Flors stood in King’s Cross station. Her stomach nerves clutched tightly with excitement. Trains came in and went out, whistles blew, flags waved and crowds arrived or departed, all seeming to have a purpose. Most of the men were in uniform: someone’s son, husband, brother or boyfriend. Girls and older women saw them off or greeted them. The smell of fumes and the clouds of smoke puffed out from the trains rasped her throat, but somehow also added to the atmosphere of eager anticipation, although around her many tears were being shed.
Conscious of the officials waiting a few yards away from her, Flors thought of the moment when Wills had rung her to tell her that Randie was safe, and that Cyrus would bring him to her. Happiness had vied with anguish at being told he was well physically, but was mentally traumatized. Happiness had won over, because she’d seen this happen so often and she knew that, in time, there could be healing. But then Wills told her that he’d arranged for her to have a moment or two with Cyrus, before they took him for debriefing. A moment or two! I want more than that. I want my darling by my side, never to leave me again.
At last the announcement came that the train from Nottingham was about to arrive.
In the time since Mags had taken Ella to Blackburn, Flors had been very lonely, but had kept busy. Both women had telephoned her regularly. Ella was making progress and they were planning to go to Scotland to see Mags’s friends. Flors had wondered at the wisdom of this, but then her friends needed help, and maybe that would do Ella good – bring out her caring nature and help her to focus on something different, after all she had been through. That was always a good healer.
Flors had thrown herself into finding an apartment to rent, with the help of Wills, and had now moved in and settled down. It was a few minutes’ walk from Baker Street HQ, on Chiltern Street. She hadn’t yet done anything with her own house, but thought she might rent it out again, or even sell it and look for a home that she and Cyrus and their family could make their own until – if ever – they could return to their home in France.
Wills had endeared himself to her, and she was growing very fond of him. It had been a comfort having the man who would marry her daughter by her side; almost like having her own family taking care of her. She could see why Marjella loved him.
There had been awkward moments when Wills had questioned why Flors hadn’t wanted to go back to her own home, but she’d passed over it by saying that one should never go back, and that there were so many sad memories there for her that she couldn’t settle.
The worst of all the memories she had of that house was of losing their darling first child, Alice. Visiting her grave and Nanny Pru’s had been heartbreaking, and yet uplifting to see that those in the street who were still alive had kept their promise to keep the graves tidy for her.
Shaking these memories from her, Flors scanned the faces of everyone getting off the train. At last she caught sight of them. Straightening her pencil skirt and touching her hair, she felt glad she’d bought a new costume for the occasion. Light-grey, with a box jacket, she’d teamed the skirt with a pink silk blouse, wrist-length gloves and a clutch bag. Her shoes were black with a small heel, and she had her fox-fur stole, with the fox’s head still attached – the height of fashion – draped over her shoulders. It warded off the slight chill that still hung around, even though it was mid-May. Flors felt she looked good, and that gave her confidence.
As they neared, she felt a pang of concern. What if Cyrus had been thinking about everything and was hurting all over again? How would she handle it, if he rejected her? But these thoughts left her as her beloved husband and son caught sight of her. Cyrus’s face lit up and his movements quickened towards her.
A moment’s concern for her darling Randie attacked her, as he looked so fragile, but then he smiled and waved and dispelled her worry. In no time she was enclosed in Cyrus’s arms, and then in Randie’s. ‘Oh, my darlings, I cannot believe you are here.’
‘No, neither can we, darling. Oh, Flors, I’ve missed you so much.’
His kiss told her how much, and awoke her need for her darling Cyrus. ‘I wish you hadn’t to go with those men for a debriefing, but it has to be done. I hope you’re not away too long, my darling. I’ll be counting the hours.’
‘I’ll tell them all I know as quickly as I can.’
With this he released her, and she was able to hold Randie to her again. ‘My darling, everything will be all right. We’ll make it so. I’ll help you to get well and strong again. I can’t erase your memories, but perhaps I can help you to live with it all.’
She was rewarded with a watery smile that tore at her heart. Her Randie, her big strong son – the adventurous one, the one always ready to take on a challenge – reduced to this. War wasn’t only pointless; it was the cruellest action she knew of.
