A Sister's War

by Molly Green

  6th September 1944

  ‘Maman, I’ve brought your tea.’

  Simone jerked up in bed.

  ‘Oh, Véronique, put it on the table. Let me wake properly. I was dreaming.’

  ‘A nice dream, I hope,’ Ronnie said, smiling.

  ‘I cannot remember. But there is something I do remember.’ Simone’s delicate features broke into a wide smile. ‘I think today is special, n’est-ce pas?’

  Ronnie pretended to look puzzled and shook her head.

  ‘Sorry, Maman, I can’t think of a thing. I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just a plain old Wednesday.’

  Her mother’s smile faded as she eyed her youngest daughter.

  ‘I think you are teasing your maman,’ she said eventually.

  ‘’Course I am, you silly lady,’ Ronnie said, grinning and giving her mother a hug and a kiss. ‘Happy wedding day, Maman. I have something for you. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” You have the “borrowed” from Mrs Garland. So this is the “something old” for you to wear today. You’ll have to find your own “blue”. She paused. ‘Shall I leave it here?’

  Her mother nodded and Ronnie put Dora’s shoes, still in the same bag, on her mother’s bed. Simone glanced at it but made no attempt to look inside. Ronnie smiled to herself. She knew Maman wouldn’t relish wearing ‘something old’. Well, she’d get quite a shock when she finally opened the bag and saw what lay inside. The shoes still looked brand new after Dora had changed into them that night in the pub and worn them for the first and only time, and that was for no more than an hour.

  ‘Thank you, chérie. I will have my tea quietly and then come down to early breakfast. Today it is important that I have plenty of time to get ready. I must look a proper bride.’ She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘You know this marriage is the first time for Pierre?’

  ‘So I believe,’ Ronnie said. ‘Let’s hope he realises what’s in store for him.’

  She rushed from the room before her mother could admonish her. She had a bit of titivating to do herself.

  The pretty parish church in Downe was beginning to fill. Ronnie took her place by the side of Suzy, leaving a gap to her right at the aisle end of the pew. She was hoping against hope that Michael would manage to scrape in before the service began. Raine had not stopped smiling since Alec, her fiancé, had arrived in his RAF uniform, and Ronnie was proud to notice Raine’s gold-embroidered wings were every bit as noticeable as Alec’s. James, Suzy’s sweetheart, in his naval officer’s uniform, was next to join the family and Ronnie loved the way he kept hold of Suzy’s hand as though he would never let it go. The two men were perfect for her sisters.

  She glanced at her watch. It was just coming up to eleven o’clock. The vicar stood facing Pierre who was already in position, his back to the congregation, and without a best man. He didn’t know anyone, he’d said, when the family had asked him who was doing the honours. ‘I must not draw the attention to my name or marriage,’ he’d told them.

  On this beautiful late summer afternoon it was hard to remember the world was still at war and Pierre’s situation still potentially dangerous. Ronnie noticed his jacket hung loosely but at least he’d filled out a little with a regular diet, courtesy of whoever he was working for.

  How she longed to know the part he was playing in the war since he’d fled France and arrived in London with those documents, but Maman would only say he was still working for the Resistance in some kind of training capacity and she probably shouldn’t have even told her daughters that much.

  Whatever he was doing he was one of the Allies, and although he would never replace Dad, she and her sisters had welcomed Pierre into the family with open arms, to Maman’s undisguised relief. He’d certainly brought out a softer side of their strict French mother, who was visibly more relaxed and more demonstrative to her girls as well as Pierre. Ronnie couldn’t help grinning at the change.

  There was some movement in the back of the church. Her heart jumped. Michael? Ronnie twisted her neck and gasped. It was Maman, on time for once, looking more beautiful than Ronnie had ever seen her. She was wearing a simple cream dress with tulip-styled sleeves that fashionably enhanced her narrow shoulders. A soft sash collar followed the deep V neckline that tied at the bust, the sash ends gently floating almost to the skirt which flared above her mother’s slim ankles enclosed in Dora’s silver shoes. On her dark upswept hair perched a cream hat with its own veil. She stood, hesitating, as she waited for Miss Read at the organ to start playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’.

