‘It might be better if you catch the early train and leave Hugh to me, otherwise he could create more havoc and stop you from going. I very much doubt he’ll be pleased by this decision. Carter can take you to the station and I’ll persuade him not to say a word. Then I’ll wait till late in the day before giving Hugh the news. By which time you’ll be crossing on the ferry from Fleetwood, so it won’t be worth his while to chase after you and attempt to drag you back.’
‘Hmm, good point.’ And the two girls grinned at each other in agreement.
*
Hugh was suffering yet another difficult day at the factory. Nothing seemed to be going right at the moment. Despite the strike being over, tension remained high and complaints rumbled on. He had to admit that there were problems. Deliveries were slow, not coming at the right time of day, which badly affected the work schedule, and finding sufficient coal or wood to feed the ovens was an absolute nightmare. Then when they did finally succeed in getting them fired up again, one woman fainted, hitting her head against the kitchen table as she fell. She fortunately came round fairly quickly but blamed the accident on the intense heat.
‘I told her the ovens have to be hot in order to bake,’ the chap in charge said when Hugh questioned him on the subject. ‘She should have kept well away from the ovens instead of coming over to speak to me again and again.’
‘What did she wish to speak to you about?’
‘She was fussing about wanting a drink of bloody water.’
‘I see. Did you give her one?’
‘Nay, it’s not my job to run errands for them womenfolk. I told her she could get a drink at dinner time. Right now she had to get on with her work and prepare them biscuits for cooking.’
A few days later a woman carrying a bag of flour from the stock room on the first floor slipped and tumbled down the stairs, the precious rationed contents spilling everywhere. Hugh heard her scream as she fell and ran to catch her, but reached her far too late and had to quickly call an ambulance.
‘It was far too heavy for her,’ yelled her friend, as the woman was taken away on a stretcher, having broken her ankle. ‘Even dragging it made her lose her balance.’
Damnation, he thought. What disaster would happen next? Men would have no problems carrying a bag of flour. Was employing all these women creating yet more problems? And with the war now over, that could be changed, although as women were so good at baking, would it be the right thing to do or not? Feeling the need to discuss these issues, he went in search of Prudence, only to feel even more furious when he found Brenda picking the strawberries. His sister was nowhere around, and he was calmly informed that Prue had left for the Isle of Man.
‘How dare you encourage her to do such a stupid thing?’ he roared. Feeling so frustrated, Hugh certainly felt no urge to discuss his private problems with this madam, even if he did find the way her mouth curled up into a gentle smile very comforting.
‘It was Prue’s decision, not mine. I just offered to deal with her jobs while she was away,’ Brenda firmly responded.
‘Didn’t I make it clear that a hussy like you has no right to even be here? I banished you from Trowbridge Hall because of your immoral behaviour and lies.’
Her eyes widened, showing a spark of anger at his choice of words, but her tone of voice remained studiously calm. ‘Banned for something I did not do? And I thought I had made it clear that the only reason Camille decided to say nothing about our wedding was because she feared your father might decide to cut Jack out of his will and abandon him completely.’
‘We have only your word for that.’
‘It is nonetheless true, if very sad that she can’t be here to explain it herself. I am prepared to help, Hugh, and you did compliment me on the cake I baked yesterday.’
He felt momentarily stunned by this remark. ‘You baked that fruit cake, not Mrs Harding? I didn’t realise you were capable of such things.’
Brenda almost laughed out loud at this remark. ‘I did indeed. She’s a really kind and friendly lady but dreadfully overworked. Prue is very anxious about Dino, so as your brother’s widow, why would I not wish to help them both? I do have quite a bit of spare time on my hands.’
He glared at her, noting the twinkle of defiance in her brown eyes and the way her full lips pursed with stern determination, the kind of mouth any man would love to explore. After some long seconds of silence, he slowly responded. ‘What a puzzling lady you are. Feisty and rebellious, but…’
‘A good cook, and a dear friend to your lovely sister.’
