Love for a Soldier

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘If it’s possible, m’sieur,’ he said in his tolerable French, ‘we should like some food.’

  ‘There’s onion soup, cheese and bread,’ said Pierre Gascoigne, wise enough never to take up an attitude that might become difficult to defend.

  ‘Almost a feast in these difficult times,’ said Major Kirsten, given to carrying the game to the opposition. ‘Lieutenant?’

  ‘That sounds excellent,’ said Elissa cordially.

  It was something to have two German officers speaking French at his bar, and Pierre Gascoigne noted it. The man was battle-scarred, the woman trim. One could not approve of the Boche, but there were always some one need not actually dislike.

  ‘M’sieur,’ said Major Kirsten, ‘dare I enquire after wine?’

  ‘We still have a few bottles of Chablis,’ said the proprietor.

  ‘You are offering us one? Thank you,’ said the major. He smiled. ‘May I use your telephone? I need to make a call. You have a telephone?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Pierre Gascoigne, ‘but as you know, we’re forbidden to use it ourselves.’

  ‘One of the restrictive nuisances of war, m’sieur,’ said Major Kirsten without embarrassment. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Go through that door, if you please,’ said Pierre Gascoigne, ‘and I’ll come round to meet you.’

  ‘You’ll excuse me?’ said Major Kirsten to Elissa, and went through the door into the passage. On the wall was a neatly framed, handwritten notice containing information for guests. Pierre Gascoigne appeared and opened a door on the left of the passage, disclosing a small room he used as an office. There was a roll-top desk, a chair, and a telephone on a shelf next to the desk. ‘Thank you,’ said the major. Entering, he shut himself in. He picked up the receiver. The operator, a German, came on the line. Major Kirsten informed him of his requirements, and a minute later was talking to Colonel Hoffner in Douai.

  He rejoined Elissa when he had finished his conversation, by which time she had seated herself at a table, from where she was able to observe that every customer had managed to turn his back to her.

  ‘I fear we aren’t too welcome here,’ she murmured.

  ‘You’re surprised?’ he said, removing his cap and sitting down with her.

  ‘No, a little sad, that’s all.’

  ‘The French,’ he said, ‘produce excellent painters, witty satires, moderate opera, fussy chefs and fine champagne. I’m unacquainted with their other contributions to life, which they appear to keep to themselves, including their conversation.’

  ‘Their lack of communication, Major, is probably due to the fact that we’re at war with them.’

  ‘Very tiresome,’ said Major Kirsten. They talked. He told her that Colonel Hoffner’s men had had no luck, nor had the Luftwaffe search party. ‘Only you and I are still on the prowl, Lieutenant.’

  ‘We’re going to prowl tonight?’ asked Elissa, but the proprietor brought the food and wine then. Behind the counter, his grey-haired mother noted the German customers.

  ‘That looks delicious,’ said Elissa, surveying the bowls of piping hot onion soup.

  ‘It’s the best we can do,’ said Pierre Gascoigne.

  ‘We shall enjoy it,’ said Major Kirsten. ‘By the way, you have guest rooms here?’

  ‘We have no guests these days. Visitors no longer come.’

  ‘It’s this wretched war,’ said the major casually, and Elissa kept her eyes on the aromatic, cheese-topped soup. ‘How many rooms are there?’

  ‘Four,’ said the proprietor, turning to go.

  Detaining him, Major Kirsten said with a smile, ‘Would you please prepare two for my colleague and myself? We are staying overnight.’

  Pierre Gascoigne was not the kind of man to make the mistake of arguing, or of suggesting a hotel in Douai would be more suitable for German officers. Below the surface of the major’s pleasantness was the glimmer of Teutonic steel, or so Pierre Gascoigne thought. He was up to something, with his request coming so soon after his telephone call. Either he meant to stretch German military ethics by bedding his female colleague, or he too had a nose for a missing British airman.

  ‘The rooms will be ready in an hour,’ he said.

  ‘They’re upstairs?’ said Major Kirsten, tackling his soup.

  ‘Yes. Two overlook the back, two overlook the street. I’ll let you have the front two. They’re more pleasant.’

