Always In My Heart

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘I do hope so. We should have seen this coming, of course. Those brave soldiers do deserve their jobs back. I’d just never got around to thinking how that might affect me. Nor did I expect it to happen so suddenly.’

  ‘Me neither. A little warning might have helped, or better still the offer of an alternative job here in the factory, one that involved us in work we know well.’

  Sounding equally disgruntled their fellow women workers expressed their opinion that other factories were likewise laying off women employees, so a new job might not be easy to come by.

  ‘Seems they were right,’ Cathie said, as they trailed around Castlefield and other areas of Manchester, calling upon every factory, tea room and shop, in an effort to find employment. They even tried the larger stores, including Liptons and Maypole grocers, and the famous department store, Kendal Milne, all to no avail. Brenda deeply resented going through the same problems she’d suffered back in Paris at the start of the war. When would life ever get better? When she’d found her darling Tommy, of course.

  Failing to find a job, she felt a fresh determination to again search for her son. Hugh had claimed to know nothing about Adèle, nor did Prue, and Melissa had been her usual haughty self showing not a scrap of empathy towards her. But resolving to stay strong and never give up hope, Brenda began to wonder if there might be some other family member who might have answers. It would be good to see Prue again and speak to her about this. Would she have returned from the Isle of Man by now? Hopefully she had.

  Hugh, of course, had made it abundantly clear that Brenda would only ever be allowed back into the house as a scullery maid, since that was how he viewed her. But as it had worked perfectly when she’d stood in for Prue over her holiday weeks, why should she not go again? Brenda most definitely had no intention of ever ending her search, and surely someone in the Stuart family would know something. She would give the matter careful thought.

  *

  Prue visited the admin office once again to request an appointment with the commandant, explaining that she was still in need of an opportunity to reveal more information about Dino Belloni. Making a note of the boarding house where she was staying, the young man said he would let her know if such an appointment was ever agreed upon, his tone of voice showing not a spark of interest.

  ‘I look forward to hearing from you,’ she stoutly responded.

  Waiting proved so hard. Days and weeks passed by without a word. Prue filled her time by doing a little sewing and mending for her landlady, as well as knitting socks for the internees out of scraps of wool. Sometimes she’d treat herself to a visit to the cinema, which cost sixpence, or would take a walk out into the countryside. Swimming in the sea became another pleasure. But seeing Dino each morning was what gave her the true motivation to keep going, and to call at regular intervals at the admin office to repeat her request. Not only was she determined never to stop begging for his release, but her condition was now all too evident, so time was very much of the essence.

  Eventually, one morning the landlady handed her an envelope. ‘This was delivered from the camp,’ Mrs Pickering told her.

  Prue’s hand trembled as she opened it. Would this be good news or bad? ‘Oh, the camp commandant has agreed to see me again,’ she cried, with joy in her heart.

  ‘Good luck, love. Prepare your case a bit more carefully this time,’ the landlady advised with a stern nod.

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Prue agreed, determined to keep her emotions under better control this time.

  A few days later, dressed in her smartest suit, she perched on the edge of the chair before the commandant’s desk and began to carefully explain how the Belloni family had lived in Ancoats for years. ‘They have always been looked upon with great respect as a valued part of the community. Even the police who came to arrest his father, and then Dino, were exceedingly polite and apologetic. In addition, his two brothers have been regular soldiers in the British army for years.’

  The commandant frowned. ‘I was unaware of that fact. Why did Belloni not mention it?’

  Prue gave a sad shake of her head. ‘I’d say because you would have interrogated him on why he had not joined up with them.’ She went on to explain about his eyesight problem. ‘He was sent his call-up papers, but was rejected for that reason. It’s a disability he prefers to keep private. But I assure you, he is an honest man and greatly relieved to be given the chance to work on our farm to do his bit for the war. I believe most internees have now been released, so will you please see him as a friendly Italian national who was brought up in England, which he loves, and not as an enemy? I would really appreciate your help to get him repatriated.’

