The Cat and the Nightingale Saga
2
The Pencilled Message
by
Carole McEntee-Taylor
Copyright 2011 Carole McEntee-Taylor
Smashwords Edition
Chapter 6 The Weekend Trippers
Chapter 8 Running out of Options
Chapter 9 How will our relatives know where we are?
Chapter 10 A Few Moments Peace
Chapter 11 Time to tell the Truth
Chapter 13 We Will Find Each Other Again
The night sky was clear and cloudless. There was a full moon and Brenda could see thousands of stars twinkling merrily away as if nothing had changed and everything was the same as it had always been. But of course it wasn’t. As far as she was concerned nothing was the same or would be until this dreadful war was over and she had some idea of where Ted was and if he was alright.
It was stiflingly hot in the bedroom even with the windows open and blackout drawn back. Unable to get comfortable she got up and went to stand by the open window. Here at least she could feel the cool night air on her face and hear the faint rustling of the trees in the gentle breeze that meandered down the deserted street. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was sure she could smell roses, their gentle fragrance reminiscent of happier times and she breathed deeper, filling her lungs with the fragrant night air. She could almost believe, standing there with her eyes closed and inhaling the fragrance of flowers, that the war did not exist. But of course it did and the fear of invasion had come even closer since Dunkirk. The newsreels from France were horrendous as were the stories of the returning servicemen and the thought of that happening here was to awful to contemplate. It was like living on a knife edge, never knowing when the axe would fall and change their lives irrevocably.
But of course it would never happen. The Germans would never really invade. Although the armed forces had suffered an ignominious defeat on the continent they would learn from that and the Germans would never be allowed to set foot on English soil. She smiled wryly, she would never have believed herself to be quite so patriotic as she felt now. But that was probably because never before had the danger been so acute.
Like most people the first few months of the war had made little real difference to her life. Although Ted had been conscripted it still hadn’t seemed real as he had not been sent overseas and in any case there had been little real fighting. But that had all changed at the beginning of May and now Britain was alone and fighting for its very existence and Ted was goodness knows where, that was if he was still alive of course. It had been almost a month since the fall of Calais and as yet she had heard nothing.
She knew she should view that as a good sign. If he was dead she would probably have heard by now. But logic and reasoning was no substitute for concrete evidence and until she received something to verify that he was still alive she would continue to fear the worst. She had seen too much over the past month to retain the optimism she had once had. Too many young men injured and maimed, their lives changed forever and yet, in some ways, they were the lucky ones. They had survived, so many hadn’t.
She sighed, she should really go back to bed. She had work in the morning and she would be exhausted if she didn’t get some sleep. Reluctantly turning back into her bedroom she made her way back to the bed and lay down. It was too hot for covers and she didn’t bother to draw the blackout. There was enough light from the moon to enable her to see quite clearly and anyway, it was nice to just lay in bed looking at the stars.
She wondered if Ted too was watching the moon and stars and thinking of her and then chided herself for being fanciful. If he was alive he was hardly likely to be staring vacantly up at the sky thinking of her. If he was a prisoner he was probably worrying about what was going to happen to him and if he had somehow escaped and was on the run from the Germans he would certainly have more on his mind than her. As her mind began conjuring up other possibilities she felt the tears beginning to form. ‘No’ she said to herself firmly. ‘I am not going to lay here imagining the worst. I know Ted is alright because he told me he would be’. She knew she was probably being naive, Ted would have had no control over his safety, any more than any other soldier on the front line but it didn’t matter. His promise to come safely home to her was her lifeline. If she let go of that she would have nothing to cling to and having no hope was akin to giving up, something she would never do.
Where is Ted?
Brenda
Brenda woke refreshed after her half day off. She had spent the afternoon reading The Hobbit and she had also successfully managed to order a copy of Gone with the Wind from the library or at least she hoped she had. There had only been a short queue so she had joined it and waited her turn. The lady behind the desk was not particularly helpful. In fact she really looked like she didn’t want to be there. She was in her middle 50s with small eyes that peered out through half- moon spectacles. Her grey hair was tied up tightly on the top of her head in a bun and the expression on her face was rather like the one people have when they come across a particularly unpleasant smell. Looking down her nose at Brenda she snapped impatiently
‘Yes?’
‘I’d like to order Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell please’ Brenda asked politely.
The woman sighed heavily and getting out her ordering ledger started to write infuriatingly slowly. Brenda resisted the urge to say something knowing this would probably just make the whole process even slower.
‘I’m not sure when it will be in. There are several other people in front of you waiting for it.’ By elongating the word ‘several’ she managed to suggest that she really couldn’t understand why they would want to be bothered with ordering such a populist book. ‘Not getting any response from Brenda she continued
‘We’ll notify you when it is in but, as I said, it will probably be several weeks. There is a war on after all’ she slammed the book shut and turning her body away from Brenda she proceeded to deal with the next person
‘Yes?’
Brenda could feel her temper rising and struggled to control it
‘Yes I know, thank you. I’m a nurse and I spent yesterday patching up young men who were wounded doing something worthwhile in ‘the war’.’ She answered pointedly, knowing it would probably mean an even longer wait for the book but it was worth it to see the look on the woman’s face. Turning to walk off she caught glimpses of smiles on some of the faces of the other people in the queue.
‘Hello Bren, how’s young Ted?’ she looked to the right and saw one of the older members of the Baptist church congregation making her way to the desk with her four books.