  ‘Thank you, m’sieur,’ said Major Kirsten, and the proprietor nodded and left them.

  The villagers departed in ones and twos, perhaps to go home to their own meals, or perhaps because they did not wish to linger in the presence of German officers enjoying the food and wine of France. Elissa and Major Kirsten were soon alone. They enjoyed their meal.

  ‘Major, we’re actually to stay here?’ Elissa ventured the question a little uncertainly.

  ‘We might as well. We’ll take a walk first. It’s a fine evening, and the rooms won’t be ready for an hour. You brought an overnight bag, I believe.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Elissa, wishing she could sail through life in the same easy way as the major seemed to.

  Telling the proprietor they would be back later, they left the auberge. Major Kirsten conducted Elissa back to their car.

  ‘Search it for your gloves,’ he said.

  ‘I have my gloves,’ said Elissa.

  ‘Look for something else, then, and while doing so, cast your eyes upwards. There’s a light in one of the rooms. One of the guest rooms. Don’t be too obvious. Someone may be watching us. There is a light, isn’t there?’

  Elissa, groping around in the car, took a quick glance upwards. She saw a curtained window. It was visible because of a faint light behind it.

  ‘But is it a guest room, Major?’

  ‘What else? Two rooms overlook this yard, and although our accommodating proprietor was at pains to tell us they have no guests, would they light a lamp in an empty room?’

  ‘The French are very thrifty,’ said Elissa.

  ‘A perceptive observation. However, for the moment, let’s take our walk.’

  They left the carriage yard and began to stroll down the cobbled street, which was without lamps.

  ‘It’s a very fine night,’ said Elissa, ‘but cold and frosty. One would not want to sleep out of doors if one could find a room.’

  ‘Which means our man may have found a room here?’ said Major Kirsten. ‘If so, is Sophia there too? But how did he get her in?’

  ‘By threatening to shoot her?’ suggested Elissa, the heels of her shoes clicking on the cobbles.

  ‘In front of the proprietor? What, I wonder, does a long day in the hands of a lunatic Englishman do to the nervous system of a young German lady? What would it do to yours? Might it make you compulsively obedient?’

  ‘It would make me run,’ said Elissa. ‘Will you consider asking the proprietor to let you inspect that room?’

  ‘Would I get my head blown off when I walked in? I can manage without an arm, I can’t manage without a head.’ At this, Elissa smothered a laugh. ‘Was that a comment, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Not a comment, Major. If I made a comment, it would be to say I’d prefer you to put sense before heroics.’

  ‘The war has gone on too long, Elissa. I’ve finished with heroics. Now, assuming our man, with the help of the proprietor, is taking a rest before making his run to Douai in the middle of the night – which is what I would do – what has happened to the car? And what has happened, or might be happening, to Sophia?’

  ‘I beg you, Major, not to increase my alarm.’

  ‘You are envisaging a fate worse than death?’ murmured the major, walking briskly beside her.

  ‘Major,’ said Elissa delicately, ‘my imagination isn’t carrying me as far as that.’

  ‘Nor mine. But what have they done with the car?’

  ‘Hidden it outside the village?’ said Elissa.

  ‘You are right.’ Major Kirsten sounded in fine spirits, as if he found animation
in Elissa’s companionship. ‘They would then have walked into the village as soon as it was dark. In his uniform, he wouldn’t have shown himself by daylight.’

  ‘I think he may have gone to the back door of the auberge and spoken to the proprietor there.’

  ‘Very possibly. But what Frenchman would have given help to a British airman who had a young German lady with him? Do you have the torch?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Elissa, ‘I brought it from the car.’

  ‘I commend you, Lieutenant, for your aptitude.’

  ‘My aptitude?’

  ‘Charming,’ murmured the major, talking to himself, apparently. ‘Charming.’

  The darkness hid Elissa’s warm flush. They came out of the village. She produced the torch and flicked it on. Its beam cut through the darkness, revealing trees and untidy patches of briar. She walked slowly with the major, using the light of the torch to search for gaps.