‘I was about to say you are a liar and a fraudster, as we still have no proof of the claims you are making about your relationship with my late brother.’
‘As you are fully aware, the matter is in the process of being dealt with,’ Brenda calmly insisted. ‘Although I do feel a slight irritation over how long it is taking for the solicitor to retrieve the necessary papers.’
‘Until that happens you will continue to be treated as a servant, not a member of this family. I’ll pay you five shillings a week,’ he growled. ‘Not a penny more. And in future please address me by my full name, not Hugh. Is that clear?’
She gave a little chuckle. ‘Ooh, yes sir. Sorry, Mr Stuart. Of course I’ll act as a servant, sir,’ she said, bobbing a little curtsey. ‘But I’m doing this for Prue and Jack, so I’m not asking for any wages. Not a single penny need be paid.’
Despite his grumpiness, Hugh couldn’t help but look her over with a glint of humour in his own gaze. What a fascinating young woman she was, and really quite attractive.
*
The next morning, while Mrs Harding was listening as usual to Kitchen Front on the radio while she prepared breakfast, Brenda mentioned that she needed to pop back to her flat in Manchester to collect her things. ‘I’ve fed the hens and will be back in time to see to them later in the day. I’ve spoken to old Joe and he’s quite happy with that, and to give me a lift to the station.’
‘Right then, lass. Have a bit of sausage before tha goes, and I’ll make sure there’s some supper waiting when tha returns.’
Catching an early train, Brenda went straight to her flat and soon packed her few possessions. Then decided she should call again to speak to the solicitor’s secretary. This time the young woman greeted her with a dry little smile.
‘Ah, Mrs Stuart, good of you to call. Sadly, we are no nearer to finding your paperwork, but have received some news from the Mayor of Angers to say that the lady you are seeking, Adèle Rouanet, probably crossed the border into Switzerland. I’m afraid we’ve no idea where exactly she ended up, but does that help?’
Brenda felt her heart sink. ‘Not really. We’ve always known the dear lady might have done that in order to be safe, as did many other people. But without proper proof, how can we be sure?’
Wasn’t this what she and Emma had feared might have happened? If it was true, how infuriating to have spent all those months interned in a camp so close to that beautiful country without knowing her son and Adèle might be somewhere nearby. But as the dear lady had no idea where she’d been interned, how could they ever have got in touch?
Brenda wrote to her friend Emma that evening to tell her what she’d heard, adding her doubts and hopes that it wasn’t true.
*
‘I keep wondering if I should go once more to search for him? If only I’d some idea of where to look, then I most certainly would. What a time we had, spending well over a year searching for him. But though we found no trace, it did prove to be an interesting experience, and I’m sure I could never have coped without your help. I wonder what you suggest I do now?
Fifteen
France 1942
On the morning following the rape, Brenda made no mention of what had happened, desperately attempting to block the attack out of her mind as she scrubbed and cleansed herself one more time. In the days following she took much greater care not to be left alone any place, certainly not the lavatory area, and kept her head do
wn whenever that brute of a guard or any of his mates were stalking around. Her distress slowly began to change into a feeling of anger, the one thing on her mind now being to escape this dreadful prison.
Emma seemed to be keeping a close watch upon her, an anxiety clearly evident in her troubled gaze. ‘You seem not at all yourself, a bit withdrawn. Are you all right, honey?’
‘I’m doing the best I can as I’m sure we all are,’ Brenda snapped, wondering how she could ever be herself again when the situation felt so dangerous, unpredictable and threatening. Then realising she sounded irritable, took a calming breath and made a personal resolve to be honest and open. ‘You’re right about devising a plan of escape. We do need to get out of here.’ And finally feeling the need to share her trauma, confessed to Emma what had happened.
‘Dear lord, that must have been dreadful.’
Brenda nodded, fighting back another wash of tears. ‘I’m terrified it could happen again at any time. Have you any notion how we could get out of here?’
