by Rosie Clarke
‘Yes, of course.’ Hetty noticed that he looked sick as Bernard lifted the child’s limp body in his arms and ran with her to the back of the house. ‘It was an accident, as you say. Please accept my apologies. I had no intention of hurting her. She would merely have been sent to a camp with her own people.’
‘Yes, I understand, General. We have enjoyed your visit and we are sorry it has been so brief.’
He bowed his head, but Hetty noticed that he did not look them in the eyes as he ran down the steps to his car.
She waited until he had been driven away before going into the house. Bernard had taken the child to the servants’ hall, where she lay on a horsehair sofa, her face as pale as snow.
‘How is she?’ Hetty started forward. ‘Is she badly injured? Have you sent for the doctor?’
‘It would be useless, mademoiselle,’ Bernard said. ‘I am very sorry.’
‘You can’t mean… not dead?’ Hetty moved towards where the child lay, looking down at her. She could see a dark mark on her forehead where the heavy vehicle had hit her and a sob rose in her throat. ‘Poor little Kristina. First her mother and now her… I hope they rot in hell!’
‘Be careful, Hetty,’ the Comtesse spoke from behind her. ‘You hate them for what they have done, but don’t let hate rule you. You can do more damage to the enemy if you use your cunning rather than brute force. We were lucky this time, but Kristina paid the price.’
‘It was my fault, madame,’ one of the women said. ‘I should have been looking after her, but she slipped away and I did not know where she was. She came looking for you…’
‘As she always did, my poor little one.’ The Comtesse was grey with grief, but she did not weep and her head was up, body stiff with pride. ‘They will pay for this, Hetty, believe me – they will pay.’
‘I was sorry for them when the train exploded,’ Hetty said and her voice was thick with controlled anger. ‘They were the enemy and I knew that it was necessary, but still I was sorry for them – in future I shall not be.’
Inside her head, she was vowing to kill every German she could.
‘Do not let it make you bitter,’ the Comtesse said and sighed wearily. ‘I know you loved Kristina, as I loved her – but we shall recover. It is always so. And now I must rest. I am tired.’
Hetty knew that inside the old woman’s heart was breaking. She more than anyone had loved the child, taking her everywhere with her, teaching her things, entertaining her so that others could get on with their work. Love for the child had given her a new pleasure in life and the pain of her loss was hard to witness.
Hetty looked at Bernard after she had gone. ‘Will you teach me how to use a gun?’
‘If it is what you want?’
‘It is exactly what I want. A life for a life, Bernard. Every French life they take wantonly shall be repaid in German blood.’
Bernard nodded. ‘In this, Louis and I will help you all we can – but we must find others to make our group stronger.’
‘Who can we trust?’
‘I know of one or two. Others are bound to come once they learn what is happening. I promise you, mademoiselle – we shall see that Kristina is revenged.’
Hetty nodded, a cold smile on her lips as she walked into the main part of the house and up the stairs. A deep searing hatred was growing inside her, hatred that would last until they had rid France of the invader!
Six
Georgie straightened up with a sigh, putting a hand to her back. She had been working in the garden clearing leaves and other debris for most of the afternoon and what she wanted most now was a nice hot bath. She replaced her tools in the shed and went into the house just as Mrs Townsend was finishing for the day.
‘I’ve baked you a nice fatless sponge and left it on the kitchen table to cool,’ she told Georgie. ‘I thought you would decide on the filling yourself.’
‘Thank you. I was wondering what to have for tea. I was given a little pot of clotted cream this morning, so I might just have some of that. It’s such a treat that I’ve been wondering how to make the most of it.’
‘When you think of all the cream Major Bridges used to like on his scones. Doesn’t bear thinking about!’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Georgie said and sighed. ‘But from what I’ve read in the paper, things are going to get worse before they get better.’
‘I expect you’re right. I’m off then, Mrs Bridges. I might be a bit late in the morning, but I’ll make up for it later.’
