by Lily Baxter
Elsie followed his gaze, which rested on a small cottage at the rear of the mill, and even as he spoke the front door opened and a tall, muscular man emerged. He strode purposefully towards them, stopping to speak to the farmer in Flemish. After a rapid exchange he turned to Elsie and Guy with an expansive gesture. ‘Welcome,’ he said in a guttural accent. He took Guy’s arm and placed it around his shoulder. ‘Come.’ He nodded his head in the direction of the cottage.
The farmer patted Elsie on the shoulder. ‘You will be safe here. Now I must leave you. Good luck.’ He climbed up onto the driver’s seat, and making encouraging noises he flicked the reins and the horse shambled off.
Elsie followed the miller and Guy into the cottage where they were greeted by the miller’s wife, who hurried them upstairs to a small attic room. She spoke only Flemish, which made conversation difficult. Elsie had to rely on sign language, much to the amusement of the kindly woman, who seemed to find Elsie’s attempts at miming hilarious. She brought them freshly baked bread, cheese and mugs of pale-coloured beer, which Elsie found refreshing after the long and uncomfortable journey in the cart. Guy ate little but drank thirstily and fell asleep almost immediately, lying on a bed of flour sacks stuffed with hay. The scent of the fields filled the small room beneath the eaves, and after a while Elsie began to relax. She was exhausted by the chaotic events of the past few days, and when she was not worrying about Guy her thoughts had been with Marianne. She was deeply concerned about Marianne’s liaison with the German officer, and she hoped that Valentine would put an end to the affair and send her, as she had promised, to another assignment far away from temptation.
She was growing sleepy and she lay back on the pile of brightly coloured cushions that had been laid on the floor. She covered herself with a blanket and was drifting off when a sudden grinding noise brought her to her senses. She raised herself on her knees and peered out of the window to see the mill sails catching the wind. They spun round and round, gathering speed, but it was another and more sinister sound that made her hold her breath. She craned her neck to see better as a motor vehicle drew up outside. Two German soldiers climbed out and headed for the cottage door.
It seemed as though the world had stopped. The sails might be turning but Elsie’s heart had stilled in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. She drew back from the window, hoping and praying that their hiding place would remain undiscovered, but it seemed that her prayers had been in vain when she heard footsteps on the bare wooden treads of the narrow staircase. She was about to wake Guy when the miller’s wife clattered into the room. Elsie gazed down at the woman’s clogs and felt a bubble of hysteria rise in her throat, but her relief was short-lived. Outside the mill the sound of raised German voices made her tremble with fear and she raised her head, sending a mute plea for help to the plump woman, who seemed oblivious to anything other than the need to tidy the room. She swooped on the dirty crockery and piled it onto a tray.
Elsie tugged at her skirt and pointed to the stairs. ‘Germans?’ she said urgently. ‘Allemand – Deutsch.’
The miller’s wife frowned, shaking her head. She said something in rapid Flemish, and then her expression softened. She smiled, murmuring something that was obviously meant to be comforting, and left the room with the tray clutched in her hands.
Guy slept on, apparently undisturbed by the commotion, but Elsie still feared discovery. She waited for the inevitable, despite the seeming unconcern of their hostess. Then, above the noise of the sails and the rumble of the grindstone, she heard the sound of doors being slammed followed by the cough and splutter of an engine starting up. She raised herself to take a peek out of the window, and could have cried with relief when she saw the vehicle begin to move. It backed out of view and she heard it drive away, the noise fading into the distance, leaving just the gentle humming of the mill in action. She lay down and allowed herself to drift off into a dreamless sleep.
The months passed. Christmas came and went with barely a change in their daily routine, and the seasons changed, but there was no question of making the final move until the fractured bones in Guy’s leg had knitted together. His chest wound had healed, thanks to the attention of the doctors at the hospital and Axelle’s devoted nursing, and he was growing stronger each day. The miller’s wife kept them well fed, and, under the cover of darkness, Elsie was allowed outside, although it was made clear to her that she must not stray far from the mill. When the weather permitted the miller helped Guy down the stairs so that he could take advantage of the fresh air, and exercise muscles that had become weak from lack of use. Elsie was delighted with his progress, but she was well aware that their continued presence was putting their kind hosts in great danger.
