A Fine Woman

by David George Richards

Chapter Seven

  Antibes 1948

  Antibes bustled with life. It was summer and the sky was bright and blue. The sun was hot and people wore light clothing. There were many holiday people in the town and the traffic matched the crowds at the marina. In the Place Massena the Château Grimaldi was now bedecked in French flags as if in a taunt at the previous residents. There was hardly any sign of the recent occupation and life now went on in typical Gallic fashion.

  Captain Taylor didn’t notice any of it. His arrival had been marked by an excitement, now he felt only a depression. He walked from the Convent through the town, brushing passed people who looked at his uniform in curiosity. No one cheered him or hailed him as a liberator. Those days were already long gone. Captain Taylor didn’t notice and didn’t care. He also didn’t care how he ended up at a café by the marina, and he also didn’t remember ordering his coffee. It was still un-drunk and had gone cold by the time a well-dressed man with jet-black curly hair took the seat next to him at the table.

  It took awhile for Captain Taylor to notice his companion, and he was so deep in his thoughts that he probably wouldn’t have done so if the man had not spoken.

  “Did she tell you about Sister Camellia?”

  The man spoke good English. Captain Taylor looked across at him and instantly recognised him. “I tried to find you, you know.”

  “I hid from you. Did she tell you?”

  “Yes. How is Stephane?”

  André laughed. “Stephane has a limp and walks with a stick. He still hates Germans. Someone tried to sell him a Volkswagen the other day and he chased him away with his stick.” He waved at the waiter who nodded and brought him a cognac. He took a quick gulp before turning once more to Captain Taylor.

  “Why are you here, American?”

  “Because I am an idiot.”

  “An idiot who is in love with a dead woman?”

  Captain Taylor lowered his head. “She’s been dead for two years and I didn’t even know.”

  “There are others that still live. This you already know. You have spent time asking my compatriots many questions, and you have learned much, and yet you still know nothing. You should visit the school at Juan-les-Pins. Moniqué works there. Some of the nuns from the Convent also take classes. There is one among them that might interest you.”

  As Captain Taylor stared at him, André downed his drink, threw some coins on the table and got to his feet. He was about to leave when Taylor called to him.

  “How did you find me?”

  “A friend telephoned me.” André turned and walked rapidly away. In a moment he had been swallowed up in the throngs of people on the promenade.

  The school at Juan-les-Pins was old. The buildings were in stone with wood panelling inside that made every sound echo. As Captain Taylor walked inside the floors creaked. He took off his hat as he walked passed rows of coats piled on hangers. They were small coats. He paused by the doorway to one of the classes. The top half of the door was a glass window, and inside he could see the familiar small tables and chairs with paintings on the wall, a globe and the large blackboard with chalked words in French at the far end. Children of about eight or nine years filled the class, girls and boys, their concentration on the woman who wrote on the blackboard. The teacher smiled at him. Captain Taylor smiled back and then moved on.

  There was something about primary, or elementary schools that never left you. They instantly felt familiar, and yet far too small. Everything seemed to have shrunk. It was the feeling he had when he had gone back to his own school. It hadn’t changed size of course; it was just that he was a lot larger.

  He came to the end of the corridor. There was another that went off to the right, but his attention was caught by a set of double doors that faced him. Again the top half of each door was glazed. Inside he could see a hall with climbing bars and beams. In the middle of the hall was a wooden vault with a heavily worn material covering the top. A noise made him turn and look down the side corridor. It was a scraping noise that was caused when a large Alsatian dog shuffled to its feet. It must have been lying down outside the door to another classroom that was reached by this corridor.

  Captain Taylor stared at the dog. The dog stared back, it’s tail wagging lazily.

  There was the sound of a bell and the door to the classroom opened. Noise spread though out the school as all the children emerged from their last class of the day in joyful freedom. School was over and it was time to go home, and to play. The corridors filled with children who stroked and patted the dog as they passed it. The dog wagged his tail more energetically and snuffled at the children who went by. Captain Taylor backed against the double doors to get out of the way as the children rushed by him. There was confusion and the rush of feet, coats were grabbed from hooks and there was a constant babble of words and shouts.

  And then they were gone.

  Captain Taylor stepped forward. He could hear voices in French. He looked along the short corridor to the doorway where the dog still waited. A young man appeared with a child at his feet. It was a small boy who was far too young for school. The boy instantly went to the dog and pulled on its ears. The dog licked his face in return. A young woman now emerged from the classroom. She was speaking to the young man in French.

  Captain Taylor knew exactly who they were, and yet he just stood there and watched as Jacob picked up his son and held him in his arms. Moniqué waved to someone inside the classroom and bid her farewell, then she looped her arm through Jacob’s and they walked towards him.

  As they passed him, Captain Taylor nodded in greeting. They both smiled brightly at him as if they knew who he was and why he was here. Moniqué even giggled. He smiled back, said nothing, and watched them walk down the corridor as they whispered to each other. They went outside and down the steps, and then, like the children, they were gone.

