by Lily Baxter
Paris seemed busier than Elsie remembered, and the uniforms of the French, British, American, Canadian and New Zealand military were seen on every street. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were snatching a few days’ well-earned respite from the horrors they faced daily, and amongst them were the refugees from countries invaded by the enemy. As she alighted from the fiacre in the rue de l’Echelle, Elsie glanced up at the building, which looked a little dustier in the late summer heat, but was otherwise unchanged. She paid the cabby and rang the doorbell for the concierge, who recognised her instantly, despite her nurse’s uniform.
Taking the stairs to the first floor Elsie was excited at the prospect of seeing Marianne, but she was also apprehensive. She had not heard from Marianne since the telegram giving the news of Henri’s death and she did not know what to expect. She knocked on the door and waited. Moments later it was opened by the Bellaires’ maid, who greeted her with a shy smile and ushered her inside.
‘I’ve come to see Madame Henri.’ Elsie made an effort to sound casual but the apartment seemed eerily quiet. ‘Is she at home?’
‘Madame Henri is in her room, but Madame Bellaire is in the drawing room. Shall I announce you, mademoiselle?’
Elsie nodded. ‘Yes, please do.’ Her worst fears seemed to have been realised. It was unlike Marianne to lock herself away. She put her small valise down and waited for the maid to reappear, and moments later she was ushered into Madame Bellaire’s presence. Selene rose to her feet, extending a beautifully manicured hand.
‘Welcome, Elsie. This is a pleasant surprise.’ She looked her up and down. ‘You are a nurse now?’
‘Not exactly, madame.’
‘You have come to see Marianne?’
‘I am so sorry for your loss.’
Selene sank down onto the brocaded sofa. ‘It is very painful still.’ She stared down at her tightly clasped hands. ‘Marianne is very distressed.’
‘May I sit down?’ Elsie edged towards a chair. She was not looking forward to breaking the news that she would be taking Marianne back to England, depriving a grieving mother of her first and only grandchild.
‘Please do. May I offer you some coffee? It is ersatz I am afraid.’
‘No, thank you.’ Elsie perched on the edge of a gilded chair. ‘I’ve come to take Marianne back to England, madame. There’s no easy way to say this, but she and her baby are in danger if they remain in Paris.’
Selene looked up, her dark eyes wide with surprise. ‘We are all in danger.’
‘This is different,’ Elsie said gently. ‘Marianne and I worked for the British secret service at the rue Saint-Roch. They sent me to bring her home.’
‘This is her home. She is a Frenchwoman now, and her child belongs here with its family.’
‘Both their lives are at risk if they stay here, madame. Marianne has knowledge that could put many intelligence agents in mortal danger.’
‘But she is safe with us. We won’t allow anything to happen to her or the child.’
‘You may not be able to protect them. Marianne must return to England with me. I’m sorry, but there is no alternative. As soon as the war is over she can choose where she wants to live.’
‘This is outrageous. My husband won’t allow it.’
‘It’s up to Marianne. She has to make the decision.’ Elsie could see that Selene was unconvinced. She stood up. ‘I need to speak to her.’
Selene nodded her head. ‘Do what you must, but we will see what my husband has to say.’
Elsie realised that the conversation had run its course. Now she must face Marianne and break the news to her. She was not looking forward to it.
Marianne was reclining on a chaise longue, listening to gramophone music, when Elsie entered her room. She looked up and her frown dissolved into a tremulous smile. She raised herself to a sitting position, patting the empty space beside her. Despite the obvious signs of advanced pregnancy Marianne was painfully thin, and her pretty face was ravaged by grief.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You might have let me know you were coming.’
Elsie gave her a quick hug. ‘My carrier pigeon couldn’t make it today,’ she said with an attempt at a smile, although she felt like crying at the sight of her friend’s distress. ‘How are you, Marianne? You look a bit peaky, as Mrs Tranter would have said.’