‘He’s well as far as I know, thank you Mrs Greaves. How are you? How’s your arthritis? It should start to get a bit better now the weather has improved a bit.’
‘Yes it is dear. I only need a few long hot dry weeks and I’ll be as right as rain’ she was smiling broadly
‘Fat chance of that in this country’ Brenda said laughing ‘Still you never know!’
‘No work today?’
‘No, it’s my afternoon off. I’m going home to put my feet up and try and finish The Hobbit. Have you read it?’
‘No dear, it’s not really my sort of book, I like a nice romance, you know, something with a happy ending!’
‘Oh I don’t mind romances as long as there are lots of other things going on as well. I quite like thrillers and who-dunnits too’ Brenda said
‘Oooh I don’t like murders and things, too violent for me’
Agatha Christie’s books aren’t really violent’ said Brenda thinking ‘They’re more of a puzzle, trying to work out who did it? Gives my brain something to concentrate on’
‘Well you go and enjoy yourself dear. I’m nearly at the front now. Will you be at Church on Sunday?’
‘I hope so, I’m working in the morning but I should get back in time for the evening service. I’ll see you there, TTFN (Ta Ta For Now)’
Brenda left rapidly as Mrs Greaves was now at the front of the queue and about to speak to the librarian who had been so rude to her earlier.
Arriving home she had made herself some lunch and a cup of tea and resisting the impulse to put the radio on she kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the settee and curling up started to lose herself in The Hobbit.
She was so engrossed in the adventures of Bilbo Baggins and the others that the sound of the door opening made her jump.
‘Hello Ethel. What time is it? Do you want a hand?’
‘It’s about half past four and no I’m alright thanks’ Ethel put the two bags down and shut the front door.
‘How did Sally get on?’
Brenda smiled ‘It was wonderful. They were so happy to see each other I think we were worrying about nothing. They had managed to save his other leg and from what little Sally told me he was just grateful to be alive. Its early days but I think everything’s going to be fine. Sally is so bossy he probably won’t dare to be anything else but alright!’
‘Oh good. I was really concerned last night when she seemed so vacant. Apart from anything else that’s not like her. She might give the impression of being a bit empty headed but a lot more goes on behind those big blue eyes than people give her credit for. That’s why I couldn’t understand it when she seemed to have just given up’
‘People react to shock in lots of different ways’ Brenda said soberly. ‘I’ve known people to go shopping when they’ve just been told that someone they love has died. It’s a way of not accepting it, pretending it hasn’t happened. But, no she was fine so I left them there and came home via the library to try and finish this book’
‘See I told you it was good, now you don’t want to put it down do you?’ Ethel was laughing ‘Oh no, it’s not my type of book’ she mimicked making Brenda laugh as well.
‘I think we should celebrate the good news tonight. It’s not often we get any is it?’ She continued ‘How about some fish and chips?
‘Mmmm that does sound good. Should we wait for Sally?’ Brenda asked
‘We could leave it a bit longer, Colin won’t be here ‘til about quarter to seven and it won’t take me that long to get ready. We’ll give it ‘till half past five and then if she’s not there I’ll go and get them, unless you want to?’
‘As you’ve done the shopping it’s only fair’ Brenda smiled. ‘That should give me time to finish the next chapter anyway’.
In fact she finished two chapters and as there was still no sign of Sally she put her cardigan on and walked down to the fish and chip shop. So far fish and chips had not been rationed and hopefully that would continue as it was a good filling meal and it saved using up precious ration coupons. Providing they had some fish you could get a large piece of battered cod for 4d and a pile of golden chips for 2d. Brenda could feel her mouth-watering already at the thought of it and was delighted to see there wasn’t a queue.
‘Hello Brenda, how many portions for you tonight then?’
‘Just the two please Mr Jenkins. It’s just for Ethel and me tonight. I’m glad to see you’ve got plenty of fish in. My mouth has been watering all the way here and I was dreading you saying ‘sorry no fish left’
‘No, we’ve just had some delivered so it’s nice and fresh too. I’ll put two extra large portions in for my favourite customers!’
Brenda smiled. She liked Mr Jenkins, she had known him since she was a teenager and he always treated her a bit like a daughter.
‘Vinegar on one and salt and vinegar on the other, right?’
‘That’s it’ she nodded ‘That looks delicious’ she said as he handed over the fish and chips tightly wrapped in newspaper.
‘That’ll be one shilling please’ Mr Jenkins took the offered coin and Brenda said goodnight and walked briskly home, the smell of the food wafting round her.
‘I’m back’ she called. ‘Do you want a knife and fork or are you going to eat it with your fingers?’
‘Do you really need to ask?’ Ethel was laughing and she and Brenda sat at the table and began to eat. The fish was a lovely white colour and tasted wonderful and the chips were nice and crispy. As they were both hungry they concentrated on eating and enjoying their food.
‘That was definitely as nice as I imagined it to be’ Brenda said licking the last of the salt off her fingers. She sat back on the chair feeling really full. ‘I’m glad I’m not going out, I think I’d fall asleep.’ She looked at the clock. ‘You’d better go and finish getting ready or Colin will be here and you’ll still be sitting in your dressing gown and undies!’ Ethel had been half dressed when Brenda had returned and rather than risk dropping fish and chips on her clean clothes she had eaten them in just her underwear and dressing gown.
‘I’m sure he won’t mind’ seeing Brenda’s expression she added quickly ‘But I will and anyway these are not my best knickers!’ she quickly ran up the stairs just as the doorbell rang. ‘Can you get that Bren?’
