by Fortin, Sue
‘I don’t like it,’ said Will. ‘I don’t think you should go on your own. I’ll come with you.’
‘You can’t,’ said Marcie. ‘Much as I would love you to, someone’s got to stay here to look after Poppy.’
Will swore under his breath. ‘We’ll take her with us.’
‘We haven’t got time. She needs to be seen by a vet and have her pet passport stamped. It’s Friday night, there aren’t going to be any vets open at the weekend.’
Will ran his hand through his hair. ‘I still don’t like it,’ he said. ‘Ben will go ape when he finds out. He’ll bloody kill me for letting you do this.’
‘Don’t worry about Ben,’ said Marcie. ‘His bark is worse than his bite. He’ll understand.’
‘What are you going to do with them once you’re in the UK?’
‘Take them to my flat and then try to track down that sister you mentioned.’
‘You’re making it sound very easy,’ said Will. ‘You know if you get caught smuggling her in to the UK, you’ll end up getting arrested.’
‘It won’t be the first time,’ said Marcie. She knew this wasn’t a great time to mention the job interview but she had no choice. She put her hand on Will’s arm. ‘I’ve got to go back to England anyway. I’ve have a job interview.’ She searched Will’s face for any hint of a reaction but he remained impassive. Marcie continued. ‘I can’t stay here forever. I love it here and I love being with you but, at some point, I’ve got to get back to real life. I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn’t know if I was actually going to go back. Things have moved on a bit the last couple of days.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Will. He let out a long heavy sigh. ‘You do what you have to do,’ he said.
‘Why don’t you come back to England?’ said Marcie. The thought of leaving and not seeing Will again was another harsh reality.
Will leant over and kissed her. ‘I can’t. The dog. Remember?’
‘I meant when Ben’s back here, why don’t you come over to England then?’ said Marcie.
Will shook his head. ‘Why don’t you come back to France instead?’
‘It’s not my home,’ said Marcie. ‘Ben might have been able to relocate, but I’m not so sure I could. Besides, I’d still need to earn a living. I can’t do that here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Will. ‘I’m being selfish. It’s wrong of me to expect you to make any life changing decisions, based on knowing me for only a couple of months.’
‘There’s nothing to stop me visiting for weekends,’ said Marcie. She knew she was clutching at straws. Long distance relationships were hard to maintain. People started off with good intentions but enthusiasm soon waned.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Will. His voice was soft and there was a sadness in his eyes. Who were they trying to kid? They both knew it wouldn’t work. They were both just paying lip-service. Will stood up. ‘I suppose we’d better run this by Fatimah before we get carried away with the escape plan.’
As Marcie got up to follow Will into the living room, the house phone rang.
Marcie picked up the phone from the table. ‘Hello.’
‘Marcie? It’s Ben.’
‘Hi, Ben, how are you? How’s Lisa’s mum?’ said Marcie, she grimaced in Will’s direction.
‘Never mind all that,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve had Monsieur Dechamps, the mayor from the village, on the phone to me. You know the one who’s Yves’s brother-in-law?’
‘Ah, Yves,’ said Marcie. ‘About him …’
Ben cut in. ‘Apparently you’re harbouring a couple of illegal immigrants who have been stealing from the neighbours. He said something about you and Will getting into a fight with Yves.’
‘It’s not how it sounds,’ said Marcie. ‘I can’t explain now but trust me, I … we … haven’t done anything wrong. We’re just trying to help out a woman and child.’
‘So it’s true? For Christ’s sake, Marcie, what have you got yourself into now?’ said Ben. ‘You don’t want to go upsetting the locals. I still have to live there. And Yves of all people. He has zero tolerance on just about everything. He’s never been keen on us being there in the first place. It’s taken a lot of hard work to win him over.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Marcie, wincing at her brother’s tirade.
‘You were supposed to be in France getting yourself out of trouble, not finding more,’ said Ben. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I haven’t got time to explain right now,’ said Marcie. ‘I’m coming back to the UK. I’m borrowing your car.’
