Hetty's Secret War

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Oh, does he?’ Georgie pulled a wry face at her. ‘Don’t try to manage me, Annabel. I’ve been thinking I ought to stop seeing him before I get too interested. He wouldn’t want to take on the children of two other men – even if he wanted me. And I’m not at all sure that he does. We’re just friends. I don’t suppose we would have met again if he hadn’t asked Jessie to let him have his office at Kendlebury.’

  ‘It’s fate then, isn’t it? You like him, Georgie. I can tell. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. Ben wouldn’t have wanted that. He was one of the most unselfish men I know. And if your son likes him he must be all right.’ Annabel smiled naughtily.

  ‘Yes.’ Georgie smiled. Telling Annabel had eased the pain of Ben’s death a little. ‘Perhaps Ben was too unselfish. I can’t be sure he would have actually asked Helen for a divorce.’

  ‘I think he would once he knew about the baby…’ Annabel frowned. ‘You knew I had a letter about Ben from Hetty? Well, she said something about it but couldn’t give details. I suppose she had to be careful in case it fell into the wrong hands. It was all rather vague. She just said she was with Ben at the end and asked me to look in his desk at his apartment. I found a letter addressed to her, but I haven’t opened it. I’m hoping she will do that herself one day.’

  Georgie didn’t ask if there had been a letter for her. She had Ben’s last letter put away safely and she knew it word for word. She hadn’t stopped thinking of him for one minute since it came, but she knew that Annabel was right. One day she would have to leave her grief behind and move on, though she was a long way short of that as yet. Being able to talk about Ben to Annabel at last was making it a lot easier to heal her sense of loss – just talking about him brought him back, made her remember the good things.

  ‘It was curious that he and Hetty should meet over there, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, though it may have been arranged. Perhaps Hetty will tell us one day.’ Annabel sighed. ‘I worry about her out there. You hear such terrible stories. I wish she would come home. If they could get a letter through, she could surely get home if she wanted.’

  ‘You know Hetty,’ Georgie said. ‘I believe she must be very brave, Annabel. I used to think she was just reckless and careless, but now… if she was with Ben at the end…’

  ‘It means she was very involved with whatever he was doing.’ Annabel’s eyes were shadowed. ‘She is reckless and sometimes careless, but like Ben she would sacrifice herself for others. She mentioned the possibility of a marriage, but again no details. It really is so frustrating not to know. Paul says I worry too much, but I can’t help it. She is my sister and now I’ve lost Ben…’

  ‘You are like a mother hen with her chicks,’ Georgie said and smiled affectionately at her. ‘Beth and Hetty – and me sometimes. Stop worrying, Belle, we’re old enough to look after ourselves.’

  *

  ‘Stop fussing over me, Hetty,’ the Comtesse said, a note of irritation in her voice. ‘I am perfectly able to look after myself and I am sure that you have more than enough to do elsewhere.’

  Since the night of Pierre’s capture, the people of the chateau had looked to Hetty to tell them what to do. She had been accepted as the woman Monsieur de Faubourg had intended to marry and the Comtesse was too frail to run things now. She had begun to fail after Kristina was killed and Pierre’s loss seemed to have taken much of the strength out of her.

  Hetty smiled at her. She would do well enough sitting in her favourite room at the front of the house. The windows were open wide because it was so hot and she had a jug of iced water and some sweet biscuits on the table beside her.

  ‘If you are sure there is nothing more, I shall speak to Bernard. They have been picking the last of the soft fruit today. It is not firm enough for bottling but will make very good conserve.’

  ‘Go away,’ Adele said and waved her hand at her. ‘I’m not a fool and I know you have more on your mind than strawberry preserve.’

  Hetty left her sitting there, lost in her memories of a happier time. It was true that she had something more than preserves on her mind. More than three weeks had passed since Pierre and Stefan were captured. She had waited in trepidation each day for the visit that would surely come. The Germans must have discovered Pierre’s identity by now – why hadn’t they taken their revenge?

