by Rosie Clarke
Miss Honiton was waiting for an answer. Francie brushed a hand over her eyes, refusing to cry. ‘I’ll talk to him this weekend,’ she promised, crossing her fingers behind her back, because she knew she wasn’t going to.
‘Very well. Use your holiday wisely, Francie. I want to see fresh ideas in your work for the rest of the term – otherwise I shall have to think twice about that scholarship…’
‘But I won it…’
‘Because you were the most promising student, but it was given on merit and can be rescinded if your work fails to show improvement. You really must learn to read the small print before you sign contracts…’ Miss Honiton gave her a severe look and told her she was free to go.
As Francie walked back to the room she shared with other students, she was deep in thought. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t have both her scholarship and the contract with Styled.
Chapter 7
Sebastian walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. It reeked of Yardley’s Lavender Water and that meant that Aunt Miriam had been here; she had a habit of soaking her handkerchief with the stuff and he found it rather cloying. He opened a window and then put the kettle on. It was as he was looking for the teapot that he saw the postcard lying on the table. Flicking it over, he read it and frowned. Betty had written to her Aunt Miriam telling her not to worry, but she hadn’t bothered to tell her own parents.
For a moment he wanted to grab the girl by the shoulders and shake her, but then he remembered the quarrel and that it was his fault that his daughter had run off. He’d slapped her and she’d been frightened of him and bolted – and that made him feel sick with remorse. After his talk to Matt, he’d telephoned Jack and asked for his help.
‘We can make a check on whether she flew from Gatwick and that should tell us where she went, Seb – and once we know that our network should be able to trace her within a few weeks…’
‘I was wondering if I ought to fly over myself…’
‘Wait until I give you the word. This Frenchman may not have been returning to France; he could have taken her anywhere… I’ll do what I can to help, Seb. We have a job coming up for you soon – it’s going to be dangerous…’
‘When isn’t it?’ Sebastian remarked wryly. ‘Just find my daughter or at least where she was headed – and I’ll keep my part of the bargain…’
‘Of course. You always do – and I’ll wangle a bit of cash for you, though they don’t like paying. Our masters consider we should be honoured to work for the country…’
‘That was in the war but I need the money for a particular cause – but finding Betty is more important, and Gretchen, of course.’
‘Finding Gretchen is harder. It isn’t as easy to get information out from Eastern Germany, as you well know.’
‘Yes, I do…’
‘Right, be in touch then…’
Jack hadn’t been in touch yet, but now Sebastian knew his daughter was in Paris. At least he had a starting point…
Sebastian’s mind had run riot since his chat with Matt; Betty might be locked up in an Eastern harem by now or even dead… because some of these men girls met in cafés were evil. But if Betty was in Paris with this man she was at least safer than if she’d been shipped off to an Eastern destination. He’d been worrying that she might have been abducted but it looked as if his daughter had gone willingly and was perfectly fine, which perversely made him angry again.
He wondered where Lizzie was, because she was usually at home at this hour of the day. About to go upstairs in search of her before making his tea, he heard the phone ring and went into the hall to answer it.
‘Seb?’ Jack’s voice spoke and Seb’s breath caught in his throat, making it impossible to answer for a moment as hope surged. ‘Are you there?’
‘Jack, I was just about to ring you – have you any news of Betty for me?’
‘She flew to Paris with a man named Pierre Saint-Jacquez, as you suspected. I’ve checked, and he has a bad reputation for gambling and women – and it’s possible he’s in league with some rogues, but that’s all I can tell you so far.’
‘I’ve just seen a card from her to her aunt. She is in Paris but I was hoping you could tell me where.’
‘We’re still working on it – but there’s more, about Gretchen. Daughter of your friend Karl, who was shot as a war criminal by the Russians?’
‘You’ve heard something? Thank goodness!’