They were so close to the border that she could almost taste freedom, and now that Guy was regaining his strength she was eager to leave, but they had to wait until they received word from La Dame Blanche. As far as Elsie was concerned it was the enforced idleness that was the hardest thing to bear. She did her best to be useful around the cottage, but although the miller’s wife did not complain, Elsie suspected that she was more of a hindrance than a help.
Spending days, weeks and months confined in the small space beneath the eaves, listening to the hypnotic sound of the mill sails whirring and the grindstone rumbling was enough to drive an active person out of their mind. Elsie fretted, but Guy was ever patient. He invented word games in an attempt to keep her amused, and regaled her with stories of his childhood. He had the ability to see the humorous side of even the most mundane events, and he made her laugh until her sides ached and she forgot that they were virtually prisoners, if only for a few minutes.
In turn she told him about life in her village, although she made light of the hardships that she and her mother had endured and the unrelenting poverty that had come upon them after her father’s untimely death. Then, one evening, having drunk a little too much of the local beer, she admitted her feelings for Henri.
Guy did not seem surprised. ‘I knew there was something,’ he said slowly. ‘I sensed that there must be someone else in your life, and I’ve waited all this time for you to tell me.’
‘I couldn’t,’ she said sadly. ‘It was my problem.’
‘Did he feel the same?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. He never gave me any encouragement. He was kind to me when Ma died, and he singled me out for attention, but then he went off to war and that was that.’
‘I know it must be hard for you, Elsie, but I’m glad,’ Guy said, smiling. ‘I’d have had to challenge him to a duel if I thought he’d been toying with your affections. It would have been pistols at dawn.’
She looked up with a gurgle of laughter. ‘You’re barmy, you really are.’
‘But I made you laugh. I bet Henri couldn’t do that.’
‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think he could.’ She snuggled up against him, closing her eyes, safe in the knowledge that the closeness they shared was something special and priceless. She was comforted by his nearness, and he made her feel needed and safe in a world torn apart by war.
In some ways their enforced stay with the miller and his wife were halcyon days, but Marianne was never far from Elsie’s thoughts. She was afraid for her and for Dieter too. Their affair was bound to end badly. Sometimes at night, when she was alone outside, staring up into the black velvet sky, Elsie chose a star and wished on it. She kept the secret to herself, hoping that it might come true.
Chapter Seventeen
WITH EACH DAY virtually the same Elsie gradually lost track of time, but summer was drawing to an end. The miller and his wife went to market once a week and brought back newspapers, but these were printed in Flemish and with only a few words in that language Elsie was unable to make sense of the text. Photographs taken at the front were another matter, and needed no explanation. The names Ypres and Passchendaele leapt out at her and brought tears to her eyes, and she could see that Guy was also deeply
affected. ‘My wounds are healed,’ he said, looking up from the latest newspaper. ‘I should be back there with my unit, fighting the Hun.’
Elsie felt a cold shiver run down her spine. ‘Your broken bones might have healed but you need time to recuperate at home. You won’t do anything silly, will you?’
He met her anxious gaze with a gentle smile. ‘I won’t limp off into the sunset, if that’s what you think. I intend to see you safely home before I report for duty.’
‘They might not send you back to active service.’
‘I’ll have a damn good try, Elsie.’
‘It would be madness. I won’t let you do anything so foolhardy.’
He turned to her with a question in his eyes. ‘Do you care so much what happens to me?’
‘Of course I do.’ She met his gaze with a steady look. ‘No one could have a better friend or a kinder companion than you.’
‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment,’ he said with a wry smile.
She scrambled to her feet. ‘You know what I mean, Guy. Anyway, I’m going downstairs to help with the supper. This inactivity is beginning to get me down.’
He reached out to catch her by the hand. ‘You’ve stood by me all this time, Elsie. You could have gone home long ago if it weren’t for me.’
‘We’re getting maudlin. I’m going to speak to the miller and ask him to hurry things along. Heaven knows they must be eager to get rid of us. We’re endangering their lives every moment we’re here.’
