by Rosie Clarke
She still had plenty to live for, she supposed. As Arthur had told her, she was young and healthy, and the rest of her life was waiting for her. She just had to make up her mind what she wanted to do with it.
Three
The winter had been cold and bitter in more ways than one, the news increasingly bad as the months passed, both for the Allies and for France. Summer had come to Paris at last, Hetty thought, enjoying the sunshine as she found a table at one of her favourite pavement cafés and ordered coffee and pastries.
She’d bought a newspaper when she saw the headlines and a lot of other people had done the same thing. There were worried faces everywhere, the mood increasingly sombre after the surrender of the Dutch and Belgians at the end of May 1940. Now, after desperate days of fighting, the British troops had been forced to evacuate from Dunkirk, where they had been trapped on the beaches.
‘It is bad news is it not, mademoiselle?’
Hetty’s waiter glanced down at her newspaper where it lay on the table; he deposited her coffee and cakes, shaking his head as he stopped to read the first lines of the article.
‘We were sure they couldn’t break through,’ Hetty said, feeling bewildered that it could all change so suddenly. What had happened to all their bright hopes? ‘Your eldest boy is with the army, is he not, Marcel?’
‘We have heard nothing for weeks,’ he replied, shadows of fear in his eyes. ‘The British say we should not surrender, but how can we hope to stand against the Germans now? At least if we let them come, our children will be saved.’
‘Perhaps,’ Hetty said. She believed that Marcel was fooling himself. His opinion was very different from that of Madame Arnoud, who had grown more and more gloomy over the winter and was constantly telling her to go home before it was too late.
‘You must leave Paris before they come,’ she’d told Hetty the previous evening over their customary glass of wine. ‘I am closing my business and going south to stay with my sister. To stay open I would have to serve Germans and this I shall not do. Take my advice and leave now while you can.’
‘Calais is impossible,’ Hetty had said. ‘I made inquiries and they said there was no chance, but if I can get to Le Havre I might find a ship sailing for England, if I’m lucky. It’s getting there; I’ve heard that what trains are still running are overcrowded.’
‘You should go by road; the trains may not be reliable and they could be hit from the air. But don’t leave it too late.’
‘I have my car. It is old and not always reliable, but I suppose it might get me as far as I need to go,’ Hetty had replied thoughtfully. ‘I tried to telephone my sister this morning, but the lines were busy and it was impossible. I know she will be worried. I suppose I owe it to her to try and get back.’
‘You should have gone months ago, ma chérie.’
‘I didn’t want to leave all my friends.’ They had all believed in their brave innocence that the French line would hold; no one had left the city until these past few weeks, but now many of the foreign nationals had gone home. Hetty was one of the few who had hung on right to the end. She was reluctant to leave even now. ‘I shall miss you, madame.’
‘I shall miss you, Hetty, but God willing we shall meet again when all this madness is over.’
‘When are you leaving?’
‘By the end of the week at the latest. I need a few days to settle things here, but there is no need for you to wait. Look around you, ma chérie, so many people are leaving and they do so for good reason, believe me. The longer you delay, the worse it will be.’
‘Yes, I suppose you are right.’ Hetty was still resisting the idea even though she knew she didn’t have much choice. ‘I shall see everyone this evening and make arrangements to leave tomorrow.’
Only her journey had been delayed because the car she had hardly used in years had refused to start. She’d found someone to mend it for her, but he’d had to contact his friends to find a new part and it wouldn’t be ready for three days. Hetty knew it would be impossible to find another car at the moment, one she could afford to buy anyway. Everyone was thinking the same way and the roads were already becoming increasingly choked with vehicles of all kinds; everything that could move had been snapped up. The Germans were too close for comfort and a lot of people were afraid for their lives.
Unless she wanted to walk, Hetty had no choice but to wait.
*
‘Wasn’t it wonderful?’ Georgie said when she rang Annabel that evening. ‘All those little boats going to fetch our men back. It gives me goose pimples all over just to think of it!’
‘Yes, I know. I was in tears over some of the stories I read and heard about,’ Annabel said and there was a lump in her throat as she spoke. ‘They were all so brave. It makes my eyes sting now when I think of all the individual brave acts ordinary men and women performed over there.’
‘Have you heard anything from Hetty? I’ve tried phoning Madame Arnoud a couple of times, but there was no answer. I think her phone may have been cut off.’
‘Hetty wrote a few weeks ago,’ Annabel said. ‘She thought Madame Arnoud might close her business if the Germans broke through. She said she was going south to stay with her sister.’
‘That was sensible of her. Do you think Hetty might have gone with her?’
‘I do hope she has had the sense to leave Paris. Ben was worried about her. He rang me this morning – and you’ll never guess why! He has joined the army. I couldn’t believe it. He might have got out of it because of the land if he’d wanted, but he said he’s not needed at the farm and the army might find a use for him if he’s lucky. There was some talk of him having flat feet when he went for his medical, but they took him anyway.’
Georgie held her voice steady as she answered, ‘I dare say they would take anyone at the moment. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with Ben’s feet.’
‘Well, he’s pleased they’ve taken him. Of course, Mother and Helen are both furious with him, but that was only to be expected.’
