The Bench

by Nigel Jones

  Sophie waited for the next salvo. It did not come.

  Elizabeth watched with interest. It was good, Sophie was prepared to fight for her son, and it appeared that Honeysuckle would do exactly as she had expected. Honeysuckle was like a daughter to her and actually she knew her better than she knew her son. After all, she had spent far more time with her. Honeysuckle was the strongest character she had ever known, and Elizabeth knew that if Honeysuckle so wished she could beat Sophie in any catfight to get what she wanted. But she also knew how Honeysuckle’s moral code had shaped her life, and that same moral code would give them her blessing, albeit after a brief skirmish. Not disappointed, she watched Honeysuckle take a step back from the fight.

  The two boys watched on, oblivious to any posturing or atmosphere between the girls.

  “Come, let me introduce you to some of our guests. They are all romantics in love with art and poetry. I have already told them of your heroics in the Resistance and they can’t wait to meet you. In years gone by they found Jacques almost irresistible.” She threw him a smile and a look that told him not to worry, it will be all right and we will get on. But I have not forgotten the eighteen-year-old!

  Elizabeth was happy how things were developing; as Honeysuckle took Sophie’s hand she watched them walk away like two teenagers about to get up to mischief at a dance.

  Having introduced Sophie to a gaggle of admirers Honeysuckle went to seek out Jacques. “No young girls on your arm yet?” she said as she approached.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Poor little thing, you probably ruined her for life you know, like you ruined me.”

  “Who ruined who? That’s what I’d like to know.” They teased each other.

  “She is a beautiful girl, Jacques. For a blonde.”

  “Do you like her?” It was a ridiculous question. They had only just met.

  “I will tell you after tomorrow. You must come for lunch with us in the restaurant and hopefully by then I will know her better.” She laughed. “I have never seen her fight, but I can see she would be formidable.”

  Jacques had absolutely no idea how she would know, or even say that. He innocently replied, “She is.”

  Between pandering to other guests Honeysuckle spent as much time with Sophie as she could that night. Sophie soon saw that she was not going to have to fight for her man and that Honeysuckle was everything that Jacques had described.

  It was at midnight, after they had all sung Auld Lang Syne and the guests were hugging and wishing each other a Happy New Year, that finally Honeysuckle uttered the only threatening words she ever said to Sophie.

  As she hugged her she said, “Happy New Year, Sophie. I know we will be great friends, but if you ever hurt him the way I have, we shall be mortal enemies.”

  Before Sophie could answer, Honeysuckle had moved on to the next guest. Sophie felt small. Insignificant against the aura and power that oozed from the most beautiful woman she had ever encountered. She also felt a little sad. Once again she knew she would never have all of Jacques. She had won her battle, but in victory there had been defeat.

  The next day lunch was delightful. After the meal the boys were dismissed to play billiards while Honeysuckle got to know Sophie.

  Honeysuckle did not mention the threat she had made the previous night and the afternoon passed with them assessing and liking the other’s qualities. They were very similar in a number of ways; both fiercely loyal and proud; both were full of the joys of life, yet they possessed a practical side; they were both compassionate and caring, and both of them were in love with Jacques.

  Honeysuckle was completely open and told Sophie her side of the story that had ripped Jacques and her apart. It was almost identical to Jacques’s version, but Jacques never realised how close Honeysuckle had come to taking the path that would have led to him. Sophie felt for Honeysuckle, it was the first time she had seen vulnerability in her.

  Sophie found herself questioning if she would have done the same. She had always thought Honeysuckle stupid for giving up the most precious thing in life to her, but now she had met her it seemed so right. The girl she was rapidly growing to like would have been a shadow of the person she had become if she had taken that other path. She had always believed Honeysuckle’s actions had been so typically English, devoid of passion, ‘stiff upper lip’ and all that. But now she understood. Honeysuckle was not devoid of passion, she was incredibly passionate, and it was her passion that guided her. Sophie had been around English people too long. She understood them now and realised she was like them.