  Captain Marsh, nodding in the chair beside the window, jerked his head up at the sound of a low, insistent knocking. He rose to his feet and glanced at Sophia. She was deeply asleep. He unlocked the door and opened it. Madame Gascoigne came in, a tray in her hand. She smiled briefly on seeing he had changed his boots.

  ‘You must go, and at once,’ she whispered. ‘There are two German officers here, a man and a woman. They have asked for rooms. It may mean nothing, but it’s still too risky for you. The man has only one arm, and a scarred right eye, but his left eye is as sharp as a needle. They’ve just gone for a walk. Go before they return. My son has told them there’s no one here, no guests. Wake your young French lady.’

  ‘Yes, immediately. Thank you for all you’ve done.’

  Madame Gascoigne looked at the sleeping Sophia, covered by the greatcoat.

  ‘She’s very brave wanting to help you. She’ll guide you safely to Douai, I’m sure, but the less I know of her, the better. I must tell you that the German officer who called here with some soldiers was as much interested in her as you.’

  ‘Did he know who she was?’ Captain Marsh, his voice low, saw Sophia stirring.

  ‘He said nothing about who she was, but described her very accurately. She is far too easy to identify with that golden hair of hers. So you must both go, and quickly. I’ll clear up the room.’

  ‘Give us a few more moments together before you do that, please,’ he said, and Madame Gascoigne smiled and nodded. When she had gone he woke Sophia. She opened her eyes, looked sleepily up at him, came to and compressed her lips. ‘I’m sorry, Sophia,’ he said, ‘but we’re leaving.’

  ‘I can trust you, I can rely on you to let me go when we reach Douai?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. He could not leave her here. She would be bound to discover the other guests, the German officers. She would talk to them, and that would be the end for the Gascoigne family. Their only chance would be if they could plead total ignorance. This German girl might, in charity, confirm the Gascoignes had reasonably accepted him as a German soldier and her as his French lady friend. She had said she would not repay their kindness with ingratitude. All the same, it would be a mistake to let her come face to face with the other Germans. ‘Will you get up, please? I’m in need of the car.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Sophia dispassionately, and threw off the greatcoat. He picked it up and put it on.

  ‘Might I mention the proprietor and his family have no idea I’m not German?’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t wish—’

  ‘Is that a joke, showing consideration for them when you’ve had none for me?’ she said bitterly, and her mouth set tight again at the odious position this man had put her in. Her sense of justice was always acute, and she was angry at realizing that when questions were eventually asked of her she might have to lie to protect the kind and courteous proprietor and his family. ‘You are entirely detestable, but I’ll come with you.’

  ‘Well, I shall end up as the fates decide, but you’ll end up safe in the arms of your Fritz,’ he said smiling, and this piece of impudence made her want to hit him. Hearing footsteps on the landing he opened the door. Josephine Gascoigne caught his eye. He went out to her and whispered, ‘We’ll say nothing at all about our stay here. Say nothing to us when you see us out except that I’m a good German.’

  ‘Oh, that is for any ears that might be listening,’ said Josephine. ‘There are always ears in some dark corners.’

  ‘Sweet girl,’ said Captain Marsh and kissed her warmly. Being French, Josephine kissed him back.

  Going back into the room, he found Sophia ready. She eyed Josephine silently as the girl opened a landing door that led to the back flight of stairs. They went down with her and emerged into the carriage yard.

  Josephine said, ‘It is a pleasure to have met a good German. Au ’voir.’

  Captain Marsh pressed her arm, then hurried through the yard with Sophia. They saw a car.

  ‘Why not take that?’ said Sophia mockingly.

  He looked at the car. The faint light was enough to show him it was a German Army staff car.

  ‘I favour yours, Sophia.’

  They turned out of the yard and began their walk back to the wood in which they had left the Bugatti. Captain Marsh strode quickly, and Sophia, despite everything, kept pace with him, concentrating on the moment when she would at last be free of him.

  His thoughts were on the fact that Madame Gascoigne had said the two German officers, a man and a woman, had gone for a walk. What kind of a walk? It was hardly a night of high summer. The temperature was very cold, the air sharply frosty. In the darkness, he kept his ears pricked, and his eyes were feverishly alert as they became used to the night. Sophia stiffened as he took her arm to hurry her along.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’

  ‘Hurry, please.’