  She blocked out the thoughts of what both Pierre and Stefan must be enduring. They would be tortured to make them reveal the names of their friends and Hetty knew that the methods the Germans used were ruthless.

  Bernard met her before she reached the kitchen.

  ‘We must talk privately, mademoiselle.’

  ‘You have heard something?’ Her heart caught with fright as she saw his expression.

  Bernard had been in contact with the remnants of Stefan’s group, who were hiding out, afraid to go to their homes. They had been trying to discover what they could about the men who had been taken prisoner, but as Hetty looked into the older man’s eyes she went cold all over. The sickness rose in her throat. She fought it down as she led the way into what had become her own sitting room.

  ‘Is it Pierre?’

  ‘Yes, mademoiselle. The news came a few minutes ago. They tried to break him with beatings and the burning cigarettes against his flesh, but he told them nothing. One of them must have gone too far. He died four days after he was taken.’

  ‘Four days…’ Hetty felt the scalding tears behind her eyes. Pierre had been dead all this time and she hadn’t known it. She sat down abruptly as her legs went weak. ‘Adele will be devastated. She is so frail. I hardly know how to tell her.’

  ‘It is as well she has you, mademoiselle.’

  ‘Yes, she has me.’ Hetty raised her head, banishing the tears. ‘Have you news of Stefan?’

  ‘They say he killed his guards and escaped the same night he was taken. The Germans went to his home and searched, but he was not there. The house was deserted. He will not come here, I think. He would be seen and he might be betrayed.’

  ‘Yes, that is so.’ Hetty looked at him thoughtfully. ‘They have not found the traitor?’

  ‘No – but they will.’

  Gazing into his eyes, Hetty shivered. She could guess the fate of the man or woman who had betrayed Pierre and Stefan.

  ‘What shall we do now, mademoiselle?’

  Now that Pierre was dead she was in command once more. At the beginning, Hetty had been on fire with hatred for the Germans. That fire had burned itself out, leaving sadness and resignation.

  ‘What we can, Bernard,’ she said at last. ‘I must think of the Comtesse. If some of our men want to join with Stefan’s…’ She shrugged. ‘For the moment we must be careful. Pierre did not talk but someone else may. In time perhaps we may regroup and carry on as best we can.’

  ‘It is not the same without Louis and the others.’

  ‘No,’ Hetty agreed. ‘It is not the same.’

  It could never be the same.

  She left him with a sad smile. Ben and Pierre were dead, as were others she had known and respected. Louis and Stefan had been forced to disappear. She was not sure she could summon the will to begin all over again. Besides, Pierre had wanted her to look after Adele. She would do that, Hetty decided, and when the war was over, she would visit the lawyers in London. But for now she had to find the right words to tell the Comtesse that her grandson was dead and with him her dream of the future.

  *

  Hetty awoke in the night, her face wet with tears. There was a deep aching need inside her, a need she feared would never be satisfied. She longed for Stefan, feared for his life. Where was he now? Was he being hunted by the Germans, afraid for his life?

  But no, Stefan would not be afraid. A feeling of peace came over her as she knew that he would find a way to carry on, would join a new group, would go on fighting to the last.

  Somehow that comforted her despite the aching need inside her. She turned over and went back to sleep.

  *
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  Hetty approached the farmhouse with care. It looked deserted, but she couldn’t be sure. She had wondered if the Germans would have burned it down, but it was still there, timeless and weathered, blending into its surroundings as if it had stood there far longer than the past two hundred years.

  The front door was open and she could see that debris had blown in, leaves and dirt scattered all over the once pristine wooden floors. She saw at once that the Germans had done their best to wreck it, destroying anything that was easily breakable as they searched for Stefan. Several chairs and tables had been overturned and smashed, and most of the china was littered all over the large, tiled kitchen floor, broken into hundreds of pieces.