  Regarding her in silence for some moments, perhaps pondering on what she’d told him, the commandant then examined a file lying open on the desk before him. Was this Dino’s? Prue wondered. At last he met her pleading gaze with some compassion in his own. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Prue smiled with relief and gratefully shook his hand, thanking him from the depth of her heart. She almost skipped along the promenade to look for Dino through the wire but could see no sign of him. She’d tell him tomorrow. Oh, but things did seem to be looking up.

  *

  It was on one of her regular morning meet-ups for their usual chat as they walked on either side of the barbed wire, that Prue noticed Dino’s face was lit with a bright smile. ‘I’ve just received a notice which says: “Informing you that the Home Office has granted your release.” Can you believe it?’

  Prue halted to gaze at him in stunned delight, longing to jump through the wire and hug him, a feeling she’d experienced every single day, but even more so on hearing this news. ‘Oh, then you are free at last, my darling?’

  ‘Well, it won’t happen right away. Some arrangements and paperwork have to be gone through first, but yes, cara mia, I soon will be. I’m told Mooragh will be closing by the end of the month, but I’ll not be moved some place else. I’ve no idea what you said to the camp commandant at this latest meeting but it clearly worked. Thank you so much for your help, Prue darling, otherwise I might have been sent on to a prison cell.’

  Within a couple of weeks he’d been issued with his papers, but instead of rushing to book a sailing back to Fleetwood, Prue went to speak to her landlady and eagerly shared her news. ‘I was wondering, Mrs Pickering, if you could find room for my fiancé so that he could take a little rest before returning to work. I can afford to pay whatever it costs.’

  ‘I assume that another single room would be required, at least until you get married?’ she firmly asked.

  Prue blushed. ‘Yes, of course. Oh, but there’s no reason why we couldn’t marry now, is there?’

  Mrs Pickering smiled. ‘I can’t see why not, dear girl. My husband and I married without either of our family’s permission, and enjoyed fifty happy years together before he departed for the next world. So do what’s right for you. We have a very nice Methodist Church on Waterloo Road, if that’s of any interest. Or if he’s a Catholic, there’s Our Lady, Star of the Sea and Saint Maughold, down near Queen’s Promenade.’

  Giving her a quick hug, Prue excitedly dashed off. The priest was more than willing to wed them, since they were both Catholics, and of an age when they needed no one’s permission but their own.

  The day Dino was released Prue stood at the door waiting for him, a posy of flowers in her hand. Gathering her into his arms he kissed her, which brought forth a loud chorus of cheers and whistles from every window.

  ‘I’ve found a priest willing to marry us and the necessary licence has been granted, unless you’ve changed your mind about me, of course,’ she said with a shy smile.

  ‘Never. I shall love you forever. Are you saying we can go and wed right now?’ he asked, admiring how beautiful she looked in her cream silk gown.

  Prue nodded. ‘And Mrs Pickering, my—our—landlady, is willing to come and act as matron of honour.’

  Not only that, but the good lady had brought al
ong a few of her friends who were already seated in the pews waiting to welcome the bride and groom. There was no one to give Prue away, but reminding herself that Hugh had refused, she resolved not to allow this to trouble her in the slightest. All that mattered was that at last she and Dino were free to be together and live their own lives. The service was beautifully done and a little confetti and rose petals were tossed upon them as they walked arm and arm out of the church. There was even a local reporter to take a picture of them.

  On returning to the boarding house, Mrs Pickering provided sandwiches, cake and even a small glass of wine for everyone.

  ‘Bless you, what a treasure you are,’ Prue said, giving her a kiss on her plump cheek.

  ‘What a wonderful day this has been,’ Dino said, as later that evening they entered the double bedroom now granted to them.

