A Sister's Courage

by Molly Green

  Chapter Seventeen

  Raine had had a restless night. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep with everything whirling through her mind and Suzanne’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t stop thinking of her father and how he’d had no idea when he’d woken up yesterday that it would be his last day on earth, but she hadn’t allowed herself to cry in front of her sisters. She lay motionless in the dark but finally, at half past three, she decided she would telephone the ferry pool in the morning and ask for a few days’ compassionate leave. She turned the pillow over to cool her cheek and tried to block out Suzanne’s snuffles. Through sheer exhaustion she’d finally fallen asleep.

  Now, she tapped on her parents’ bedroom door. She swallowed hard as a lump in her throat formed at the thought that it wasn’t her parents’ bedroom any longer but only her mother’s. How could everything have changed in such a short space of time? She heard a muffled, ‘Come in,’ and opened the door to see her mother sitting up and staring ahead.

  ‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea, Maman,’ Raine said as she put the cup and saucer in her mother’s hands. ‘Did you get any sleep?’

  ‘Non, I did not.’

  Raine was about to reply that she’d had very little herself, but she could see it was pointless. Her mother took a sip of tea and grimaced.

  ‘I have never understood why the British think a cuppa – as they call it …’ the Frenchwoman said the word with a curl of her pale lip, ‘is the panacea to all problems. Coffee is so much more civilised and restorative.’

  ‘Coffee’s short at the moment,’ Raine said, ‘unless you’ve found a supply. And if you have, it’ll probably be black market.’

  ‘Please do not use that term in my hearing,’ Simone snapped. ‘And I do not appreciate these comments.’

  ‘I wasn’t being serious, Maman.’

  ‘Then do not say it.’

  Raine sighed. This was going to be every bit as difficult as she’d feared.

  ‘We will have to make plans.’ Simone suddenly looked more alert as she finished her tea and set her cup down on the bedside table. ‘We must call a family meeting with no delay. The first serious discussion without your father.’ Large tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘You must make the arrangements with your sisters. But first I will have my morning bath.’

  She waved Raine from the room.

  It was a sombre gathering around the dining room table an hour later.

  ‘This time yesterday your father was alive and well.’ Simone’s chin trembled. ‘Who would imagine we are here to decide what is going to happen now he is no longer with us?’ She looked at her daughters. ‘He was my ’usband and my dearest friend.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Thank le bon Dieu I am not alone. I have my dear girls.’ Her gaze fell on Raine, then Suzanne, then Ronnie. She began to weep.

  This was too much. Raine swallowed. She was not going to listen any longer to her mother’s plaintive noises. Didn’t she understand they were all devastated, not just her alone?

  Suzanne jumped up and put an arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘Please don’t cry,’ she said. ‘You’ll start us all off.’ She gave her mother a kiss on her cheek. ‘Come on, Maman. Dad wouldn’t want us to fall apart – especially now.’

  Simone sniffed and reached up her sleeve for her handkerchief.

  ‘We all have to keep busy for the war effort,’ Raine said firmly.

  ‘And you could be killed any day,’ Simone said, her attention now fixed on Raine. ‘I never approved of this flying, and you could be the next to die in the family through your own obstinate, selfish desire to prove everyone wrong and think you can do a man’s job.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that,’ Raine said fiercely. ‘A woman should be allowed to do the same as a man – if she wants. I don’t think I can do a man’s job – I know I can. I’m as good as any male pilot – you can ask anyone at the station.’

  ‘I do not intend to telephone some station to find out that my daughter has sacrificed her life,’ Simone said. She gazed intently at Raine. ‘Are you already taking the aeroplanes?’

  Raine was suddenly alert. Maman wasn’t normally that interested. What was behind the innocent-sounding question?

  ‘Yes, and I’ve finished my training for the fighter aircraft, which is what I’ll be delivering the minute I go back,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I have had time in the bath to think. Suzanne must go on with her music. It would be a disaster if she missed her rehearsals and her practice. Ronnie is too young to sacrifice her years to look after me. Non. The obvious choice is my eldest daughter – you, Lorraine.’

