by Liz Trenow
Now Martha understood. Further pleading would only make matters worse. She would go to the other hotel, perhaps, that Mr Martens had spoken about?
‘May we have half an hour to change and pack our bags?’
He checked his watch. ‘Cécile is in the kitchen now, but you must be gone before she starts serving dinner. By seven o’clock. Twenty minutes.’
It was only later that Martha remembered that she had paid him in advance for three nights’ stay, and should have asked for a refund.
But by then it was too late.
27
RUBY
The rain was still hammering on the tin roof of the garage. Freddie went to the back of the ambulance, returning with a couple of heavy green army blankets. ‘Here, these’ll keep the worst off. Let’s run for it.’
As they passed, Ginger beckoned to them from the doorway of the cafe. ‘Miss Ruby, please come. There is more trouble.’
‘What trouble?’ Ruby panted, glad to be out of the rain. Her feet were soaking.
‘The lady and her son. She not Swiss, but German. Maurice not want Germans in his hotel. He say they spies and he call police.’
‘The lying witch,’ Freddie muttered beside her.
She’d had her suspicions, of course, ever since Alice had suggested it, but she’d pushed them from her mind. How could she have been so naive? Contradictory emotions clashed in her head: annoyance that she’d been deceived, embarrassment that she’d persuaded Freddie to help her, against his better instincts, and sadness for Martha that she’d felt compelled to lie.
‘However did Maurice find out?’
‘Cécile – Madame Vermeulen – clean their room and find a book. Inside is boy’s name and address. In Berlin. So Maurice, when they get back, he show it and ask them and woman tells him yes it is true. And it is son they look for, not nephew. They German, not Swiss like she say. So they must leave hotel, he say. For other guests, you understand?’
‘Why can’t he let them stay? It’s only one night. They leave tomorrow.’
Ginger shrugged, shook her head. ‘Maurice two sons killed. No one want Germans here. We remember too much what they did.’
‘Perhaps they can stay at The Grand?’
Ginger shook her head. ‘Same problem. Word travels fast.’
It was then they spied Martha and Otto stepping out uncertainly from the door of the hotel carrying their small, battered cases, cowering from the soaking rain. The boy held his mother’s hand, glancing up at her anxiously, looking suddenly much younger than his twelve years. They were human beings who just happened to have been on the other side of this wretched war. German or no, this was still the same woman with whom they had shared the afternoon, who had responded so warmly towards herself and Freddie, the mother who clearly loved her boy deeply, who had, just this afternoon, experienced the joy of discovering that her elder son was probably alive. She couldn’t abandon them now.
She beckoned to them from the cafe doorway. ‘Come over here, quickly. You’ll get soaked.’
As they took shelter, Martha said, ‘Is not worry. We go Grand Hotel.’
‘Ginger, can you explain?’
The girl spoke quickly in French. As understanding dawned, Martha’s face seemed to collapse and her shoulders sagged. Glancing nervously towards the bar, Ginger said to Ruby, ‘My father is watching me. I must go back to work and they must leave. I so sorry.’
Ruby thanked her with a sinking heart and turned to Freddie, but he was no longer there. He was walking away through the rain under his blanket, already halfway across the square.
‘Hey,’ she yelled, running after him and grabbing his shoulder. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Count me out, Rube,’ he muttered.
She held on to his arm. ‘Don’t let me down now, Freddie. Please? You heard what Ginger said, nowhere else will have them. They could even get arrested. At the very least we should try to find them somewhere safe to stay.’
‘I wouldn’t shed a tear if the whole effing German nation got itself wiped off the face of the earth,’ he said.
‘But what about the boy? We can’t let him spend the night on the streets in this rain,’ she persisted. ‘Or worse, in prison. What if it was your son? Would you walk away then?’
‘How come you’ve turned the good Samaritan?’ he said, sullenly scratching his cheek. ‘Those Krauts killed your man, remember?’