  ‘I shall carry the memory of it in my heart forever,’ Prue agreed. ‘We are together at last.’ And as he sank upon the bed with her in his arms, she helped him to peel off her clothes, her heart swelling with happiness.

  *

  As always, Mrs Harding was delighted to see Brenda, listening to her latest news with compassion etched into her wrinkled face. ‘Thanks to the return of the fighting men, I’ve lost my job,’ she explained.

  ‘Nay, that’s dreadful. What a callous way to treat women.’

  ‘It’s perfectly understandable in a way, yet highly inconvenient and hard to live with. I’ve paid my rent on the flat for the next three months. How I’ll survive after that, I really can’t say. And finding work has so far proved to be impossible.’

  ‘Tha’d be welcome to come back and work here, chuck, and bake us more cakes and puddings. Miss Prudence is still away, so we’re in dire need of more help, for the garden as well as in the house. Particularly as Miss Melissa and her family generally come to stay for Christmas,’ she added, rolling her eyes with displeasure.

  Brenda chuckled, fully aware that Hugh’s snobby sister was not well liked by any of the servants. ‘That would be wonderful. This place is beginning to feel like a second home to me.’ Brenda had always enjoyed working with this kind housekeeper, and since she could find no alternative employment why would she not accept this offer, despite the problems Miss Melissa would no doubt create for her?

  Or else it was time to do something entirely different with her life, not least to raise more money to help with her search? ‘I was wondering if any other family member might know Adèle, and have her address.’

  Mrs Harding looked blank. ‘No idea, chuck. You’d need to ask Master Hugh, or even Prue.’

  Brenda sighed. ‘I’ll keep asking.’

  One afternoon, filled with thoughts of her lost son, Brenda took herself off for a walk in the woods, feeling quite alone save for dear old Kit the collie. She followed a path uphill that lay through tall grasses, clearly not well used, passing spires of purple foxgloves standing tall and proud. She smiled as a squirrel scampered up a tree to sit on a branch and sun itself. Were Tommy here, he would no doubt want to climb up after him. She too had loved climbing trees as a child. Tossing a stick for Kit to chase, in her mind’s eye she could envision a small boy chasing after the old dog too. What fun they would have had together. She was facing the trauma of another birthday coming up soon, when he would turn five. It made her shiver with anguish at the thought. Brenda pictured his baby-blue eyes and fair curly hair. Would they have darkened by now? she wondered. She could ask Hugh to show her some photos of Jack as a boy, which might help in her search.

  Once again tears clogged her throat. Where was dear Adèle? Did no one know?

  Coming out of the woodlands, she reached the top of the hill to look out over the barren moors across the Southern Pennines. This was the land where Tommy should be living, and would one day inherit the family estate. In the distance she could see the Saddleworth war memorial marking the First World War, and steep paths circling the reservoir. They were but a few miles from the city of Manchester but it felt like a different world, and at least safe from the war she’d experienced.

  Poor Emma’s husband was also still missing. Such was the reality of war. But dwelling too much upon the anguish it caused did no good at all, or so Brenda had discovered. She resolutely attempted to block the pain out, still finding it difficult to speak of her traumas. She was at least still in touch with Emma and the two friends regularly exchanged letters, although they hadn’t yet been able to meet up.

  But what did life have to offer her now? She really had no idea. Here she was, without a job and back at Trowbridge Hall, still treated very much like a servant. Hugh was a confusing man, at first so bossy and disapproving, but sometimes when he looked at her there would be a bright sparkle of interest in his grey eyes. He clearly had his problems too, for which Brenda had every sympathy. Were it not for the anguish they were both enduring, would relations between them be better? A part of her wished that could happen.

  With a sigh Brenda turned back towards the woods, her mind once again reliving her own traumas. She remembered how any family suspected of being Jewish would be arrested, the children ordered to walk away or they too would be taken. Fortunately, hundreds did manage to escape, transported by train to Holland, England and other safe countries. Would Tommy be among them? Or was he in Switzerland with Adèle?