  Her mother leaned back in her chair as though satisfied she’d got it all worked out, Raine thought, anger rising in her chest.

  ‘I won’t give up flying, Maman.’ Raine caught her mother’s eye. ‘You’re perfectly able to look after yourself, the same as any other widow. This damned war is affecting so many families. Suzanne and Ronnie still live at home so you’ll have some company. But I must carry on. Besides,’ she added, ‘you need the money I send you. And talking of money, did Dad clear all the debts?’

  ‘We can manage without your contribution,’ Simone said brusquely, ignoring her daughter’s last question. ‘I will be in receipt of a widow’s pension. Mrs Moore is a widow and she receives ten shillings a week. So I will be given the same.’ She fixed her eyes on Raine. ‘And please don’t swear, Lorraine. It is not ladylike.’

  ‘Who has the time to be a lady, Maman?’ Raine said crossly. Was her mother so completely out of touch? ‘There is a war on, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Do you think I am not aware of that?’ Simone swung round, her temper flaring. ‘When you see what has happened to my beloved Paris.’

  The sisters were silent.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question, Maman,’ Raine tried again. ‘Did Dad clear his debts?’

  ‘Not entirely,’ her mother admitted, ‘but we will not starve.’

  ‘But we still owe money, so that’s all the more reason for us to do our bit, Maman,’ Raine argued. Would her mother ever understand?

  ‘Alors, it will not be possible for me to “do my bit”, as you call it. Not even to care for les légumes.’

  Raine rolled her eyes. It was Ronnie who planted and tended the vegetables. So what excuse now was her mother about to trot out?

  ‘You see, you are quite wrong on something, Lorraine. I am not able to look after myself.’

  ‘What are you talking about? We’re all responsible for ourselves.’

  There was a hush.

  Raine was about to argue again when her mother said, ‘I went to the doctor last week.’ She stopped and looked at each of her daughters in turn. ‘He gave me terrible news.’

  Ronnie bolted upright, fear etched on her face. ‘What’s wrong, Maman?’

  ‘I have had the diagnosis.’

  ‘What for?’ Suzanne’s voice sounded shaky.

  Simone sat silently, staring down at the tablecloth.

  ‘Maman,’ Raine started, sudden worry making her voice rise, ‘you’d better tell us what’s the matter.’

  Simone looked at her and gave a sad little smile. ‘I have a bad ’eart.’ She spread her hands. ‘The doctor told me I have to learn to live with it, and the worst thing is for me to have a bad upset. We did not know that I would have the worst upset only a few days later and lose my dear Robert …’ She choked on his name.

  Raine’s chest tightened. As far as she was aware, her mother had never shown any signs of a bad heart. But then the first symptoms might only just be manifesting themselves. If her mother really was a sick woman she could end up an invalid. Inwardly, Raine shivered. This news was almost as bad as her father dying. She suddenly had an unwelcome thought.

  ‘Did you tell Dad?’

  ‘Oui, your father knows … knew,’ Simone corrected herself, her eyes wet.

  Raine’s mind was in turmoil. Could it have been the shock of hearing this news from his adored wife that cause
d her father’s …? Raine caught herself. No, she mustn’t think that. She mustn’t blame her mother for something that clearly wasn’t her fault. But it was strange he died only a few days after she must have given him the news.

  Simone looked steadily at Raine. ‘So, chérie, I am afraid there is no argument. I have chosen you, my eldest and practical one, to come home and look after me. And one day you will thank me for saving your life from one of those death contraptions!’

  Raine held her mother’s gaze. She couldn’t think how to reply. Part of her was frightened with this new condition of her mother’s and how they would all cope, but another part of her desperately wanted to be back at Hatfield. She felt she was being torn in two and the only person who would understand was Doug who’d met her father and liked him.

  ‘Maman,’ she said, getting up from her chair, ‘please excuse me.’

