baby arrives,

  reckoned to be in late November. In the meantime there’s much to do to make the cottage habitable…”

  Charlotte was about to continue reading when the phone rang. It was the rector of St Martins.

  ‘Morning, Charlotte. I’ve been chatting to some of my parishioners and one dear old lady, a Mrs Vaudin, said

  she’d be happy to talk to you about the occupation. Here’s her number…’

  ‘Thanks, Martin. I’ll give her a ring. Do you think there might be others willing to see me?’

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  ‘I’m sure there will. Give me a few more days and I’ll have made some house calls. It’s usually the ones who

  can’t get out who are the most willing to talk to anyone,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Good luck.’

  She wasted no time and was soon talking to Mrs Vaudin and they agreed for Charlotte to call round on Friday

  morning. She checked the address in the Perry’s guide and saw it was located near the shops in St Martins and

  easy to find. Pleased someone was willing to talk, Charlotte settled down with the diary. She flipped through the

  pages and found no reference to Madeleine’s past life, all was centred on the upcoming birth. James Batiste

  arrived on 19th November 1945 and according to his mother was “the most beautiful baby boy, with a thatch of

  dark hair” . From this point on it appeared James was the centre of Madeleine’s life and her diary recorded his

  progress over the next few months, with the occasional reference to his sorely missed, dead father. The diary

  finished later in 1946, the last page of the book now filled.

  As she closed the diary, Charlotte pondered on the life of the woman she had come to know so intimately. If

  she walked into the room now, as a young woman, she felt she would have recognised her. The essence of

  Madeleine, more than the physical body. Although her life in France looked to be peaceful and without drama,

  she had suffered much so young and Charlotte shed a tear for her. And, unbidden, came the unwelcome thought

  of how was she going to find out the rest of the Batiste story.

  Early that evening Charlotte and Louisa were busy in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.

  ‘It’s a pity Paul can’t come, too, but he’s so busy making sure all is up to date before we fly to Jersey tomorrow

  evening. He and Dad had a long discussion about staffing today so I’m hoping he’ll agree to take on more

  therapists,’ Louisa said, preparing the fresh salmon steaks for the oven.

  ‘That’s good. Then you’ll be able to take more breaks together. What did Gillian think of the centre?’

  ‘Oh, she loved it. Said she wouldn’t mind a stay some time so, of course, Dad offered her a room whenever she

  wanted. But with him living so near it would be a waste for her to stay there. I think it’d make more sense if she

  popped in for a few treatments next time she’s over.’ Louisa turned to Charlotte, laughing. ‘They’re like kids,

  they can barely keep their hands off each other. You’d think they’d be past it at their age.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Falling in love at any age can be quite heady, so I’m told.’ Immediately an image of Andy’s

  face popped into her mind and her pulse quickened. But it wasn’t as if she was falling in love, was it? Clearing her

  throat she went on, ‘And Malcolm is young for his age and from what you’ve said, so is Gillian. Do you think

  they’ll want to leave early tonight?’ she asked, eyebrows raised.

&
nbsp; ‘Possibly. They’ve only got two more nights together before Gillian returns to England on Saturday. I don’t

  know when they’ll next meet.’ Louisa slid the fish into the oven and Charlotte popped the vegetables into the

  steamer. ‘Right, that’s done. They should be here soon, time to open some wine.’ Louisa retrieved a bottle of

  wine from the fridge and poured out two glasses and they made themselves comfortable in the sitting room. Ten

  minutes later the doorbell rang and Louisa jumped up to let them in.

  ‘Hi, Dad. Gillian. Please come in and meet my friend Charlotte.’

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  ‘Charlotte my dear, it’s great to see you again. How are you? Had a good stay at La Folie?’ Malcolm beamed at

  her, before giving her a warm hug. Charlotte agreed with Louisa, he looked both younger and happier. Jubilant

  even.

  ‘I’m very well, thank you, Malcolm. And yes, I enjoyed my stay at your wonderful centre.’ She turned to

  Gillian, hovering beside him. ‘Hello, Gillian. Pleased to meet you.’ She surveyed the fair-haired lady whose eyes

  sparkled with fun and intelligence and shook hands.

  ‘And I’m pleased to meet you, too. I’ve heard so much about you from both Malcolm and Louisa I feel I know

  you already.’ Gillian smiled warmly, her blue eyes surveying her.

  ‘Now I’m worried.’

  ‘You needn’t be, it was all good, I assure you. And I was fascinated to hear you own a publishing company. I’d

  love to know more,’ Gillian said, as Louisa ushered everyone into the dining room.

  ‘And I’d love to hear more about your work as a naturopathic doctor. I’m becoming more and more fascinated

  by alternative medicine.’

  Charlotte and Gillian were soon lost in deep conversation and the evening sped by. It was approaching eleven

  when Malcolm suggested they leave and a taxi was ordered.

  ‘What a wonderful evening, my dear. I think it’s fair to say Gillian and Charlotte hit it off, don’t you agree?’