Cyrus drew her attention away from these thoughts. ‘Flors, my darling, there is something I have to tell you. Whether HQ will be able to put our minds at rest, my darling, I don’t know. But something bad happened as we left. It has affected Randie greatly, as it has me.’
Flors listened with horror as Cyrus told her of them seeing the Germans from the air. ‘They were closing in on the Resistance. We tried to warn them on the radio, but they did not hear us. They were all engaged in breaking down the temporary runway.’
‘Oh my God, Cyrus! No! Oh, I hope they are all right.’
‘Flors, I – I . . . well, I have to tell you that Sibbie, Paulo, Arnie and our darling Marjella were among them. We had to leave, so we didn’t see what happened, but I’m hoping that news of them has got through to HQ, and that it is good news.’
The horror turned to inner terror. ‘Oh, Cyrus, no! I can’t bear it – I can’t.’
‘You can, my darling, Flors. I don’t know anyone stronger. Stay strong for Randie. As he is already traumatized, this has added to his mental torture.’
Flors took a deep breath. ‘I will, my darling, I promise you. But the moment you can, please let me know.’
The officials came forward then: nameless men, distinguished only by their deadpan expressions. ‘Mr Harpinham, sir. We need to go.’
Cyrus nodded, then turned to Flors and held her to him. ‘Stay strong, darling. Look after our son.’
‘Goodbye, my darling. Let us know any news as soon as you have it. Oh, Cyrus, I forgot. This is my telephone number. I’m not at home. I’ve rented us an apartment. I was afraid . . . I mean, I – I couldn’t live back at the house; the memories . . .’
‘I understand, darling. I’ll telephone you as often as I can.’
‘Sir, please, you must come now. You are expected at HQ. A meeting has been set up. We will look after him, Mrs Harpinham, but please let him come now.’
Flors watched them go. Randie’s hand came into hers and she clutched it, remembering an old maxim that if someone shows they are afraid, it makes you stronger. ‘Thank you, my darling. I need your support at this moment. Help me, my darling son, help me.’
This did the trick. Randie’s arm came round her, and his voice had the strength that she knew he possessed. ‘I’m here now, Mama. We’ll get through this. We will.’
Smiling to herself, Flors allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder. ‘Oh, Randie, I can’t tell you what it means to me to have you with me. I’ve been so worried about you, and Marjie, Monty and Freddy. And now this. How are we to get through it all?’
‘We will – we’ll pray for good news. They may all have got away in time; they are very organized and focused. Most are from around there and, like all of us, know the forests like the back of their hands. The Germans wouldn’t have a chance of finding them and would be lost in no time, as every tree looks the same and there are no marked paths. I really think they all got away.’
This was reassuring to Flors and she tried to latch onto Randie’s confidence, glad that he’d found a way of dealing with it.
‘Thank you, darling. I feel a little better about the news now.’
‘Have you heard anything from Freddy, Mama?’
‘No, not from him, but there is some hope that we will find out where he is. Did Marjie tell you about Wills?’
‘She did. Fancy our Marjie being smitten like that. And yes, she did say that he was trying to find out where Freddy is. But you haven’t heard anything yet?’
‘No, not yet, but I think we will, darling. In fact I am sure of it.’
They had reached the station steps and started to ascend them. Once outside, Randie expressed his shock at the destruction all around them. ‘Are there still bombs dropping, Mama?’
‘Yes, there are still a few raids, but not many. The Blitz did most of this. My people have suffered terribly.’
‘Your people?’
‘Yes, son. Have you forgotten that your father and I are both Londoners?’
‘No, but I didn’t think you thought of them as your people, or of this city as your true home.’
‘Your heart never leaves your beginnings, darling.’
‘France will always be my country. I hate what is happening to her.’
‘I do, too, and my heart bleeds for the French people, but when I came here and saw all of this, and the poverty it has caused – the homelessness and the destruction – then I was torn in two. I have to do something, Randie. I haven’t thought what yet, but I will call into the Red Cross and see if they need volunteers. Look, let’s go to a tea shop I know and have a hot bun and a cup of tea. We can chat, and you can get a little used to your surroundings.’
