by Lily Baxter
She waited until the sounds stopped. ‘Are you all right, Marianne?’
‘No. I’m sick.’
‘Was it too much champagne? I’ve been suffering a bit myself.’
‘I only had one glass.’
The spectre of Spanish flu sent a shiver down Elsie’s spine. The pandemic had swept Europe and it was not over yet. ‘I’m coming in,’ she said, opening the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ELSIE BURST INTO the bathroom to find Marianne seated on a chair by the washbasin, holding a wet flannel to her forehead. ‘Why have you come home so early?’
‘Henri had to re-join his regiment.’ Marianne groaned, resting her head in her hands.
‘Should I send for a doctor? Are you feverish?’
‘I’m not ill.’ Marianne raised her head, smiling weakly. ‘I’m in pod. In the family way – pregnant.’
‘You can’t be. Not after one night.’
‘Don’t be such an innocent, Elsie. Henri and I have been lovers for over a year. Not very often, of course, because he’s not had much leave, but it must have happened when he had a 24-hour pass a couple of months ago.’
‘But you denied it, Marianne.’
‘All right – I lied.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Of course he does. That’s why we got married in such a hurry.’
‘You haven’t told his parents?’
‘They’re very sweet but they’re also very old-fashioned, and I wouldn’t dare tell Papa. I’ll have to make out that it’s a seven-month baby or something of the sort.’ She turned to face Elsie with a persuasive smile. ‘You’re the only one who knows, and I want to keep it that way.’
Elsie sat down on the edge of the bath. ‘And I thought you were sickening for the flu.’
‘Don’t mention that word. I’m going to keep well and have this baby. By my calculations it will be born in October, and hopefully the war will be over long before then.’
‘Is Henri pleased?’
‘He’s delighted. We weren’t planning to start a family so soon, but we both want it desperately.’
Elsie stood up and wrapped her arms around Marianne. ‘I’m very happy for you. It will be a beautiful baby, of that I’m certain.’
‘I think I’ll go to my room and lie down,’ Marianne said, struggling to her feet. ‘If anyone asks just tell them I’m exhausted after the excitement yesterday. They’ll understand.’
‘What about work? Will you go back to the rue Saint-Roch?’
‘For a while, I suppose, but not for long. I intend to look after myself and the little one. Henri will have a son and heir he can be proud of, as well as a wife who adores him. I can’t think how I was so blind for so long.’
Elsie opened the door for her. ‘I know what you mean. I was the same with Guy. I just hope and pray that he’s all right, because I haven’t heard from him for months. At least you know that Henri is alive and well.’
‘Bad news travels fast,’ Marianne said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘You’d hear soon enough if the worst had happened. I’m going to report in sick tomorrow so you and I can go flat-hunting together. It will be fun.’
Despite all their efforts, accommodation of the type Marianne wanted was hard to find, but she was in a buoyant mood. ‘It will take time,’ she said cheerfully as they left the last apartment they viewed, which looked as though a bomb had dropped on it, the former tenant having been an artist with a drink problem. She pushed an empty absinthe bottle out of the way with the toe of her black patent leather shoe. ‘Never mind. I’m not in a hurry and something will turn up.’
‘I wish I could stay longer,’ Elsie said wistfully. ‘But my leave is up tomorrow and I have to return to the priory.’
‘You’re not too far away. You must come again as soon as possible. I need you, Elsie.’ Marianne grinned mischievously. ‘You can tell your superior that Madame Bellaire is in desperate need of a brilliant coiffeuse, and the future of the whole Bellaire dynasty depends on keeping the mother-to-be happy and content.’
‘You always were a little crazy, Marianne,’ Elsie said, laughing. ‘I can imagine how that would go down.’
‘I know, but you must try to visit more often. Henri seems to think that the war will be over before the winter takes hold, and I trust his judgement.’
Elsie returned to the priory, receiving a rapturous welcome from Rosemary. ‘I didn’t go to Dover in the end. Cancelled. Anyway, it’s been ghastly without you,’ she said earnestly. ‘I had to pair up with Audrey Summers and you know what a pain in the neck she can be. She grumbled non-stop about anything and everything until I could cheerfully have strangled her.’