Brenda smiled and went to open the door. As expected Colin stood there looking very smart and carrying a small bunch of spring flowers.
‘Colin, they’re lovely. Ethel will love them. She’s just finishing getting ready. Come and sit down. She won’t be long’
Colin walked into the sitting room and immediately saw The Hobbit resting on the settee. ‘Oh are you reading that? Its brilliant isn’t it? I told Ethel about it.’
‘Ah’ Brenda said suddenly understanding. ‘She kept on telling me how good it was and finally convinced me to read it even though I didn’t think I would like it. But yes it is good and I am really enjoying it. I was hoping to finish it tonight but there’s still a few chapters left so maybe not.’
‘I’m always impatient to get to the end of a really good book, then when I have finished it I wish I hadn’t!’ Colin said ruefully.
Brenda laughed ‘I do that too. You race along trying to get to the end to find out what’s going to happen and then it’s all over and you’ve got nothing to read!’
‘You’ll have to read slower Bren’ Ethel came into the room looking lovely in a flowery cotton summer dress that fitted her perfectly and showed off all her curves. Colin looked at her appreciatively and handing her the flowers he had bought said ‘you look wonderful’
‘Thank you’ Ethel looked pleased ‘and thank you for the flowers, they look lovely and they smell heavenly although I think they will smell better once the smell of fish, chips and vinegar goes!’ The heady perfume of freesias and lilacs were already trying to fill the room but were having trouble competing with the equally fragrant smell of fish, chips and vinegar.
‘I’ll put them in water while you go or you’ll be late and miss the first picture’ Brenda said as Colin looked at the clock and nodded ‘She’s right, we’d better get a move on. Come on gorgeous’ he said to Ethel and arm in arm they went out the door.
Brenda found a vase and filled a bowl with some water. She then cut the stems off the ends of the flowers under water which was supposed to make them last longer and using the water from the bowl she filled the vase and put them in. She put them on the table near the window so they had plenty of light and went to clear the table. She salvaged the bottom parts of the newspaper that weren’t greasy to re-use and put the rest out to be recycled. Having finished she sat back down on the settee and went back to her book. Lost in the story of someone else’s life she was unaware of the passing of time and it was only the fact that she was having to strain her eyes to read the print as the daylight faded that that bought her back to May 1940.
‘Goodness’ she thought surprised by how late it was ‘I need to wash my stockings before I go to bed. Sorry Bilbo I’ll have to catch up with you another time’ she reluctantly closed the book making sure her bookmark was firmly in place and went to make sure she had some clean underwear for the next day. By the time she had finished it was nearly completely dark and she hurried round making sure the blackout was properly in place. ‘I suppose I had better listen to the news quickly before I go to bed’ she thought reluctantly. It was just coming up to 10 o’clock so she quickly switched on the radio. She was just in time to hear the headlines which stated that Mr Ernest Bevin, Minister of Labour was stating how the National Emergency Act covered every person. He continued by explaining that he was calling for a National Service Column to man the factories and workshops, work on the land and join the armed forces. It was only by everyone doing their bit that they could ensure the war would be over quickly. There was little else other than to say that heavy fighting was continuing in France and feeling depressed Brenda switched off the radio and the light and went upstairs. Yawning she climbed wearily into bed and turning out the light fell asleep almost immediately.
The 26th was another warm sunny day and gave no real inkling of the dark clouds that were soon about to overtake their lives. Although the news from France was dreadful and conversations on the bus were very subdued reflecting the sombre mood of the people, most still had an unshakeable belief that the Germans would be turned back and that France would not be overrun. Thinking back afterwards Brenda realised that she should have known something was wrong by the odd conversation she had with Sally at breakfast.
Coming down for breakfast she had been met by the sight of Sally reading the paper. Sally very rarely read newspapers, like most people she preferred to get her news from the BBC which was considered to be more believable.
‘Everything alright?’ she had asked
Sally had apparently misunderstood her and answered quickly ‘Yes Peter’s doing really well. I’m going to go at lunchtime and again this evening’ and then folding up the paper said ‘I ‘d better go I said I would get in early to make up for yesterday’ and was out the door before Brenda had time to ask anything else.
Brenda had shrugged and forgotten all about it as she switched on the radio and listened to a summary of Ernest Bevin’s speech from the day before.
Thinking back later Brenda realised that Sally had deliberately misunderstood her, not wanting to be the one to break the news, especially as she could not be sure. Brenda didn’t hold it against her. She would’ve done the same thing. Why ruin her day before it needed to be ruined. Knowing would not have made any difference; it would have just been longer to worry. So unaware that anything had changed she had gone to work and spent the day helping to patch up the wounded. The wards were busy and she didn’t have much time to talk to Helen when their paths crossed fleetingly as they went about their duties. At lunchtime they both stepped outside to get some fresh air. The sun was still shining brightly and the air was really warm. There were very few clouds in the sky and both Brenda and Helen took the opportunity to close their eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun.
‘According to one of the patients the Admiralty have just announced that the destroyer HM Wessex has been sunk ‘as a result of enemy air attacks’ and that the trawler HM Charles Boyer hit a mine and has also sunk’ Helen said gloomily. ‘All those poor sailors and their families’
They were both silent for a few minutes wondering how many had survived and whether they would be treating any of the wounded at Lambeth hospital.