  “I will never hurt him, Honeysuckle. I promise,” she suddenly said, completely out of context.

  Honeysuckle smiled. “I know,“ then she laughed. “Before you leave I have to give my report about you to Jacques. Do I like you?” She made a serious face.

  Sophie waited, wanting approval like a small child.

  Honeysuckle saw the look that reminded her of Lissette. She took Sophie’s hands and squeezed them. “I do, Sophie. I like you enormously.”

  “Thank you.” Sophie embraced her. She wanted to cry. How had this woman become so important in her life in such a short time?

  They stayed till the sun went down and had a cocktail before returning to Yarmouth to spend their last evening with his parents.

  Jacques watched the girls giggling together before Honeysuckle came over. She took his arm and led him to one side.

  “She is delightful, Jacques. I really do wish you all the happiness you deserve.” Then she took him slightly further away and out of earshot of the others. “I still love you though, and you owe me a kiss.”

  The terrible thing was that he wanted to give her that kiss right then, despite everything he felt for Sophie.

  “We’re completely messed up, aren’t we?” he said.

  She laughed. “Yes and it’s lovely isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s lovely.”

  They were quiet in the car driving home then Sophie said, “I can see why you have always loved her. She is incredible, I have never met anyone like her.”

  “Yes you have, you are like her. Far more like her than you think and you make love like a the goddess Venus, to boot!” He squeezed her leg.

  Sophie smiled. Yes, physically he was hers, all hers.

  “So that was the day they met, Buster. Once they had formed an alliance I never stood a chance.”

  Talking again, that was good. It was lucky a dog had the good sense to eat a sandwich when it was offered, otherwise you could go for hours without a square meal.

  Lunch number two found its way into Buster’s mouth. Yummy, the best so far!

  “We’ve got that ghost to deal with next time, old man. It’s getting too cold out here. Perhaps we will deal with the ghost in the warmth of the cottage. What do you say?”

  The man did not wait for the answer; he knew what Buster was thinking.

  “See you soon, old girl. Don’t get too cold out here.” He touched the letters and smiled to himself.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The man settled into the wicker chair that stood in the window, and looked down the valley towards Totland. One of the island buses slowly made its way along the road towards Alum Bay, its top visible above the hedgerow. Buster ambled over and settled at his feet, his head uncomfortably perched on the man’s left foot.

  “The ghost then. It’s the ghost story today.” He made a spooky face at Buster who just ignored him.

  Buster had already had lunch, dog food in a bowl, not proper food in a sandwich. But he was temporarily replete so decided a snooze by the man’s foot would be a good way to pass the time until some proper food arrived.

  “It was her, I’m sure it was her, Sophie. I just caught the end of it, but she was a lawyer who had just prosecuted a Nazi war criminal. I’m sure it was her.” Jacques was excited.

  “Calm down. Who was prosecuted? If we know that, it should be easy to see who the prosecuting lawyers were.”

  “I don�
�t know, but they said she had also prosecuted Adolf Eichmann. That should be easy to find out. Christ, I work for MI6! All it will take is a phone call.”

  Twenty minutes later they were in the British Embassy on the telephone to MI6 Headquarters in London. Fifteen minutes later the telephone rang on the desk in front of him, he grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear.

  As he listened he scribbled a name on the pad in front of him.

  Sophie slid the pad across the desk and looked at the name he had written. SARAH EHRLICH.

  “They are faxing her file to me. Bloody hell, we have had a file on her all these years. I never thought…”

  “Why would you? She disappeared off the face of the earth. You tried to write to her in Danzig, but you never got a reply. This may not be her, Jacques. She is twenty years older now.”

  “It’s her, look, it’s even her real first name. I know it is her.”

  They made a cup of coffee as they waited for the fax machine to burst into life.

  “I should have thought to check our files.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, you didn’t have a name to look up.” She passed him the cup.