‘Tea? You know I never liked tea, Mama. Do they have coffee?’
‘Ha, of course they do, darling. Well, that chicory stuff that you have from a bottle – ugh! But even before the shortages, it was pretty much all you could get in Britain. Though wait a minute, there’s a French bistro. They used to open in the afternoon for coffee. All the Europeans who lived in London at the time frequented it, and the bistro imported coffee for them.’
‘That sounds better. How far is it?’
‘Only just round the corner. Come on.’
The bistro was still there. Chez Nous displayed its sign with pride. To Flors, it was a little part of France: the blind that extended over the pavement, the green gingham half-curtain, the writing on the window that proclaimed: ‘Vrais grains de café – Real coffee beans’. Inside, onions and garlic bulbs hung from a beam, and the French flag was proudly displayed on the roughly plastered whitewashed wall.
The owner reminded Flors of the previous owner, in her day, and she assumed he was his son.
‘Monsieur Benoît?’
‘Oui, Madame – you’re from France?’
Speaking in French, Flors told him that she was originally from London, but had lived in France for more than twenty years. Then she asked after his father. Finding out that Monsieur Benoît senior was alive and well, and enjoying his retirement, made Flors feel very happy. She couldn’t have said why, but then any good news was so rare that it was good to hear some.
‘This is my very brave son, Randolph, a French soldier, who fought and was captured, and escaped. He is desperate for a coffee. Do you have any – I mean, real coffee?’
‘Mais oui, Madame, and it iz on the house for a French soldier. Let me shake your hand, Monsieur.’
Randie laughed, that deep lovely laugh that mimicked Cyrus’s. ‘Mama, it didn’t take you long to embarrass me.’
‘Ha, I’m proud of you, and I am allowed to embarrass you, darling.’
They laughed together and Flors knew in that moment that her beloved son was going to be all right. Now she just needed to feel the same about her other beloved sons, Freddy and Monty, and especially her beloved daughter Marjella, for whom she felt great fear. Please, God, if you never do anything ever again for me, look after them all . . . please.
By the time Cyrus was back with them, having been given two weeks off before he started working as an advisor of strategy, responsible for planning operations in southern France, Randie was coping much better and was talking of returning to France and joining the Resistance.
When he retired after dinner, saying that he would be in his room as he needed to think his future through, Flors felt dread that Randie would announce that he was going for sure and ask his father to arrange it.
‘Is it possible Randie will be allowed to go back?’
‘It is, darling. After what happened, Paulo’s group is very much depleted. I have much to tell you, darling, and I can’t say how glad I am that I am able to. M told me that as you had been vetted and had signed the Official Secrets Act, it was all right for me to discuss these concerns with you and seek your advice. He thinks highly of you, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he isn’t planning on recruiting you to work alongside me.’
‘I would like that. I need to do something, but I have been occupied first with settling myself and then dear Ella, and finding this place, and now with taking care of Randie, though he has made remarkable progress.’
‘That’s your magic, darling.’
‘Well, I hope it is a bit of that, but it’s also his own strength. This time away from France and in safety has given him a clear head, to think through what happened and come to terms with it. I also think he realizes it was no mean feat to escape from a prison camp and survive weeks of being hunted, and having to fend completely for himself. This is what is leading him to want to return. It breaks my heart, but I would support him in whatever he decides.’
Cyrus reached for her hand. ‘It will be difficult, but we must.’
Sighing in a meaningful way, Flors said, ‘I know. Now, what did you want to tell me, darling?’
Coming to terms with what Cyrus told her about Sibbie and Paulo’s capture was extremely difficult, but although Flors felt like screaming and crying out her anguish, she remained calm. ‘Can I be the one to tell Ella and Susan?’
‘No. I’m sorry, darling, but we cannot tell anyone, not even Randie. He did ask, but I said that details hadn’t yet come in. You see, there is a suspicion hanging over everyone.’
‘Surely not their own mothers, and Randie?’