  The wanton destruction brought a lump to Hetty’s throat. She had liked the order and the cleanliness of the house, the warmth of its welcome, and she felt a return of her anger, the apathy of the past few weeks slipping away.

  Damn them! Hetty’s head went up, her face harsh with pride. She had been feeling defeated, unable to face the huge challenge of beginning the resistance again on her own, but now she felt the strength and determination flow back into her. She would do what she could to make them pay, even if only in small ways. She had done it before and she could do it again.

  And she would put this house back to what it had been – no, she would make it better, Hetty decided as she fetched a broom and began to sweep up the broken china. Why not? Stefan could not come here until the war was over, but there was nothing to stop her spending time here.

  A flicker of excitement ran through her as she thought of what she might do. Some of the furniture was useless, only good enough for the bonfire, but she knew there were things stored in the attic at the chateau. She would ask Adele if she could have them, and she knew the answer already. She would bring the heavy things here in a truck and she would paint the walls, clean the whole house from top to bottom and make new curtains from material that she could buy in the market.

  It would give her a purpose, something besides her plans for revenge on the Germans – something positive to come out of all this. One day, if Stefan came back… But she wouldn’t think about that. There could never be anything but a fleeting relationship between them, but for the moment the house was hers, to do with as she pleased. She would make it into the kind of house she had always longed to live in.

  A little smile hovered on her lips and she began to hum a tune to herself as she set tables and chairs to rights. Oh, yes, this was going to be wonderful by the time she had finished.

  *

  Georgie saw him walking towards her and felt a surge of pleasure. He’d been away for his work and she hadn’t spoken to him since just after Ben’s daughter was born. Caught up in the joy of new motherhood, Georgie had got on with her life and work, but she realised now that she had missed him. That morning she’d been taking her little girl for a walk and the fresh air had brought a feeling of wellbeing.

  ‘She is quite delightful,’ Philip said as he bent over the pram. ‘And she has grown so quickly.’

  ‘Sarah was a few days old when you last saw her,’ Georgie said and looked amused. ‘Babies grow rather a lot in six months.’

  ‘Yes, I would suppose so,’ he replied and laughed in a self-conscious way. ‘Being a crusty old bachelor you wouldn’t expect me to know.’

  ‘You are neither crusty nor old,’ Georgie said and wrinkled her brow. There were moments when he reminded her of Arthur, except that he was younger and not so set in his ways. She had definitely missed him these past months, more than she had expected. He had become a good friend in the months before her daughter’s birth, but since then she’d heard nothing from him. ‘We thought you had deserted us. Jessie wondered if you had been ill.’

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ he replied, but she thought she detected something odd in his manner. ‘Merely pressure of work. I should have written.’

  ‘A Christmas card would have done,’ Georgie said. ‘Just to let us know you were all right.’

  ‘Yes, you are perfectly correct,’ he agreed. ‘I should have sent cards. In fact I should have visited and brought presents for the children. I wanted to but…’ He broke off, going slightly pink about his neck. ‘Well, to be honest, I wasn’t certain it was a good idea.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean? Surely we are friends?’

  ‘Yes – and that’s the trouble,’ Philip said, looking uncomfortable. He moved his feet awkwardly, then met her eyes in a frank gaze. ‘I’ve wanted to make it more than friendship, Georgie, and I was afraid of making a nuisance of myself. I know you were in love with Sarah’s father and you wouldn’t want to be bothered with an ordinary chap like me. Not after knowing someone like that.’

  Georgie stared at him in silence for some seconds as she tried to gather her thoughts. She had thought that their friendship might develop one day, but this was too swift for her. She wasn’t ready for another relationship just yet.

  ‘You’ve rather taken my breath away, Philip. I thought we were friends and might perhaps be more one day – but when you stayed away…’ She hesitated and then decided to be honest. ‘Two children are rather a lot to ask anyone to take on. I wasn’t sure you would be interested – even if you liked me enough to want a relationship.’

