The week in Bayeux was hugely successful, and despite the war waging only about twenty miles away, they played to full houses. For Catherine, it was a revelation. Previously, she’d performed at nightclubs and grand hotels, with the occasional foray into radio, but she’d never been a theatre star. Now she embraced it wholeheartedly and enjoyed the excitement and noisy audiences as much as Della did.
‘Wow,’ said Della, as she came off stage after their last performance. ‘It’s been absolutely fantastic.’
‘It has,’ laughed Catherine, joining in the general backstage exhilaration. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
When the lights finally dimmed and they had all quietened down, Beau called for a meeting. They sat, still in their performance costumes, on the dusty boards of the stage.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘We’ve been asked to go further inland. This side of the front, of course, but we’ll be closer to the action.’
The company looked at each other. It sounded dangerous.
‘I can understand completely that this isn’t what most of you signed up for. I mean, factories and dockyards back home are one thing, but being at the front is different. So if anyone wants to leave, it’ll be no reflection on them. We are, after all, performers, not soldiers.’
Tommy broke the silence. ‘I’m up for it,’ he said. ‘I’ll even hold a gun, if necessary.’
Beau grinned. It was a rare sight these days, him being happy. Since they’d been in France, he’d seemed to be more troubled than before, not only with his leg but angry about something else. Frances knew it was Eric Baxter who was the cause of much of Beau’s aggravation and she quickly looked around to see what his reaction to the news might be. As she’d half expected, he wasn’t there.
‘I don’t think they’ll let you touch a gun, Tommy,’ Beau said. ‘Your hands are much more valuable on the keyboard. But you’d better bring your guitar. I don’t know where they’ll have a piano.’ He paused and glanced about rather nervously. ‘What about the rest of you?’
‘Of course we’ll come,’ Godfrey boomed. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for a fortune. Girls too?’
The three girls nodded. ‘You bet,’ said Della, looking at her friends. ‘Playing to hordes of frustrated men! What could be better?’
‘Good.’ Beau looked relieved. ‘Now, you’ve got the day off tomorrow and then the escort will come for us eight o’clock sharp, Monday morning, outside the hotel.’ He glanced at Frances. ‘Sorry, Fran, although we can use the bus, the army has decided that they want a couple of soldier drivers as well as the escort. But it will be more comfortable than a lorry. So pack up your bags because we probably won’t be coming back here, and make sure you’ve got your tin hats.’ He looked around, waiting, Catherine thought, for any objections, but there were none forthcoming. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now, I’ve got some things to do, so I’ll see you all Monday morning.’
After he’d gone, the company sat for a moment looking at each other and grinning at the prospect of performing on the front line. Despite it being dangerous, it was tremendously exciting, and absolutely what they’d come for.
Tommy held up his hand. ‘Before we go … to get a drink, which is what we’ve been looking forward to’ – everyone laughed – ‘there’s something we have to talk about.’
‘Baxter,’ snorted Della. ‘That’s who we have to talk about.’
‘Aye,’ Colin nodded. ‘How long do we have to put up with yon bastard?’
‘He has to go,’ boomed Godfrey. ‘The man’s a charlatan.’
‘Look,’ Davey said, ‘he’s trouble. He always has been. I could tell you stories about him that would make your hair curl.’
The others were intrigued. Della begged him to say what the stories were, but he wouldn’t.
‘Trust me. He’s a bastard. He’ll drag you down,’ was all he said.
‘Are we agreed, then?’ Tommy sought nodding assent from the company, and then, getting it, he turned to Frances. ‘You’re closest to Beau. You must tell him what we’ve decided.’
‘Oh.’ Frances looked so appalled that Catherine reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘God,’ Frances groaned. ‘Surely it would be better if one of you men told him, or even Robert Lennox.’ She looked around for him, but he’d already gone. ‘Alright,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
With that, they got up and went to change before going out to the big hotel, which was their usual after-show haunt. It was packed. British, Canadian and American officers filled the bar area, and those of them who had seen the show whooped and cheered when the members of the Bennett Players came in.
‘Jolly good show, little lady,’ beamed the elderly major whom they’d met in the officers’ mess.
‘Thank you,’ said Catherine, smiling, but she was still put off by the similarity between his voice and that of Captain Fortescue.
A glass of red wine was put into her hand and she turned her head to see Robert standing beside her. ‘I thought you’d like this as a change from gin,’ he said. ‘It’s not bad.’