  About an hour later the machine started to print page after page in a completely random fashion. After a while it went quiet and Sophie organised them into some semblance of order.

  She pulled up a chair, put it next to his and placed the document on the desk in front of them.

  Jacques looked down at the name on the file; SARAH EHRLICH born SARAH HAYEK - FRENCH RESISTANCE - CODENAME - YVETTE.

  “Christ, all her bloody names are there.”

  He turned the page.

  They both read the file. It read like a novel. The stuff about her life up to the end of the War they knew well. They had been part of it. It was what happened after that interested them.

  It transpired that Yvette did not stop her killing when Jacques had left.

  1945 - Suspected reprisal killings of known war criminals and collaborators.

  “Why was she never arrested?” Sophie asked idly.

  “Perhaps she was just doing what the authorities wanted her to do,” said Jacques.

  1946-48 - Known liaison with Tuviah Friedman, Nazi Hunter (see separate notes and file) at Danzig jail. Deaths of suspected war criminals under interrogation.

  1948 – Recruited by Haganah.

  “What’s Haganah, Jacques?”

  “I think it was a Jewish paramilitary group that formed in Israel after the war, whilst the British still ran Palestine. I believe it later became the core of the Israeli defence forces.”

  “So she carried on fighting.”

  “Let’s see.“ He turned the page.

  1948-50 - Worked with Tuviah Friedman in Vienna in the documentation centre where they hunted down numerous Nazis.

  “At least she appears to have stopped killing,” offered Jacques.

  1950 - Moved to Israel and attended the Hebrew University of Jerusalem to study Law.

  1954 - Attended Harvard Law (USA) - studied International Criminal Law.

  “We can see where all this is going. I knew it was Yvette. She is still very attractive…”

  “Oh shut up!” Sophie poked him in the ribs.

  1957 - Joined Tuviah Friedman’s Nazi Hunter team.

  1962 - Successful conviction of Adolf Eichmann, on 15 criminal charges, including crimes against humanity and war crimes.

  “Look, he was caught by Friedman’s team in Argentina, then he was tried and executed in Israel”

  It went on to list the other prosecutions and suspected dealings of Sarah Ehrlich. It appeared that she worked closely with MOSSAD, the Israeli Secret Service, in extracting known war criminals from various parts of the world. More recently she had been working in West Germany.

  1962-66 - Successful prosecution of a number of Treblinka guards.

  “Bloody hell, she got them. She said she would.”

  They sat in silence imagining the enormity of what those prosecutions must mean to the woman they knew as Yvette.

  On the last page of the dossier was a note that read;

  Marital Status - married to Fritz Ehrlich, German, Jewish, Profession – Lawyer, Children - two female - names; Laila and Esther

  “It’s their names, her little sisters’ names.” They were quiet again.

  Eventually Sophie said, “Do you think she is okay now? Look, she is married with children.”

  “I hope so.” He laughed. “I have to say, I find it hard to believe she has resorted to the law for her justice. I suspect anyone who gets acquitted ends up floating in the Rhine!”

  Sophie smiled. “We must go and see her. I would love to see her again. How come we did not know about her? She must be famous.”

  “Because we’ve been rotting in jungles or underground in bunkers in the U.S.A.” He chuckled. “Yes, let’s try and find her. I am due some leave and all you do is write.” The last bit earned him a slap on the arm. “I will get MI6 on the case, about time they made themselves useful.”

  Two weeks later they flew to Bangkok and boarded a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, but not before Jacques had made a telephone call to make sure they would be welcome.

  He dialled the number in Cologne that he’d been given, a female voice answered the phone and spoke in German. It was her voice, a voice he knew intimately, but it spoke in a language he knew she hated, or had once hated.

  “Hello, Yvette. How are you?” He’d meant to call her Sarah.

  “Jacques, is that you?” she fired back in French.

  “Oui, c’est moi.”

  “Oh, Jacques, it is good to hear you. It has been too long.”