‘You try heaving this great lump around day in, day out,’ Marianne said, patting her swollen belly. ‘I swear this little chap is going to be a rugby player. He kicked a cup of milk off my stomach the other day.’
‘You’re sure it’s going to be a boy, then?’
‘Absolutely. I’m going to call him Henri in memory of his father.’ Marianne’s voice broke on a sob. She leaned her head against Elsie’s shoulder. ‘Why did it have to be him? We were so happy, and now this.’
‘I’m so sorry, Marianne.’ Elsie stroked Marianne’s tumbled curls, allowing her to sob until she had spent her grief.
‘I’m sorry to cry all over you, but it was such a surprise to see you walk through the door. I’ve really needed you, Elsie.’
‘I know. I’ve missed you too.’
Marianne reached for a clean handkerchief from a neatly ironed pile close at hand, and wiped her eyes. ‘Why are you dressed like a nurse? Have you left the FANYs?’
Giving Marianne a chance to recover her composure, Elsie launched into an account of her illness and how Felicia had come to the rescue.
‘I’m glad I didn’t know you’d caught that dreadful disease,’ Marianne said when Elsie stopped to catch her breath. ‘I would have been so worried, but you look well now.’
‘I am, although they won’t take me back in the unit for a while.’
Marianne put her head on one side. ‘I know you so well, Elsie Mead. There’s something you’re not telling me.’
Elsie took Marianne’s hands in hers. ‘I’ve been sent by the powers that be to take you home. You have to trust me on this.’
‘But this is my home. This is where Henri’s son should be born.’
‘You’re in danger and so is your unborn child. I’ve tried to explain things to Selene but I don’t think she believes me any more than you do. You’re a marked woman, Marianne. You were working for Military Intelligence for a long time and you know too much. They’ve sent me here to bring you back to England where you’ll be safe.’
‘You’re joking. I’m no one in particular. Why would anyone want to harm me?’
‘For the reason I just gave you. You know names that would be more than useful to the Germans. Think of Raoul, for instance, and the Tandel sisters. Then there are Valentine and Hendrick and all the other people you must have come across while you were at the rue Saint-Roch.’
Marianne was silent for a moment, her face pale with shock. ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that.’
‘Think of your baby, Marianne. You must come with me and we have to leave first thing in the morning.’
‘But my baby,’ Marianne whispered. ‘It’s due in less than a month. I shouldn’t be travelling at this time.’
‘I’ll be with you all the way, and we’ll be on a hospital train with doctors and nurses and a hospital ship from Calais to Dover. You’ll be in good hands.’
Marianne’s jaw hardened into the stubborn line that Elsie knew so well. ‘I don’t see why it has to be so urgent. Surely another month or so isn’t going to make much difference?’
‘They have their sources. Are you willing to risk your life and the baby’s by staying in Paris?’
‘I-I don’t know.’ Marianne raised her hand to her brow. ‘This has all come so suddenly. One moment I was safe and secure and now I just don’t know.’
‘You know I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that I didn’t think was in your best interests. After all, the war can’t go on much longer, and when it’s over you can return to Paris with your child, if that’s what you want.’
Marianne nodded slowly. ‘You’re
right, of course. You always are.’ She smiled wearily. ‘When this is all over I’ll take you to le Lavandou. The Villa Mimosa is wonderful in the spring and the summer. We’ll take little Henri and we’ll swim in the sea and picnic on the beach.’
‘It all sounds wonderful, Marianne.’
‘You’ll adore the south of France. We can go there every summer.’
‘I’m sure we will, but what about now? Will you come with me?’
Marianne was about to answer but was distracted by someone knocking on the door. ‘Come in.’
Elsie turned to see Monsieur Bellaire standing in the doorway.
‘May I come in, Marianne?’
‘Yes, Papa, of course.’
He approached them slowly, fixing Marianne with a serious look in his dark eyes. Elsie was struck by his likeness to Henri and she could understand why Marianne was so fond of her father-in-law. He pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Selene telephoned me at the bank, and I came straight away.’