‘I can’t find it in myself to blame her, Freddie. She’s just a normal human being trying to do her best.’
Still he refused to move.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she shouted, exasperated. The rain was trickling down her neck. ‘If you won’t do it for them, do it for me? Please. I really need your help.’
He hesitated a few further seconds, and then his face softened. ‘Blimey, Rube, you’re getting soaked. Get under this blanket, will you. Let’s go to the church, they don’t lock up till later. At least we can get out of this ruddy rain while we think what to do next.’
*
Inside, the church smelled of dust and musty prayer books, but at least it was dry. Martha lowered herself wearily onto a pew. ‘I sorry,’ she kept repeating. ‘Sorry for trouble.’
Freddie fidgeted, pacing the aisle.
‘Please stop,’ Ruby said. ‘You’re getting on my nerves.’
‘All this God stuff makes me uncomfortable,’ he muttered.
‘So what are we going to do? Perhaps I could sneak them up to my room?’
‘Maurice would throw you all out. Then where would we be?’
‘What about your place?’
He snorted. ‘Give me a break. There’s hardly space for me, let alone those two. And my landlady would hit the roof.’
‘Any other ideas?’ The rain was still driving against the church windows. Ruby turned to Martha. ‘What time does your train leave in the morning?’
Martha wrote the figure nine on her palm.
‘Nine o’clock? From Ypres?’
‘I could take them in the ambulance,’ Freddie said after a moment.
‘To Ypres? At this time of night?’
‘I’ve driven in worse. No shells flying about, at least.’
‘Where would they stay?’
He scratched his stubble, frowning. ‘They could sleep in the back, and I could drive them to Ypres in the morning.’
‘In the back of the ambulance?’ She struggled to imagine it, sleeping on those narrow canvas stretchers that had carried so many desperately injured men, perhaps even corpses.
‘It’d be warm and dry, at least. And the police would never think to look there.’
It was the only idea they could come up with and the more she thought about it, the less crazy it seemed. She tried to explain it to Martha, who frowned with confusion before Otto began to giggle, whispering excitedly to his mother. At last she appeared to understand and nodded, seeming to be too weary to resist.
Freddie picked up a handful of votive candles from the stand, shoving them into his pockets and dropping a few coins into the money box. ‘Always thought there ought to be a better use for these,’ he said with a grin. ‘Come on, the pastor will be here soon. I’ll take them to the ambulance.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
‘Nah. Let me take them. Best not to have too many comings and goings at the garage.’
The church clock chimed seven and Ruby suddenly realised that she was starving. Dinner would be being served. She tried once more to persuade him, but he insisted.
‘Okay, if you think that’s best. Thank you, Freddie.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few coins. ‘Can I ask one last favour?’
‘You can ask.’
‘Buy them some hot chocolate and a few things to eat, if you can. And take them some water to wash with. A few creature comforts for the poor things.’
‘You don’t ask for much, do you, missy?’ he said, taking the money with a broad smile. ‘Me, helping Germans,’ he whispered. ‘You’d n
ever credit it.’
‘Do it for me then?’
‘Just for you, Mrs B. Just for you.’
She wanted to give him a hug but it would not be appropriate, here in the church with Martha and Otto looking on. An awkward silence fell between them.
‘Well, I suppose that’s it then,’ he said. ‘We’ll be off first thing in the morning. Have a safe journey home.’
‘What? Won’t I see you when you get back?’ She felt suddenly bereft. It was too sudden, too soon to say goodbye.
He shifted from foot to foot. ‘I was thinking I’d carry straight on from Ypres to Calais. It’s on the way. No point hanging around now I’ve made up me mind.’
‘You really are leaving tomorrow, going back to England? To your family?’
‘Reckon.’ He looked down at his feet.
‘I’ll miss you, Fred.’
He glanced up again, cheeks colouring. ‘When are you off?’
