France, mid-October 1916
A discovery keeps Edith lost to all
Edith had spent much of the past nine weeks living in a strange and unfamiliar world. A world that held pain and a half-life, where she functioned, but didn’t care about anything or anyone. A world where nightmare images visited her and made her want to hide away behind the comfort of a veil, which she brought down to blot out everything whenever she chose.
The sheer guts of Petra and Aleksi had brought her through the pneumonia that she’d almost succumbed to. They had, they told her, nursed her around the clock until the crisis had passed, washing her and her soiled linen; feeding her with drips of food that they had whisked and whisked until it became fluid; and talking to her, in an effort to encourage her to live, for her loved ones.
Her recovery had been hindered by this foggy place that had enclosed her, which she knew was due to her mind blocking out what it couldn’t cope with. But in the moments when she could think and allowed herself to talk and ask questions, Petra and Aleksi had avoided answering anything about the night they had found her. Until now this had suited her. But now she had an urge to contact her family. She wanted them to know she was safe. She needed to be with them, and she needed the Red Cross to fetch her and help her to recover completely, so that she could go home and eventually get back to her job. That is, if I am wrong about being pregnant . . . No. I cannot even think about it. And I won’t!
Wandering around the farmhouse felt familiar. She must have done this many times over the last few weeks, without registering that she had.
Neat and clean, the kitchen smelt of baking and gave off a shabby but homely appearance. Sofas that had seen better days had been patched here and there, but were of the rounded style with soft feather cushions that always welcomed and comforted. There was other furniture, too – a table and chairs, and a huge sideboard made of heavy pine. The table had a scrubbed look that rendered its top paler than its matching chairs. Well-beaten rugs were scattered over the polished flagstone floor; and a huge range, taking up almost one wall, with shining pans hanging around it, dominated one end of this large, and only, downstairs room.
She knew the routine of the place, too. She knew that Petra helped Aleksi outside for most of the morning, fitting in her housewife chores around feeding the hens, collecting the eggs and milking the two cows they had, whilst Aleksi worked the fields and saw to the other livestock, the pigs and sheep. Their days were long and hard. How they had found the time and energy to look after her she wasn’t sure.
Seeing Petra coming across the yard, Edith determined to tackle her about everything. It wasn’t right just to bury Albert. The police should have been called. And her family should have been contacted, and she should have been taken home. Nervous and feeling queasy at the thought of what she might learn, she sat down at the table. From there she would be facing Petra as soon as she entered.
Petra’s face looked fearful when Edith asked why the authorities hadn’t been called. With a voice that shook and held obvious terror, Petra answered, ‘I – I . . . We could not. The truth is that we don’t own this farm. We are illegal immigrants. It’s true that we came here fearing for the future of our own country. We travelled with our daughter over many kilometres with a horse and cart, living like gypsies. Though we had money, and could pay for what we needed, we feared everyone. We were afraid to call the police when Aleksi found you. They are looking at foreign nationals with much more scrutiny than they have ever done before.’
‘But you live openly, and you sell your produce, so how do you keep yourself unknown?’
‘This is a very remote place. We rarely come into contact with anyone, and to those we do see, we have passed ourselves off as the cousins of the man who owned this farm. The owner was dying and almost penniless when we came across it. We knocked on his door and asked for water, and whether we could buy some vegetables and maybe a chicken. Not that he had much, for the farm was neglected. He took us in, saying he needed help. We invested our time and our savings in the farm and looked after him. He was of Polish descent, so folk who did know him accepted our story that he had sent for us. He had no family, as far as we knew. Aleksi travels a long way to market, much further than he needs to, but it is safer, as no one questions him there or knows where he comes from.’
Petra’s head drooped with the weight of confessing this. A moment’s anger visited Edith, as she thought the decision they had taken greatly affected her and her future. But then, these people had saved her life. If she gave them away, they might be in danger of being jailed for living here without registering, and for disposing of a body in an improper way. She made up her mind that she couldn’t do that to them.
‘I must contact my parents and let them know that I’m alive and well. But please don’t worry. I won’t expose you, as you have been so kind to me. I – I won’t like lying, but I’ll say that Alb – Corporal Price – abandoned me here when I became sick.’
She didn’t know how she was going to carry this off, but somehow she felt she had to. It wasn’t as if she would be hurting anyone. Albert had told her he had no family that he knew of, as he’d been brought up in an orphanage, so there was no one who would suffer the agony of not knowing whether he was dead or alive. Otherwise, she would never even have considered doing this.
‘What happened to the people who owned the farm where you found me?’
‘They were German. They were legal residents, as far as I know, but upped and left once war was declared. It’s a shame, as they were nice folk. They helped us a lot and we felt bad about deceiving them. And I feel bad about the position you are in, because of us, and the hurt we have caused your loved ones. But please believe me: we had no choice.’
Suddenly Edith wanted to take this woman in her arms and thank her, and stop her feeling guilty. She rose to do so, but a feeling of nausea took her and she had to hurry past Petra to the outside privy.