‘You don’t want me to leave, do you?’ Marianne asked urgently. ‘I’ll be safe here with you, won’t I?’
He reached out to take her hand in his. ‘I received a telegram from your father. His battalion is in the thick of it, but he’s in possession of intelligence from London. He says you must do as they say and return there immediately.’
‘Why me? I don’t understand.’
‘You are one of many that they are recalling. I can’t tell you any more than that.’
‘And you think I should go.’
‘I have to agree with your father.’
‘Then I will,’ Marianne said, sighing. ‘If you both say so then I must take notice.’
‘That will be the first time ever,’ Elsie said, smiling with relief. ‘You need to get your things together and we’ll leave at first light.’
They arrived at the Gare du Nord early next morning to see the troop train pulling out of the station. They had left the rue de l’Echelle in good time but had been held up by an accident which had blocked the road, causing chaos even that early in the morning. A donkey cart had been in collision with a farm wagon loaded with sacks of potatoes, and the donkey had broken loose and cantered off down the street, leaving the wagon overturned and sacks that had burst at the seams as they hit the road surface. Potatoes rolled around like marbles with hungry people scrambling to salvage them and the farmer shouting expletives as they hurried away with his crop.
‘What do we do now?’ Marianne asked in dismay.
‘There’ll be another one along in a minute,’ Elsie said with more conviction than she was feeling. ‘We’ll get the local train and hope to be in time to catch the hospital ship before it leaves.’
Marianne pulled a face. ‘I keep getting pains. I hope it hasn’t started.’
‘I think you’d know all about it if it had. I’m no expert, but I’ve helped at a couple of births when we went to the aid of people whose homes had been bombed.’
‘I’ll tell him to stay put,’ Marianne said with a glimmer of her old spirit.
‘Wait here. I’ll go and find out when the next train is due and which platform.’ Elsie hurried off, praying silently that Marianne was not in labour. It was true that she’d assisted at two births, but the women were already mothers several times over and knew more about it than she did. It had been comparatively easy, at least for her. She made enquiries and returned to Marianne, who was looking reasonably calm. ‘The train has just come in and it’s the same platform. There’s no need to hurry because it will be in for ten minutes, so the porter told me.’ She proffered her arm and Marianne accepted her help without an argument, which again was a first. This new Marianne was a lot easier to deal with than her former self, but Elsie suspected that it would not last. Somewhere beneath the meek and mild surface lurked the old Marianne waiting to get out and set the world on fire.
Marianne came to a sudden halt.
‘What’s the matter?’ Elsie asked anxiously. ‘You’re not having pains again, are you?’
Marianne clutched her arm. ‘We’re being watched. I may be pregnant, but I haven’t forgotten my training, and I don’t like the look of those men.’ She jerked her head in the direction of three men dressed in working clothes who were loitering close to the barrier.
Shocked out of her complacent state, Elsie glanced over her shoulder. ‘You’re right. I’m a fool to have let my guard down.’
‘What do we do now? They’re between us and the platform. We’ll never make it.’
‘Keep going. Don’t let them see that we’ve noticed them.’
‘I’m not in a fit state to make a run for it,’ Marianne said with a touch of her old humour. ‘What do we do if they try to stop us?’
‘We have to catch that train.’
‘And so you shall.’ A deep voice behind them made them spin round to see a familiar figure standing behind them.
‘Raoul.’ At any other time Elsie would have thrown her arms around him, but she stifled the impulse. ‘How did you know we were here?’
He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Never mind that now. I’m here to see that you board the train.’ He beckoned to a group of porters, and they approached slowly, following them at a discreet distance. With Raoul at their side, Elise and Marianne went through the barrier unmolested. Elsie heard the sounds of a scuffle but she did not look back. Marianne stood on tiptoe to kiss Raoul’s whiskery cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done for us.’
Elsie was certain that he was blushing as he muttered a response. She shook his hand. ‘That goes for me too. Thank you. You’re a brave man.’