  She’d write to Doug this minute.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Raine woke to the sound of a late summer storm. Sheets of rain were lashing against the bedroom window. She lay there for a few minutes listening to the sound of her sister’s breathing. The day of the funeral. She blinked hard. Today of all days she was going to be calm. She was going to take over from her mother who didn’t seem capable of doing anything except to pull out a black suit from her wardrobe, more appropriate for winter than the surprising surge of heat they were having during the last fortnight.

  At times she could have shaken her mother for leaving everything to her: the funeral arrangements, Dad’s favourite hymns, ordering a modest headstone for the burial in the village church cemetery, the flowers for the coffin … and then she would feel ashamed when her mother was trying not only to cope with the grief of losing her husband, but also knowing she was never going to be strong. All of them would need time to come to terms with that.

  She’d had to telephone Pauline Gower to explain about her mother’s situation.

  ‘We all send our sympathy to your mother and sisters,’ Pauline had said, ‘and certainly as the eldest you must be with your family until after the funeral. But if you can, please come back to us soon. We need every single pilot, particularly as you’ve finished your second phase of training and would be such a valuable asset now.’

  Now, her CO’s words rang in Raine’s ears. She had one more day to make up her mind.

  Well, it was no use lying there staring up at the ceiling. Raine hopped out of bed and threw on a dressing gown.

  Ronnie was already up, cups and saucers laid out and the kettle boiling. ‘Want one?’ she asked, meticulously measuring out two teaspoons of tea for the pot. Minutes later she handed Raine a cup.

  ‘Thanks, Ronnie. Just what I need.’ Raine swallowed several mouthfuls quickly, burning her tongue. She glanced at her sister. ‘Did you sleep?’

  Ronnie shook her head. ‘Not much. It’s so hard to remember we’re never going to see Dad here any more. I keep thinking I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs. I just want to set the clock back to when everything was normal.’ She blinked back the tears.

  ‘The trouble is, we forget that Dad was that much older than Maman. But I never noticed it because he was always so full of life.’

  Raine drained her cup and set it on its saucer. She didn’t feel she had the energy to move. She closed her eyes.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Ronnie said, making Raine startle.

  ‘I was thinking how upset we were when Nana and Grandpa were killed in that traffic accident. We were only children. It would have broken their hearts to be told their son had died so suddenly at only sixty-two.’

  ‘And now we’ve got Maman’s health to worry about on top of everything else,’ Ronnie said.

  ‘I know.’ Raine glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘I’d better go and get dressed. Thanks for the tea, Ronnie. I’ll take one up to Maman and Suzanne. We’ve got quite a day ahead of us.’

  To Raine’s relief the storm was easing by the time they entered the church. She shrugged off her raincoat and glanced at her mother who was hiding her face behind a short black veil on her hat. It made her look very aloof and very French, Raine thought. Her sisters had filed in first, followed by Maman and then Raine, who took the aisle seat. She had asked her mother what she wanted to say for the eulogy, but her mother had just shaken her head and said, ‘You write it, chérie. You know …’ Her mother’s voice shook as she started again, ‘You knew your father well. I cannot seem to concentrate on anything at the moment.’

  Raine felt her legs tremble as she stood behind the lectern. She glanced over her handwritten notes. It would sound false if she just read them out. She knew what she wanted to say, even if it didn’t flow as well as her notes would. She stepped to the side and faced the congregation, surprised so many people from the village had packed the pews when they hadn’t lived here for very long.

  She took a deep breath and spoke from the heart for several minutes.

  ‘… and I’d just like to end by saying he was the best father …’ Her eyes began to sting. She’d left her bag on the seat with her handkerchief. She swallowed. ‘The best father we …’ The words caught in her throat. ‘The best father,’ she repeated more firmly, ‘we three girls could ever have had.’

  She walked back to her seat, head erect, where her mother sat like stone. Suzanne was quietly weeping, and she saw Ronnie angrily brush the tears on her cheek with the back of her hand.