‘Marcie!’ The exasperation in her brother’s voice was clear. ‘Where’s Will? Let me speak to him.’
‘Please, Ben. I promise I’ll explain everything when I see you.’
‘When exactly will that be?’
‘I’ll be arriving in the UK this evening. Come to my flat tomorrow.’ She spoke fast, not giving her brother chance to answer. ‘I’ve got to go. Bye.’ She hung up to the sounds of Ben muttering something about her and trouble going hand in hand.
‘That went smoothly, then,’ said Will as Marcie came into the living room.
‘He’ll have calmed down by the time I see him,’ said Marcie. She looked at Fatimah and Asif and smiled. ‘Did Will tell you what we want to do?’
‘Yes. You are very kind but I have no money,’ said Fatimah.
‘Don’t worry. I have money,’ said Marcie.
‘One day I will return the money,’ said Fatimah. ‘I promise.’
‘Okay, one day,’ said Marcie although she had absolutely no intention of making Fatimah fulfil that promise. ‘Now, I’ll go on-line and book our ferry tickets.’
‘Have you any way at all of contacting your sister?’ said Will.
Fatimah shook her head. ‘No. She will be very worried about us.’
Will frowned. ‘Is she on social media? Facebook? Twitter? Anything like that?’
‘Er, yes, Facebook. I too but without my phone …’
‘It’s okay, we can use my account,’ said Marcie. She didn’t really want to reactivate her account. The thought of seeing all those horrible messages she had received about her protest march, didn’t exactly fill her with joy.
‘Are you sure?’ said Will.
‘Sticks and stones,’ said Marcie. ‘Besides, putting up with a few nasty comments is nothing compared to what Fatimah and Asif have endured. I’ll close it again once this is all sorted out.’
Will gave a nod of approval. ‘Quick as you like,’ he said.
Marcie went over to Ben’s computer and logged onto her Facebook account. Ignoring the red notification box with some twenty-two alerts, Marcie, under guidance from Fatimah, searched for her sister’s page. It didn’t take long.
Asif had been watching the proceedings and as the image of his Aunt appeared on the screen, he excitedly called out her name, pointing at her profile picture. Marcie clicked on the message icon and quickly sent Fatimah’s sister a message.
‘I’ve just said that I’m a friend of yours and asked her to contact me,’ said Marcie. ‘Hopefully, she’ll get this before we leave.’
‘You do not have a phone?’ said Fatimah.
‘No, I dropped it. It’s broken,’ said Marcie.
‘I tell you what,’ said Will. ‘Leave my number for Fatimah’s sister to call and take my phone with you.’ He held out his iPhone to Marcie.
‘But you won’t have a phone then,’ she said.
‘I don’t need one,’ said Will. ‘No-one ever rings me and I don’t ring anyone. If you need to get hold of me for any reason, you can call the landline here.’
Marcie hesitated for a moment before agreeing. All things considered it was a sensible idea. ‘Okay, I’ll make sure you get it back though.’
‘No snooping through my messages,’ said Will with a wink. Marcie went to protest but Will cut in. ‘I was only kidding. I don’t actually know why I’ve got a phone. I barely use it. I don’t do social media in any shape or form.�
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‘I’ll log onto Facebook on your phone,’ said Marcie. ‘That way I can keep track of any messages Fatimah’s sister sends back. I’ll just have to remember to delete the app before I give it back to you.’
‘You’d better get moving,’ said Will checking his watch. ‘You haven’t got much time and the weather’s closing in. I don’t want you getting stuck anywhere.’
Within half an hour, having sent another private message to Fatimah’s sister with the mobile number, they were walking out to the car.
‘I found some blankets,’ said Will. ‘When you get nearer to the port, lay down in the very back and put these over you.’ He turned to Marcie. ‘It will be dark when you get there, hopefully the French officials won’t look too closely. The rear windows are slightly tinted, so that should work in your favour.’ He passed Marcie some euros.
‘What are they for?’ she asked.