‘That’s how it works. Certain information can only be given to those who are vetted and have been sworn to secrecy, especially so when a traitor is involved.’
‘Ella! My God, do you think she told the Germans things when they held her captive and interrogated her? Do you think that is what is troubling her?’
‘It’s a possibility, especially as they could have threatened to kill Lonia. But if she did give information about the camp, she knew very little, and at the time she didn’t even know that I hadn’t come back to England with you, so she couldn’t have given that information.’
‘And Randie wouldn’t, nor could he, as he had no one to give it to.’
‘In M’s eyes, Randie isn’t altogether in the clear . . . They want to question him, Flors.’
‘What? Why?’
‘They want to make sure he didn’t bargain his way out of the prison camp.’
‘You mean they think he led the Germans to you – his own father – and to Marjie, his beloved sister? Rubbish! Randie would never do such a thing.’
‘I know, and I think I have convinced them, in fact I am sure of it, but they have certain procedures. Randie will be fine. He only has to tell them how it happened, and then he can talk to them about going back. They may even recruit him and train him to work in special operations, because with Sibbie captured and HQ not knowing her fate, or whether she is compromised, they have to be ready with a replacement.’
‘Oh, Cyrus, I don’t like all this clandestine business, and yet I know how necessary it is. I would be involved tomorrow, if asked. But it is hard being made to suspect your own.’
‘It is and . . . well, there’s something else. They asked me about Monty.’
Flors felt as though she’d been punched; she couldn’t have said why, but the mention of Monty in the same conversation as betrayal worried her.
‘They can’t trace him in any of the labour-intensive camps, which is where most of those sent on forced labour go. I don’t know how they know these things, or get intelligence from such places, but Monty was known about, but isn’t now.’
‘Oh God! No! Not Monty.’
Somehow she just couldn’t defend him, her youngest and precious son, as she had Randie. Her whole instinct told her that Monty could do such a thing – even knowing, as he did, that Paulo was involved. She hated herself for these thoughts, but knew the truth of them. If Monty found the going tough in Germany, he would want to get out. Betraying the Maquis, about whom he knew quite a lot, would buy him that ticket. She looked at Cyrus and saw his pain. ‘You believe it is a possibility, don’t you?’
‘I want to save him, Flors.’
‘Oh, Cyrus, how can we? What can we do? If – if Monty is the traitor . . . Oh God! What will happen to him?’
‘HQ will inform Arnie of their suspicions so that he is aware, if Monty suddenly turns up, and that is where our hope lies. Arnie may tell Marjie, but I don’t think he will tell the others. I hope he can get Marjie to do something, but what I don’t know. I only know that if there is something to be done, Arnie will do it. However, he has his hands full planning to rescue Sibbie and Paulo. He contacted HQ and needs various things, but does not want to source them locally, now that they know there is a traitor amongst them. There is to be a drop, but only he and Marjie will know about it. It will be parachuted in.’
Cyrus walked round to Flors’s side. ‘Darling, I know what you are thinking, and I did too, but I have thought again. Monty loved Paulo, almost more than he loved his own brothers and sister. I cannot believe that he would put Paulo in danger to save his own skin. And besides, he couldn’t have possibly known there was to be a pick-up that night. If he did, then he would know that it was me and Randie who were being picked up.’
Flors thought for a moment, but didn’t say what came to her mind: Cyrus had said that the Germans had been seen, once the plane was in the air. Why the delay? Why hadn’t they been waiting for the plane to arrive? If Monty was the traitor, this would be him safeguarding his father. Shaking these thoughts away, she took Cyrus’s outstretched hands and went with him to the sofa. There they sat, holding each other close. Expressing their fear for their children and, yes, of their children, because if this was the work of Monty, then they had created a monster.
‘Is this our punishment, Cyrus?’
‘Don’t, Flors, my darling. Yes, we share the same father, but we didn’t know that when we married. All we’re guilty of is loving each other so much that we couldn’t ever part and not live as man and wife.’
This did not placate Flors, because she knew this wasn’t all they had done. They had sinned and lived a lie. No matter how you tried to justify what they did, incest was wrong.
A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. What will become of us?