‘He and Helen live almost separate lives these days, don’t they?’ Georgie’s voice was toneless as she hid her need to know about Ben.
‘Anyone else would have divorced Helen years ago. She is a perfect bitch to him, Georgie. I don’t blame him for spending most of his time in London. Why should he put up with it? I’ve always regretted that he married her. The money she brought to the estate wasn’t that much and her father’s money was tied up for his grandchildren in his will; neither Ben nor Helen got a penny. Ben should have sold the estate when he first discovered Father had lost most of the money. I told him so at the time, but he wouldn’t listen. He admits I was right now. He wishes he’d listened.’
‘We all make mistakes, Belle.’
‘You’ve been all right with Arthur though?’ Annabel hesitated. ‘I mean, I know there was a time when you felt something for Ben…’
‘I was young and foolish – and Ben was already promised to Helen. As I said, we all make mistakes…’
‘Yes, I know. I haven’t much room to talk, have I?’ Annabel gave a rueful laugh. ‘I did the same thing, though for different reasons. It’s just that I’d like Ben to be happy and I can’t see it ever happening – not unless he makes up his mind to divorce Helen.’
‘I’m going up to town myself next week,’ Georgie said, changing the subject, because it made her unhappy to hear about Ben’s problems. She’d thought herself long over all that, but it seemed she was still affected. ‘There’s a conference for the volunteer services and I’ve been elected as our local representative. We’re doing various things to help out – knitting, collecting scrap metals, holding bring and buy sales, all the usual stuff. But I thought I would like to do a bit more, so I’m going to see what’s on offer. Besides, there isn’t enough for me to do here. Geoffrey was home for Whitsun and I took him to all kinds of things. It will be better when he’s home, but he’s talking about spending some of his holiday with friends.’
�
�I feel terribly lazy. I haven’t joined anything at all. Paul is on fire watch twice a week and he made inquiries about the Home Guard and various other things, but I’ve been busy at the hotel. The new regulations take up all my time, with the blackout restrictions, rationing and checking papers. There’s such a lot to sort out these days. I thought we might have to close for the duration, but everyone wants to come just the same. They don’t seem to mind the rules and restrictions, and we do have hens of our own so that provides a few eggs. I suppose it’s all a matter of doing what we can. Jessie sends me some game over now and then when she has spare and Paul is good at wangling a bit extra here and there, so we’re managing well.’
‘Yes, I think we do better in the country than they do in town, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. I just wish it was all over,’ Georgie said and sighed. Sometimes at night with the curtains closed and only the radio to keep her company she found the silence unbearable. At least when Arthur was alive she’d had someone to talk to, someone to fuss over, even if life had been more worry than pleasure these past few years.
‘Are you all right there on your own? You could come to us, you know.’ Annabel was sensing her hurt despite Georgie’s attempt to hide her loneliness.
‘I would like to come for a visit in July or August and bring Geoffrey if I may? He loves Torquay and likes to see your two when he can.’
‘You know we should love to have you both. The children get on so well together, though they won’t be able to run free on the beach as they used to this year. We’ve got restricted areas and barbed wire in places, but you can still get on safely if you know where.’
‘Then I shall definitely come,’ Georgie said. ‘Oh, there’s the door. I had better go. I hope you have news of Hetty soon – good news.’
‘Yes. I’ve got my fingers crossed. Bye for now.’
Georgie put the phone down and went to answer the door.
‘You’ve got a glimmer of light showing through your front window, Mrs Bridges,’ the ARP warden said. ‘If my superior saw it you’d get a heavy fine. I should paint the edges of your window black if I were you – or stick some tape on it. You don’t want Jerry to drop a bomb on your lovely house, do you? Be a real shame that would, after it’s stood here all those years.’
‘No, I don’t want that to happen,’ Georgie agreed and smiled at him. The war had given Tom Bradbury a new lease of life. He was seventy-three and took his new duties seriously. ‘Thank you very much for telling me, Tom.’
‘Pleasure, Mrs Bridges. If it was some folk, I’d have reported them straight away, but I knew you would take notice if I told you.’
‘Yes, I’ll put it right immediately,’ Georgie promised and shut the door. The heavy curtain in the front parlour had snagged on a vase of flowers she’d placed in the window earlier, so she removed them. There was no point in tempting fate after all.
The old house was sturdily built of grey stone with ivy-trailed walls and she had always loved it, though its situation just beyond the edge of the village did make it a bit isolated and she’d felt lonely during the past winter. Still, she would hate something that had been in Arthur’s family for years to be destroyed by her carelessness. It would go to Geoffrey one day and he loved it as much as she did. She thought it was more his than hers really, though hers was the name on the deeds.
Georgie was over the first tearing grief of her bereavement, which had been sharp. She often felt restless in the evenings and she still missed Arthur, but she was learning to fill her life with other things. The winter nights had been the worst, but now she could work in the garden until quite late in the evening, and she went to committee meetings at least two or three times a week.
It still wasn’t enough, of course. She knew something was missing, but for the moment she wasn’t sure what she could do to fill the gap Arthur’s passing had left in her life.