‘We’re supposed to be back in Ostend tomorrow but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Alice since yesterday, so I haven’t a clue what she’s got planned, whether she’s ordered a cab or anything.’
‘Ostend, eh?’ His face cracked into a broad grin. ‘How’d you fancy a ride in the old jalopy? For old time’s sake?’
‘In the ambulance? But I thought you were going to Calais?’
‘I’d go via Ostend anyway, along the coast road.’
‘Is there room for all of us? Alice too?’
‘Of course. Those things carry twenty walking wounded, remember? Not in any great comfort, mind, but we can have a laugh. Besides, it’d be easier with you helping with the gears – safer than steering with me knees all the way.’
‘I’ll have to ask Alice, but I’d be up for it. Talk about travelling in style.’
He tipped an imaginary cap, and bowed extravagantly. ‘Your carriage will call just after eight, madame. Will that suit?’
‘That will do nicely, Jeeves.’ He laughed. ‘See you tomorrow.’
28
ALICE
Alice looked at herself in the mirror of her hotel room and shuddered.
Her face was streaked with muddy tears, and she winced as she recalled how she had prostrated herself on the ground in the rain at Sam’s grave. Why had she made such a spectacle of herself in front of Daniel?
They’d shared few words on the short return drive – how could she explain how brittle and empty she felt, how hollowed out? Memories of her brother would always end in that lonely place, with a plain white cross in a forest of so many thousands of others. It broke her heart: tomorrow she must start the long journey home, leaving Sam behind.
‘I cannot thank you enough,’ she said, as they arrived back outside the Hotel de la Paix. ‘This has meant the world to me. But I guess it’s goodbye. We leave tomorrow morning.’
‘So soon?’ He appeared genuinely shocked. ‘You cannot leave without dining with me one last time. Or at the very least, a quick drink.’
She was about to refuse, remembering Ruby, and the fact that she needed to book a car for the morning and pack her suitcase. But the prospect of dining with Daniel, one last time, was impossible to resist – why not? She would be back at the hotel before ten. She found herself accepting, agreeing to join him after changing from her muddy clothes.
*
His back was turned as she approached the bar of the Grand Hotel, but the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself, the hair curling over his collar, was now so familiar, it felt as though she had known him forever. As she said his name he looked round, pushing back the lick of hair from his forehead and raising a single eyebrow in that sweet, amused look of his, then stood to kiss her cheeks: right, left and right again.
‘Darling Aleese, you look wonderful. A new woman. What can I get you? We shall make a toast to your brave brother.’
The wine was aromatic and comforting, flowing warmly into her stomach, easing the raw emotions of the day. You came here to find him and, against all the odds, that is what you have achieved, she said to herself. You know what happened to him and where he lies. It will give Ma and Pa solace to know that you have been there and to have the flowers from his graveside. Now it’s time to get on with the rest of your life.
He recommended the wild duck. ‘So rare these days; the soldiers saw them as fair game.’ The meal, when it arrived, tasted delicious and Daniel was at his most entertaining; he ordered another bottle and refilled her glass several times.
Warmed by the wine, Alice began to relax, to enjoy herself once more. She would miss Daniel so much, his lively conversation, his seductive smile, the informality and freedom from convention. No one knew her here; she could do as she wished. How different it was from straight-laced Washington, where appearances were everything and any kind of non-conformity meant risking being cold-shouldered and whispered about or, worse, endangering her father’s political career? She dreaded returning to that life: of pinning on the smiles, pretending to enjoy herself at dreary rounds of fundraisers, dinner parties, tennis tournaments and teas.
He leaned across the table, putting his hand on hers. The intensity of his gaze made her feel like the only person in the world.
‘Nightcap in my room?’
She shook her head, steeling herself. ‘No. I really shouldn’t. We’re leaving for Ostend first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Quel dommage,’ he said, with an exaggerated pout. ‘But as you choose, my darling Aleese.’ She felt herself weakening. His lips were full and wine-stained; how could she resist one last kiss?