‘How has it been apart from dear Audrey?’ Elsie picked up a tin mug and sipped the strong tea sweetened with condensed milk. Only a few hours earlier she had been drinking from a delicate bone china cup in the palatial surroundings of the Bellaires’ Paris apartment. She glanced round the cell-like room with its stone sink and the paraffin stove which the girls used to make hot drinks when they were on duty. A damp musty smell mingled with the odour of the paraffin and a waft from the latrines outside. The contrast between the life of the wealthy in the relative safety of Paris and the stark conditions under which the FANYs worked hit Elsie more forcibly than ever, but she was glad to be back. This was where she had chosen to be and the hardships they endured were as nothing compared to those of the men in the trenches.
‘We’ve had air raids almost every night,’ Rosemary continued, seemingly oblivious to Elsie’s lapse in attention. ‘The hospital in town was badly damaged and one of our girls and a VAD had a lucky escape when the floor collapsed close to their beds, making a great chasm three storeys deep.’
‘It sounds dreadful, but I’m back now to keep you company. At least I don’t prattle on like poor Audrey. She’s her own worst enemy.’
Rosemary finished her tea, and held out her hand for Elsie’s mug. ‘I’ll wash these and then I’m afraid it’s back to work for you, my girl. The ambulance I was driving yesterday needs to be hosed down and disinfected. I was on all night so this is supposed to be my rest period.’ She uttered a hollow laugh. ‘That’s a joke in itself. We’ve hardly gone off duty and some of us slept on stretchers in the ambulances because we knew we were going to be called out in the night.’
Elsie drained her mug and gave it to Rosemary. ‘I’ll get my overalls on and be with you in two ticks.’
‘It’s so good to have you back.’
Elsie grinned and waved as she left the room. She changed into her overalls and was walking through the cloisters heading in the direction of the courtyard when she heard the klaxon sound. She broke into a run and found that Rosemary had beaten her to it and was standing by the ambulance taking instructions from Boss, the nickname they had given their supervisor. ‘What’s happened?’ Elsie demanded breathlessly. ‘It’s very quiet for an air raid. All I can hear is the distant crump of the big guns.’
Boss turned to her with a grim smile. ‘A lorry was caught in the crossfire a few miles from here. There might be casualties or it could be a breakdown: they’re in urgent need of help and all the other girls are out so you’ll have to go.’
‘The old truck is in a bit of a state, Boss,’ Rosemary said, screwing up her face in disgust. ‘I wouldn’t put a dead goat in there.’
‘They’ll be in a worse state where they are now. Best get going.’
Elsie climbed into the driver’s seat. ‘Hop in, Rosie. You can doze while I drive.’
‘When I get back to London I’m going to sleep for a week.’ Rosemary leapt in beside her with surprising agility for someone who claimed to be exhausted. Elsie grinned and signalled to Boss, who cranked the engine: the motor coughed and spluttered and groaned into action. ‘That’s how I feel,’ Rosemary said, closing her eyes. ‘Wake me up when we get there.’
Elsie drove off with a smile on her lips. Much as she loved Marianne and had enjoyed her brief sojourn in what seemed like
paradise, she was glad to be back with the women she had come to look upon as her family. The Bellaires’ beautiful apartment seemed like a world away, and now she must face the reality of war.
The vehicle lurched over the rutted roads and she had to swerve in order to avoid the deepest potholes. It was a glorious day but the sun shone down on a scorched landscape. Trees were denuded of their leaves and bare branches pointed up at the cerulean sky like broken fingers, and piles of rubble marked sites that had once been thriving communities. The ominous thunder of heavy artillery was growing louder. Boss had given her directions scribbled on a piece of paper torn from a notebook, but landmarks were difficult to spot and signposts had been torn down long ago.
It was pure chance that led Elsie to take the right turning and as she rounded a bend in the lane she had to brake hard to avoid running into the back of the truck. Rosemary awoke with a start. ‘Blooming hell,’ she muttered. ‘You’re driving hasn’t improved.’