’The Intelligence Service comes in useful sometimes; we have a slender lead, but nothing concrete as yet,’ Jack said. ‘You know it takes time, Seb. You’ve done enough digging for us in the past. We might have won the war but the bloody Russians think they’re winning the peace. ’
‘So what do you know? Is Gretchen still in the Eastern sector?’
‘Yes, that much we are sure of. She was at a house we’ve heard of until a short time ago, but she disappeared…as a good many others have. We think we might know who she is with but we’re waiting for confirmation…’
‘I’ll be grateful for anything specific you can give me…’
‘Just whispers at the moment – and there’s always plenty of those, as you reported yourself. The boss was pleased with what you had to say about the plans the Russians have for Berlin.’
‘I thought it was just propaganda…’
‘No, they really are mad enough to do it, Seb. They’re already making plans to build a damned wall right across Berlin to keep their lot in and ours out…’
‘It’s plain ridiculous. It will just make people more determined to escape to a better life.’
‘And it will be so much harder to do. The poor devils that try will probably get shot…’
‘Yes, I imagine so.’
‘If you want this girl over here you’re going to have to go in and fetch her before it’s too late…’
‘I realise that, but I haven’t a clue where to start. I’ve been searching for three years…’
‘I’m on to something, Seb, but I’m waiting for more information. Stay in touch and I’ll let you know. You’re not planning on leaving London for a while I hope?’
‘I may be going to France quite soon – Paris…’
‘Well, that could be handy, but stay in touch and leave your number with us as soon as you arrive…’
‘I’ll check in as normal – the same number?’
‘I’ll be waiting…’
The line went dead and Sebastian replaced the receiver. For a moment he stood staring into space, and then he became aware that someone was looking down at him. He glanced up and saw Lizzie. She appeared a little odd and he instinctively moved towards her just as she gave a little sigh and started to crumple up. Instinct had him rushing towards her and he caught her, taking the full force of the impact as she fell towards him. Her weight as she collapsed into his arms rocked him and it needed all his strength to save them both from crashing backwards to the bottom of the stairs. He held her tightly, steadying her as she recovered from her faint and started to apologise. Holding her tight to his body, Sebastian half led and half carried her into their comfortable sitting room and sat her down in a large wing chair, kneeling at her feet as she looked at him and he could see how pale she was.
‘You’re ill, my love,’ he said gently. ‘It’s all this worry and the sleepless nights you’ve had over Betty…’
‘No…’ Lizzie passed a hand over her eyes. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well, but that isn’t it… I think I may be pregnant, Sebastian… just a few weeks, but I’m sure I’m right…’
‘Lizzie!’ Sebastian stared at her in sheer terror. ‘You know what the doctor said, Lizzie. Oh, my darling. Why didn’t you tell me? What happened – did you forget the cap or…?’
‘It tore and I threw it away,’ she said and met his eyes tearfully. ‘I wasn’t sure at first and then we’ve had all this upset over… and I want to have this baby, Sebastian. I don’t want them to take it away… whether it’s a boy or a girl, I want our baby…’
‘Yes, and that’s why I haven’t told you,’ Lizzie said, looking a little guilty. ‘I knew if I told you, you would call the doctor and he’d say I’d have to have it terminated – and I won’t. I’ll rest more… I’ve been sleeping this afternoon because I felt so tired, and then as I came downstairs I felt faint… but you caught me…’ Tears trickled down her cheeks and Sebastian put his arms about her, holding her close. ‘I love you, Sebastian, but I can’t lose my chance to have our son…’
‘Oh Lizzie…’ He felt his heart being squeezed with remorse and pain, because he thought he’d hidden his disappointment so well, but he couldn’t have done, because she knew how much it hurt and she was willing to give her life to give him a son – but she meant so much more than he could ever tell her. ‘I’m going to get the doctor, Lizzie, and you must promise me that if he says it’s you or the baby you will let me save you.’
‘I want my baby,’ Lizzie said stubbornly and caught his arm. ‘If I have to go into a nursing home for a while – or in hospital as the time comes nearer, I’m going to have my child.’
