19

Alice

PARIS & KENT, JULY 1941

RIPPED APART, AND FINDING A NEW FRIEND

The last few days – Alice didn’t know how many – had been spent drifting in and out of sleep. Occasionally she’d heard the harsh tones of the German officer, and then the softer ones of the doctor insisting that he needed longer to make sure of saving the captives’ lives. Then another dose of the drug he was giving them would be administered, and she’d drift off again into a nightmare world of strange sounds and shapes she couldn’t make out.

Fearing this, although pain had woken her, she lay with her eyes closed, hoping to detect a time when no one was in the room.

When all seemed quiet she opened them and looked over to where Steve lay. On seeing one of his legs plastered and the other one bandaged, she surmised that one had just taken a flesh wound, but the other had a smashed bone. The bandage around his head worried her, but she knew it couldn’t be serious, because he’d carried on afterwards and had spoken normally.

The dryness of her mouth made it hard for her to swallow. Only a moan would come from her as she tried to get Steve’s attention.

‘You’re all right, my dear. You’re both going to make it.’

The doctor had said this. He must have been in the room after all. She must try to communicate with him. ‘We c – can’t, we have to . . . p – pill . . . in jacket . . .’

‘My wife has washed and mended your clothes as best she can.’

‘No . . . no, she mustn’t. We have pills . . .’

‘Hush, all will be well. It is lucky for us that the officer in charge is under strict orders to keep you alive. It has—’

‘Ah, so the bitch is talking at last, eh? Vhy didn’t you call me? I told you to inform me at once!’ The doctor cringed from the glancing blow that the officer aimed at him as he came through the door. ‘You vill not talk to them. I vill put a guard in here at all times. You vill find yourself a prisoner with them, or dead even, if you disobey my orders again. Probably the latter, as you are of no use to us once you have them vell enough to travel.’

Steadying himself, the doctor nodded. ‘Please may I at least tell them what I need to?’

‘Only ven I am present, as I speak French.’

‘Very well.’ To Alice the doctor said, ‘I will get my wife. She will come and wash you and give you a drink. You are making good progress.’ Before he turned his back to her he winked. This shocked her. It wasn’t the kind of wink a lady expected from a Frenchman; it was not saucy or suggestive, but came with a nod of his head and held a message that said there was hope. But that’s not possible – how could there be!

Speaking in French, Steve’s weak voice came to her. ‘How is she, Doctor?’

‘Shut up! You vill not talk to the doctor. You do not need to know how each other are.’ A slapping sound came into the silence that followed this, as the officer held his gloves in his right hand and tapped the palm of his left hand with them. After a moment he said, ‘I have made my mind up. Ve vill ship out tonight. If they are vell enough to talk, they are vell enough to travel. Have them ready in half an hour! In the meantime do as I say, and do not converse vith them. Hey, you . . .’ In German he shouted to someone outside. Alice heard him give instructions to stay in the room with them at all times, and to shoot the doctor if he so much as opened his mouth.

Other instructions that she heard him shout as he left the room told of his intention to move them from there to the station to begin their journey, but to where she did not know. Their only hope seemed to lie with the doctor now. Did he have some sort of plan? If not, somehow she must convey to him that she and Steve had to have their pills. But although she knew he’d understood her about her cyanide pill, she doubted if he had any intention of helping them to end their lives. She couldn’t blame him, for he had a duty to save lives – his own included, though that hung in the balance. She feared for him.

Looking over at Steve, she willed him to look at her. He didn’t. Maybe he thought it was best not to show that they had any feelings between them. The Germans would use that to their advantage. They would probably make one watch the other being tortured. That would be beyond endurance.

Only the loud ticking of the clock above her disturbed the silence as the doctor’s wife went about washing her and helping her to dress. With a screen between her and the soldier, Alice tried to mime that she needed her pill.

She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live, to be with Steve in a free land, to marry and have his children. But it was better that they died now than risk being broken by the cruel lengths to which the Germans would go in their quest to extract information from them.

Despairing, she realized her miming was useless. The woman continued her nursing duties without even trying to understand, and mostly without looking at her. She seemed preoccupied, and Alice noticed how often she looked up at the clock with an expression that said she was willing the time to reach a certain hour.

Voices drifted to her from the hall outside. The doctor asked the officer if he could be allowed to give pain relief to his patients before they were taken. The officer refused, telling him he didn’t trust him. ‘Are they in a suitable condition? Ve need to go before it gets dark. Ve need to get them to a train that I have arranged to call in at the station of Valsema.’

This information confirmed her earlier suspicions: the doctor and his wife were in extreme danger. Knowing that he was going to kill them would be the only reason the officer would reveal their means of transportation and the location of their pickup. A fear for the kindly couple dampened her body in sweat. How can I warn them? But then, if I do, there is no way they can save themselves. Oh God, I can’t bear it!

‘Yes, they are ready, but it is imperative they are handled with care. If the wounds are opened again, they could bleed to death, as they have had no time to make up the blood loss they have already suffered.’

