Flors screamed with joy as she opened the letter that had dropped through the letter box of their apartment. Seeing the War Office stamp, she’d picked it up tentatively, wondering if the news was good or bad. She now worked alongside Cyrus in the Baker Street offices of the Special Operations Executive headquarters and knew most of what was happening, but not all that the War Office was party to.
Her mind had been centred of late on messages coming in that the Hérault faction of the Resistance had moved camp, due to being compromised by a traitor whom they were seeking. And she’d been full of anguish about Sibbie and Paulo, especially Paulo. Anticipating their arrival today, she and Cyrus had been getting ready to go to the hospital to greet them. But now her heart didn’t know which emotion to follow as part of her world came right, for the letter was from her darling eldest son, Freddy.
‘Cyrus. Cyrus!’
He came through to the hall from their bedroom, looking handsome in his pin-striped business suit – a change from his officer’s uniform, which also suited him so well. But then her Cyrus looked beautiful in anything.
‘What a wonderful sound, darling. To hear you so happy has lifted me. Is it Freddy?’
‘Yes, a letter from Freddy at last. I’ll read it out:
‘Dearest Mama and Papa,
I am so happy and relieved to know that you are both all right.’
It was obvious that his letter had been vetted, as the first sheet had been cut off at this point and was shorter than the others. She guessed that Freddy had asked about all of his siblings and Paulo, as well as Ella, Arnie and Lonia. She read on:
‘Oh, Mama and Papa, when you eventually go home you will find a hundred letters from me – that’s if they ever reached there. I have been desperate to hear news of you all. When the War Office contacted me, I was over the moon.
‘I am doing all right. I expect you know all my news by now. I have many friends and we keep each other going; a lot of the time is spent playing football, which I love. There is a British coach here, and he told me that I am good enough to play professionally – how about that?
‘Well, Mama and Papa, write soon and, if you can, send me a woolly jumper as it gets very cold at night. And some cigarettes. I know I shouldn’t have, but with everything else, I have begun to smoke, but have to pinch from my mates because, not declaring myself a smoker, I don’t have a ration of them. Oh, and some boiled sweets; the ones I love, which Aunt Mags used to bring over to France for me – happy days, but they will come back and we will win this war.
‘Keep faith, Mama and Papa, I love you both very much. Give my love to everyone and tell them that I pray for them all every night, as I do for you, Mama and Papa. I miss you all so much, but know that we will all be together again sometime in the future.
‘Your loving son, Freddy x’
Tears were flowing down Flors’s face as she finished the letter.
Cyrus’s arm came round her and his love reassured her, as it always did. ‘You’d better get knitting, Mama!’
Laughing through her tears, she pushed him playfully on the shoulder. ‘I’ll get Mags to send me down one of those fishermen’s jumpers from her friend’s shop in Scotland. She’ll be telephoning tonight. But cigarettes – ugh, I don’t like to think of Freddy smoking.’
‘I expect he needs something to help him, and smoking is very soothing on the nerves. I always turn to my Senior Service cigarettes when I’m stressed.’
‘I know you do. Well, I’ll let you buy them for him. I hate the things and don’t fancy going into a tobacconist’s to buy them.’
‘You’re delegating well, darling.’
‘Ha, it’s my nature. I’ll get the boiled sweets, if they are available, and any other treats that I think I can get into the permitted parcel size that the Red Cross will deliver.’
‘That’s settled, then. Oh, I’m so happy to hear from our Freddy at last. And Randie will be home in a couple of days – he’s doing well with his training.’
‘Don’t remind me. I can’t bear to think of him going out on operations. Oh, Cyrus, every day I worry that we will hear the news about one of them that we are dreading. But, more than that, I am so anxious about Monty, and the news that a traitor has been identified. If it is him, then . . . oh God!’
Cyrus could offer Flors no comfort on this, so instead he sought to distract her. ‘Well, let’s concentrate on our darling Sibbie and Paulo for now. And pray they are going to get better. Mags is on her way down, with Ella and Susan. We need to be there when they arrive.’
‘I feel so much for Ella and Susan, darling. The shock for Susan must have been tremendous. For Ella, too, but at least she knew what Paulo was doing and the risks he was taking. But Susan had no idea that her daughter wasn’t doing important work somewhere in the South of England. And I feel so guilty about the letters we have had to send to Susan as if they were from Sibbie.’
‘I do, too, but it is the way of things, and is not of our doing, darling. Although I can imagine how we would feel if we didn’t know and then were suddenly faced with this!’