‘You’ll need fuel. Stop at a motorway station, you can get some sandwiches for the journey. Remember, when you get on the boat, the three of you go straight to your cabin and stay in there. Don’t come out.’
Marcie nodded. ‘I’ve spoken to Fatimah and persuaded her to take her headscarf off while we’re on the boat. She won’t be noticed so much.’
‘Good idea.’ Will glanced over at Fatimah. ‘Just as well the rest of her clothing are quite western looking.’
‘What will you say if the police come round to the farmhouse again?’
‘The truth. That you’ve left,’ said Will. ‘And you’re not coming back.’
Marcie gulped down a lump that sprang to her throat. She was struggling more than she thought she would at the prospect of leaving Will.
Will reversed the car out of the garage and turning it in the direction of the road, he hopped out, leaving the engine running.
Fatimah stopped in front of him. ‘Thank you.’ She held Will’s hand in both of hers and kissed it. ‘You are a good man. I told Asif not all the world is full of hate.’
Marcie watched as Will fought with his emotions. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘May you find happiness and peace with your sister,’ he said. ‘Safe journey.’ Then he knelt down and smiled at Asif. ‘Look after your mummy. Be a strong boy.’ Fatimah translated and Asif smiled back at Will. He held out his hand to Will, who solemnly shook it. Then, ruffling the boy’s hair, he stood up and turned to the car to load Marcie’s pink suitcase. Marcie wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Will wipe away a tear.
‘Thank you, very much,’ said Fatimah. She was weeping quietly. ‘You are both very kind.’
Having helped Fatimah and Asif into the car, Will closed the door and turned to Marcie. ‘Well, that was a crazy twenty-four hours or so.’
‘Certainly was.’
‘Although, for you, probably a run of the mill kind of day,’ said Will. He gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Just a shame this one’s taking you away from France.’
Marcie blinked back the tears that were gathering in her eyes. This was it. This was where she said goodbye to him. How was it possible that someone she had only known for a few weeks could have such an impact on her? She put her arms around Will’s neck, hugging him tightly.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Will. ‘Very much.’
Chapter Twelve
The journey up to Caen passed without event; all three occupants silent, lost in their own thoughts. The snow hadn’t settled on the motorway and by the time they had left Brittany and entered into Normandy, the snow had stopped completely.
They were about five kilometres from Caen, when Marcie pulled off the main road and stopped in a small layby. She turned to her passengers. ‘You had better hide in the back now,’ she said. ‘I’ll come round and cover you up.’
Fatimah and Asif laid down flat in the rear of the people carrier. Fatimah hugged her son close to her body, whispering reassuring words in his ear as Marcie laid the covers over them. The sleeping bag was a dark blue and blended in well with the dark interior of the car.
Marcie rejoined the main road, slipping in with the traffic, several of the cars had GB plates, as they all headed towards the ferry port. Soon she arrived at the port, coming to a stop at the ticket booth for the ferry company.
‘Nice and easy,’ she said out loud, as much to herself as to her stowaways.
She handed over her ticket and passport, trying to look casual as the ferry company employee checked her in. A few minutes later and Marcie had her boarding pass hanging on the rear view mirror and was being waved down to the queue of cars waiting to board the ferry.
It was another thirty minutes before the gates were opened and the cars were instructed to filter onto the ferry. Marcie was ushered into position on the car deck. She pulled on the handbrake and switched the engine off.
‘Stay where you are for the moment,’ said Marcie without turning round. She didn’t want to arouse the suspicions of a crew member who was walking along the lines of cars handing out tickets which indicated their deck number. As the woman reached the MPV, Marcie opened the door and took the ticket. She popped it into her handbag and waited for the crew member to make her way further along the line.
‘Okay, you can come out now,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Just quickly sit in the middle seats and I’ll come round to let you out.’
Fatimah’s headscarf was now draped across her shoulders and her dark ebony hair was tied back in a bun. She looked uncomfortable. ‘I not like this,’ she said to Marcie.
‘I know. I’m sorry,’ said Marcie. ‘Let’s just get to our cabin as quick as possible.’