The officer barked an order and soon Alice could hear the sound of men rushing around and of vehicles being moved. Two soldiers came into the room. She screamed in pain as they lifted her. One held her by her wounded arms, the other held her feet. ‘Get her into the truck – hurry.’

A cry from Steve told her they were doing the same to him.

‘Climb in!’ a soldier ordered her once they reached the truck.

The truck’s canvas sides flapped in the breeze and a smell of stale, damp leather wafted into her nostrils. Her legs were heavy and weak, making it difficult to get up the steps without being able to hold onto anything.

Once inside the back of the truck, she sank down onto the bench. As she did so, they manhandled Steve into the truck and laid him on the floor. Somehow he managed a smile as he looked up at her. How she did it she didn’t know, but she smiled back. Inside she ached for him. She wanted to lessen his pain and get him away from here. A sense of desolation entered her, but she quashed it. This journey might be the last time they had together on Earth. She must not spoil it by creating an air of hopelessness.

Mouthing the words ‘I love you’, she smiled even wider than before. Steve’s face lit up. It seemed that while he thought she could cope, he could too. He began to mouth back to her when a desperate plea cut him off.

‘No, no . . . Not my wife, No – noooo!’

Cries followed and the sound of a woman weeping. A gunshot rang out. Alice’s body jumped, then shook with the horror of realization. A silence followed. It didn’t last long before there was another gunshot.

Tears ran down her face. Why, oh why, couldn’t they have spared the doctor and his wife?

There were no answers, and no time for her mind to adjust, because a louder explosion increased the high-pitched noise in her ears and made all other sounds filter through as if in slow motion. Gunfire penetrated this blankness. It was rapid and from different types of guns – hand-held pistols, rifles and the rat-a-tat of machine guns. More explosions shook the truck. What is going on?

‘Oh God, Alice, the Germans are under attack! But who could be attacking them?’

‘The Resistance?’

‘It must be. Oh, thank G—’

A German soldier entered the truck, his gun pointed at her. Her breath stopped for a moment. She acknowledged that now was the end.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Steve lift his less-injured leg and kick the soldier. The gun went off. Closing her eyes, Alice waited for death. There was no pain, but they say you don’t feel pain as you go towards eternity. How do they know? Why am I asking myself this, and why has everything gone so silent again? She opened her eyes. The shot hadn’t hit her. The sound had deafened her, but she was all right. ‘Steve, Steve, I’m all right, I’m . . . No. No – nooo!’

‘Come on – quick, can you manage?’ It was a French voice, but was alien to her.

‘Mademoiselle, please hurry. We have killed all the Germans that were here, they are all dead, but when the train comes in and you are not in sight, more soldiers will come.’

She was still and silent, dumbfounded with shock. Steve lay at her feet, his eyes staring blankly at her and blood coming from his neck. ‘Help him, help him . . . Don’t let him die – please don’t let him die.’

‘Doctor, over here, quick! One of them has been hit.’

Doctor? She’d thought he’d been shot?

‘Help the girl out, Robert. Let me get to the man.’

She went with the one called Robert, but unwillingly; everything in her wanted to stay with Steve. ‘Save him, Doctor, please.’

‘We must get going. Robert will stay and help the doctor. Come, come, I am Alfonse, I will take you to safety.’

‘No. No, I am not going anywhere without Steve.’

‘Please, you must come with us. Many men have put their lives at risk to save you. My own parents have been killed . . .’ His voice broke.

On hearing this, Alice knew what she must do, but still she hung back, torn.

‘You are putting us all in further danger – you must hurry. We have to get out of here. If the doctor saves him, Robert will do all he can to bring him to you. No one knows this area better than him. Besides, there is a plane coming in an hour. We have to be there. The landing strip is eight kilometres from here, and we have to make it. And then we all need to disperse, as the place will be swarming with Germans and our efforts will have been in vain.’

It was the hardest decision she’d ever had to make, but she knew she must comply. She could not jeopardize the safety of these men, nor could she compromise their group by putting them all at risk of capture. There was no time to plead with them to let her stay.

Looking back, she saw the doctor pumping Steve’s chest and she prayed – prayed harder than she had ever done in her life. She prayed to God, to Bren, to her dead father and even to her grandparents. But in her heart she felt it was useless.

At the bottom of the steps lay the German who’d entered the truck. For a moment she wanted to spit at him, but his eyes, staring unseeing at her, were those of a young boy and she couldn’t. This bloody war . . . Fuck Hitler!

On the journey she asked questions. Alfonse told her that he was the son of the farmer whose farm she and Steve had been heading for. He’d left his Resistance group on a mission to travel home and help her and Steve on the next leg of their journey. When he got near, he’d seen the Germans around his home and could do nothing but watch from a hidden vantage point. From there he could see everything, but could hear nothing other than the shots which, he now knew, had killed his parents. When he saw the doctor arrive, he took off to the doctor’s house and spoke to his wife. She told him that the doctor had been instructed to keep the British agents alive. Alfonse left instructions with her to ask her husband to take as many days as he could, while he gathered a party to attack the Germans and save the agents. The British agent working with his group, whom he only knew as Hubert, had arranged for the plane to pick her and Steve up and lift them out. She guessed he must have been amongst those who attacked the Germans with Alfonse and the rest of the group, but he could not make himself known to her.