Flors shuddered. All her nightmares were wrapped up in something bad happening to her children. But at least, she thought, Mags – who looked on Sibbie as if she were her own daughter – had half-guessed what work Sibbie was doing, so wouldn’t feel the shock about her that Susan would.
When they arrived at the Military Hospital in Millbank, a young WRAC member, who worked as a driver to M, was there to greet them and saluted Cyrus. ‘Hello, sir, ma’am. M assigned me to meet the plane bringing Agent S and Resistance fighter Paulo Rennaise in. I escorted the ambulance to the hospital. I’m sorry, but they told me to let you know that you need to hurry . . . It isn’t looking good for Paulo.’
Flors gasped. Taking Cyrus’s hand gave her no comfort, as her mind showed Flors her darling friend Ella, and all she had been through. Yes, Ella would have been shocked that her Paulo was injured, but she would have put aside her plans to volunteer at the hospital in Scotland and would have found a way to cope, in nursing him back to health. But Paulo dying? No . . . no, that can’t happen!
Cyrus didn’t speak, and his face was ashen.
At the end of a long corridor, they were shown into a side ward. The scene that met them broke Flors’s heart. A bruised and battered Sibbie sat, holding Paulo’s hand. Paulo looked so close to death that his face was an expressionless yellow mask, which didn’t appear like him. His jaw was jutting out to one side, despite the bandage wrapped around his chin and taped at the top of his head, indicating that it was broken. His closed eyes sank deep into bruised and blackened sockets, with one cheek distorted and swollen.
‘Sibbie. Oh, Sibbie, my darling niece. I – I . . . oh God! That this should happen, my poor, poor darling.’
Sibbie rose and came into Flors’s open arms. The hug Flors gave made Sibbie wince.
‘You’re in pain! My brave, brave girl. You should be in bed, too. How could anyone do this to you both?’
Sibbie didn’t speak; her lovely dark eyes were bloodshot and looked up at Flors from swollen black and yellow sockets. Through her hair, raw patches of skin showed, where chunks had been pulled out. Her fingers were bound in plasters, and Flors could feel that her body was encased in bandages, while blisters covered her arms. ‘Are your ribs broken, my darling?’
‘Yes, they are so painful.’
‘You must rest, Sibbie.’
‘I can’t leave Paulo. I love him so very much. We love each other. We . . . we’re going to be married.’
Flors’s heart broke for this very dear young couple. She and Ella had known for a long time that they loved each other and had waited for the moment when they acknowledged their love. She was glad that moment had happened, but felt so very sad, too.
She looked around the room. It was big enough to fit in another bed, which, when Sibbie or Paulo weren’t being tended to, could be pushed close to the existing bed. ‘Sit down, darling. I’ll go and see the sister of the ward.’ Turning to Cyrus, Flors saw the hurt and the deep love in his eyes, before he gently supported Sibbie as she painfully lowered herself back into the hard wooden chair, which must be so uncomfortable for her.
Finding the ward sister, Flors introduced herself and then asked about Sibbie’s bed being moved into the same side ward as Paulo. ‘Hmm, unconventional, but do-able, I suppose, in the circumstances. Those two are heroes and deserve us to go the extra mile for them, bless them.’
‘Thank you, Sister . . .?’
‘Sister Baker – Annie Baker.’
‘Well, I’m very grateful to you, Sister Baker; that’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all, I learned a long time ago that medical intervention is all well and good, but we should take note of emotional needs, too.’
‘Sister, is there no hope for Paulo?’
‘Where there’s life, there’s always hope, my dear. That young man has suffered internal bleeding from heavy blows, and had the blood supply to his leg cut off for too long. The surgeons have done what they can to make him comfortable, but he is very poorly.’
‘Has he been given blood?’
‘Yes, what we had of his type sustained him through his operation, but he has a rare Rhesus negative blood group, and that is inhibiting our ability to give him what he needs. He needs more radical surgery. I’m sorry, but his leg requires amputation, as it is gangrenous, and it is this that will kill him; but we didn’t have enough of his blood type to get him safely through the operation. We have tested all the nurses and doctors, and even the patients, but none have the same type. And we have sent out a request to all the hospitals in London to see if they have any – but nothing. Without it, he has very little chance of survival.’
‘Rhesus negative? I’ve never heard of that. In my day, we simply gave blood.’
‘You were a nurse?’