  ‘It’s you I’m interested in,’ Philip said and smiled awkwardly. ‘The children are a part of you – as I see it, you come as a package. And young Geoff – well, I like him and I think he quite likes me…’

  ‘Of course he does… but I’m not sure I want to be part of a package…’

  He laughed as he saw the hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘I’m no good with words, never have been – but do you think you might learn to put up with me? I think we might get on very well, Georgie. I’m not a wonderful catch, but I’ve enough put by and I intend to do better after the war. There will be a lot of property in need of renovation – and once people get on their feet again they will need somewhere to live. You have an eye for making a house into a home – and we would make a good team, if you like the idea…’

  ‘I think we might suit,’ Georgie said carefully. She didn’t want to make a second mistake. Her grief for Ben had become muted these past months, but she wasn’t ready to move on just yet. On the other hand, she didn’t want to throw away Philip’s friendship. ‘We could start by getting to know one another. I married too quickly the first time, Philip. I need time to be sure.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m the last one to rush into things – but I am awfully fond of you.’

  ‘I’m fond of you too,’ Georgie admitted, but wondered if it was enough. She had been fond of Arthur. ‘Let’s go back to where we were and let things develop, shall we? I want to talk to you about my house.’

  ‘Have they wrecked it or something?’ he asked, looking anxious. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have it put right for you when this is all over.’

  ‘The way things are going that looks like being a long time.’

  ‘It does look black for the allies at the moment,’ Philip agreed. ‘But we’ll beat them in the end. Seriously, have you heard something that worries you about the house?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Georgie said. ‘I wondered if you could tell me what to do with it when I get it back. It is a beautiful house and I want Geoffrey to have it one day, of course. It has been in his father’s family for generations, so I can’t sell – but I don’t want to live there again.’

  ‘You could let it to a family. That would bring in only a small income and it isn’t always easy to get long-standing tenants out when you want your house back. Let me think about it. I’m sure I can come up with something.’

  ‘Oh good,’ Georgie said. ‘How long are you staying at Kendlebury this time, Philip?’

  ‘For three weeks at least, perhaps more.’ He furrowed his brow. ‘Why? Not tired of me already?’

  ‘Geoffrey will be coming home for the holidays soon. I would like us all to spend some time together.’

  ‘That sounds good to me.�
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  ‘I want us all to be friends and see how things go.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll see how it goes,’ he agreed and then glanced at the pram as Sarah began to cry. ‘Is she hungry or does she just want to be picked up?’

  ‘Try picking her up and see what happens. I think it’s time we went in and had tea.’

  Sarah had stopped crying and blew a raspberry as Philip lifted her into his arms. She did a cross between a burp and a cough and bubbled a sticky wetness over his jacket.

  ‘There, you see, she approves of me,’ Philip said, manfully ignoring the wet patch on his shoulder. ‘She’s smiling.’

  Georgie thought it was probably the wind but didn’t contradict him. ‘Let’s go and have our tea, shall we?’

  She smiled and led the way inside, leaving the pram in the passage as she walked into the big warm kitchen. If Philip wanted to get to know her, he might as well start out the right way.

  *

  ‘Are you seeing Captain Dawson this weekend?’ Annabel asked as Beth came in that afternoon. She had been shopping in Torquay and her arms were full of parcels.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Beth said. ‘He did say he had a leave coming up, but I think he is going home this time. Did he telephone while I was out?’

  ‘No, not as far as I know. Arnold called. He said he might come down on Friday night and asked if you would be here.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I should like to see him. It’s ages since he was here. He hasn’t visited since last summer.’

  ‘No,’ Annabel agreed. She wondered what was going on in Beth’s mind; her expression gave nothing away. ‘It’s been a while, Beth. I suppose he is just too busy to get away. It is a long journey from London.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Beth dumped her parcels on the kitchen table. ‘Most of this is for you. I was lucky and got some extra sugar. Has Elaine been good?’

  ‘She is always good.’