‘You’ve been spending too much time with Audrey,’ Elsie said, chuckling. ‘We’re here, and it’s obvious what the trouble is.’
Rosemary squinted into the sunlight. ‘It looks like they had an argument with a tree and the tree won.’
Elsie opened the door and stepped down onto the sun-baked mud. A group of women were huddled at the roadside; they all looked pale and shocked, and some of them appeared to have minor injuries. Elsie hurried over to them. ‘We’re here to help,’ she said, pointing to the Red Cross on the side of the ambulance. ‘Is anyone badly hurt?’
A tall thin woman dressed in khaki flicked a cigarette over the hedge and came slowly towards her. She was limping and there was a jagged cut on her forehead but Elsie would have known her anywhere. ‘My God,’ she murmured. ‘Felicia?’
‘Elsie? It can’t be.’
‘It’s me all right. I can’t believe it’s you. What happened?’ Elsie slipped her arm around Felicia’s shoulders. ‘You’d better let me take a look at that cut. It looks nasty.’
Felicia’s pale lips curved into a grin. ‘You were always the practical one, darling. Marianne was the madcap, as I remember.’ She held her hand to her head. ‘I must have cracked it on the windscreen.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m afraid our driver bought it. A shell exploded in front of us and he was hit by shrapnel and flying glass. He’s still in the cab.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the silent women. ‘I think Sally might have broken her arm, and Edna has hurt her neck.’
‘We’ll soon have you fixed up,’ Elsie said confidently. ‘Sit down for a moment, while we take a look at your driver.’
Felicia went to sit beside one of the women, who was sobbing quietly, and she put her arm around her. ‘We’ll be all right now, Edna. We’re in safe hands.’
Elsie beckoned to Rosemary and they walked slowly round to the front of the badly damaged vehicle. ‘This truck isn’t going anywhere in a hurry,’ she said, shaking her head.
Rosemary wrenched the door open. ‘Your friend was right. This one is past helping, but I’m not sure that the rest of the party will want to travel with a corpse. They’re pretty shaken up as it is.’
‘We can’t leave him here,’ Elsie said firmly. ‘I’ll fetch a stretcher and we’ll put him in the ambulance before we see to the walking wounded.’
‘Will we take them to the priory?’ Rosemary asked in a low voice. ‘I mean, they’re civilians. Maybe they ought to go to the hospital in St Omer.’
‘You told me that it had been bombed. Anyway, they’ve been risking their lives entertaining the troops. I think it’s the least we can do for them.’
‘Maybe they’ll give us a song or two,’ Rosemary said, giggling.
A loud crump made the ground shake beneath their feet. ‘It’s not safe here,’ Elsie said hastily. ‘We’d better get moving or we’ll end up as casualties ourselves.’
She drove back to the priory taking a circuitous route in order to avoid the heavy bombardment that continued all day. They were not in the direct firing line but stray shells exploded to the left and right of them, sending up columns of dust and soil and raining them with shrapnel. Elsie ignored the cries of distress and muffled sobs coming from the body of the ambulance, keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead and hoping that they would have enough petrol to get them to safety. Rosemary had volunteered to travel with the injured women and Felicia opted for the passenger seat. She sat chain-smoking until she had run out of cigarettes. She crunched the empty packet between her fingers. ‘It’s a filthy habit,’ she said, sighing. ‘I’ll cut down when I get home.’
‘How are you feeling?’ Elsie shot her a sideways glance. ‘That was a nasty bang on the head.’
‘It aches a bit, but nothing worse than having drunk too much champagne.’ She tossed her cigarette end out of the open window. ‘Those days are long gone, but we were actually on our way home when the shell exploded in front of us.’
‘You were heading for Calais?’
‘That was the plan. We’ve been touring the battlefields since before Christmas and we’re all ready for a spot of leave, but then fate took a hand.’ Felicia peered out of the window. ‘Where are you taking us?’
‘We’re stationed at an old priory not far from St Omer. We should get there within the hour,’ Elsie said, swerving to avoid a gaping hole in the road.