  Someone else emerged from the classroom. It was another man. He was taller, older, with a Slavic look about him. He looked at Taylor with suspicion, and he instantly warned the one inside of his presence.

  “Sister, there is an American soldier here waiting for you.” He spoke in English, his accent more American.

  A slim and elegantly beautiful blonde haired woman emerged from the classroom. She was wearing a simple skirt and blouse, a cardigan draped over her shoulders, and she used a stick to steady herself. She paused in the doorway and looked at Captain Taylor.

  “It’s alright, Yuri. Moniqué told me he was on his way here. You better leave us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am sure. Go on now. I will meet you later at Moniqué’s house.”

  Yuri nodded and walked passed Captain Taylor, still eyeing him with distrust. Captain Taylor still said nothing. He was too busy watching the blonde woman.

  They were now alone in the school, apart from the dog that now sprawled at the feet of the woman. She looked down at the dog and prodded it back into life with her stick.

  “Get up, Bismarck, you lazy bones! If your brother were here he would make you run!”

  Bismarck climbed to his feet with a yawn and nuzzled her, his tail wagging. In return Helga reached down and began to stroke and pat him

  “Yes! Yes! You big puppy! I missed you too!” she told him. “Now get a move on! Come on!”

  Helga urged Bismarck forward and came towards Captain Taylor. She used the stick heavily, as if she needed it. “Walk with me, Captain, and say what you have to say.”

  Captain Taylor nodded and fell in step beside her as they walked along the corridor passed the other classrooms. They were all now empty.

  “Did Sister Marie-Thérèse tell you I was coming?” he asked. It was the first thing he had said.

  “No. She telephoned André and he telephoned Moniqué. She told me.”

  So they did know who he was. “It was André that told me to come here.”

  “Yes. I told him too.”

  “Then you know who I am and why I am here?”

 
; “Everyone in Antibes knows why you are here. You have been asking questions for days. Even Oberst Riner would have found you out.”

  Captain Taylor smiled. “He survived, you know. He’s in Berlin, working with the French in their Sector.”

  They were now at the entrance to the school. She paused and looked up at him. “I’m glad,” she said. She looked at him more closely. “I remember you. You were at the hospital.”

  He nodded. “Yes, at La Napoule. I helped look after you.”

  Helga instinctively placed a hand to her midriff as if she could still feel the pain. She withdrew it quickly and leaned on her stick. “Take my hand, Captain. I need help with steps.”

  He took the hand she offered him and they walked down the steps from the school entrance and out into the afternoon sunshine. Captain Taylor kept his eyes on her every step of the way as they crossed the playground together. He couldn’t believe that she was really there after all that time. He could smell her now that she was so close to him, it was a delightful fragrance of some sweet flower. And he felt the glow from her as her hair shone in the light. But the stick and her need for support worried him.

  “They hurt you badly, didn’t they?”

  “They broke my hip, several ribs and cracked my skull, but I am renowned for having a thick head. I recovered. The British helped a lot. Major Thompson had me airlifted out on an RAF transport. I went to hospital in Marseilles. I recovered well as you can see, but like Stephane, I limp. It pleases him greatly.”

  Bismarck waited for them at the side of the road. There was little traffic and most of the people outside the school were parents recovering their children. Most of them had already gone, but those that had remained to talk idly, nodded as the American soldier and teacher went through the school gate. For some reason the hand Helga had offered him at the steps had looped its way through his arm and now they continued in that way, arm in arm. But she still leaned heavily on the stick. Bismarck now followed them lazily, his tongue hanging out.

  Captain Taylor held his hat in his free hand. He felt the sea breeze in his hair. He watched the breeze ruffle her hair, creating silver wisps that danced briefly.

  “Why did they all hide from me if they knew I was here asking questions?”

  “They are very protective.”

  “Was Yuri protective?”

  She glanced at him. “Yes. He was most upset at what happened. He blamed himself for a long time. But he knows it wasn’t his fault.”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  She laughed briefly. It seemed to fill her whole face. “Hah! Yuri is an old friend. He is only visiting.”

  “But he is in love with you.”

  “Once, but not anymore. That is all in the past. Yuri is married now like Jacob and Moniqué. And like them he has children. But why are you jealous of him, Captain?”

  “Because I love you.”

  She didn’t flinch at the statement, and Captain Taylor was surprised at how easily he had made it. But he had to add something.

  “Sister Marie-Thérèse thinks I am foolish. Do you think I am foolish?”

  “Do you have a car?”

  It wasn’t a question he expected. “No. I came by taxi.”

  “And you let it go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then Sister Marie-Thérèse was right; you are a fool. Yuri will have gone with Moniqué and Jacob in their car, so now we must wait for the bus. The stop is just here.”

  They sat down together on the small bench by the stop. Bismarck threw himself down next to Helga and sprawled out. She glanced down at him.