‘Let’s talk to the doctor first,’ Sebastian said. ‘Sit there and don’t even try to move. I’ll make you a cup of tea as soon as I’ve made my call…’
Lizzie promised and closed her eyes. She looked so weary that Sebastian’s heart caught with fear. It might already be too late for the doctors to safely terminate, and she looked fragile. He wondered that he hadn’t noticed it sooner, but he’d put it down to sleepless nights and worry over Betty. The wretched girl ought to be here with her mother! Lizzie needed her family about her during the next months if she was to carry the baby full term and even then it would be touch-and-go whether she survived the birth.
*
The doctor had been and given his opinion that Lizzie was about two months gone, which meant her baby was due in April the following year. He’d told them that she would be all right if she was sensible and rested more, and had gone back to his surgery, leaving her lying in bed, smiling at Sebastian as he sat on the edge of her bed and watched her drink her tea. She hadn’t wanted anything to eat, but he’d made her some dainty and very tasty salmon sandwiches with the crusts off and she’d managed a few.
‘Will you have some ice cream and tinned strawberries?’ he asked, eyeing the remainder of the sandwiches critically. ‘Doctor Everett says you have to eat regular meals and rest every afternoon – and you’re to stay in bed for at least three days. He’ll be monitoring you regularly from now on, and if your blood pressure goes up sharply he’ll have you in hospital and then a nursing home until the birth. However, if you’re sensible and agree to a nurse coming in you may be able to stay here…’
Lizzie smiled. ‘I don’t mind that; you know he said I’ll need a caesarean birth because I might not be able to give birth naturally…’
‘He thinks it would be too much for you, Lizzie,’ Sebastian said. ‘I’ll wait a couple of days until the doctor says you’re over the worst and then I shall have to go. If Betty is in Paris I must look for her, even though it seems she’s fine – but I don’t want to leave you alone. Perhaps Francie could do her work at home for a while…’
‘No, I won’t ask Francie to give up her studies,’ Lizzie said firmly. ‘I’ll ask Beth to come over as often as she can… she’ll do my shopping and take my designs to the workshops…’
‘No designs,’ Sebastian said firmly. ‘You’re in bed for a rest. Until you’ve had that rest and you’re out of danger you will be banned from lifting a pencil… or a pen…’
‘Too much fuss for a little faint…’ Lizzie complained and then laughed as she saw his face. ‘All right, no work. I’m sure the nurse won’t allow me to do anything.’
‘It’s that or risk your own health and the baby. Unless you do exactly as he says, you could lose the child – and you might die…’ Sebastian gripped her hand. ‘Please don’t do that to me, Lizzie. I’m not sure I could bear it…’
‘I promise I won’t stir from this bed until I’m allowed up,’ she said a little shakily, ‘even though it’s embarrassing when I want the toilet.’
‘You will use the bedpan,’ he said and laughed. ‘I know what it’s like. I had some of it when I was in the hospital during the war – and I was in a ward with a dozen other men. At least you have the privacy of your own room.’
‘OK, OK, you win,’ Lizzie said, but mentally hoped the nurse would arrive sooner than later. She took his hand and held it tightly. ‘Francie will be home tomorrow. We have to tell Francie about her sister – and then you must go and look for Betty in Paris. I shan’t rest properly until I know she’s really safe and home with us, Sebastian…’
‘I want her home as much as you do,’ Sebastian replied. ‘And if Francie is here I shan’t worry so much, even though I know you’ll have the nurse and I’m sure Beth and Miriam will come over all the time.’
‘I’ve got good friends,’ Lizzie said, ‘but my family means the world to me, Sebastian. You and the girls – and now our son…’ She touched her belly, which was just faintly rounded, with loving hands.
‘Sure it’s going to be a boy this time?’ he said with a laugh.