He looked more relaxed this evening. The intense frown that was usually in place had gone, as though something that had been worrying him had melted away. ‘How about dinner? We could go to the officers’ mess, or there is a cafe in one of the streets at the back of the cathedral that does pretty good food, considering …’
‘Yes.’ Catherine smiled quickly. ‘I’d prefer that.’ The thought of spending time alone with him was exciting, and although part of her brain told her that it was disloyal to Christopher, she remembered that she’d decided to move on. She turned to tell Della that she was going, but was stopped by Della giving a yell of ‘Hello’ to Dr O’Brien, who was working his way towards them through the noisy crowd at the bar.
‘I saw the show,’ he grinned. ‘You were all wonderful, ’specially you, Miss Stafford.’ This last came out a little breathlessly and he blushed. ‘I mean … yes, you were all wonderful.’
‘Idiot,’ laughed Della. ‘Have a drink and, for God’s sake, tell me your name. I can’t keep calling you “Doctor”, and you can drop the “Miss Stafford” nonsense and call me “Della”.’
‘Timothy O’Brien … Tim, that’s what my friends call me.’
‘Well, Tim,’ said Della, grabbing him by the arm, ‘let’s go to the bar, find another drink and you can tell me all about yourself.’
‘Wait, Della.’ Catherine smiled at Tim O’Brien. ‘I was just going to tell you that Robert and I are going to get some dinner.’ She glanced quickly at Robert before adding, ‘Come with us, if you like.’ He didn’t look particularly pleased but nodded politely.
‘Oh,’ said Della. ‘I don’t know. What d’you think, Tim?’
‘Now wouldn’t that be grand,’ he beamed, ‘but I have Lieutenant Strange with me. You know, the man who’s been blinded. I’m escorting him to hospital in England. Normally they travel in the ambulances, but as I’m going back for a couple of days to sit my fellowship exam, I thought …’ He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Well, I thought it would make him feel more normal.’
‘You’re an old softie,’ grinned Della. She looked around. ‘Where is he?’
‘Oh, he’s in the officers’ mess. He’s not well enough to have fought through the crowds at the theatre, but’ – he looked at Robert and Catherine – ‘if you wouldn’t mind, I’m sure he’d enjoy a meal out.’
Frances, drink in hand, emerged from the braying throng at the bar. She’d been with Beau, Catherine thought, and she looked angry. It wasn’t difficult to guess that Beau had rejected their request.
‘Did you tell him?’ Catherine asked anxiously. ‘Did you tell him what we said?’
‘I did,’ said Frances. She shook her head slowly. ‘He wouldn’t have it. He said we were exaggerating and that Eric was a good act. I told him that the company loathed him and he was poisoning the atmosphere, but’ – she shrugged – ‘it made no difference. Beau is adamant. Baxter stays. In fact, he said that if anyone refused to work with him, then they could go home.’
‘But you told him what Davey said?’ Della demanded.
Frances nodded. ‘Yes.’
Tim O’Brien glanced from one of the girls to the other, patently confused about what was going on, and looked to Robert for an explanation. But he said nothing and had a still, rather menacing expression on his face.
Della and Catherine looked at each other, and then Della said, ‘What’s the matter with Beau, anyway?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s as if he’s scared.’
‘Remember when we saw him giving Eric money?’ whispered Frances. ‘D’you think it could be blackm—’
‘You’d better stop right there,’ Robert butted in, causing Catherine and Frances to stare at him with astonishment.
Della snorted with fury. ‘But—’ she spat.
He turned his head to look at her. ‘No “but”s.’ His voice sounded as though it was sliding over ice. ‘You’re treading on dangerous ground, Miss Stafford.’
She opened her mouth to say more, but before the words came out, Robert said, ‘End of discussion, I think.’ Then, as suddenly as the edge of steel had appeared, it melted away. He smiled and took Catherine’s arm. ‘I’m hungry. Let’s get some food.’
As they were walking through the hotel lobby, Frances felt a hand on her arm. She turned and, to her surprise, saw that it was Davey.
‘Can I have a quick word?’ he asked.
‘Er … yes, of course,’ she answered, and called to the others, who were looking back, ‘Carry on. I’ll catch you up.’ Then, turning to Davey, she said, ‘What can I do for you? Is it about your act?’
‘No.’ He looked around, checking the people in the lobby. She looked too, wondering whom he was concerned about.
‘What is it? Tell me.’
‘Have you spoken to Beau yet, about Baxter?’
‘Yes. I have.’ She sighed. ‘Nothing doing, I’m afraid.’
‘D’you think I could have a go?’
‘Of course,’ said Frances. ‘Why not? But I warn you, he’s not in the mood to listen.’
For a moment, he looked as though he was going to say something else; then he smiled and said, ‘I suppose it can wait. Baxter’s bound to make another mistake. Then he’ll be finished.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. Go on. Have a nice evening.’ He started to walk away towards the bar and then turned back and said, in a lowered voice, ‘Don’t say anything to the others just yet. I don’t want to rock the boat, being the new boy and all that. If they ask, tell them I was wondering about putting a different monologue into my act.’