‘Any news from Jimmy or Annie?’ Brenda asked
‘No, nothing but I’ve written to them both. I gave Annie your address and told Mum that she could do the same. Thanks so much for that Bren. Mum was overwhelmed that you would let us use your address. We’ll try not to overdo it, I promise’
‘It’s really alright, I don’t mind at all’ Brenda responded ‘I’m glad to help, honestly’
‘What about you, have you heard from Ted at all?’
‘No, nothing but it’s probably just the post or he’s having too much fun’ she ended with a wry smile.
‘He’s definitely still in England?’ Helen asked
‘As far as I know’ Brenda looked at her friend thoughtfully ‘Why? Do you know something I don’t?
‘Oh no’ Helen responded quickly ‘It’s just that one of the chaps I was patching up this morning was chatting to another chap and I thought one of them mentioned something about The Rifle Brigade being in Calais. I could be wrong’ she added ‘You know how confused I get between regiments, brigades and companies. It’s quite possible that I misheard and anyway there’s more than one company in the Rifle Brigade isn’t there so it could be a totally different bit, that’s if I heard it properly in the first place’ Helen was beginning to wish she hadn’t said anything. She didn’t want to worry Brenda especially if she had misheard.
Brenda felt the first niggling sensation of unease, if Ted was in France it would explain why neither she nor his Mum had heard anything. She resolved to ask some of her patients in the afternoon to see if any of them knew. Normally wishing her lunch break was longer Brenda now couldn’t wait for it to finish so she could go back to work and ask questions. They weren’t really meant to question the soldiers because of the dangers of careless talk and the need to comfort them rather than bother them with unnecessary questions. But if she was careful and only chose those who were willing to talk anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard to ask about the Rifle Brigade.
But events continued to conspire against her and when she went back on the ward she was given task after task that kept her away from the new arrivals. Busy with the administrative jobs allocated to her she forgot about Ted for a while and concentrated on her work.
It was only towards the end of the day that she went back to the main ward to help with some new arrivals. The new patients looked in a sorry state. She wouldn’t have believed that they could be in a worse condition than the ones she had already treated over the past couple of days, but they were. Most had smoke blackened faces and hands and their uniforms were hardly recognisable. Those who were lucky just had shrapnel wounds, others had lost limbs, some had lost their sight and others were totally deaf. Some just seemed shell-shocked and were staring sightlessly into space. The whole scene was reminiscent of pictures she had seen of the First World War where the real impact of the pictures were not the wounds but the shock, despair and defeat that was etched across the faces of the wounded.
Like the others she worked feverishly to tend to those she could and it was not until just before she was due to finish her shift that she came across a young man who was unconscious, his head bandaged with a filthy bandage that covered his left eye. She wondered if his eye was just damaged or whether, like others, he had lost it. She began to unwind the bandage slowly so as not to cause unnecessary discomfort when her eyes were drawn to the insignia badge on his arm.
It was a silhouette of a black cat sitting facing outwards on a red background. The insignia that designated a soldier from the Rifle Brigade that recruited from the County of London. She had seen it on Ted’s left arm at Christmas and he had explained that it represented Dick Whittington’s cat. She would recognise it anywhere. But surely they were in Suffolk. The Rifle Brigade were not in France. They couldn’t be. She had heard people say that when they were given bad news they felt as if the whole world had stopped or had gone into slow motion and she had never really understood it before. A part of her realised that she was in shock whilst another part of her refused to grasp that fact that at this very minute Ted could be wounded or even worse dead and she wouldn’t know until much later. All the time she had thought he was safe he could have been fighting for his very life. She felt sick and dizzy; the ward seemed to be spinning.
‘Burge, are you alright?’ Brenda didn’t answer ‘Burge, Brenda!’ Brenda turned slowly towards the voice that sounded as if it was coming from a long, long, way away. She felt as if she was in a dream and everything was happening in slow motion.
‘I think Ted is in France’ she said before passing out in a heap on the floor.
Saturday 26th May
Atrocity
Marcel
While Jean-Paul’s eyes took in the scene before him another part of his brain was thinking that this explained the strange sickly smell he had noticed. Thinking quickly, he pulled the door towards him, shutting out the view and turning to the women said firmly ‘Wait here.’
‘What is it?’ Claudette asked
‘There’s a dead man sitting in the chair facing the door. He’s been shot. It’s not a very nice sight. He looks like he may have been dead some time, a day or two anyway’ he amended. ‘Stay here while Marcel and I have a look round. Keep your eyes open. I don’t think there’s anyone else here, well not anyone who’s alive anyway but I can’t be sure. Are you alright to come in with me Marcel?’
‘Yes of course’ Marcel nodded and pushing the door open slowly stepped inside. He tried to avoid looking at the man and instead focussed his gaze on the stairs. Jean-Paul followed him eyes hastily scanning the rest of the room, but it was empty. They walked cautiously towards the stairs, taking care to make as little noise as possible, and began to slowly climb upwards. There were ten stairs and Marcel had reached the seventh stair when they heard it. There it was again, the same sound they had heard from outside. Jean-Paul suddenly recognised it. It sounded like a creaking floorboard. He put a restraining hand on Marcel but he had also heard it and had already stopped. Jean-Paul pointed to the top of the stairs and then to the right and mouthed ‘I think it came from there’ he was pointing to the door on the right of the landing that was above the room where the dead body was. ‘Be careful’
Marcel could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and his legs suddenly felt as if they were made of jelly. He inched forward followed closely by Jean-Paul who he suddenly realised was armed with a small pistol. He looked at him in surprise but Jean-Paul waved his arms back impatiently directing him back to the task in hand mouthing the word Michael. It took Marcel a few seconds to understand and then he realised that Michael must have given Jean-Paul his pistol before they separated. That would explain the brief whispered conversation he had seen between them just before they went their separate ways. Their heads had been very close together and they had turned their backs to the others. Although he had noticed it he had paid little heed as his mind was still concentrating on how he was going to get to England. His brain processed these thoughts in a split second and then he turned his attention back to the matter in hand.