  “Lazy boy! You’re getting fat! I blame Moniqué; she’s too soft with you! You got into bad ways while I was away!”

  She sat back on the bench. They were still arm in arm. Captain Taylor liked it that way.

  Helga put her stick down on the bench next to her. “Where are you staying, Captain?”

  “A small hotel in Antibes,” he replied. “Nothing extravagant.”

  She nodded. “I could once afford to lease an entire Château. It was just down the road a ways. Now I stay at the Convent.”

  “Yuri called you Sister. Are you still a nun?”

  She turned to him. “It would be easy to say yes and send you on your way.” She looked away again. “But then I would be the fool.”

  They sat in silence for a moment as the odd car rumbled passed. Then Helga spoke again.

  “I was once a Countess with an entire estate, money, horses, servants, anything and everything. I was spoilt and arrogant. Then my private and cosseted world died a gruesome death. Now I have only Bismarck. Even Tirpitz has gone.” She sighed. “I live in the Convent because Sister Marie-Thérèse allows me too, and because I have no where else. In return I work in the school. I teach English. I am not a nun, no more am I a novice either. They call me Sister because it’s still safer than calling me Helga.”

  “Surely the time of reprisals has long gone?”

  “Grief lasts a lifetime, Captain. It is best to be safe. And in any case, I have no love or attachment to my former life. I am neither German nor French. I am certainly not a Countess.”

  “Doesn’t the estate still belong to you?”

  “When my father was killed it was appropriated by the Nazis and after the war things got confused over ownership. Part of the problem is that I am also officially dead.” She turned to him. “I can blame you Americans for that. It was decided that I should be dead for my own protection.”

  Captain Taylor laughed. “I know about that, and I’m sorry. But I am sure it could be put right.”

  “I told you, I have no interest in my former life. It would bring me only sadness to return.”

  He felt that sadness now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed before or made light of what happened. I know what your father did and why he died. I think he was a good man who believed in his country and knew what was happening was wrong.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Yes, I know this too, and you don’t need to apologise, Captain. My being officially dead is funny. I have been dead twice now, once as the Countess, and once as Sister Camellia. I am making a habit of it, you might say.”

  He smiled and then a light went on in his mind. “Of course! That’s the scent I can smell in your perfume!”

  “Camellias?” she confirmed. “Yes, I have always liked their scent. It is why the name was so appropriate. But to get back to what we were talking about, I am happy here. And staying here is the only thing that is important to me. Do you understand?”

  She was looking at him intently. He looked back at her equally intently. “Yes.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “Good! I wouldn’t want you thinking I would be the happy wife living in Little Rock.”

  “Of course not! Even though Little Rock is a very nice place.”

  She eyed him a little more suspiciously. “You aren’t from Little Rock, are you?”

  “No. New Jersey.”

  “Would you like to return there? Have you a family? Brothers? A mother?”

  “I have a sister and my mother and father are still living. And yes, I would like to go back now and again. I think I owe them a visit although I do keep in touch. But my life is elsewhere. Or I would like it to be.”

  “You are anything if not determined, Captain.” She hugged his arm and then patted his shoulder with her free hand. “And you are not foolish. But I would be if I turned you away. You know all there is to know about me. I am laid bare before you, and there is no embarrassment in hidden secrets. And I have no one else. So I ask you, come with me to dinner at Moniqué’s house tonight. You will be made welcome.”

  “I’d love to. But what should I call you? Sister?”

  She thought for a moment. “Sister would be best in public, at least for a while. But you can call me Helga when we are alone. But what should I call you?”

  “My name is Robert. Robert Taylor.”

  “Like the actor?”

  He rolled
his eyes. “Yes, like the actor!”

  “You don’t like that?”

  “It’s just that everyone I meet mentions it.”

  “It is a good strong name. I like it.” She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Robert Taylor.”

  He smiled and took her hand. “Pleased to meet you—” he paused a moment, “—Sister.”

  They shook hands. And as soon as they let go, Helga patted his shoulder again.

  “Good! And now that the introductions are over, you can begin your courtship proper. I shall be marking you on both oral skills and presentation.”

  He laughed. “Trust me to fall in love with a school teacher!”

  She leaned closer to him. “And a very bossy one, to boot! I shall not be easy to court, Robert, so be warned. And there will be others who will watch eagerly and with great fascination.”

  “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  “Far too late! Our bus approaches! Help me up, Robert! Pass me my stick! And wave your hat to the driver or he may not stop! Bismarck! On your feet, you fat dog!”

  They got up together. Captain Taylor flagged down the approaching single deck bus, and despite her independent nature, Helga did need her stick and his help in boarding the bus when it stopped. Bismarck jumped on after them. And when they were safely in their seats, with Bismarck under it, there was a grinding noise as the driver put the old bus into gear and it slowly rumbled off along the road to Antibes.