‘What is wrong? Oh, ma chérie, are you falling sick again?’
Edith retched again. As she did so, Petra stroked her back. It was a soothing gesture, but one that didn’t give comfort. What she feared was beginning to seem like a reality. She was pregnant; there was no other explanation. The dread of it had lain in her since her first conscious memory of what had passed between her and Albert: the sometimes awful recollection of him raping her, but then the wonder of how that had turned into an act of love, before the extreme horror of what he did afterwards.
The signs had all been showing themselves to her. She was conscious of having missed a period, perhaps two – she didn’t know, and she dare not ask if she had menstruated during the time she had left her life in Petra’s hands. Oh God, if it proves to be right, what will happen? I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t even contact my dear mother and father, for they would be so ashamed of me!
Straightening up, she wiped her mouth on the cloth Petra handed her and gratefully took the glass of water she had fetched. After sipping a little and feeling less queasy, it shook her to hear Petra say, ‘You are having a child, yes?’
Defeated, Edith said, ‘Yes, I think so.’ With that admission, a weakness took her. How soon her new-found strength had disappeared. A tear fell down her cheek.
‘No, ma chérie, this is not to cry over. You loved the father, yes?’
‘I did. We were miles apart in our standing, but war threw us together and yet—’
‘Standing? What is this standing? Are you talking of a class system, because you are rich and he was poor? I know he was so, because if he had not been, Aleksi said he would have been an officer. I assume you are rich, by how you speak. Poor children are not taught to speak French in your country, nor do they become doctors.’
‘You know I am a doctor, and about Albert and our lives?’
‘You told us many things, ma chérie.’’
‘Oh, Petra, what am I to do? I will bring disgrace on my family. The scandal would kill them!’
‘Have you no one you could go to?’
‘No – well, maybe. But no, I couldn’t. I – I . . . Look, it is complicated. I have a . . . a kind of aunt, she is my cousin’s aunt. She lives in the South of France, in Nice. But no, I can’t burden her. I couldn’t put her into the position of deceiving those she loves. Oh, I just don’t know what to do!’
‘Then do nothing – stay here. We’re glad to have you. It’s like having our daughter back.’
Edith didn’t know how to answer this. It was a kind offer and one she welcomed, but could she hide herself away here for the rest of the months she had to carry her child? And what of my parents, and my brothers and cousins – all the family? They must be worried out of their minds!
The choice was a difficult one and rendered her quiet for some minutes. Petra didn’t speak or try to persuade her. Edith’s mind went from thinking she would face it all and go home, to thinking: no, she would stay here, hidden away. In the end she decided it was better to remain missing than go home a shamed woman, bringing untold pain and embarrassment to her family, and maybe even being struck off the medical register.
If only she could receive news about how everyone was doing. Were her brothers safe? This was what worried her most, because, apart from missing her and worrying about her, she was sure her lovely cousins were fine. How could she ever have thought of them as silly? They were just being girls, and it was she who was the odd-bod. But what of Mama and Daddy? Oh, dear God, I have no choice but to leave them in the no-man’s-land I have put them in. I have to save them from the shame. I have to. But then, what of the child when it is born?
As if this thought had conveyed itself to her, Petra said, ‘If you stay, you can go home as soon as the birth is over. I will take care of your child and bring it up for you. You can visit whenever you want to. No one need ever know.’
Unable to think of any other solution, and feeling herself going into a haze once more, Edith nodded. ‘Thank you, Petra, I will think about it. Oh dear, I’m tired. So very tired.’
‘I will help you, ma chérie, come on. Let us get you back to bed.’
Once in bed, the enormity of her problems hit Edith, and her heart ached just to be held by her mother and father, and to exchange silly conversations with Andrina and Eloise. Then to go on a holiday to Marianne’s, and even to go back to her post as a doctor in Abbeville.
Captain Mark Wooster came into her mind with this last thought, and she knew she had thought of him many times during her illness. Perhaps he would help? If she could somehow contact him, perhaps he would present a solution: help her to get rid of the child even . . . But no, that thought was repulsive to her. No doubt, if she wanted to, she could induce the baby herself; there were ways. Dangerous and illegal ways, but she knew, when the thought first entered her head, that it was something she could never do. Never! And just as surely as she knew that, she knew she already loved her baby. Rubbing a hand over her slightly rounded stomach, she said out loud, ‘I love you already, little one, and wouldn’t harm you. But I don’t know how I am going to take care of you, without causing pain to those who don’t deserve it. That is the question that is frightening me. But I will find a way. I will.’
Part of her wanted to curl up in a ball and sob out all the pain, but she didn’t. Instead she let her thoughts wander to her passion: women’s rights. It frustrated and angered her to think that, even if Albert had lived, he wouldn’t have carried any shame concerning his child. He would have been congratulated by his mates and looked on in wonder, that he had wooed a lady of her standing and had actually ‘given her a good shagging’, as she knew that was how the ranks referred to making love.