‘A Voluntary Aid nurse in the last war.’
‘I was, too. There have been a lot of advances since those days, when blood was just blood to us. We now know that a patient must have compatible blood; and further to that, we are finding that there are a few people who have an extremely rare blood group. We have tested many medical staff, in the hope of one of them being of the same type as Paulo, but no luck yet.’
‘So Paulo’s life depends on something you can’t locate. That’s terrible. Will you test me and my husband, please? And his mother is on the way – is there a chance she might have the same blood type?’
‘Yes, of course we will test you both. I’ll send a nurse to take a sample from you. But there is a much greater chance that his mother and any siblings will have the same blood type, so when will she arrive? Time isn’t on our side.’
‘She is on her way. Paulo has a sister, too; well, a half-sister, but I don’t know if they are bringing her, as she is only nine.’
‘Then we have double the hope, as she is much more likely to be a match, or to have compatible blood.’
‘I’ll make a telephone call and check if Paulo’s sister, Lonia, is on her way; if not, I’ll make sure she is brought down very soon.’
‘Lonia’s an unusual name.’
‘It’s of Polish origin. Paulo and Lonia’s mother is Polish.’
‘Hmm, it might be worth me talking to the doctors about the possibility of testing Polish airmen based at Northolt, and any French officers. I say “officers” because they are usually in one place that has been designated especially to take officers – a stately home or something like that – though I would need to find out where, whereas the lower ranks of French soldiers are taken wherever they can be found a bed. It’s a long shot, as we know so little about blood groups and hereditary traits, but we’re learning all the time. And desperate situations call for desperate measures, as you well know.’
Flors nodded. Hope had risen in her, with the spirit of determination that she saw in Sister Baker. ‘May I use your telephone, Sister?’
When given permission, Flors asked the operator to put her through to Mags’s number in Scotland, in the hope that her friend, Betsy, would answer.
‘Hello, Stranraer three-o-three.’
‘Is that you, Betsy? This is Flors, Mags’s friend.’
‘Aye, Betsy here. Is owt wrong? Is Mags all right?’
‘I’m sure she’s fine; she hasn’t arrived yet, though. When did they leave, and have they brought Lonia with them?’
‘They’ve been gone a good few hours. They should be on the train to London by now. And aye, they have the lass with them. Poor Ella thought it best, as it would do Paulo good to see Lonia – she’s a tonic that one. How is he, have you seen him?’
‘Yes, he’s very ill and needs all our prayers. But thank God Lonia is coming. There’s a problem with his blood type; it’s hard to explain, but between them, Ella and Lonia may be the answer to saving Paulo.’
‘Eeh, that sounds complicated to me. But whatever you’re talking about, I’ll pray it is so, and I’ll pray for the lad. And I’m sorry – very sorry – about the circumstances. Me heart’s with you all.’
‘Thank you, Betsy. It’s nice to talk to you. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘By, I hope it’s all been good. Not that it could be.’ Betsy laughed, but then became serious again. ‘How’s me Sibbie? Is she going to be all right?’
‘Physically, yes, but emotionally we’ve yet to see. She’s being very brave, but . . . well, she and Paulo are in love.’
‘Dear God, poor lass. We’re mystified here as to how it could all happen. We thought . . . Aye, well, there’s a lot going on as we don’t knaw of, and shouldn’t ask after. But give her me love. Me heart’s breaking for her.’
‘I will, Betsy. I’ll say goodbye now, but I hope it won’t be too long before we meet.’
‘Aye, ta-ra, Flors, I’ll look forward to that day, but hope it will be in happier times.’
‘What are you smiling at, darling? Have you some good news?’ Cyrus asked, coming towards Flors along the corridor.
‘I’ve just been reminded of Nanny Pru.’
‘Oh, well, that memory would cheer anyone. What I wouldn’t give to have her here helping you, my darling.’
‘I’m all right, Cyrus. And do you know, I think we are soon to meet another Nanny Pru, in Betsy, Mags’s friend. She’s got what Nanny Pru would have called a “warm heart”. It did me good to hear the lovely northern accent. But I do have hopeful news, darling.’ She told Cyrus first about the bed move.
‘I know. I’ve been turfed out of the way to make room for them to manoeuvre the beds. Well done, darling. Sibbie needs her rest, and yet to be with her Paulo. So what is the hopeful news?’
When Flors told him about the possible blood match, Cyrus didn’t speak, but simply took hold of her hand.