As soon as they were positioned either side of the door Jean-Paul counted silently to three. On three Marcel flung open the door and Jean-Paul stepped into the doorway gun in hand and then gently lowered it. Marcel stepped in behind him and looked in astonishment. In the corner of the bedroom was a small child of about four or five years old. She was curled up on the floor in the corner of the room by the window, her small fist in her mouth and there was terror written all over her face. Her face was streaked with dried tears and her long blonde curly hair was tangled and dishevelled. As Jean-Paul lowered the gun she began to scream.
‘Claudette, Jeanne, come here quickly’ Jean-Paul shouted down the stairs making no attempt to go near the screaming child. They came running up and seeing the girl Claudette immediately went to her and scooped her up in her arms crooning gently to her until the screaming became sobs and then gradually subsided altogether.
While Claudette rocked the child Jean-Paul looked at Marcel. ‘Let’s make sure the other rooms are empty’ he said. Seeing the child alone, with what he presumed was her father dead downstairs he had wondered where her mother was. A disturbing thought had just occurred to him and he wanted to make sure neither the child nor his wife and daughter made any unpleasant discoveries.
The room opposite was a bathroom and, after a cursory look, Jean-Paul was satisfied that it was empty and that it also looked undisturbed. The room next to the one they had found the child in was obviously the parents’ room and wasn’t empty. On the bed was the half-clothed body of a woman. It didn’t take much imagination to see what had happened or how she had died as her body was naked, covered in bruises and cuts and there was a knotted stocking round her throat. Marcel looked in horror and promptly rushed back to the bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach down the toilet. Jean-Paul closed his eyes for a moment and offered up a silent prayer. He hoped she had not suffered too much but seeing the condition she was in he thought that was unlikely. Sighing heavily he looked round for something to cover the body with. Then finding a gown on the hook on the door behind him he placed it gently over her body and closing the door behind him he went to find Marcus.
‘Are you alright boy?’ he asked solicitously ‘We have to make sure the child and the women don’t go in there’ he continued without waiting for a response.
Marcel looked up at him and making a supreme effort to pull himself together nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
‘Let’s go back to them or they’ll come looking’ he helped Marcel up from the floor where he was sitting in front of the toilet and they went back into the child’s bedroom.
Claudette looked at him and he shook his head. There was no need for words and she pulled the little girl deeper into her arms. ‘Can you find me some clean clothes Jeanne? We’ll go and give her a quick wash and change her clothes, can you do something with ….’ She pointed downstairs.
Jean-Paul nodded ‘Come on Marcel’ and together they went back to the small sitting room. To start with Marcel found it difficult to touch the man and he also found the smell of the body made him feel sick but Jean-Paul couldn’t do it on his own so he realised he had no option. Steeling himself and breathing though his mouth, he and Jean-Paul half carried, half dragged the body across the floor out through the door. Sweating from their exertions they returned to the room and took the chair in which he had been sitting outside as well.
‘Should we bury him?’ Marcel asked
‘Yes, if we can find somewhere quickly’ Jean-Paul replied ‘Can you look for a shovel or a spade to dig with?’ While Marcel went into the dilapidated outhouse to look for something to dig with Jean-Paul looked round. Within a short time Marcel reappeared with a large spade and Jean-Paul pointed to the small orchard a few metres from the back door. ‘Over there seems as good a place as any. Make it big enough for two’. The orchard consisted of seven fruit trees all covered in pink and white blossom that held the promise of a bumper harvest. For Marcel that just added to the poignancy of the scene as he thought of the young couple who would never see that year’s crop. In silence, trying not to think about what he was doing, Marcel began digging a large hole. While he was doing that Jean-Paul went back inside and tried to clean the walls so that there were no obvious signs. When Marcel had finished, he went to fetch Jean-Paul and between them they dragged the body across the yard and put it into the hole.
‘Let’s go and get the woman’s body while they’re still in the bathroom. Are you alright to do that only I don’t think I can do it on my own?’ Marcel nodded and followed him back upstairs. They could hear the women in the bathroom talking softly. Jean-Paul knocked quietly and when Jeanne opened it he told her what they were going to do. She nodded and went back in closing the door firmly behind her.
They wrapped the woman’s body in a sheet and half carried, half dragged her down the stairs. Rigor Mortis had set in and the body was stiff and awkward to move and they had to keep stopping to get their breath back. By the time they reached the yard they were both sweating even more from the unaccustomed exertion. They placed the body in the hole with her husband and saying a quick prayer they refilled the hole with the soil that had been removed. When they finished Marcel looked round for a stick to mark the grave and they both stood in silence for a while lost in their own thoughts.
Jean-Paul nudged him and nodded towards the house. They crossed the yard and found Claudette, Jeanne and the little girl in the sitting room. Jeanne was in the kitchen and was putting together some food while Claudette was sitting on a worn settee gently rocking the child.