‘I’ve one or two ideas,’ her friend quietly remarked, glancing around to check no one was listening. ‘I’ll follow them up and let you know.’
Days later they were listening to a choir practising Christmas carols, one of the many groups set up in order to help the internees relax. Whispering softly, Emma shared her plans. ‘I told a woman in the Red Cross what had happened to you and she has agreed to find us a couple of nurses’ uniforms. The next time they come, she says we can put them on and leave with the Red Cross team.’
‘Oh, my goodness, do you think that will work?’
Emma smiled as she clapped when the song ended. ‘We can but hope so.’
‘But we have no papers or documents of any sort.’
‘We’ll worry about that later. Nor can we take any personal possessions with us. We just walk out, right? They’ll be coming again in early January, so be ready.’
*
When the day of escape dawned, Brenda felt sick with fear. If it didn’t work and they were caught, they could be sent to a security prison, beaten or even executed if accused of being spies. And how could they defend themselves against such a charge? As women and children queued up to be seen by the three Red Cross nurses, one quietly slipped Emma a bag containing two uniforms. While the guards chivvied the women into some sort of order, allowing each only a few seconds to discuss whatever health problem they were suffering from, the two of them kept well hidden in the midst of the crowd. Friends helped shield them as they pulled the uniforms over the clothes they were wearing. They then quickly adopted the role of first-aid workers, bandaging or treating wounds inflicted through laborious jobs, and handing out food and medicines as quietly instructed to do by the real nurses.
Brenda’s heart was pounding as loud as a drum when they finally packed their first-aid bags and prepared to leave, the nurses happily chatting to the guards that their day of duty had been done. Keeping their heads down, just in case one of the guards recognised them, the two friends walked quickly out with the nurses, keeping close to the one who had assisted them in this escape.
It was as they reached the main gate that one of the guards came hurrying over, to speak rapidly to Brenda in German. She stared at him in shock, not understanding a word. What was he saying? Had he recognised her? The Red Cross nurse standing beside her reached into her bag and handed him a jar of ointment.
‘Danke,’ he said, giving a grateful smile.
‘He’s been bitten by some creature, probably a rat,’ she murmured to Brenda, who found herself starting to shake. Grasping her arm the nurse pushed her gently into the ambulance.
‘Dear lord, that was a close shave,’ Emma said, as the gate opened and they slowly drove away. Heart still trembling, Brenda said not a word.
They were driven some distance over the mountains before the ambulance finally halted in a quiet area of woodland.
‘Good luck and take care,’ the nurses told them as they climbed out and waved goodbye.
‘Thank you so much for your help.’
‘Don’t tell a soul what we did,’ they warned.
‘We won’t, that’s a promise.’
‘So now what?’ Brenda asked, as they watched the vehicle disappear into the distance.
‘We walk home,’ Emma said with a grin, ‘keeping well off the road.’
‘I need to go to Paris first to enquire about my son before finding my way back to England,’ Brenda explained. ‘So if you need to head south, then please do so.’
‘I am keen to get back home, as Mum isn’t too well, but let’s stick together for as long as we can,’ Emma said, with which Brenda was happy to agree.
They walked and walked, day after day after day. They slept in barns and under hedges and haystacks, eating the food they’d managed to steal and bring with them, restricting their meals to only a small amount at a time in order to make it last as long as possible. They also ate any wild fruit and raw vegetables they found growing.
They finally reached a railway station, hungry and exhausted but hugely relieved. And being dressed in nurses’ uniforms, able to show the passes the Red Cross nurses had given them, they managed to avoid being searched by a German officer by going through the barrier with a whole party of noisy soldiers. But then they were halted when one young man asked for assistance, as he had a deep wound in his leg. Thankfully, the nurses had provided them with a small first-aid bag too, so Brenda dutifully cleaned and bandaged his leg.
‘Merci,’ he said with a smile and a nod, and she exchanged a flicker of anguish with Emma as they climbed on board.
