‘Where are you taking us?’ Flora watched the stern face of the guardia civil as he drove the car down the winding path from Mantet. Ruth was sitting on her knee; the others were squashed in the back of his official car. To her surprise, they had not been taken to a police station or another guard post, but bundled into this car and whisked away in the opposite direction. Juliette had pleaded with him to go slowly, because it was making her feel sick, but he ignored her and drove at a terrifying pace down the winding pass. Flora shut her eyes. The boys pressed their noses to the window with sheer pleasure at the speed.
‘You stay in here,’ he ordered, when they stopped at the petrol pump in the middle of nowhere.
‘I want pee-pee,’ Ruth cried.
‘We all want to pee-pee,’ Flora replied. They could wait until he went, or might they be able to make a run for it from here? But where were they? She had seen no border posts, just signs prohibiting entry. Were they still even in Spain? Perhaps they were not being sent back over the mountains but taken to a border station and escorted back by train. Flora cursed those traitors who had tricked them into trusting them. The guard came back, carrying a bag of oranges and bottles of water. ‘This is all I can find,’ he said.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Flora replied. This man had a heart after all. They peeled the oranges into segments and the children wolfed them with relish. Juliette squeezed juice into water, for Francine.
‘Where are you taking us?’ Flora asked again.
‘You go to the women’s camp in Gerona to check your papers,’ he replied in French.
‘Do we go back to France?’
He shook his head, looking at Juliette and the children. ‘It is not a safe place for them now.’ Flora could have wept with gratitude. ‘Or for you also, I think… There are rules. You stay there, madame, you’re lucky it was me on duty. There are many who want you back in France. To cross the Pyrenees with children, two women alone, takes great courage. My French is poor, but I know what is happening, now the Germans have come.’
‘Can we get out, please? I feel sick. The children need relief,’ Flora begged.
‘What has he been saying?’ Juliette grabbed Flora’s arm in alarm as they stretched their legs outside and took in the fresh air.
Flora retched, but nothing came. She felt faint and wobbly. ‘Don’t be afraid… of all the border guards, we have found a good man. He will take us to the coast. It’s not far from Barcelona and I hope we’ll get help there.’ She was sick again.
‘Take little sips, Flora… don’t gulp. I am worried. You have had the sickness a lot.’ Juliette was staring at her.
‘Only when I get up quickly, with not enough food.’
‘Perhaps.’ Juliette smiled. ‘Perhaps, but I hope there is a doctor to check you over, when we reach the camp.’
They all squeezed back into the car. It was hot and steamy and the children dozed but Flora stared out of the window. There was no going back to Montze now. What instinct had made her grab her own long-out-of-date British passport? Without it, she would be a stateless person. Would she be sent back, even so? For the moment, she must return to being Mrs Flora Lamont, née Garvie, or even Madame Christophe Carrier. She must claim all the rights of protection of a British citizen, but Juliette Morrel – Mrs Esther Heilbron – would she and the children get the same rights? One thing was certain, Flora would not leave their sides until she was sure of everyone’s safety. They were her family and only when they left would she be alone once more. Yet somewhere out there was Kit, her other half. Would they ever be together again?
‘This can’t be right.’ Flora looked up at the grey walls of the fortress. ‘Why are you taking us here?’
‘You must stay here, until your papers are checked,’ he replied, staring ahead.
Juliette burst into a wail. ‘It’s a prison… Oh Lord, no, not again.’ The children sensed her panic.
‘You put children in there?’ Flora cried.
‘No, no… they will go to the nuns.’
‘Not my baby, you can’t take my baby!’ Juliette clung to Francine, who was beginning to grizzle. ‘Flora help us.’
‘Surely a nursing mother can’t be separated from her baby?’
‘That is not my business. Illegal immigrants must be checked. This is where women go. Children go to the orphanage… that is all I know. You are better here than in the hands of German soldiers. It will not be so bad, you will see,’ but he still couldn’t look them in the eye as they drove through a large gate, and suddenly it became dark and shady.
Flora felt sick again and turned to the children. ‘Don’t worry, you’ve not done anything wrong. They will take you to a safe place by the sea to play, until we come to collect you.’ She saw the fear in their eyes. Now she must be strong and calm for all of them. Her heart was thudding with fear of the danger they were in, but now was not the time to panic. As they were escorted out of the car, a woman in uniform came to collect them.
Flora felt her stomach clench. Not now, she prayed, forcing down the phlegm, standing upright, clutching her passport like a shield. They were taken into a bleak hall where a warden was waiting.
‘I am a British citizen. This is a neutral country. I demand to see the consul,’ Flora said, first in English and then in French, looking him straight in the eye, as if waiting for a reply. He took her passport. The photo was old.
‘This is out of date. Why did you not leave?’
‘Because of these orphans and many others before them, sick and needing shelter. Now they can’t stay in France. They are all Jewish refugees, their parents left them in our care. How could I desert them?’ He made no reply, turning to Juliette and her papers. ‘Another Jewess?’ He turned back to Flora, who stood firm.
‘I am Scottish and Presbyterian. I have nursed in France since the Great War,’ she lied.
‘I see.’ He paused. ‘You will stay here… the baby with the mother until such times… The children must leave.’
‘Where to?’
‘That is our decision. You are not the first to burden us with your presence.’ The wardress made to take the children, but they clung to Flora and began to cry. Flora knelt down. ‘It won’t be long, I promise. We will find you. The holy sisters will keep you safe.’ But they were all crying now. Flora tried to hold back her own tears. ‘You are my special children, I’ll not desert you, as God is my witness. You are in His care, so be good for me.’ She turned to Ruth who was sucking her thumb. Her dark eyes were wide with fear. ‘We will find you, I promise.’ She watched them walk back through the door, turning their heads as they went, and then she collapsed with exhaustion and fear. Juliette held her.
‘You’ve been like a mother to them.’
Flora vomited onto the tiles and fainted.
She woke to find herself lying on a bed in a ward. A nun was watching her with interest as she tried to rise up but then fell back, sick. The nurse gave her a sip of water.
‘Slowly,’ she said. Flora felt panic in her chest. Where was Juliette?
‘You stay here, don’t move. A doctor will come, Señora Lamont.’
It seemed hours before a woman in a white coat came to examine her, relieved when she spoke to her in broken English. ‘How long have you been sick?’
‘Weeks… months. I can’t remember. Did I eat something bad?’
‘No, señora, it is not that. You are thin, but your breasts are full and your stomach round. There is a baby growing there.’
Flora shook her head. ‘That’s not possible. I am forty-five. I’ve never conceived. You are mistaken.’ She was not making any sense.
‘Are you telling me my job? Who knows when the good Lord in his wisdom grants us the gift of new life? You are not old.’
‘But the others, they are my adopted children. What will become of them?’
‘Don’t worry, there are people out there who will make arrangements for them to join their own kind, to reunite them with family. You must stay here until the consul in Barcelona is informed. Arrangements will have to be made. You’re not the first Englishwoman—’
‘I’m Scottish. I have a family in Glasgow. They must be informed.’
‘You stay here. You must rest and get ready for your baby, when the time comes.’
‘Not in a prison,’ Flora said.
‘Be patient, woman.’
How could she rest with this unexpected news? She was carrying Kit’s child, a child brought through the rocks and mountains and still secure inside her. She fingered her belly. It was full and firm. How could you not have known? She sighed. Perhaps if she had, she might not have risked this trek to freedom. How could she return to France? What would become of them now?