‘Do we know her name?’ Jean-Paul was anxious not to frighten her so he addressed his question to Claudette instead.
‘My name is Angelique’ she said surprising him ‘What’s yours?’
‘Jean-Paul’ he replied ‘How old are you Angelique?’
‘You can call me Angel, its shorter’ she replied giving him a shy smile ‘I’m five, well nearly five. It’s my birthday soon. We’re going to ….’ She stopped suddenly and began to cry softly.
Jean-Paul gently patted her shoulder and went to help Jeanne who was in the middle of preparing a large omelette. Marcel was busy preparing a green salad and they had also found cheese, onions and tomatoes which Jeanne was going to put in the omelette.
‘That smells good’ he said ‘I’m starving but I think after we’ve eaten it we should move on. I don’t think we should spend the night here’
‘Why?’ Jeanne looked surprised. ‘We could sleep in this room and then leave early in the morning. It’s got to be better than sleeping in a field somewhere surely’
Marcel nodded in agreement ‘I think Jeanne’s right sir. We can take it in turns to keep watch but I think we’ll all be more comfortable in here.’
‘I’ll see what Claudette thinks’ Jean-Paul went back to ask Claudette who agreed. ‘The strange feeling I had is gone now. I think we should stay ‘til morning. It will give Angel time to recover a little and she may be able to tell us if she has any relatives nearby. If not we’ll have to take her with us.’
Although it was obvious Jean-Paul realised he had not given it any thought. However there was no realistic option, they certainly couldn’t leave her behind and after the kindness he had experienced from other strangers how could he do anything other than take her with them.
‘Staying here it is then. How’s the dinner doing Jeanne? It smells good’ he said smiling at Angel ‘Are you hungry?’
She smiled back a little less shyly and nodded enthusiastically.
‘Good let’s eat then’ Jeanne said bringing over a large plate for her with omelette, bread and salad invitingly laid out in the form of a smiling face. ‘Look’ she continued. ‘That’s the mouth’ pointing to the omelette, ‘the tomatoes are the eyes, the bread is the beard and the salad is the hair!’
Angel laughed and began to eat hungrily. Marcel hugged Jeanne ‘That’s brilliant’ he said. Jean- Paul and Claudette looked at each other and smiled. ‘So do we get the same? Jean-Paul asked. Everyone laughed and then there was silence as they made the most of the first proper meal they had eaten for two days. Having finished the meal they cleared up and Claudette went upstairs to find some bedding. While she was doing that Jean-Paul turned on the radio to see if he could find out exactly what was happening.
The news was even worse than he was expecting. Dunkirk was still holding out which was good news but there was fighting around Boulogne and Calais although the news didn’t say how bad it was. The broadcast finished by imploring people to go home, telling them that would be safer than taking their chances on the roads. Jean-Paul switched off the radio and went to join the others.
By now Claudette had found them all blankets and they were curled up on the floor in the small sitting room. Angel was snuggled down with Jeanne on one side and Claudette on the other. She had not left Claudette’s side since she had first picked her up and although outwardly she seemed fine they were all aware that she must be deeply traumatised.
Marcel took the first watch and while he waited he looked round the small room. ‘It must have been very homely’ he thought before the Germans or whoever else it had been, had come and ruined the tranquillity. His thoughts went to his mother. He hoped she was alright and that the same fate hadn’t befallen her. He dismissed the thought and made his mind concentrate on Jeanne again. That was a much pleasanter way to spend his watch and lost in his daydreams he did not notice that time was passing. The chiming of the little clock on the mantel piece striking two startled him and he quickly woke Jean-Paul.
‘Everything alright?’ he mouthed. Marcel nodded and taking the offered blanket lay down and closed his eyes. He was not even aware of going to sleep so rapidly did it happen and his first conscious thought was when he was woken later that morning at 6 am by Jeanne holding a steaming mug of coffee towards him.
‘Did you sleep well? She asked ‘You were snoring loudly enough!’
‘I don’t snore’ he said indignantly
‘Yes you do’ Angel said ‘Really loudly!’
Everyone laughed and with good spirits they hurriedly made breakfast and packed up as much of the remaining food as they could to take with them.
‘Are you leaving?’ Angel asked suddenly looking scared.
‘Yes Angel. We have to go but don’t worry we’re not going without you. We are taking you with us. You do want to come don’t you?’ Claudette asked wondering whether she was going to object. But she didn’t, it seemed she was only concerned that they didn’t go without her doll. Relieved, they assured her they wouldn’t.
Jeanne went upstairs and soon found the doll on the floor in the room where they had found Angel hiding. She had a quick look in the cupboard while she was there and took some clothes and an extra pair of shoes for her which she put in a bag that she found in the main bedroom. She had hesitated before entering the main bedroom, but she knew that Angel's mother, wherever she was, would want her daughter looked after so she took a deep breath and went in. Other than the bed nothing else had been disturbed and taking a quick look in the large wardrobe she found an old battered suitcase hidden at the back behind some shoes. She packed Angel’s clothes and then checked the dressing table drawers for anything that she could give to Angel as a memory of her mother. There were some wedding photos and a couple of rings but that was all she could find and she packed them quickly and went back downstairs.
The others had finished and were waiting for her. They took one last look round and as they were now sure they had as much food as they could carry and some identification for Angel in case they came across any relatives, they left.