They followed the other passengers off the car deck and climbed the steep metal steps up towards the middle deck. Checking their location and the position of their cabin on the noticeboard, Marcie led her charges down the carpeted corridor to their room.
It was a two bed outside cabin with an en-suite shower room.
‘It’s a bit of a squeeze,’ said Marcie, ‘but it will do us just fine. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll wake you up in plenty of time.’
Marcie settled herself down on one of the bunks. She should really try to take some of her own advice, but she felt wide awake. Her nerves had settled somewhat now they were on board, but she was aware that entering the UK was going to be rather more stressful and hoped she would be able to keep it together. It was all well and good being full of bravado and gung-ho back at The Retreat, but actually going through with it was shredding her nerves.
‘You are worried,’ said Fatimah quietly as she sat on the end of the other bunk, stroking Asif’s head as he slept. ‘You wish you had not helped. I am sorry.’
Marcie sat up and swung her feet down onto the floor. ‘No, that’s not true,’ she said. ‘I wanted to help you. I still do. Yes, I’m a little worried but I am sure, even if we are stopped at customs and they find you, that you will be safe now.’
Fatimah didn’t look particularly convinced, but she didn’t take the issue any further, for which Marcie was grateful. She did, however, surprise Marcie with her next statement.
‘You miss Will,’ she said. ‘He is good man. He has much love for you in his heart. You must go back for him soon.’
Marcie opened her mouth to speak, to dispute Fatimah’s claims of love, but something stopped the words from coming out. Fatimah was certainly right about Marcie missing him but she was way off the mark with her other two observations. She looked at Fatimah and smiled, eventually finding her voice. ‘It’s easier said than done. He’ll be in France and I’ll be in England.’
Fatimah made a scoffing noise. ‘You think a sea can keep you from the one who is in your heart?’ she said. ‘Many, many miles of land and water has not broken my love. I would make this journey a hundred times if it meant being in the arms of those I hold in here.’ She tapped at her chest. ‘Do not let this small sea break yours.’
A few hours later and the ferry rumbled to a halt at Portsmouth dock. Milling in
amongst the other passengers, Marcie, Fatimah and Asif made their way down to the car deck and climbed into the car.
Grateful for the tinted rear windows, Fatimah and Asif were able to discreetly hide in the back again. Marcie took time to arrange the bedding. This was the most dangerous part of the plan. She said a silent prayer that they would get through and that, hopefully, none of the other passengers had clocked three people getting into her car when now, only one was visible. With any luck, the other passengers were far too busy getting themselves organised to notice.
Eventually, it was their turn to drive off the ferry. Marcie followed the line of cars ahead of her and drove slowly over the ramps, conscious that Fatimah and Asif would be bumped around. Asif let out a small cry and Marcie heard his mother hushing him.
‘Okay, this is it,’ she said. ‘We’re driving to Passport Control.’ Ahead, half a dozen lanes were open and the vehicles were queuing to have their documentation checked at the booths.
‘Evening,’ said the customs official, as Marcie pulled forward.
‘Hello,’ said Marcie, she stretched across the passenger seat and held out her passport to the officer.
‘Not easy with a left-hand drive,’ said the officer.
‘No,’ agreed Marcie giving a small laugh. ‘Not here anyway.’
‘Is this your vehicle?’
‘My brother’s. I’m just borrowing it. Going to collect him to take him back to France. He lives there.’ God, she hoped she wasn’t rambling too much.
‘Just you, is it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Marcie wet her lips and made a conscious effort not to wipe the palms of her hands on her trousers. She was sweating. She was sure to give herself away if she wasn’t careful.
The officer stood up and peered into the car, looking all around. ‘Okay, thank you,’ he said, reaching in and handing Marcie’s passport back.
‘Thank you,’ said Marcie. All she wanted to do was to floor it out of there but she knew she had to hold her nerve for just a bit longer. Steadily, she pulled away and drove out of the ferry port. Immediately they were onto a roundabout and then a dual carriageway, heading out of the city.
