Flora woke early, the June sunlight streaming through a chink in the blackout curtains of the hotel in the square in Prades. The town nestled in the foothills of the Pyrenees, in view of the majestic mountain, Canigou. Last night they’d heard the Spanish refugee cellist Pablo Casals playing a Bach partita. The sonorous music was still ringing in her ears.
By her side Kit slept on, not stirring as she gently opened the curtain to welcome the day. This was the first morning of their new life together, a couple at long last. She smiled, wondering how to explain their relationship to her faraway family. How all her plans had changed now Kit was back in her life. She must write a letter, so they were not alarmed by her absence.
Officialdom required birth certificates, passports, all the rigmarole of waiting weeks for permission to marry. There was now no time for any of this, but it was Consuela’s idea to ask Father Antoine for a simple blessing, however unorthodox. He was happy to oblige. It was the perfect solution to seal their union.
A strange dream had disturbed her sleep last night. They were walking up a rocky track into the rough garrigue, the blue mountain peaks ahead. Then a fingerpost appeared out of nowhere. ‘Time for you to go on,’ Kit urged but she refused to budge, clinging to him. ‘Where you go, I go from now on.’
‘It’s not safe for you to stay.’
‘I don’t care.’ Suddenly he turned to retrace his steps, ignoring her, but she ran back. ‘Wait, wait… we are one now…’
Flora had woken up with a start, relieved that the dream wasn’t true. There was no going back. They were making plans, war or no war. She looked at Ivo’s ring, still on her finger, touching it, sensing Ivo, Fergus and Maudie would approve. When you find something precious, surely the future must hold some hope. Outside her window, they were setting up the market in the square. She could hear the bustle of farmers and women laying out their stalls. Life was going on, no matter what.
Flora turned to see Kit watching her. ‘Come back to bed.’
‘Aren’t we lucky?’ she whispered, nestling back into his arms. ‘What shall we do today?’
‘Wait and see. I’ve something I want to show you.’
*
‘What do you think?’ Kit asked Flora, as they stood in front of an old farmhouse high in the hills above Prades. The tiled roof was slipping, the shutters were hanging off their hinges. The barn door was on the floor. This old place had been empty and neglected for years, almost beyond repair.
‘Do you really want to know?’ She shook her head. ‘Only you could find such a wreck.’
‘But it’s cheap to rent. It can be fixed, made watertight and the barn is sound. It will make a perfect children’s hostel. The air is fresh and there’s plenty of wood.’
Flora took his hand. Kit shared this dream of creating another refuge place for the many displaced children who were racing around the camps. Children in need of schooling, discipline and a place of safety from predatory men who used them to steal, beg and worse.
If the aid charities would allow it, they could create their own colony.
‘We’re high in the Pyrenees, hidden from view, and not far from the village school below. There’s a stream for fresh water,’ he continued. ‘Sam came across it by chance, on a walk when I was recovering here. He brought me to inspect it, thinking it had possibilities, but we’d need funds and help. It’s too much for you and me to tackle alone.’
Flora knew funds would not be a problem, if she could somehow transfer moneys from the rental of the Glasgow apartment in Park Circus. Now, however, was a different matter.
‘It will need paperwork and permissions. Who are the owners and what will they think of our scheme? We’ll have to be registered here as aliens. France has fallen. We could be expelled… We can’t just start work. It will take months to renovate.’
It was good to see Kit so animated. Since their reunion on the platform, they had barely spent a minute apart. However uncertain the future, nothing was going to separate them again. With her nursing experience and voluntary work, with Kit’s ability to organise renovations and his command of the language, they would make a formidable team.
As far as the village of Montze was concerned, she would be Madame Carstairs. There was a wedding ring on her finger, even if it was Ivo’s. He would be proud that she had found her vocation and a loving companion who she had known most of her adult life.
She smiled, thinking of the precious ceremony shared with Father Antoine. He came to visit Magret, taking them aside in Sam’s garden to give them his blessing. ‘I wish you well on your journey together. It has taken you both a lifetime to find the love you both deserve, my dear friends. May God go with you.’
The party afterwards was as good as any wedding breakfast. Chuck and Frankie came together, unaware of the significance of the celebrations. Someone brought an accordion and they danced until the stars came out. The one thing Flora knew she must do now was to write to her family, explaining everything as best she could, without revealing the strange truth of her secret relationship with the man they knew as Kit Carlyle.