The idea of taking papers for Angel had come from Marcel who had been concerned that after the war they might want to come back and find her relatives. If they didn’t know her name that would be difficult. Jean-Paul had thought it an excellent idea and had hunted around until he found some papers that identified all the family. On impulse he thought it might be easier to take all the papers with him not just those that identified Angel. Putting them safely in the bottom of the bag he forgot all about them. It wasn’t until much later that he appreciated just how useful that impulsive decision had been.
To his relief the day looked like being sunny again. They would have to take it slower today as there was no way a small child could walk at the same pace they had been walking for the last couple of days. Fortunately she was not frightened of either him or Marcel which meant they could take it in turns carrying her when she became tired. Trying to take the boredom off the continuous walking they sang songs and played games with her. Whilst they were reasonably safe in the fields and could relax a little they still had to exercise their normal caution when crossing the roads or railway tracks. Although the shelling could still be heard, they were now too far from either Calais or Dunkirk for it to be particularly intrusive. Despite his concern about the extra time it would take them to reach Calais there was nothing they could do about it so they would just have to make the best of it.
Angel had gradually become more chatty and seemed less traumatised. She had obviously put away the memories of those terrible days until she was ready to talk about them. Claudette had insisted that they didn’t press her for information saying that would be cruel. It was best to allow her to talk in her own time and the others had respected her wishes and taken her advice. She was a lovely child and she already felt like part of the family. Marcel had never had a sister so at first he found it quite strange to have this little person chattering away in his ear. But he gradually became used to it and found it rather comforting to have yet another member in his adopted family. Now that she had got more used to them all it was increasingly to Marcel that she would go to rather than Claudette. Jeanne found it very touching to watch him taking great pains to amuse her and make sure she had every comfort.
‘Should I be jealous?’ she said with a twinkle in her eye
Marcel laughed ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about’. Arm in arm they walked in companionable silence with Angelique beside them chattering away as she spotted different things that drew her attention. Jean-Paul and Claudette following behind, watched with amusement and the morning passed quickly and without incident. They stopped for lunch on the edge of a field bordered by a small copse of trees which provided some welcome shade from the heat of the midday sun which was now high in the sky. Jean-Paul studied the map and tried to work out exactly where they were. They were near Sainte-Marie-Cheque which from his reckoning was still about a day and a half walk from Calais, maybe longer if they had to make too many detours. They probably had enough food now to last them and there were streams marked on the map from which they could get water. The big question was whether they could get there before the Germans.
Looking round at the rural scene it was hard to believe they were in the middle of a war zone but he was only too aware that the Germans were not far behind. Sighing heavily he stood up ‘We need to keep moving’ he said and reluctantly they followed as he led them through yet another field. Turning back to speak to Claudette he suddenly noticed that she was limping quiet badly.
‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he asked frowning
‘No, it’s just blisters’ she replied ‘These shoes aren’t made for walking across fields. In fact I’m not sure they’re made for waking in at all now.’
Jean-Paul could see that her shoes were holed quite badly and that there was dried blood on her heels where they were rubbing.
‘There’s nothing you can do so don’t worry. My feet will harden up eventually and then the blisters will go. In the meantime I’ll take them off whenever I can’
Marcel looked at Jeanne but she shook her head ‘I’m alright, these shoes were quite well worn before we started walking and I don’t usually suffer with my feet anyway. It’s the rest of my clothes that aren’t doing very well!’ Marcel looked at her cardigan that was torn and covered with various muddy stains and the dried juice of berries and her skirt that also looked as if it had seen better days. He knew nothing about clothes, especially women’s clothes, but even he had noticed that her clothes were quite expensive and well cut. But after several days of walking and sleeping rough even the new clothes she had been given by Antoinette were looking the worse for wear.
‘You still look beautiful to me’ Marcel said gallantly. She laughed and leaning forward kissed him briefly on the lips. It was the first time they had kissed and Marcel was delighted she had initiated it. He had been trying to find the courage to kiss her for the last two days, now the ice had been broken it would not be so hard. Forgetting the presence of her parents he held her close and pressed his lips against hers.
‘Perhaps later’ Jean-Paul said with a twinkle in his eye ‘We need to keep moving now’
Marcel sprang back looking mortified but when he saw everyone was laughing he relaxed and laughed too. They carried on walking but there was very little cover now and they were torn between keeping to the edges of the fields that took then close to roads and small settlements and the dangers of being caught out in the open by the German planes.
Airplane activity was increasing and was coming from both behind and in front of them and they had to keep diving for cover which delayed them even more. Angel had gone very quiet and seemed to have withdrawn back into herself. Every time a plane went over or a particularly large shell blast rent the air she froze and had to be dragged to safety. Like all of them her clothes soon became dirty and torn and the constant need to find cover was wearing and it wasn’t long before they all felt as dishevelled as they looked. The good humour and high spirits of the morning were gradually replaced by a dogged determination to keep going and a steadily growing despair that they might not reach Calais before the Germans. The day wore on and eventually they were all so totally exhausted Jean-Paul decided that they should rest for a while.
‘Perhaps we should try and get some rest now and then travel overnight’ he said looking worried. ‘If the moon is out we’ll be able to see and it might be a little safer. At least there won’t be so many planes around and even if they are they probably won’t be able to see us’
Too tired to argue the others sank to the ground where they were standing and trying their best to make themselves comfortable they attempted to get some sleep. Jean-Paul had volunteered to take the first watch and while the others slept he looked at the map and pondered their chances. If they walked through the night they could be on the outskirts of Calais in the next couple of days. Of course that depended on not having to take detours or having to keep taking cover. He was also concerned about what they were going to do when they reached Calais. There was no guarantee that they would not get stopped by a roadblock like they had outside Dunkirk and even if there weren’t roadblocks there was certainly no guarantee that they would be taken off by a ship.