‘Oh, yes, your grandson has to go to the dentist.’ Georgie nodded as she recalled her housekeeper telling her. They always had a good chat first thing in the morning and Georgie caught up on all the local news. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mrs Townsend. The house is clean and I can get myself a snack.’
The other woman shook her head and looked sorrowful. ‘That’s your trouble. You don’t eat properly unless I look after you. Whatever the Major would say, I don’t know.’
Very few remembered that Arthur had once been a Major in the army, but Mrs Townsend was one of them. Over the years, Georgie had almost forgotten it herself. When they’d met, he’d seemed quite dashing in his way and the age gap hadn’t seemed to make that much difference. His illness had changed him too much – but it was good that someone remembered how he’d been once.
‘Arthur would have scolded me, Mrs Townsend. He was always a good trencherman, until the last year or so anyway.’
‘There you are then. You mustn’t neglect yourself.’
Georgie smiled but made no reply as her housekeeper went out. It was true that she didn’t always bother with big meals these days, but she was busy with her ambulance work and it was easier to snatch a snack on the run some days. This evening, however, she had nothing much to do but take a bath and then relax with the wireless. She thought she might do tomatoes on toast and follow it with a piece of Mrs Townsend’s cake.
She was just turning on the taps for her bath when the phone rang. She hesitated, tempted to ignore it, but then she turned the tap off and went down to the hall.
‘Hello, Georgie Bridges here.’
‘It’s Ben…’ Her heart did a flip as she heard his voice. Thank goodness she hadn’t ignored the phone! ‘How are you, darling? Sorry I haven’t been able to ring for some days.’
‘I was a bit worried about you,’ she said. ‘How are you, Ben? You haven’t been ill, have you?’
‘No, just up to my neck in this wretched training business,’ he said. ‘Look, they’ve given us a couple of days’ leave. Could you meet me in London, day after tomorrow?’
‘Oh, Ben!’ Georgie felt a surge of delight. ‘That’s wonderful. Yes, of course I’ll be there. Where shall we stay?’
‘At my apartment? We can have more time to ourselves there. You’ve got a key if you’re there before me.’
‘I’ll go up tomorrow afternoon,’ Georgie said, feeling a surge of excitement and pleasure. ‘Tidy things up a bit for us and get some food in – I can take some stuff from here.’
‘I might be able to scrounge a bit my end,’ Ben said. ‘And we’ll go to the Savoy for a meal one evening. I love you, Georgie.’
‘I love you too.’
‘What are you doing? I like to picture you at your home, it makes us seem closer at times.’
‘I’ve been in the garden this afternoon, making a pile of leaves ready for the bonfire. And now I’m going to have a bath, then eat my supper by the fire in the sitting room and listen to the wireless.’
‘What a perfect way to spend the evening,’ Ben said. ‘I wish I was there with you, darling.’
‘So do I – but at least we’ll be seeing each other soon.’
‘Yes, that will be marvellous. I had better go because another chap wants to use this thing now. See you soon.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Georgie said. ‘I can’t wait.’
She was smiling as she replaced the receiver. She would do some shopping in the morning, see what she could find going un
der the counter to make Ben’s leave as special as possible. But most of all she just wanted to see him and hold him, to rediscover the happiness she’d known in his arms.
It wasn’t until she was soaking in the bath, having indulged herself with slightly above the recommended level of water, that she wondered why he had sounded a bit odd. Almost regretful… or was she just imagining that tone in his voice?
A chilling certainty that Ben had been given leave before being sent on a mission of some kind had lodged in her mind and wouldn’t be shaken. It was what usually happened to men when they were being sent off for active service. Ben wasn’t in the regular forces, but she had a good idea of where he was going and what kind of work he’d been trained for.
He hadn’t ever said anything to her about his training when he rang, but it was obvious that if it needed to be so hush-hush it was both secret and dangerous work. Ben had visited France quite often in the past; he knew the people and he spoke the language better than most British people she knew.