The miller was in the kitchen, sitting in a chair by the range, smoking a pipe. Elsie put the request to him without any preamble. Although his first language was Flemish, he spoke a little French and they were able to communicate after a fashion, but he could not give her any information. All he would say with a shrug of his shoulders was ‘La Dame Blanche. We will have to wait.’
One evening in September when it was too wet to go outside, Elsie sat very still on her pile of cushions, listening to the steady pitter-patter of the rain on the roof tiles.
‘A penny for them.’ Guy’s voice broke into her thoughts, making her jump.
She turned her head to give him a vague smile. ‘I was thinking of home and wondering where I’ll go when we do get back to England. I can’t go back to Sutton Darcy, and I’m not sure how long I can stay with Felicia. I’m afraid I’m getting used to being a virtual prisoner and the outside world seems a strange and frightening place.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Guy sat up, leaning his shoulders against the roughly plastered wall. ‘But I’m sure it won’t be much longer, Elsie. They’ll move us on as soon as humanly possible.’
‘I know, but it’s so hard not knowing what’s happening in the outside world, and I wish I knew what had happened to Marianne.’
‘I realise she’s doing a dangerous job, but you risked more by making this journey with me.’
‘I wanted to do it, Guy. I don’t regret it for an instant.’
He moved closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Then what is it? Is there something you haven’t told me?’
A reluctant smile curved Elsie’s lips. ‘You know Marianne. She’s a little crazy sometimes, and when she falls for someone commonsense flies out of the window.’
‘I know that very well. I saw it happen several times when we were in London. Who is it this time? Not Hendrick?’
‘No, silly,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Actually, it was much more serious than that, and very dangerous. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to worry you, but Marianne was seeing a German officer.’ She shot him a sideways glance. ‘Don’t look like that, Guy. It started out innocently enough, but she couldn’t help herself. She loves him, or she thinks she does.’
‘For the first time since we started on this trek I don’t feel guilty about taking you away from what I imagined to be a fairly safe assignment, or at least as safe as anyone can be in wartorn Europe.’
‘It was fate that threw us together again.’
He dropped his gaze. ‘I should be out there fighting for my country, and protecting the people I love.’
‘That’s what got you injured in the first place.’ She raised her hand to touch his cheek with her fingertips. ‘You’re a hero, Guy. You very nearly gave your life for your country, and I’m proud of you.’
‘You are?’
‘Don’t look so surprised. Of course I am.’ She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a passionless gesture, such as she might have bestowed on a much loved child, but the colour flooded his cheeks and she realised her mistake too late.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured, turning away. ‘I think it’s time we got some shut-eye.’
‘Guy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
He returned to his bed. ‘You didn’t. I just need to get some sleep.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She felt suddenly alone and abandoned as he settled down with his back to her. The last thing she had wanted was to upset him. She had acted on impulse and she could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers. A sudden onrush of emotion threatened to swamp her. Whether it was pity for Guy, or her own sudden and desperate need for affection, she could not tell, but she needed to hold him and be held in return. She needed to feel that she was not alone in an alien world. She moved to his side and curled up against his body, slipping her arms around him and resting her cheek against his shoulder. He did not move, and for a moment she thought he must have fallen asleep, but then his fingers curled around her hand.
‘I’m here because I want to be, Guy,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll get through this together, or not as the case may be, and I’m glad I came with you.’
His grip on her hand tightened. ‘Are you still in love with the Frenchman?’
The question came as a surprise and she stiffened. ‘I – I don’t know.’
‘But you still think about him. You told me so.’
‘Yes. No, I mean I don’t know,’ she said softly. ‘The war has changed everything. It’s changed all of us.’
He eased himself round so that he lay on his back, staring up into the rafters. ‘I’ve been fighting off the desire to take you in my arms and kiss you, but when we’re back at home I’m going to do my best to make you forget you ever knew that French fellow.’
There was no answer to this, nor did he seem to expect one, and she closed her eyes, comforted by the nearness of him. This was a different man from the shy, unassuming person she had known in London. He was still kind and courteous but his experiences in the battlefield had added a touch of steel to his character that had either been hidden or she had simply overlooked in the past. She fell asleep clutching his hand as if it were a lifeline.