He rubbed his eyes and running his hands over his face he could feel the five day growth of his beard. He must look dreadful he thought, but then so did everyone else. It didn’t seem possible that a month earlier they had been sitting round their kitchen table having supper with no clue as to how their lives were about to change. Although they had been concerned about the war situation, it had been a background niggle; something that did not seem as immediate as working out what lessons he was going to teach the next day, or trying to work out how to stop Jeanne getting involved with the Pellier boy. He could almost smile now when he thought about how many sleepless nights he and Claudette had spent worrying about Jeanne’s infatuation with the Pellier boy who lived a couple of streets away and had a terrible reputation. If only that was all he had to worry about now!
He woke Marcel about 8pm with instructions to wake him at midnight and then they would begin what he hoped would be the final push. His last thought as he dozed off into a restless sleep was that the shelling seemed to have stopped and it had all gone quiet.
The Signal Pad
Ted
The night had passed slowly and Ted had only slept fitfully. He was too concerned about what was to happen to them to sleep properly. Even thinking about Brenda couldn’t stop his mind from racing over and over the events of the past few days. He was also missing Chalky and Taffy and unable to come to terms with what had happened to them. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Chalky’s helmet sitting forlornly on the side of the trench or Taffy’s headless body lying prone in the sand. He could still hear the noise of the mortars and the machine gun fire ringing in his ears and although it was quiet now every time he started to doze he would wake up suddenly. His brain was frantically trying to process the events of the past three days and in his sleep they manifested themselves and reappeared in nightmare sequences where limbs and heads were flying round him in all directions and the smell of burning bodies filled the air, but it wasn’t his friends, it was his family he could see.
‘You alright mate?’ a voice said suddenly in his ear. It was Rob looking at him in concern. ‘You were shouting out in your sleep. I was worried you’d attract the attention of one of the kraut guards’
‘Thanks’ Ted said disorientated ‘I was dreaming’ he went silent remembering in vivid detail the last thing he had been dreaming about. Shaking his head to try and clear the memories and to stop the shaking of his hands, he searched for something to say ‘Seen anyone else from the battalion?’
‘No, just us, but there’s so many soldiers here it’s a bit difficult to see. It’ll probably be better in daylight. We can’t be the only ones’
‘No, I suppose not’ Ted didn’t sound convinced ‘What do you thinks going to happen to us?’
‘Don’t know’ Rob responded ‘Still if they were going to shoot us they’d have done it already. I suppose we’ll be shipped off to a POW camp.’
Ted nodded ‘Suppose so. Wonder when they’ll let our families know that we’re alright. I don’t want Mum worrying about me or thinking I’m dead’
‘Not much you can do about it here. They’ll find out eventually and they’ve got to give us letters home so once we’re in the POW camp we’ll be able to write and tell them’
‘Could be ages though, couldn’t it?’ Ted worried, finding it easier to concentrate on that than think about other things that were a lot more painful.
‘Can’t you two shut up, we’re trying to get some sleep’ the moan came from a soldier over to the right of them
‘Sorry mate’ Ted and Rob both said in unison. In the silence that followed they both tried to get some sleep but now they had overcome their initial fatigue their brains were too active to let them sleep and Ted was too worried about the nightmares to really try very hard. They were both relieved when dawn broke and the sun started to appear on the horizon behind them bathing them in its red glow.
‘Raus raus’ the sound of the Germans waking them was to become only too familiar but now it sounded raw and foreign and grated on their ears. Prodded and poked by rifle butts and continually shouted at the men roused themselves and slowly stood up. They were lined up into ranks of four and then told to march. They had no idea where they were going but the familiar activity provided a small measure of comfort, at least at first.
As the sun steadily rose in the sky and their German guards marched them mercilessly without a break they began to feel the strain. They had now been in the same clothes for over a week and had not been able to wash or shave for nearly as long. Some of them had not had anything to drink now for nearly twenty four hours and were starting to feel dizzy. Many had not eaten for the same length of time and were also starting to feel the effects. The Germans who were now guarding them had no time for their captives. Anyone falling over was kicked and hit with rifle butts until they got back up and into line again. If they didn’t get up in time they were shot.
The first time it happened Ted and Rob looked at each other in total disbelief. But even worse was to come. As they marched onwards in the heat with no food and water they all became steadily weaker. Having seen the Germans shooting those who dropped out fear had become a great motivator and most of them kept moving however bad they felt. But eventually the weaker members began to succumb and it was in total horror that Ted watched the Germans casually shoot another soldier for trying to help someone who had stumbled.
Feeling as if he was in some never ending nightmare Ted put one foot in front of the other and tried to concentrate his mind on something else, anything other than thinking about the atrocities going on around him. In the few French villages they went through the streets were lined with people looking sullen and defiant. Children stood silently behind their parents, shocked and traumatised. Some of the French women bought out buckets of water for them to drink from but the Germans kicked them over, threatened the women with their rifles and beat anyone who tried to get near the water. The screams of the children, as their mothers were hit by rifles, echoed in the troops’ ears as they were marched inexorably on through village after village that bore the scars of the war. On and on they went along roads with huge craters in and past buildings that were either completely destroyed or dangerously tottering piles of rubble.