Ben couldn’t tell her, and she wouldn’t ask, but she was sure in her own mind of what was about to happen.
She mustn’t let him know that she’d guessed or that she felt wretched about it, Georgie decided. She must just make the most of the time they had together and hope for a brighter future for them all.
*
The shops were dressed for Christmas, Georgie noticed as she finished her shopping and then caught a bus to the corner of the street where Ben’s apartment building was situated, feeling relieved to see it was still standing. It seemed sad not to see all the pretty lights of previous years in the shops, but at least some had made an effort to ignore the war in their window displays. They might not have the stock to offer they’d once boasted, but they weren’t going to give up without a struggle.
It was the famous British fighting spirit, Georgie reflected. What were a few bombs and a blitzkrieg to Londoners? Their mood was belligerent, their general answer two fingers up accompanied by a rude word! However, it seemed that, for the moment, the worst of the bombing was over for London since the German bombers had been turning their attention of late to other cities and Coventry had recently received one of the worst attacks of the war so far.
Georgie had telephoned Beth and asked her to meet for tea that afternoon, and she was pleased to see the girl waiting for her when she arrived at the small hotel they’d arranged. Beth’s pregnancy was showing but not too much. She went to give her a hug and a big parcel of baby clothes she had knitted.
‘Oh, that’s so lovely of you,’ Beth said. ‘I’ve bought a few things but nothing much yet.’
‘I’ve used lemon wool,’ Georgie said. ‘I bought it to make a cardigan before the war and then never got round to it, so I’ve been able to make quite a few things. I thought I would do first and second sizes, and I’ve got enough to do a third a bit later.’
‘I’m getting thoroughly spoiled,’ Beth told her. ‘Annabel has managed to find me several things that are waiting for me at home. She says there’s no sense in bringing them up until I know where I’m going to be living afterwards.’
‘Surely you will go home to your family?’ Georgie looked at her. She knew Annabel was expecting it and that she would be disappointed if it didn’t happen.
‘Drew’s mother has asked me to go there,’ Beth said and looked less than happy at the idea. ‘I’ve said I shall go down for a few days at Christmas. Arnold has been invited too and he’s going to drive me there and bring me back – save me bothering with the train, he says.’
‘I thought he didn’t drive? Isn’t that why he needs a driver?’
‘Well, he doesn’t drive often. Actually, he hates it, but he can when he wants to, apparently, and he’s offered to take me, because he knew I didn’t want to go. Whether I shall end up doing most of the driving remains to be seen. Not that I shall mind particularly if he does leave it to me. I’m still able to fit behind the wheel so far.’
Georgie smiled, then, ‘Why don’t you want to visit your mother-in-law?’
‘It was just being on my own with them that I didn’t fancy. It’s a big house and…’ Beth sighed. ‘I think it will be all right for a holiday, and I know it is what Drew wants – but I’m not sure I want to live there. It wouldn’t be too bad if he was here, but…’ She pulled a face. ‘How did you get on with your in-laws, Georgie?’
‘I didn’t have any,’ Georgie said. ‘That was one problem I never had to face, and neither did Annabel. I often wished Arthur had had more of a family, but of course I had my own – still have actually. Mother has invited me there for Christmas. I’ve said I shall go. It’s the first time for years. Arthur liked to be in his own house. He always made a big thing of it. So we stayed at home and had friends in on Boxing Day or at New Year.’
‘It will be your second Christmas without him.’ Beth looked at her oddly. ‘You stayed with Jessie and Harry Kendle last year, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, just for a few days. It was good of them to ask me. I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to face my family. This year it’s better.’ Georgie thought that the months had passed quickly, mostly because of her love affair with Ben. She hadn’t thought about how long it was until Beth mentioned that it would be her second Christmas after Arthur’s death.
‘It’s my first with Drew gone,’ Beth said and Georgie understood her earlier expression. ‘I miss him so much, Georgie – but I had a letter from him yesterday so that cheered me up a bit.’