She was awakened by someone shaking her by the shoulder, and she opened her eyes to darkness. ‘Come.’ The miller’s wife shook her again. ‘Come.’
Elsie sat up, disturbing Guy who groaned and raised himself on his elbow. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know, but I think she wants us to go with her.’ Elsie struggled to her feet. She was still fully dressed and she searched for her shoes. ‘I wish I spoke Flemish.’
The miller’s wife moved to the doorway, beckoning furiously. ‘Come.’
‘We’re coming,’ Guy said, getting to his feet. ‘Can you see my boots anywhere, Elsie?’
‘I just tripped over one.’ She found them and helped him to put them on. ‘It looks as if we’re on the move at last. Can you manage the stairs?’
‘I’m fine. You go first and I’ll follow.’
The kitchen was lit by a soft glow from the range and a cool breeze whipped in through the open door, bringing with it the scent of damp earth. The miller ushered them outside into almost complete darkness.
‘What’s going on?’ Guy demanded warily. ‘Where are we going?’
A man stepped out from behind the stationary sail. ‘I’m taking you to Holland. Come with me now. We must hurry. It will be light in a few hours.’
‘You
speak English,’ Elsie said eagerly. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘My mother was English, but that’s not important. I have a boat which will take you part of the way.’ He strode off towards the river that Elsie had seen in the distance on their arrival at the windmill.
She turned to the miller and his wife, who were standing in the doorway. ‘Thank you,’ she said in Flemish. ‘Thank you.’ She linked her hand through the crook of Guy’s arm. ‘Are you all right?’
‘We’ll hold each other up,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Let’s go before we lose sight of him.’
The river was about half a mile away, or so Elsie estimated, and she could feel Guy beginning to tire as they reached the place where their guide’s boat was tied up alongside a mooring stage. Traces of flour on the wooden planks bore witness to the transport of produce from the mill, but there were no other craft in evidence. Their guide helped them to board the rowing boat and with a deft flick he released the mooring rope, climbed in and picked up the oars. The craft slid across the oily black surface of the river with barely a splash of the blades as they sliced through the water.
‘Are you taking us over the border?’ Elsie asked in a low voice.
‘When we join the River Scheldt you will be transferred to another vessel which will take you to Flushing. I would think that arrangements have been made to find you a passage to England, but I can’t be certain.’
‘It can’t be that easy.’ Elsie reached for Guy’s hand and held it in a tight grip.
‘We have to reach the Scheldt before sunrise,’ their guide said cheerfully. ‘But I am a champion rower, so you can just sit back and enjoy the scenery.’
Guy slipped his good arm around Elsie’s shoulders. ‘We can’t thank you enough.’
Elsie nodded in agreement. ‘So many heroes,’ she said sleepily. ‘So many brave people we have to thank.’
She opened her eyes to a cold grey dawn. The silver surface of the river was pockmarked by falling rain. Guy had covered her with his jacket, but she was damp and shivering as the small boat drew alongside a huge barge. Their guide tossed a rope to a crewman and they were helped on board. There was just time to repeat their thanks before the rower pulled away and was lost in the mist. Elsie’s teeth were chattering, but she was more concerned for Guy, who was soaked to the skin. His face was ashen and he was shaking with cold and fatigue. To Elsie’s surprise it was a woman who emerged from the accommodation. She bustled towards them with a welcoming smile. ‘I am the captain’s wife,’ she said in English. ‘Come with me. You must get out of those wet things.’ She led them to a comfortably furnished saloon that could have been the parlour of any house ashore. ‘My husband has some garments which might do for you,’ she said, eyeing Guy critically, ‘and I have just the thing for you, miss.’ She led Elsie to a cabin at the rear of the saloon and opened a drawer beneath the bunk. She sorted through the neatly packed clothes and selected a dark blue woollen skirt and a cream calico blouse. ‘These belong to my daughter, Anneke.’ She chuckled and patted her ample belly. ‘We are much the same shape at the moment, but she will be slim again after the birth of her baby.’