She supposed she needed a job of some kind. Something worthwhile that would make her feel she was really living rather than just passing time.
*
‘It was good of you to meet me at such short notice,’ Georgie said as she kissed Beth’s cheek outside the small, discreet restaurant they had chosen for their lunch later that week. ‘I rang on the off chance, thinking that you would probably be too busy.’
‘My boss – Mr Pearson – has important meetings right through the day today and so he won’t need me until this evening. He will have masses of notes for me to take down in shorthand and then type up, so we may be in the office until past midnight, but that’s how it works. If he doesn’t need me I have several hours off, but I have to be prepared to stay when he needs me.’
‘That’s a little awkward at times, isn’t it? Supposing you wanted to go out with friends?’
‘I don’t bother much unless Drew can get a pass, and he usually lets me know the day before. So far it has fitted in well. He was here the day before yesterday actually. We went for a walk by the river, had a pub lunch and then he had to get back and I got on with the typing I knew Arnold wanted by the morning. I didn’t mind working at night because I’d had my free time earlier.’
‘Do you call your boss Arnold?’ Georgie asked as a waiter showed them to their table by the window. ‘I thought it was all official and “call me sir” at the War Office?’
‘Well, I suppose it would be with most people,’ Beth said and gave an odd laugh. ‘Arnold Pearson isn’t like anyone else I know. One minute he’s a slave driver, biting my head off, and the next he does something really nice. He brought me a huge box of chocolates the other day. They came from Canada. He was given them by a Canadian diplomat and he passed them on to me, said he didn’t like them, but I left them open on the desk and I noticed he ate two as he was dictating. It slowed him down for a few minutes, gave me time to catch up.’
‘He sounds rather an oddball,’ Georgie said and smiled. ‘Now, what shall we try? The chicken salad with new potatoes – or the meat pie?’
‘The chicken sounds best. At least you can see what you’re getting,’ Beth said with a wry grimace. ‘You never know what is in the pie.’
‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ Georgie agreed. ‘Someone told me they had a whale meat casserole the other day at a Lyons Corner House. Apparently, it wasn’t bad, but I don’t think I should fancy it. I suppose I’m spoiled living in the country. I’ve got my own hens and ducks, and I can often buy a rabbit or a pigeon. I was given a lovely plump pheasant the other day. They take a while to pluck and prepare, but I always think it’s worth it in the end.’
Beth nodded her head in agreement. ‘Fresh eggs are becoming scarcer in London. As soon as the shops get supplies of anything, a queue forms, everyone joins even if they don’t know what they’re queuing for and they’ve often run out before you get to the end.’
‘Shortages are inevitable I’m afraid. The merchant navy has taken a terrible battering from the U-boats and since the Germans started attacking neutrals as well it has made the problem worse. Our navy has been making gains against theirs, or so one reads in the papers, but those damned U-boats are a menace on the Atlantic run.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Beth coloured and took a sip of water. She probably knew a lot more about that particular problem than Georgie possibly could, but Arnold Pearson would have her guts for garters if she let a word slip. She turned to something safer. ‘Don’t you think everyone was simply marvellous the way they turned out to bring our men back from Dunkirk?’
‘Yes, just superb. Did you know one of Paul’s friends took his river cruiser over? I think that was terribly brave. Rather foolish in a way, because those boats aren’t intended as ocean-going, but someone up there must have been watching over him. He made it there and back and rescued three men from the sea.’
‘There are so many stories like that,’ Beth agreed, then a shadow passed over her face. ‘It’s awful news from France. They say the Germans will be in Paris within days or perhaps hours. Annabel is very worried. She hasn’t heard a t
hing from Hetty.’
‘That reckless girl makes me so angry sometimes!’ Georgie sounded annoyed, but Beth knew she was just hiding her anxiety. ‘I mean, Hetty might have come home weeks ago. She must know everyone is concerned, but she has always been the same: never considers Annabel’s feelings.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Beth said. ‘Hetty can be thoughtless and impulsive and she does live her life the way she pleases – but is that so very wrong?’
‘No, I suppose not when you think about it. I may have been a bit harsh, but I think she might at least let Annabel know what is happening to her.’
‘Perhaps she can’t,’ Beth said. ‘It must be absolute chaos out there. Just imagine what it would be like if the Germans were about to march into London.’
‘God forbid!’ Georgie shuddered. ‘I pray that never happens.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t,’ Beth said. Arnold had told her it could happen and she knew of some of the contingency plans for the Government and important personages if it did. Naturally, she couldn’t breathe a word of that to Georgie. ‘Well, I just hope that, wherever Hetty is at the moment, she is safe and on her way home.’
‘I’ll second that,’ Georgie said and took a sip of water.
*
Hetty broke a piece of croissant and popped it into her mouth. She was hungry but didn’t want to stop just yet because at last she was on her way, a reasonably empty road ahead of her. She’d left Paris early in the morning, taking two suitcases of clothes, a few of her favourite pictures and all the food she’d had in the house. Everything else had had to be left behind. A friend had offered to store some of her things, but she’d given most of it away.
‘After the war, I’ll start fresh,’ she told her friends as she said her farewells. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, believe me.’