  Her mind being so occupied with the past, Brenda suddenly realised she was lost. She’d entered the wood in an entirely different place, wandering the paths without properly checking in which direction she was walking. Coming to a halt and meeting Kit’s adoring gaze as he stood panting before her, she chuckled.

  ‘Oh dear, made a mess of this, haven’t I? Where are we, old lad?’

  The dog looked about him, almost as if he understood her question, but made no move in any direction. And then she remembered Jack’s instructions to follow the moss on the side of a tree to head north, which would be straight ahead, or go downhill to find the river. An entirely different direction.

  ‘Which way do we go?’ she asked the dog. As she struggled to make up her mind, it began to rain and within minutes found herself soaked, not having thought to bring an umbrella or coat with her. Kit shook himself, spraying water over her feet, then trotted off along a downhill path. Brenda followed him. After walking for about half an hour she found one of the cairns Jack had built, and her heart skipped with relief. So Kit did know which way to go, having been properly trained by his master. And perhaps Jack was still keeping an eye on her. She smiled to herself at the thought.

  It was as she approached the house that she spotted a group of giggling children: three lovely young girls, two of them clearly twins, and a small boy. They reminded her of all the children she’d come to know when working with Emma for the OSE. That had been over a year ago, a heartrending and difficult time, but at least they had done their bit to help other children. And with no small degree of pain, she recalled all she’d learned about how they had suffered. Could Tommy be suffering too?

  Eighteen

  France—1942

  The Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants did indeed prove to be experts with regard to rescuing children, exactly as Alexis had promised. Brenda and Emma met Jeanne, the lady he’d mentioned, at a local café where she happily filled them in on the work they were doing.

  ‘The OSE, or Children’s Aid Society, as you British like to call it, gives assistance to thousands of children throughout the country. When the Nazis entered Paris in June 1940, many were sent overseas by parents desperate for their children to escape the occupation.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Brenda sadly remarked, and quickly told her own story, and how she’d so far failed to find her beloved son. ‘I want him back so badly, and really would appreciate any help you could give me.’

  ‘We’ll do our best,’ Jeanne said with a warm smile. ‘Separation is deeply traumatic for both children and parents, but sadly for some it can become permanent.’

  Brenda felt a tremor run through her at these words. The
prospect of never seeing Tommy again was too dreadful to consider. But Jeanne was probably speaking of people who’d been sent to a far more dangerous concentration camp than the one they had suffered.

  Seeing the anguish in her friend’s face, Emma slipped an arm about her, speaking with her usual calm confidence. ‘We’re quite convinced we’ll find him eventually, it’s just knowing where to look.’

  ‘We should have left Paris much earlier,’ Brenda groaned, going on to tell what had happened to Jack after the occupation. ‘Unfortunately we couldn’t, as we were caring for my husband’s sick mother. After that it was quite impossible to leave. I was trapped.’

  Offering her sympathy, Jeanne did agree that things had become more difficult. ‘At first people were almost encouraged to leave, as the country would be “cleansed” of Jews, and even the unwelcome British. Then the situation worsened. As a result we’ve had to go underground, but we continue to find rescuers willing to hide these lost children.’

  ‘That can’t be easy, considering the risks involved,’ Emma said.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Particularly as we cannot say how long they’ll be obliged to care for the child. It could be a few months or years. Most people gladly share their home or farm with these lost souls. French Protestants, Catholics, including convents, schools and orphanages, are all prepared to offer accommodation. Muslim families help too. Finding enough food for the children without proper ration cards is not easy but the main problems are the searches that take place fairly frequently. Young refugees then have to hide in the loft or cellar, or even a chicken coop or garden shed.’

  ‘Are you saying they are at risk of capture too?’

  ‘I’m afraid many Jewish children are sent to concentration camps. If the Gestapo get wind of where they might be hiding, or if money runs out or danger threatens, they often have to move countless times.’