  ‘You are a wretched man. Hurry, hurry – drive, drive – run, run – this way, that way – stop, stop – go, go. How disgusting it all is, and how purposeless.’

  ‘Sophia, be quiet, please.’

  Her hatred of him was a fire inside her. Her teeth clenched. She went on with him, passing no one. They reached the end of the village, leaving the cobbles behind and walking close to the rough, grassy verge of the road. Captain Marsh, wearing the German greatcoat and helmet, kept his eyes to the left, searching for the opening into the woods. Tall plane trees loomed up. They turned in after the second tree, groping their way until they reached a wide gap in an old brick wall, at which point Sophia was seized and drawn forcibly to the left, inside the sheltering darkness of the wall. Old ivy festooning the brickwork rustled for a second against her back.

  ‘You—’

  ‘Don’t move!’ His voice was a whispered hiss, his body in such close contact with hers that she felt newly outraged. In her fury Sophia could have killed him. She heard a light thud as he dropped the helmet. She heard people, the sound of their movements and the sound of their voices. They came out of the darkness, the beam of a torch lighting their way. It was steady and direct, that beam. The people, whoever they were, were heading for the gap in the brick wall. A fractional change in the direction of the beam, and Sophia knew she and Captain Marsh would be seen. Her every instinct, because of the outrage of the close physical contact, was to violently kick and struggle. But the oncoming people must be French, and the French were more inimical to her than to him. Her body heaved. He pressed suffocatingly closer. She heard, amid her fury, the voice of a woman; a German voice.

  ‘But it’s a very critical situation now, Major.’

  ‘One could say so, Lieutenant.’ That was the man’s voice, and one not unfamiliar to Sophia. Major Kirsten! Her constricted body writhed. ‘Am I to contemplate heroics, after all?’

  ‘I beg you won’t. He has a revolver and seems very ready to use it.’

  The beam advanced. It cut through the gap. Behind it came Major Kirsten and Elissa. They were so close then to the pinned, stifled Sophia and the determined RFC officer, that only the length of an Uhlan’s lance separated one pair from the other.
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  ‘I must take a few risks.’ Major Kirsten’s voice was thoughtful.

  There was a hand over Sophia’s mouth and a body smothering her own. The circle of light played over the ground as the major and Elissa passed through the gap.

  ‘You can telephone Colonel Hoffner again.’ The woman’s pleasant, even tones were perceptible to Captain Marsh, although he understood nothing of the German-spoken dialogue. ‘I’m sure he’ll send a detachment of troops immediately.’

  ‘While we hold a watching brief?’ The beam halted as the major and Elissa stopped a little way beyond the gap. ‘That’s a more tempting tactic than heroics to an aged soldier looking forward to peaceful retirement.’

  Sophia, trapped by brute force in her well of darkness, was sure no sensation could be worse than that induced by physical intimidation. It was being applied by a man whose nerves were on the brink again. His disgusting indifference to her feminine modesty repelled her. Major Kirsten, a friend, was only a short distance away. A fierce impulse made her bite at the hand stifling her. Captain Marsh, feeling the ripple of fury running through her, took no chances. As she drew breath to scream, he kissed her, aborting any sound. A dog in the village began to bark. Sophia, her lips imprisoned, the kiss compelling silence from her, shuddered from head to foot. Her head swam and her blood coursed wildly through every vein. Only dimly was she aware of Major Kirsten and his companion moving on, leaving her on fire in the arms of Captain Marsh.

  Oblivious, Major Kirsten and Elissa took the road back to the village and the establishment run by the Gascoigne family.

  Sophia heard nothing except the sounds of her hammering heart. Release came suddenly. Captain Marsh stepped back. The crisp, frosty air was an intoxication to her starved lungs. She gulped it in, tears of humiliation stinging her eyelids. Fury welled, and she struck him across his mouth. Following up instantly, she placed her hands on his chest and thrust with all her strength. He was not expecting that. It sent him staggering backwards.