Dear Pa
This is a difficult letter to write and with war in the north I shall have to send this via Spain. You won’t like what I’m going to say, but hear me out. I can’t come home now as I promised. I’m sorry to worry you, but rest assured we’re quite safe down here in the south-west.
A few months ago, I came across an old comrade-in-arms, a Scotsman. He was badly wounded in body and soul by his war experience, but now is restored to health. We have decided to pool our resources to open a refuge hostel for orphaned and homeless children. The camps are full to bursting with families fleeing from persecution and in need of shelter, the children most of all.
We can offer them a home and safety. Chris has a soldier friend and his wife who are doing the same thing and they have been an inspiration to us. We have both worked down here since 1938 and we met up by chance.
I know you will be disappointed, but after such a long time here, I just couldn’t leave. Maudie will explain my dilemma, but not all of it. Trust me, I have found my vocation and much joy in this shared venture.
Give my love to Virginia, Vera and Sandy and keep me informed about their new baby. I will write to Rose, Hector and Maudie with updates which I hope they will share with you both. Do not worry if postal communications are slow. I’ll find a way to keep in touch.
Please understand that I must stay. Be happy for me.
Cheery bye
Flora
She cried over each sentence, not knowing if they would ever see each other again. Protecting Kit was important now. There was so much to do, if this dream of his was to become reality. It would take much longer than he thought and much more cash than they could afford.
Flora had to admit this was a glorious spot, surrounded by thick oak forests that led up to the higher slopes where there was a view down the valley. There were still roses struggling in the dry soil, but their pink buds made her smile. ‘You’ll need vision to turn this wreck into a children’s house,’ Sam said, smiling, when he came with Consuela to encourage them. ‘If anyone can do it, Kit can.’
‘We can put a swing on that tree for Marisa and her friends,’ Kit said, pointing to a huge chestnut tree. The little girl now spoke freely and looked on Kit as her papa. She would be the first to join them when the home was fit to live in.
‘I think it will take more than a swing to mend their broken lives, but fresh food and space to play is a start,’ Sam said.
Converting the barn into a dormitory was first on their list. ‘This is going to cost,’ Flora sighed, knowing if the war in the north drew any closer, her own supply of funds might dry up. ‘We’ll need help from somewhere,’ she added.
‘Father Antoine knows someone who will help,’ Sam said. ‘His only proviso is that you welcome children of all races and creeds. You know what he means? We have to trust him in this.’
Was Sam referring to the Jewish migrants and other German dissidents who had fled from their own country?
‘I may no longer be a preacher, but one thing is true. Love must be at the heart of our venture. Love can break down barriers, bring healing and peace. Love is stronger than hatred and good must prevail over evil regimes. There must be hope. Our refuge must be a house of hope.’
‘That’s quite a sermon,’ Flora replied, kissing him. ‘Hope would make a good name for this farmhouse: a place of hope. Come on, let’s look around for a chicken coop, a suitable sunny plot for vegetables. Sick children will bring us problems, diseases, sleepless nights.’
‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,’ Kit quoted, pointing to a stream cascading down the hillside, ‘From whence cometh everlasting streams of abundance,’ he laughed. ‘I haven’t forgotten all my texts. Water will not be a problem but we’ll have to utilise the energy of our children, teach them to grow things. We must also hope the local priest will be on our side. He will find us volunteers.’
‘You are very trusting. We’re strangers here, Protestants, British. What if they think us spies? It’s a lot to ask them to shield us, if anything goes wrong.’
Kit was not going to be defeated. ‘We’re Scots, don’t forget, and there is the tradition of the “auld alliance”. We’ll take just one day at a time, darling Flora. We found each other, after all those years. That’s miracle enough in my eyes. To be sharing my venture with you is more than I could ever hope for.’
‘Perhaps this is what we’re meant to do, to build a place of hope and healing, just as Rose Villa was all those years ago. It will be our little fortress on the hill, a place of safety for all who need it,’ Flora whispered, as they inspected the boundaries, making plans in their heads. The future was uncertain and this was no easy billet. Even now the thunder of war was rattling over France, but today was for living. They must cling to hope, like those little roses blooming in neglected borders, trusting in the goodwill of friends and strangers to help make their children’s refuge a reality. That was enough for now.