Constantly going to the hospital entrance, Flors grew more agitated by the hour. It had been two hours now since she’d learned that neither she nor Cyrus was compatible. The sister’s idea of testing the Polish pilots hadn’t proved realistic. The time this would take, and the logistics involved, ruled it out; and this was also so of the French officers. Whoever could give the blood needed to be here, now.
At last she saw Ella, Susan and Mags running through the doors, just as she turned into the lobby. Ella stopped and stared at Flors. ‘No . . .’ Her head shook from side to side.
Flors ran to her and took Ella in her arms. ‘There’s a chance, Ella. But you and Lonia need to come with me. I have to take you straight to the path lab.’
‘What? Why? Oh, Flors, I want to see my Paulo.’
‘I’ll explain as we go.’ As she let go of Ella, Flors pulled Lonia to her. ‘We have an important mission, darling – can you run?’
‘I can run faster than anyone, Aunty Flors.’
‘Good girl. We’ll have a cuddle when we get there.’ Turning to Mags, Flors smiled. ‘No time to greet you, Mags, sorry. Take Susan along that corridor there. You need the fourth door on your right – it’s quite a way. Sorry, Susan, I’ll say hello later. Sibbie’s all right.’
Flors grabbed Ella’s hand then and ran with her and Lonia in the direction she’d already taken earlier. Though breathless, she told Ella what she knew as they went.
Once back in the ward, and with the hope she’d been given, Ella was able to control her emotions. Lonia climbed onto Paulo’s bed. ‘I’m here, Paulo. And I’ve had some blood taken for you. It’s going to make you well.’ She was gentle as she kissed his cheek, then placed her head on the pillow next to his and looked over at Sibbie. ‘Are you going to be well, Sibbie? Will your pretty face come back?’
Sibbie gave a tired smile. ‘Will you still love me, if it doesn’t?’
‘I will, Sibbie. I love you more, now you’re poorly. Mama says that love can heal. So it is important that I am brave and show you my love.’
‘That’s true. Just having my mum with me, and feeling her love, is making me better.’
Susan smiled for the first time. Her eyes lit up with it and she leaned over the bed and held Sibbie. ‘I never thought you would ever go through anything like this, Sibbie, but I’m so proud of you.’
‘I had so many brave and strong women who guided me, Mum. You and Aunt Betsy, and Aunt Mags; and, when I went to France, Aunt Flors and Aunt Ella. So how could I not be brave?’
Flors thought about this; and yes, they were all brave and strong. They’d all come through extreme adversity and had coped. Given time, they had coped. All she asked now was that Paulo was given that time because, with Sibbie by his side, she knew they would cope, too.
All the hushed chatter was a distraction. They talked of anything but the blood samples and the war. Even Ella, who must have been longing for news of Arnie.
At last Sister Baker opened the door. ‘It’s a match. Little Lonia is a match! Come on, little one, you’re going to help to save your brother’s life.’ The sigh of relief that went around the room was the only sound. ‘Now, all of you, out you go. Leave Paulo with some encouraging words. I’ve a wheelchair just outside the door for Sibbie. You can all go along to the day-room. My nurses need to get in here to prepare Paulo for surgery.’
‘I’ll go with Lonia; although she is a very brave girl, I need to be with her.’
Sister Baker nodded. ‘Yes, that’s fine, Mummy, come along.’
‘She’s Mama!’
‘Oh, sorry, Lonia. Come along then, Mama, we’ve no time to lose.’
Paulo’s recovery was slow, but each day saw some progress.
When at last Sibbie felt able to talk to him about the consequences, she asked, ‘My darling, how do you really feel about having lost your leg?’
A tear seeped out of Paulo’s eye. ‘I am struggling to think how our future will be.’
‘We’ll find a way around everything. We’re together, that’s the main thing.’
‘Yes, that is all I live for – the day that we can marry. But . . .’
‘There are no “buts”, my darling Paulo. I love you. Nothing can ever change that. I think we will need each other to help cope with our past, not our future. That is secure, with the knowledge of your love for me.’
At this, Paulo gave his lovely smile. It didn’t matter to Sibbie that it was now lopsided, as his jaw hadn’t yet mended; it was the hope in his smile that warmed her heart. And she knew that all the horror of the past lay behind them, and that they would find a way of tucking away what had happened and not letting it spoil what they had. Together, they would get through the difficulties of the future, too.
Paulo reached for her hand and, in taking it, these thoughts were sealed.