Felicia grabbed hold of the seat, bracing herself for the next jolt as the surface of the road appeared to have been torn up by tank tracks. ‘I thought the bump on the head had addled my brains when I saw you walking towards me. You’re supposed to be safely ensconced behind a desk in the War Office.’
‘I joined the FANYs,’ Elsie said simply. ‘It seemed the right thing to do and although it’s been tough I don’t regret a day of it.’
‘You were such a quiet little thing when I first met you. But then look at me.’ Felicia plucked at her khaki trousers. ‘What would my audience in London say if they could see me now?’
‘They’d give you a big cheer and a standing ovation.’
‘Thank you, darling. That makes me feel so much better about myself. When I look in the mirror it gives me quite a fright.’
‘Nonsense, Felicia. You’ve got amazing bone structure and you don’t need greasepaint to make you look beautiful.’
Felicia wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Stop it, Elsie. You’re making me cry.’ She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. ‘I’d give anything for a cigarette.’
‘Hold on, there’s another huge pothole straight ahead.’ Elsie swerved and the ambulance tipped dangerously, but she managed regain control to a chorus of screams from the women in the back. She ducked instinctively as a plane flew overhead. ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘It’s one of ours.’ She gunned the engine. ‘Not far now.’
Safely back at the priory Elsie and Rosemary helped their passengers to alight and gave them into the hands of the nurses who hurried out to meet them. Wheelchairs were brought, although all but one of the women could walk unaided, and the driver’s body was taken to the makeshift mortuary. Rosemary said she was too tired to think of food and went straight to the dormitory, but Elsie went to the ablutions and stepped into a tin bath half filled with tepid water. She sponged herself down, closing her eyes and imagining herself back in her bathroom at the Bellaires’ apartment, but the smell of carbolic soap and blocked drains shattered the image and she climbed out, drying herself on a threadbare towel.
Felicia and her troupe of entertainers were in the refectory when Elsie went to get her meal. She joined them at their table and was greeted by applause. She glanced round at the amused faces of her colleagues and felt herself blushing as they thanked her one by one. ‘It was nothing really,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all in a day’s work. You wouldn’t believe what some of the women here have to go through.’
‘Today’s experience was enough for us, darling,’ Felicia said, waving her spoon like a conductor’s baton. ‘We’re simple entertainers, aren’t we, girls?’ She receiv
ed a muttered chorus of assent as the women tucked into the vegetable soup.
‘You’ve kept up morale,’ Elsie protested. ‘You’re all heroines, and we just do what is required of us.’
‘When do you think they’ll take us to Calais?’ Felicia asked in an undertone. ‘Some of the girls are pretty shaken and desperately in need of home leave.’
‘It’s not up to me. You’d better ask Boss.’ Elsie jerked her head in the direction of her supervisor, who had just walked into the room. ‘She might have some idea.’
Felicia turned and waved her hand. ‘Excuse me, madam. Might I have a word?’
Elsie exchanged amused glances with Muriel, who was sitting further down the table. It took a brave woman to summon Boss as if she were a maitre d’ at a posh hotel, but Felicia was unrepentant. She stood up and proffered her hand. ‘How do you do? I’m told that you are the person in charge of this amazing group of women. Felicia Wilby, maybe you’ve heard of me.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Boss shook hands briefly and then folded her arms across her chest. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Wilby?’
‘We need transport to Calais. Can this be arranged?’
‘I’m afraid all our limousines are booked out at the moment and the chauffeurs are fully occupied, but we’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible during your stay here.’ Boss inclined her head and walked over to the top table.
‘Well!’ Felicia exclaimed, resuming her seat with a sigh. ‘That was a put-down if ever there was one.’ She gave Elsie a quizzical look. ‘What did I say to put her back up?’
‘Nothing, Felicia. We’re all tired and overworked, and she has a lot of responsibility. I’m sure she’ll find a way to get you to Calais as soon as she can.’
‘We’ll earn our keep,’ Felicia said earnestly. ‘We’ve lost our pianist but I’m sure that someone here can play the piano, if you have one. We’ll give a show tomorrow night, those of us who can still stand up, that is.’