‘But perhaps . . .’
‘A lady is allowed to change her mind,’ he whispered, as they left the dining room.
*
He leaned up on an elbow, holding her gaze with those deep brown eyes and stroking her cheek. Alice had never felt like this before, not with Lloyd, not with anyone else. Lying with their limbs entangled, her fingers tracing the skein of dark hairs that strayed down his chest, he murmured, ‘My beautiful girl, it is no wonder I fell in love with you. It’s a shame you have to leave.’
She did not want to leave. Sam was here, Daniel was here. The idea was enticing, thrilling, crazy, overwhelming: what if she stayed, just a little longer? A few weeks, perhaps a month or so? She would visit Sam’s grave every day, spend every evening with Daniel.
She began to fantasise: she could take a job in an office – she had little idea of what went on in an office, but surely it couldn’t be that difficult? Or she could teach English; there would be plenty of people wanting to learn, just as she’d travelled to Paris to learn French. Or perhaps they could both move to Paris, and take a flat together. Paris! What a dream come true that would be. No, it was absurd.
She looked into his eyes. ‘I don’t want to leave. I’d like to stay here forever.’
He laughed. ‘But you are to be married, no?’
‘I’m not sure I want that life anymore.’ There, she’d admitted it. ‘Truly, I’d like to stay here, in Hoppestadt. Forever.’
‘You crazy woman! What would you do in Belgium? There is no money, no work. The country is in pieces, the economy is a mess. And you have no family here.’
She stopped his words with a kiss, which instantly caught fire. ‘You are such a wicked girl,’ he murmured. ‘Quite adorable, and quite impossible to resist.’
‘That’s the thing.’ She fell back onto the bed, looking up at the cracks in the ornate plasterwork above. ‘How would it be if we decided not to resist?’
She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
‘You mean . . . ? Don’t tease me, Aleese.’
‘If we could spend every night together, like this.’
He sighed. ‘My precious one. We have had a wonderful time, have we not? It has been a great adventure, discovering what we missed when we were younger.’ Withdrawing his arm from beneath her neck, he sat up and lit a cigarette, blowing artful smoke rings towards the ceiling.
‘And you fell in love with me,’ she said. ‘That’
s what you said just now.’
‘But it is not real life, is it? You are engaged to be married, and I too, in all but the name,’ he purred, stroking her cheek. ‘My girlfriend knows that although I play around, I have given my word.’
It was as though she’d been dashed with cold water, sobering her up in an instant. She sat up in bed, drawing the sheet around herself to cover the nakedness that felt suddenly vulnerable. ‘Not real life? Play around?’
He shrugged and took another drag on his cigarette. ‘Ma chère Aleese,’ he murmured.
‘Play around?’ she said again, feeling nauseous now. She was just a plaything to him, a cheap toy he’d been having fun with. And all the while she’d thought it something they both believed was beautiful, precious.
Disgusted with herself, and with him, she scrambled from the bed and grabbed her clothes, pulling them on as fast as she could, ignoring his protests. ‘I’m so sorry . . . Please don’t let us part like this.’
She turned on him. ‘You bastard,’ she hissed. ‘You’ve been using me. You seduced me . . .’
‘I seduced you?’ His eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. ‘I thought it was the other way around.’
Her head spun; perhaps he was right? She was the one who’d instigated this reunion in the first place. It was her decision to go to his apartment in Lille and again to his room this evening. At no point had he forced her hand. Bitter, self-pitying tears stung her eyes. She was a naive, stupid idiot and had made an utter fool of herself, like a doe-eyed schoolgirl living in a fantasy world, mistaking intimacy for love.
Now she must try to retain some level of dignity until she could get away. He made no move to prevent her. She snatched up her handbag, ran from the room and slammed the door, not caring who heard.
Only when she reached her room at the Hotel de la Paix did she allow herself to weep.