‘I’m a railwayman. Glad to be of service, ladies.’ He bowed and opened a carriage door. ‘Move over, soldier. Make room for the ladies.’ He helped Marianne up the steps into the carriage and two young soldiers hastily vacated their seats. Raoul saluted and slammed the door as the train moved off with a hiss of steam.
Marianne lay back in her seat and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I didn’t think we’d make it.’
‘We did and that’s all that matters.’ Elsie settled down beside her. She would not consider them to be out of danger until they were on the hospital ship bound for Dover. Marianne had her eyes closed and was soon fast asleep, as were most of their fellow travellers, and Elsie began to relax.
Marianne woke up just as the train pulled into the station at Calais. She clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of pain. ‘It’s real this time,’ she whispered. ‘It’s started.’
‘Keep calm,’ Elsie said in a low voice. ‘We’re in Calais. You’ll be fine.’ She grabbed the arm of a young French officer. ‘This lady’s baby is coming. We need transport to take us to the docks.’
He stared at Marianne in horror. ‘We have our orders, mademoiselle.’
‘Then find your commander and tell him it’s a matter of life and death. This woman must get on board the hospital ship bound for Dover. Do you understand?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll do what I can.’ He leapt out of the open carriage door and disappeared into the crowd.
Elsie stopped a man in a business suit who was about to leave the carriage and together they helped Marianne alight from the train. ‘I refuse to give birth on a station platform,’ Marianne muttered, gritting her teeth.
Elsie took Marianne by the arm. ‘Walk slowly and let’s hope the lieutenant has found us some transport.’ She tried to sound positive but she had visions of having to deliver Marianne’s baby in a station waiting room, and when she saw the young lieutenant pushing through the crowds towards them she could have cried with relief. ‘Come with me,’ he said, taking Marianne’s other arm. ‘The commandant has put his motor vehicle at your disposal.’
‘Wonderful,’ Elsie said, crossing her fingers and hoping that the ship would not have sailed.
The commandant’s staff car was waiting for them outside the station and as soon as they were settled on the back seat the driver sped off, honking the horn, and weavin
g in and out of the trucks and horse-drawn vehicles as if it were his life that depended upon reaching the docks. Marianne clutched the side of the car, wincing and biting her lip as pains racked her body. Elsie could only sympathise and pray silently that they would not miss the boat.
They arrived on the jetty just as the gangway was about to be raised, but Elsie was out of the motor car almost before it came to a halt, running towards the ship, waving her arms and calling for them to wait. ‘Stop, please. We need urgent medical help.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
MARIANNE’S BABY WAS born at sea with a military doctor and nurse in attendance and Elsie there to hold her hand, murmuring words of encouragement.
‘It’s a beautiful baby girl,’ the nurse said, handing the swaddled baby to Marianne.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ Elsie said, reaching out to touch the baby’s fuzz of blonde hair. ‘I suppose you’ll have to call her Henrietta.’
Marianne kissed her baby’s cheek and smiled dreamily. ‘I thought I wanted a boy, but I’ve changed my mind. She’s all I want.’
The nurse stood in the doorway clutching a bundle of soiled sheets and towels. ‘As she was born at sea, maybe you ought to call her Marina.’
‘Marina Henrietta,’ Marianne said softly. ‘That’s a lovely name.’ She closed her eyes and Elsie took the baby gently from her arms as she drifted off to sleep.
‘Hello, Marina Henrietta Bellaire,’ Elsie whispered. ‘You are going to be much loved.’
‘And no doubt she’ll be spoiled rotten,’ the nurse said, chuckling. ‘We’ll make her up a bed in a drawer. That’s what my gran used to do in the old days.’
Elsie rocked the baby in her arms. ‘She has fair hair and beautiful blue eyes, just like her mother.’
‘Just like her auntie, too.’ The nurse opened the door. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘I’m not your auntie,’ Elsie whispered. ‘But maybe I could be your godmother. How would you like that, Marina?’
The baby gazed up at her and Elsie was certain that she had understood.