‘Yes, because it feels different,’ she said and looked at him with love. ‘It’s silly I know, but I’m sure…’
‘I’ve left you too much recently,’ Sebastian said and looked regretful. ‘It has been for a good reason, Lizzie, but I don’t want to talk about it just at the moment – I promise I will tell you soon. Perhaps when I get back from France…’
‘Yes, I know you have things you can’t always tell me, I’m not sure what it is you do, but I suspect it has something to do with the people you worked for in the war. No, I’m not asking you to tell me,’ Lizzie said. She remembered what Miriam had said to her about another woman and dismissed it from her mind. Sebastian loved her. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her and his daughters. If he’d been in that shop with a woman there was a perfectly good reason. ‘Don’t worry too much about me, Sebastian. It’s true I’m upset about Betty and I want her home, but I’m all right. I’m stronger than everyone thinks…’
*
‘Frank…’ Matt said over the phone. ‘I just wanted to let you know that Betty sent her Aunt Miriam a postcard from Paris…’
‘Thank God!’ Frank shouted his relief. ‘I knew that bastard had taken her despite what he said that night…I wish I’d held on to him tighter. We might have found her that weekend…’
‘I’m not sure she would’ve come with us if we had,’ Matt said. ‘Anyway, she was able to send a card so it seems he hasn’t hurt her – which is a relief. I don’t think I would ever have forgiven myself if she’d disappeared for good.’
‘I still don’t trust that devil,’ Frank said. ‘I’ve a good mind to fly over and have another go at finding her…’
‘Her father is going quite soon now,’ Matt told him. ‘Knowing Sebastian he’ll bring her back so you can stop worrying…’
‘You’re more confident than I am, Matt – but thanks for letting me know.’
‘Frank…’ Matt hesitated. ‘I think she was with Saint-Jacquez for a while even if she isn’t now…what difference does that make to your feelings for her?’
‘I love her, Matt. I was pretty sure the first time we met but after she disappeared…I knew if anything happened to her I’d want to die. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason,’ Matt said. ‘Betty…she’s like my own sister. I would hate to think this had ruined her life…’
‘I would marry her if she would have me. Why do you ask?’
‘Just wondered…’ Matt said. ‘I’ll let you know if Sebastian brings her home.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be back in London s
oon…’
‘Fine, we’ll meet up then…’
Matt replaced the receiver and frowned. Frank was a decent chap and ready to forgive. Matt wasn’t sure how he felt; he was relieved that Betty was alive and able to send a card but bloody angry that she’d gone off with that damned Frenchie in the first place…he’d thought she would talk to him before she did something like that…and it hurt that she hadn’t…
*
Betty winced as she rubbed the cream in between her sore fingers. Her hands were red from all the washing up she’d been doing since Pierre threw her out. It was the only job she’d been able to find and it paid a pittance, hardly enough to pay for her board and food.
There was never any money to spend on clothes or going out for fun. She no longer went to the trendy cafés she’d frequented with Pierre and so seldom saw any of the friends she’d made in Paris and she was fed up with her life here. She regretted the way Pierre had thrown her out, because she’d thought she was in love with him and still couldn’t understand why he’d changed so suddenly. She’d been full of hope when she started to try for a job in one of the fashion workshops but they’d all dismissed her as an ignorant English girl with no sense of style.
Betty had given her sketchbook to one small fashion house and the vendeuse had asked her to leave it and call back in two days, because Madame Vennier was very busy but would have a look when she had time. However, when Betty returned two days later, one of the assistants gave her the book and told her Madame Vennier said there was nothing of any merit. It was only after several days that Betty discovered three of her sketches had been torn out of the book. Someone had removed them very carefully, but she knew exactly which designs had been taken, because she had earlier versions in another book.
She’d gone back to the fashion house that afternoon and demanded to see Madame Vennier or the vendeuse who had accepted her sketchbook. At first they’d just tried to deny her, but Betty refused to leave, and in the end the senior saleswoman came down looking sulky.