  We all have to deal with this in our own way, Raine thought. But as the eldest sister I can’t break down. Suzanne and Ronnie always look up to me as the strong one.

  But she didn’t feel very strong at the moment. If only she could speak to Doug – pour her heart out about her father – but she hadn’t heard from him since she’d written to tell him Dad had died. Please God let Doug keep safe. She’d write to him again as soon as she had a few minutes to herself.

  There was no one else close to them in the church, so after the service the Linfoot family walked home, Raine absorbed in her own thoughts. She couldn’t wait to step through the front door and find a spot where she could be on her own for even a few minutes. But to her surprise her mother said, ‘We will go in the sitting room. The solicitor gave me a copy of the will and something else your father wrote.’ She stared at Raine. ‘A letter for you, Lorraine, though I am not sure why.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Just one for Raine?’ Suzanne said, sounding puzzled. ‘No letter for the rest of us?’

  Simone hesitated. ‘No, just a letter for Lorraine.’

  ‘Did you open it?’ Raine asked.

  ‘Do you accuse me to open a letter addressed to you?’ Her mother’s face was lined in hurt.

  ‘I didn’t accuse you, I simply asked.’

  ‘Well, I ’ave not, as you will see,’ Simone said, putting her hand over her heart.

  Immediately, Raine felt guilty. Why hadn’t she seen any signs before that her mother was suffering? She said in a softer tone, ‘I’m sorry, Maman. May I have my letter?’

  Simone took an envelope from her handbag and handed it to her. ‘You will read it out so we can all hear what my dear Robert says.’

  Raine glanced at the envelope. ‘Maman, it’s private. I shall read it on my own … and tell you and the girls anything I think important.’

  Without waiting for an answer she ran up the stairs to Suzanne’s room. There must be some reason why her father had written only to her. She took her paperknife from her writing case and perched on the edge of the bed, then slit open the envelope. Unfolding a large sheet of lined paper, which looked as though it had come from a solicitor’s yellow foolscap notepad, she noticed the date. He’d written it only months ago.

  21st March 1941

  My darling Raine,

  At only 60 (plus a bit!) I hope to have many more years but lately I’ve had a few rather bad headaches. It may only mean the worry of work but it could be more serious. Who knows? So just in case the worst happens I want to tell you things I can’t when we’
re together – for various reasons.

  You and your mother don’t always see eye to eye, but darling girl, please try to be kind to her. Her life wasn’t always easy in France, no matter how she insists it was, being brought up by strict Roman Catholic parents. And they made it very difficult for her when she told them we were getting married. I suppose I can’t blame them in a way – I was only a few years younger than her father and not of their faith. So I was honoured that she still consented to be my wife and agree to bring up any children we might have as Protestants until they were old enough to choose for themselves. I hope that was the right decision for you three girls.

  I’ve always felt your mother regrets marrying me – well, I am so much older, for a start. Probably not exciting enough for her. I know I’ve let her down – let you all down – by losing my money, and it finally got the better of me. I admit I was reckless. I can only say I’ve tried to make it up to you all by working even harder now, and that most of the debts are cleared. By the time you read this I sincerely hope they will all be.

  I love you, my precious daughter. And contrary to what you think, she does love you, and also, of course, your sisters. But she needs you most of all because you’re the most cool-headed. So if anything should happen to me, darling Raine, I’m asking you to please look after your mother.

  Your loving father XX

  Raine swallowed hard. It was as though her father were talking to her. His handwriting was his voice, trying to reassure her that her mother loved her. Raine had never known that she hadn’t had an easy time in France – that was the biggest surprise. Her mother never stopped making comparisons between France and England, and France always won. She read the letter again, this time studying every word. But the last sentence was the one that sent a shiver of despair down her legs.

  He’d always taught her to follow her heart. But now he was dead. And if she carried out his last wishes, then so was her flying career.

  For the first time since he’d died, she threw herself on her bed and sobbed.