‘Alright.’ She watched him go towards the bar and frowned. She hated the fact that a member of the company was so disliked by everyone else.
Della was still grumbling when she caught them up, but Tim was surprisingly good at calming her down, and by the time they’d been to the officers’ mess and picked up Lieutenant Strange, she was in a happy mood again and skipping along the street.
At first, Felix Strange was reluctant to join them. He was sitting by himself in the officers’ mess waiting for someone to bring him supper. Frances noticed that his fingers, placed on the table in front of him, were running over imaginary keys. He’s playing the piano, she thought, and a wave of sympathy washed over her.
‘Hello,’ she said, going up to him before the others. ‘It’s Frances, Frances Parnell.’
‘Frances?’ He moved his head towards her and smiled. The dressing that had been on his jaw when Frances had seen him at the field hospital had been removed and she could see the evidence of the shrapnel damage he’d suffered. Flesh had been torn out of his chin and the wound hastily stitched together, and she could tell that it still hurt, for he gave a little gasp of pain when he smiled at her.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘We’ve come to collect you.’ Frances sat down beside him. ‘We’re going to a cafe Robert knows, to have some dinner. Dr O’Brien has said you’re fit enough, so come on.’
‘Who’s “we”?’ he asked.
‘Oh, me and Catherine and Della, plus Robert and Dr O’Brien.’
He took his hands off the table and nervously put them on his lap. ‘No, I’ll hold you back,’ he said. ‘Go and enjoy yourselves.’
‘Sure and I’m not having that, son.’ Tim O’Brien had joined Frances. ‘You’re fit enough to go to a cafe, and in my opinion it’ll do you good. Therapy, of the best sort. On your feet, Lieutenant.’
He was going to argue, Frances could see that. ‘I’d love it if you came,’ she said quickly, and took his hand. ‘I’d like to hear about Hugo at school. I miss him so much, and we haven’t had a letter or any information for over a year.’
Reluctantly, Felix stood up. ‘If you’re sure,’ he said, ‘and you don’t mind leading me.’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Frances, and tucked her hand under his arm.
It was quite late when they all walked in, late for England but not for France, it seemed, for the place was busy with locals, men in blue workmen’s clothes and women with sleepy children on their laps, using spoons to drink up the heavy garlicky sauce in their bowls of mussels.
‘Oh Lord,’ groaned Robert from where they were standing by the open door. ‘I don’t think there’s room for us.’
‘Wait,’ said Catherine, and went over to the thin blackclad woman behind the counter. ‘Madame,’ she asked in her perfect French, ‘perhaps you have room for us, for supper? We are six, and very hungry.’
‘Wait, if you please.’ The proprietress used a bony finger to beckon a waiter who was placing tiny cups of very black coffee on a tin tray. She spoke rapidly to him and Catherine waited while they looked around the cafe. Eventually the waiter jerked his head towards a table where a mother and three children were beginning to get up and move away. Beside it was a smaller, empty table.
‘Mademoiselle, we will push the tables together, there.’ She pointed. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes, thank you, madame,’ Catherine smiled.
There was no choice of menu, but everything they ate was delicious. Onion soup, complemented with shavings of cheese, croutons and garlic mayonnaise, followed by bowls of steaming mussels.
‘I love this,’ mumbled Della, in between mouthfuls. She had been suspicious at first, never having seen, let alone eaten, a mussel before, but persuaded by Tim O’Brien, she had dug in and squealed with laughter when spurts of liquid shot across the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I’m being so bloody clumsy.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ laughed O’Brien. ‘Eat up.’
‘Let me help you,’ Frances muttered to Felix. She had watched him feeling for his spoon when the soup was brought and then putting his other hand on the edge of the bowl.
‘I’m alright,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I don’t know if I’m making a mess.’
‘You aren’t,’ she assured him, but when the mussels arrived, he struggled again. ‘I can open them,’ he said, ‘but where do I put the shells?’
‘There’s a big bowl in the middle of the table.’ Frances guided his hand towards it.
After a minute, he got it right and laughed out loud.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, tell me how this’ – she put her hand gently on his face – ‘happened.’
Robert and Catherine hardly spoke during the meal but sat in companionable silence. He said, ‘I suppose this is the first time you’ve been to France for years.’