  Jacques explained that he had seen her on the TV and that he had met Sophie again, and they would love to see her.

  “Sophie, she is alive?” She sounded excited.

  “Oh yes, Sophie is very much alive,” he replied.

  Without hesitation she invited them to stay at her home in Cologne. They didn’t talk much, preferring to catch up with all the news personally, but she sounded well and did promise that she was more like the ‘nice’ Yvette that he had once known.

  Two pretty little girls stood one either side of their mother as Sophie and Jacques walked out of the arrivals hall at Cologne Airport.

  Jacques could see a slightly plumper woman than he remembered, but it was still Yvette and she nodded in their direction as they appeared.

  Sophie waved and Yvette removed her arm from one of the girl’s shoulders and waved back. She was smiling the smile Jacques knew so well, the smile that he had rarely seen towards the end of their time together.

  As he approached he said, “Hello, Yvette.”

  Before she could answer one of the little girls said, “Who is Yvette?” and looked up at her mother.

  “She is someone I used to be. One day I will tell you all about her, I promise.” She paused, “Laila, Esther, meet my two oldest and dearest friends, Sophie and Jacques.”

  Yvette pushed the girls forward to shake hands. As she did so her eyes locked onto Jacques. There was a look of affection on her face for him, but an even greater look of pride in her daughters.

  Jacques couldn’t help thinking that if she could she would have said, “Look I have brought them back, they are safe.”

  Jacques shook each of the little girl’s hands in turn then embraced Yvette. “It is good to see you, you look so well.”

  “No I don’t, I am overweight and grey, but I am the happiest I have ever been. And look at you two, you are stunning, Sophie, and Jacques as handsome as ever.” She took the youngest child from Sophie’s arms. “Come on Esther, you are too big to be asking to be picked up. We will take my friends to meet Daddy.” She gave them both a wicked smile that in years gone by had meant something else to Jacques. “It’s a little ironic that I should marry a German, don’t you think?”

  Having relieved Sophie of her small daughter, Yvette turned to her, the woman who had nearly perished trying to save her
life and the life of her baby. She held her hands and said, “It is so good to see you again, Sophie. We have so much to talk about and I still have to thank you for what you did.” She hugged her oldest friend, whom she had thought to be dead. They both had tears in their eyes.

  As they approached the house Fritz came out to meet them. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I have heard so much about you. Please come in, I will get the children off to bed while Sarah gets you settled in.”

  It seemed odd her being called Sarah. Sophie looked at Jacques then said, “Should we call you Sarah?”

  “Don’t you dare, I hate it. I always have. It just seemed right that Yvette died when the War ended, she was never real. But now you are here she will be alive again, I much prefer it. I was quite sexy as Yvette wasn’t I?” She looked at Jacques questioningly.

  “I think ‘quite’ is something of an understatement,” Jacques shot back.

  She obviously liked the compliment and turned towards the house.

  Yvette had prepared a meal for them. “A daube!” She announced as she removed the lid of the casserole. “For old times sake, before we go and kill the German bastards.” She leant across and affectionately pinched Fritz’s cheek. He just shook his head.

  That evening Fritz excused himself to prepare an important brief he had to present to the court in the morning, but it was really to allow old friends to talk about killing Germans.

  The second he had gone Sophie started chatting with her oldest friend, as if time had stood still between the apartment in Paris and this home in Cologne. “How did you meet him?”

  They were off. “At university. I had calmed down a bit by then and ready to have a relationship.” She looked apologetically at Jacques. “I was a lot older than most of the students, but so was he. We sort of gravitated towards each other.”

  “And the children? They are gorgeous?” It was Sophie.

  Yvette smiled. “At first I was scared to have children. Hell, you know why, but my blood lust for revenge became less important with each one of them we hung or put in prison. The children just naturally happened. We weren’t trying and I didn’t think I could have any after what happened, but I have been blessed with two beautiful little girls who no one will ever hurt.” She smiled, a calm confident smile.