  Then with the sweetest smile on her lips her mother began the short walk up the aisle on Dr Hall’s arm. Pierre turned. Ronnie caught her breath. In that moment she saw in his face all the love he must have nurtured in his heart these past twenty years for their mother. She pressed Suzy’s hand and her sister squeezed it in return – but not before Ronnie saw Suzy’s eyes fill with tears.

  This must be so strange for Suzy watching her own parents get married – strange, but wonderful.

  When the service finished and it was time for Pierre to kiss the bride, Ronnie felt her own eyes well up. After everything Maman had been through, she was at last to have her chance of happiness.

  When the newly-weds had signed the register, Simone, her smile radiant, took her husband’s arm as they walked down the aisle to the crashing sound of Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’, which Miss Read played to full effect as her foot enthusiastically pumped the organ’s pedals. As her mother glided towards the pew where Ronnie sat, she sent her daughter a mischievous wink, glanced down at her feet, then mouthed, ‘Merci, chérie.’

  Ronnie leaned back in the pew, a satisfied smile plastered on her face.

  Ronnie watched her two sisters talking and laughing with their respective fiancé and sweetheart in the elegant Bromley Court Hotel in Downe where Maman and Pierre’s reception was being held. She glanced at her watch. It was almost noon and Michael still hadn’t arrived. She knew it wasn’t his fault as he hadn’t been at all sure whether he could get the time off. But it would have been nice to have had him by her side. She hated playing gooseberry to Raine and Suzy, and still felt a little shy in Alec and James’s company, lovely though they both were, and it was wonderful to see the two men getting along well together like old friends. And for once Maman had someone of her own. The very thought made Ronnie feel quite lonely.

  And then she felt a warm furry body nuzzle her legs and heard a muted bark. Rusty. How could she possibly be lonely when she had him?

  Simone and Pierre entered the room, both looking dazed with happiness. They had just begun to circulate amidst laughter and chatter when the door opened and a few of the guests turned to see who it was. Ronnie heard an audible gasp. Everyone in the room except Simone and Pierre, who were busy smiling at one another, turned to see who was causing the commotion. Then to Ronnie’s amazement Suzy broke away from James and went up to the tall, elegantly dressed woman with the dark shining hair and wide smile. Curiously, Ronnie followed a little way behind and heard her sister say: ‘Oh, I’m so thrilled you could come. You look sensational!’

  ‘Thank you, darling,’ the woman said. ‘I thought I’d better see your mother in person as I know she didn’t believe you and I were acquainted with one another. Or even that I was real.’ She gave her throaty laugh and Suzy giggled.

  ‘Come on, then, let me introduce you to her and her new husband.’ She turned round and saw Ronnie. ‘Oh, Fern, this is my young sister, Ronnie.’

  Fern smiled and extended her gloved hand. ‘Ah. I have heard about you, Véronique. You have been working on the canals, I understand. And do you enjoy it?’

  Ronnie nodded, not knowing quite what to say to such a vision. ‘Yes … a lot, but it’s not so glamorous as being a famous actress,’ she blurted.

  ‘But every bit as important – probably more,’ Fern said magnanimously. ‘Now, come with us and find your mother.’ She linked her arm through Suzy’s
and Ronnie’s as they went in search of Simone.

  ‘Maman, I’ve brought someone who would like to meet you,’ Suzy said.

  Simone spun round, ready to be gracious. She gave a double take. ‘Fern Miller! Ce n’est pas possible.’

  ‘Oh, do call me Fern,’ the actress said, then added mischievously, ‘Your daughter does.’

  ‘I hope you give Miss Miller … Fern … your respect, Suzanne,’ Simone said, back in Maman mood, to Ronnie’s amusement.

  ‘No, she never does,’ Fern said, a delicious smile curving her lips. Suzanne laughed.

  Simone took a back step, eyes wide in horror.

  ‘Maman, Fern’s teasing,’ Ronnie said, laughing.

  ‘This is an English trait,’ Simone addressed Fern, pronouncing ‘trait’ in the French way. ‘They like to tease. I have this always from my daughters.’