‘At least you’ve got the baby to think about,’ Georgie said and smiled at her. ‘That must keep your mind occupied.’
Beth’s mouth screwed up in a wry grimace. ‘If I’m honest I wish I wasn’t having a baby just yet. I know that sounds awful, but I’d rather it hadn’t happened so soon.’
‘I suppose it is a bit of a nuisance with things the way they are.’ Georgie noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. Perhaps Beth was suffering more than she let on. ‘You look tired, my dear. Has it been terrible with all the bombs? Annabel wishes you would go home. She worries about you being up here the way things are.’
‘I know. She says the same thing every time I telephone – but I don’t want to go, Georgie. I’m not ready yet. I like my job and I like being a part of things. I should feel bored with nothing to do all day.’
‘I think Annabel could find you enough to do,’ Georgie said. ‘She has a terrible problem finding sufficient staff these days.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Beth said. ‘But that’s not very exciting after…’ She shrugged. It was impossible to explain to Georgie why she didn’t want to go back, perhaps because she didn’t really understand herself. ‘Well, we’ll see when it comes to it. Arnold is relying on me at the moment and I’m certainly not leaving until I have to.’
‘Oh, well, you know what you want,’ Georgie said and the subject was dropped. After all, she had her own life and perhaps it was wrong to expect her to drop everything and go home. Yet it surely couldn’t be that wonderful living in lodgings and having to run out to the bomb shelter most nights of the week?
Georgie wondered what on earth made the girl want to stay in London at a time like this. It wasn’t as if she could see Drew. He wasn’t likely to get home leave for months.
*
Georgie spent the evening getting the apartment ready for Ben’s leave. She heard the wail of an air-raid siren in the distance but didn’t bother to look for a shelter. To her way of thinking, if the Germans hadn’t managed to knock the place down in the two months since September they weren’t likely to just because she was staying there for one night.
The awful sound of a bomb dropping a few streets away made her shiver. She turned off the lights and went to look out. The sky had turned red and she knew that someone’s house was on fire. Somehow reading about it in the paper hadn’t brought it home as much as that sinister glow in the sky and she felt her eyes sting with tears.
Pulling on a coat and scarf, Georgie went out into the
streets. The all-clear had sounded now but she could hear the wail of a fire engine and as she turned the corner she saw that a whole row of shops and flats had been demolished. Men were already there with water hoses and policemen were organising a search and rescue team of ordinary members of the public. Georgie went up to one of them and asked if there was anything she could do.
‘We think most places were empty, miss,’ he told her. ‘But they’re looking for volunteers down at the shelter to make tea and cut sandwiches. It’s down the road, left at the corner. The Sally Army building. Anyone will tell you.’
‘Yes, thanks. I’ll go and see what I can do.’
The scene of devastation had shocked her. Her throat felt scorched by the heat and the acrid smoke and she hurried in the direction she’d been sent. When she got there, she saw that the large numbers of people needing help, some of them still in their nightclothes, had overwhelmed the workers.
‘What can I do?’ she asked a harassed-looking woman.
‘The kitchen is through there,’ the woman replied. ‘You’ll be given a job if you ask.’
Georgie went through the door pointed out to her and saw that three women were trying to cope with mounds of bread and margarine and huge teapots.
‘Can I help to make sandwiches?’
‘Sure – there’s Spam and a few tomatoes, and some fish paste,’ one of the women told her. ‘Use the Spam sparingly. We were given a case by an American officer, but when it’s gone it’s back to jam or Bovril if they’re lucky.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Georgie said and, taking off her coat, she joined one of the other women at the table. ‘Shall I fill? If you cut the Spam, you’ll know how much for each sandwich. Do I put anything else in?’
‘We don’t use mustard,’ the woman told her with a friendly smile. ‘There’s some out there in pots while it lasts, but some don’t like it.’