‘Mm,’ she answered. ‘I was here in ’39, just before war was declared. It was difficult. My grandparents knew that it was coming and were so worried. Their farm, you know, is just outside Amiens, about a hundred hectares, mostly dairy.’ She leant back and looked away, remembering. ‘It’s a lovely place and I was always so happy there.’ A deep sigh escaped her lips. ‘We haven’t heard a word since the middle of 1940.’ She paused. ‘No, that’s not quite right. A young man who escaped to England in 1941 came to the house and gave us a message from them. Apparently they were well, but the Germans were in the village and taking all the milk from the farm. After that, nothing.’
‘Our armies are pushing forward,’ Robert said. ‘Perhaps you’ll hear from them soon.’
‘It is my hope, but I would love to see them for myself.’
Robert smiled. ‘Maybe we can arrange for the company to move north. The whole area is gradually being liberated.’
Della leant over. ‘What did you say? Are we going north?’
Robert shook his head. ‘Not yet. We’re following the army. We’ll go where they go.’
‘They’re going east,’ said Tim. ‘When I come back from leave, I’m being posted to a field station further on. On the front line.’
The girls looked at each other nervously. If the field hospital was on the front line, that was certainly where they’d be going.
‘Oh well.’ Della took a swig from her wine glass. ‘I always said I’d probably peg out on stage.’
‘But not in your twenties,’ Frances objected.
‘No, I hadn’t planned that. Perhaps we shouldn’t …’
‘You signed up for danger,’ said Robert. ‘No backing out now.’ He looked serious. ‘I mean, haven’t you all signed the Official Secrets Act? Walk away now and you’ll be sent to the Tower.’
‘What?’ squeaked Della, a dripping mussel halfway to her mouth. ‘The Tower?’
Frances and Catherine stared at Robert and then Frances noticed the slight grin that was playing around his mouth. She giggled. ‘Robbie Lennox, you’re an absolute rotter.’
He laughed. ‘Got you going, though, didn’t it?’ He wiped a thin, yellowy piece of bread round his bowl and with a contented sigh put it in his mouth.
Della watched him, still not entirely sure. ‘It’ll be quite safe, won’t it?’
Robert wiped his mouth. ‘I told you. Behind the lines at all times. Besides, Mr Churchill would be furious if we got you killed. Lord Haw-Haw would have a propaganda field day, and Winnie would hate that.’
Even Della laughed at that, and another carafe of wine was ordered. Frances was surprised at the availability of alcohol. She’d discovered that bread and meat were rationed here like they were at home, but there seemed to be no problem with drink.
‘Have some more wine,’ she said to Felix. ‘It’s not bad.’
‘Alright.’ He groped on the table in front of him until he found the stem of his glass. ‘Is this mine?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘Well done.’
He took a sip and then, turning to her, said, ‘They’ve told me that in a few weeks I’ll be going to the training school for blind servicemen.’ His voice sounded sad and Frances wished she could say something that would make him feel less despairing.
She glanced quickly at her friends. Della and Tim O’Brien were sitting very close, talking and laughing, taking no notice of the others. Catherine was telling Robert about her grandparents, describing their farm, and he was listening intently. She put her hand over Felix’s long fingers. ‘Are the doctors certain that your sight has gone? In both eyes?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Or at least, in my right eye. That’s certainly gone. The left too, probably, but apparently the eyeball is still there.’ He gave a little shudder and she squeezed his fingers. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m being stupid.’
‘Nonsense!’ she whispered back. ‘You have every right to be shocked by what’s happened. Who wouldn’t be?’
He turned his hand over and grasped hers. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and grinned.
When they were all walking back to the hotel, Felix suddenly said, ‘Frances, what d’you look like?’
She smiled. ‘Do you remember Hugo? I look a bit like him.’
‘Red hair and all?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now, when I’m back home and I think about this evening, I can picture you.’
‘Where is home?’
‘Well, my mother is in Salisbury. I suppose I’ll go there after I’ve been in hospital.’
Frances, who had her arm tucked in his in order to lead him down the street, held it a bit closer. ‘That’s good. We don’t live too far apart. I’ll come and see you when we get home.’
‘I’d like that,’ he said.
When they reached the hotel, Della said, ‘How about us all going out tomorrow, a picnic or something? Tim and Felix are leaving on a night transport, so will have to hang around until the evening, and we’ve got a day off.’
‘I’m up for it,’ said Frances. ‘What about you, Felix?’
‘I’d love it,’ he said, and then, his face turning this way and that, asked, ‘Dr Tim, wherever you are, will that be alright?’
Tim stepped across and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Sure ’twill do you the world of good. And won’t I be there too, so with me and Frances to look after you, you’ll be in safe hands.’
That left Catherine and Robert. ‘I’d like to,’ she murmured, giving Robert a quick glance, ‘but …’
‘I’ve got a meeting at nine,’ he said, ‘but after that’ – he looked down at her – ‘I’m all yours.’