  ‘I’d give anything for three beautiful daughters like yours,’ Fern said wistfully. ‘Even one would be marvellous.’

  ‘Yes, I know I am a very lucky woman,’ Simone said, as Pierre walked up to join the little group, giving Fern his charming, yet utterly sincere, smile.

  Ronnie was just about to say something when a hatless figure in the doorway caught her eye.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said to no one in particular, and rushed over. ‘Michael! I thought you weren’t coming.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m so late, darling. Something last minute at the station,’ he said, giving her a swift peck on the cheek. ‘But I’m here now.’

  Ronnie studied him. ‘There’s something different about your uniform.’

  He chuckled. ‘Just slightly. I’ve been promoted.’ He gave her a bow. ‘Sergeant Scott at your service.’

  She giggled. ‘It sounds awfully grand.’ She took his arm. ‘Come and say hello to the happy couple. And, Michael …’

  ‘Yes, Véronique. For that’s who you have to be today, looking gorgeous in your pretty flowered dress.’

  ‘I’ll allow it,’ she laughed. Then, honest as usual, she added, ‘It’s really Suzy’s. She made it at the beginning of the war. She makes all her clothes.’

  ‘You look delightful in it.’ He stroked his chin. ‘But I do miss the trousers and the three jumpers and the muddy wellies.’

  ‘I must say I feel more comfortable in them,’ Ronnie said, grinning.

  ‘Whatever you wear, you are still my gorgeous Ronnie.’ He took her hand and gently kissed the scar on her palm. ‘That’s looking much better.’ He paused. ‘You were also about to say something else when I called you “Véronique”.’

  Ronnie pretended to think what it was by frowning. ‘Oh, yes. It was just that even though you’re not the constable I fell in love with, I think I could rather get to like this new sergeant.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible,’ he grinned, chucking her under the chin. ‘Now back to the wedding. Did it go well at the church?’

  ‘Wonderfully well,’ Ronnie said. ‘Maman and Pierre are the happiest couple I know.’

  ‘No, there’s another couple who are just as happy,’ Michael said immediately, as he looked down at her. ‘Come here. Because I don’t care who knows it. Even if it is the famous actress Fern Miller over there.’

  He swept Ronnie up in his arms.

  ‘Maybe it will be us in that same church one of these days,’ he murmured against her lips.

  ‘That is, if you turn up,’ Ronnie quipped.

  ‘If it’s you waiting for me, I will.’ He paused and placed her a little apart, his expression serious. ‘What do you say, Véronique?’ He kissed her soundly.

  In answer, Véronique put her hands behind his neck, drawing him towards her upturned face, and soundly kissed him back.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  May 1945

  The war was finally coming to an end. The Russian Red Army had beaten the Western Allies last month to reach Berlin and was holding it under siege, Mussolini had been captured and shot, together with his mistress, Claretta Petacci, and two days later Hitler and his mistress, Eva Braun, had committed suicide by poisoning themselves in the Führer’s bunker the day after the two of them had married. Ronnie pulled a face at the scenes her imagination produced. Good riddance to the lot of them.

  She drew back the blackout curtains. It had rained non-stop this past week but today, Monday, Ronnie was thankful that for once she could see the weak rays of the sun. She opened the window and put her head out, then heard a rumble. Surely that wasn’t thunder. She peered up at the sky to see a formation of aeroplanes and automatically flinched. Then she realised they were British planes. Raine had told them there would be hundreds of planes coming over to bring back the emaciated prisoners of war from captivity. Ronnie shuddered. Yet it was an uplifting sight to know that something good was finally happening to those poor souls.

  She watched for a few more moments, then drew her head back in. At least it felt warmer, but the weather hardly mattered now that she and her sisters were together after so long. Raine had hardly delivered any aeroplanes in the last few weeks, so had been able to take some time off, Suzy had been home a fortnight now, and Mr Lincoln, the vet, had given Ronnie a few days’ holiday.

  ‘I reckon they’ll announce it on the wireless any minute now,’ Mr Lincoln had said, his face creasing into a familiar smile, ‘so off you go – you need to be with your family when it happens.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me – I’ll be happy enough with my own company upstairs in my room with my books and my music – having a bit of time off at last with Buster and the two imps.’