‘Papers,’ a guard demanded, and Brenda felt her heart plummet. Was this the end? Would they now be arrested yet again? But the young German soldier they’d helped spoke quickly in French to the guard, explaining that they were Red Cross nurses and were looking after them. Brenda and Emma happily spent the entire journey tending to their wounds, as well as laughing and chatting with him. It felt such a relief to be on a train and free at last, this time one that was fairly warm and clean, if very crowded.
On their arrival in Paris, Brenda found no sign of Camille. Her mother-in-law’s once elegant apartment was a shambled mess, the roof smashed in and heaps of stone and rubble everywhere, clearly having suffered a severe bomb attack. According to a local shopkeeper, that had happened back in 1941, most of the occupants having been killed or injured; others had escaped and not been seen since. As Brenda still had no address for Adèle’s house in the Loire Valley, depression hit her like a rock.
Tommy was missing, and she had no idea where or how to find him.
Brenda searched everywhere for her son, but there was no sign of him anywhere, or either of the two dear ladies. She talked to any neighbours and locals she could find. Unfortunately, most of them had vanished too. Even the boulangerie had closed down.
‘There’s nothing for it but to go to the Loire Valley and search for them there,’ she announced to Emma. ‘Although heaven only knows how and where I should start looking. I’ve no intention of giving up.’
‘I’ll come with you to help.’
‘You don’t have to. I know your Mum isn’t well and you are desperate to get home to see her. I’ll cope somehow.’
‘We’ll cope together,’ Emma announced, in that brave, regal tone of hers that Brenda admired so much. ‘I’ve no wish to travel alone and I don’t suppose you have either. And as we will have to make a journey through Spain to reach England, we can look around on our way south.’
‘That is so generous of you.’
‘Nonsense, it’s common sense. I keep hoping Paul will be released or somehow manage to escape, but now we’re on the run he can’t possibly contact us, so I’ll just have to be patient. I need to write and give him a few clues about where I am.’
Brenda nodded. ‘I do understand, but that won’t be easy, as we should do our best to keep where we are a secret, at least until we get out of France.’
‘True. Don’t worry, honey,
I will,’ Emma agreed. ‘I’ll tell him the birds are flying south, and he’ll hopefully get the message that we are free.’
Holding each other close for a moment, then wiping the tears from each other’s eyes, Brenda gave her friend a smile. ‘We’ve got this far, so let’s go forward and stay brave. First I need to speak to Alexis, a very kind young man who was a friend of Jack’s in the Resistance. I’m hoping he’ll be able to find us some transport.’
*
The small lorry rumbled along rough, broken roads and through acres of green meadows, the two girls singing along as Alexis taught them the words of Bing Crosby’s new hit ‘White Christmas’, a season that had gone by largely unnoticed so far as they were concerned. He drove past many ramshackle cottages, damaged tanks stuck in fields, and a great deal of rubbish lying about everywhere. Yet despite it being February, the winter sun shone brightly over the gardens, vineyards and pretty little villages, as well as on the glorious châteaux perched here and there upon rolling green hills. Finding one town awash with army vehicles and German soldiers, Alexis did a quick turnaround to avoid it and chose a different route.
‘Well done,’ Emma told him, as he made a speedy exit. ‘The last thing we need is to be strip-searched by the enemy on a cold day like this, although at any other time it might be quite exciting.’ And they all laughed at her weird sense of humour.
They’d disposed of the Red Cross uniforms some time ago, beneath which were the shabby dresses and jumpers they’d been living in for the last two years. Sadly, all of their other belongings, including Emma’s beautiful fur coat, had to be left behind. And of course she no longer possessed any of her diamond rings either.
‘What lovely countryside,’ Brenda commented, as they drove past a field lined with vines, rows of beech and oak trees dotted on the hills beyond. ‘I almost feel like I’m back in the Pennines, save for the fact we can’t grow grapes in Lancashire as there’s far too much rain,’ she said with a giggle.
Always In My Heart Page 11