He wouldn’t have to be sent to some convent in shame, cast out from the society he was used to, or banished from his home. If he’d had family, they probably wouldn’t even have chastised him. How different things were in this world for a man, compared to what they were for a woman. That had to change. Somehow she would find a way of working towards that change after the war. Somehow she would try to make it possible for unmarried mothers to live in dignity with their child. Imagine if they took her child from her at birth, as they did from the poor souls who had no say in the matter! Oh God, that could still happen to her, if she changed her mind and contacted her parents. Suddenly she knew she had made the right decision.
However, she didn’t know what it would cost her family not to have any news; or what it would cost her, to continue to live in exile.
She started to imagine how she might implement such help for women: perhaps she could set up a home for them to stay in during their pregnancy? Or a kind of ‘bridging’ home to move on to, where they and their child would receive continued support until they found their feet and were able to live an independent life?
These ideas came tumbling one on top of the other, and they lifted her and in some way united her with other women out there in the world, going through what she was experiencing. And they gave her strength, which she could hold on to to sustain her.
Looking up to the ceiling, she said, ‘Our child will be safe with me, Albert. I forgive you for what you did. I want you to rest in peace.’
When she thought of Albert, a picture of the young boy he had tried to save from the firing squad came to her. So she added to her prayer, ‘I promise, Albert, that one day I will do as I said, and as I know we would have done together. I will find Jimmy O’Flynn’s mother and father and tell them about his bravery, and assure them that he wasn’t a coward, but a very brave boy.’
She felt the sadness of the world weighing her down, but she stayed strong.
She would not cry. Yes, she was imprisoned in a place she had no choice but to be in, and the world was closed to her, but crying would play on her weakness and put her right back where she’d been. For the sake of her child, she would get through this, she would . . . Please God, help me. Help me . . .
Looking in on Edith, Petra found that she had drifted off to sleep. She felt glad, as she needed to think. An idea had come to her, inspired by her daughter Marcelina’s desperate situation, but it needed planning and discussing with Aleksi. Just maybe, though, they could pull it off.
Aleksi looked at her across the kitchen table. His eyes were weary, his attitude one of suspicion and fear. ‘What is it you want to discuss so urgently? Why can’t you listen to me and get rid of the girl. She is well now and can only bring us problems. Let me take her to Paris, then she can find a way home from there. She will bring trouble to us, if we keep her here.’
‘She cannot, and does not want to go home. I’ve told her the truth and she will not betray us. You see, she is with child.’
‘What?’
‘I know it is a complication, but one that we can turn around to help our beautiful Marcelina. Edith is from a high-class family. If her parents find out that she is pregnant, they will see it as a disgrace brought down upon them. Edith’s society will reject her. She may not be able to continue to be a doctor, so who knows how she’d make enough money to keep herself and the baby alive. No one will marry her. She will be an outcast. I have said that Edith can stay here, and that she can leave the baby here with me. Then she can go home. She can say that she has been very ill and lost her memory. I have told her that we will take care of the child, and she can visit whenever she wants.’
‘And how does this benefit— Oh my God, Petra, you are not thinking what I think you’re thinking?’
‘I am. And why not? When Marcelina last miscarried, she had everything taken away from her.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me this, Petra? Our own child undergoes an operation as serious as that, and you keep it from me?’
‘I was afraid of your reaction. I knew we couldn’t go back there. I tried to shield you. The agony of our separation, and not knowing when we will see our child again, is enough to bear. I decided to keep the operation from you for that reason. Marcelina was devastated, but we can bring her happiness again.’
‘But how? By stealing a child? And how will we get the child to Marcelina? You have just said that we can’t go back, and you know she can’t get out.’
‘The letter that you brought back from town this morning is from Marcelina. She disguised it in an official envelope. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to share the news it contains with you. Marcelina is back in Russia. She and Feodor have made it back to where his parents fled to. Oh, Aleksi, we can go there. We can cross the border and go to Russia. We can take a child to our daughter. Marcelina has said that there is still travel in and out of there by boat. You know that Feodor’s parents are very rich; they have orchestrated Marcelina’s and Feodor’s escape and they will help us, too.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? You could have discussed it when you came out to the field with me. You are a mystery to me at times, Petra. But what you do not realize is that this is not good news. On my travels I pick up news of what is happening in the world. There is a great deal of unrest among the students and peasants of Russia. There is likely to be another revolution, far bloodier than that of 1905. It’s not safe to return there, and I am heartsick that Marcelina is in Russia. Tsar Nicholas does not take any heed of how his warring tactics are alienating his subjects. There is a great deal of unrest.’
‘I didn’t tell you because I hadn’t read the letter then. I too thought it was an invoice or some such. Oh, Aleksi, every joy is counteracted by a step back into fear. But surely, if Feodor’s family know of the unrest, they will act. We should wait until we hear again from Marcelina. It is months until Edith’s baby will be born. We have a long time to plan.’
Though her heart was racing with fear at what Aleksi had told her, Petra still felt hope. Feodor’s parents had at last done something to get their son and Marcelina out of Poland, and she felt certain they would make plans to save the young couple and themselves.