  Ronnie chuckled. Buster was a mature dog at eleven years old but had been given a new lease of life by the two much younger dogs Mr Lincoln had saved from being put down.

  ‘But when it’s definitely over, will you come and have supper with us?’ Ronnie said.

  ‘That’s very kind of you – thank you.’

  The war had taken its toll, even on those like Mr Lincoln who’d been too old to join up, Ronnie had thought, noticing his bloodshot eyes. Having to put all those healthy pets down was heart-breaking every single time, let alone not being able to save some of the very sick and badly injured animals. She was only grateful to be playing her part again, having slipped into her old job at the vet’s. She’d still be doing something she loved, training hard under Mr Lincoln’s watchful eye to become a qualified veterinary assistant … and keep an eye on Maman at the same time.

  Although her hand had healed well it didn’t have quite the strength it used to, and when she’d thought about the grinding physical labour day in, day out, wielding the heavy boats and working the locks, helping to load and unload the cargo, sometimes ten or more hours a day, she’d reluctantly made her decision to leave the canals. But she’d always remember her time on the Grand Union Canal. Her first taste of freedom and responsibility. Where she’d met Michael. When she’d at last grown up.

  Sally and May wrote now and again, and Jess had been to see her a couple of times. Ronnie glanced over to the wash bowl painted with roses in pride of place on her dressing table. Jess had given it to her the first time she’d visited when Ronnie had injured her hand.

  ‘From May and Sally and me,’ she’d said, laughing. ‘So you don’t forget us or your time on the cut. And Dora wants to be remembered to you as well.’

  Dora … well, who could forget Dora? And her silver shoes?

  Pierre had managed to come and see them, sometimes for a few days at a time, in the last year. Those visits completely transformed her mother into a more affectionate mother and loving wife until he’d have to disappear again, continuing his work with the Resistance, but now he, too, was here permanently as one of the family. Strange to think of him as her stepfather, but she couldn’t think of a nicer one, and she knew Raine felt the same. You didn’t even have to ask Suzy, Ronnie grinned to herself. Suzy never stopped smiling every time she looked at her father. They’d all got to know him really well and there was no doubt how happy he mad
e Maman.

  Thinking about Maman, if it hadn’t been for Dr Hall rushing over as quickly as he had … getting her straight into hospital … A shiver ran the length of Ronnie’s spine. But the doctor at the hospital had said she was definitely on the mend now and tomorrow they’d all be allowed to visit her. She couldn’t wait. Everything was going to be wonderful.

  Later that evening Ronnie sat with her sisters in the front room, Rusty asleep at her feet. She watched as Suzanne knitted, her fingers flying over the needles. Ronnie smiled. Suzanne was always happy when she was making something. Raine was idly flicking through an aeroplane magazine, Pierre was in Dad’s armchair reading a book but she noticed he hadn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. To Ronnie it felt as though the whole country was holding its breath waiting for the announcement to be made that the war in Europe was over.

  ‘Can you switch the light on, Ronnie?’ Suzanne said. ‘It’s getting too dark to see my stitches.’

  ‘Oh, while you’re up, Ronnie, will you put the wireless on?’

  ‘Anything else before I crawl up to my garret after having been up since five waiting on your ladyships,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘Give me a moment and I’m sure I can think of something else,’ Raine chuckled as Ronnie carried out her sisters’ demands.

  The programme on the wireless was a comedy Ronnie didn’t much care for when suddenly there was a news flash.

  ‘This is the Ministry of Information.’

  Pierre jerked his head up and Suzanne stopped clicking her needles. Raine flung her magazine down. Ronnie held her breath.

  ‘The three great powers will make an official announcement at 3 p.m. tomorrow, Tuesday, 8th May will be Victory in Europe day …’

  The three sisters glanced at one another and then at Pierre who was beaming. As one they shot to their feet, hugging and kissing, shouting with joy as they danced up and down, Pierre laughing and Rusty barking his head off as he ran from one to the other for pats and hugs.