Alfonse told her that he himself had given the instruction that no German should be left alive. He went on to say that when they arrived at the doctor’s house, it was to see the doctor’s wife cowering in front of a soldier with a gun. Alfonse had shot him, saving the wife and starting the attack. Miraculously, or maybe because of the surprise element, none of the Resistance workers, to his knowledge, had been hurt. Before leaving her, Alfonse promised that he would go back to Steve and do all he could to get him away to safety.

The plane landed at Biggin Hill airport. Feeling like a dead person inside, Alice could not respond to the ambulance men who lifted her off, or to the nurse who had a kindly smile and sat with her on the journey to hospital. Her whole self was back in France with Steve. She willed him to live and to join her. Pleading was the only thing she could give her mind over to, as she’d closed down her emotions. There were no tears – nothing. An icy coldness had clenched her feelings back to how they were before she met Steve. At this moment she felt that if Steve didn’t make it, there would be nothing to fill the void that he would leave within her. It would be a barren life that stretched out before her, on a road that was too long for her to travel. She’d not even think of doing so. If Steve didn’t make it, neither would she.

Once an assessment of her condition had been made, and the strapping removed and a new one refitted on her arm and around her shoulder, she was declared fit to be transported to a nursing hospital for officers. ‘Not tonight, though, eh?’ The elderly doctor looked kindly at her. ‘You’ve had enough for one day, ma’am. We’ll get you settled in a quiet ward, feed and water you and give you something to make you have a really good sleep, then arrange to have you shipped out tomorrow. Whoever took care of you did an excellent job. You only need rest and time to recover from all you’ve been through. Crescent Abbey is just the place. I will make all the arrangements . . .’

Crescent Abbey? How ironic! Her friend, Lady Rosamond Flastow, had lived there before this war and her ‘coming out’ party had been the last one Alice had attended. She hadn’t had one herself – a fact she’d been glad of, for she had hated having to accept all the invitations from her friends. Leaning against a wall, she had generally refused all dances, except with Bren. But even he’d found her foul mood too much and had left her alone most of the time.

It had always affected her – being amongst so many people who knew. Feeling their eyes on her, catching their knowing nods to one another. Even now she cringed inside as she thought of it. But the thinking strengthened her resolve. When she saw her boss, which she knew she would very soon for a debriefing, she would tell him her suspicions about General Westlin. If he didn’t believe her, she wouldn’t give up. One day those who had made her feel like an outcast would know of her father’s innocence.

Facing the debriefing meant more than simply a first telling of what she had learned about Westlin, for as her thoughts moved on, shame washed over her at how little she would have to report. Not one major mission accomplished . . . If only there had been, all she had suffered would have been worth it.

‘Stand at ease, Officer D’Olivier. Or, rather, sit. You look all in. I came as soon as I could.’

‘Yes, thank you, sir. You could not have come any quicker, as I only arrived here myself two hours ago.’

The officer welcoming her was a man with thick glasses, slicked-back thinning hair and a poky-looking face. The room was one she wasn’t familiar with in this house, and she imagined it must have been Rosamond’s father’s office. One wall held books from floor to ceiling, and another had prints hung in symmetrical patterns, all of dogs. Some of these she recognized as pets of the family when she had visited. The furniture she knew from the familiarity of it. It was the kind every office in every large house held – solid oak desk and leather chairs. The chair she sat in welcomed her into its padded depth, a blessed relief for her aching body.

The two hours since arriving had exhausted her as they’d settled her in and a nurse, who had seemed in awe of her, had taken all her particulars, from her name to her previous illnesses. As she was obviously from the north of England, Alice wondered how the woman came to be working in a hospital in the south, but then that was the war for you. There had been no exchanges between them, other than those that were essential. It wasn’t that the nurse had been unkind, just very matter-of-fact, and afraid. Yes, that was it. She had seemed afraid. All the time she’d taken details, changed dressings and generally seen to settling Alice in there had been a nervousness about her.

The officer brought her attention back to him. ‘I’m Colonel Young, I am the immediate senior of your boss, Captain Bellows.’ He coughed, an embarrassed sound. ‘You know the procedure, Officer. You have to tell me anything that is relevant to our continued support of the group you were with, or contacts you made that will allow another agent to regroup them.’

‘Yes, sir. But first, is there any news on Steve?’

‘Agent Henderson, you mean? No, no word, I’m afraid. Our agent attached to the group who saved you said he thinks Henderson and the Resistance worker who stayed with him must be holed up somewhere. He hasn’t heard a word, but is trying to find out. He knows the area is being scoured by the Germans, though. So, and I’m sorry to say this, if Henderson did survive, there is little hope that he escaped the Germans.’

Her involuntary gasp prompted a look from him that showed he’d realized what Steve meant to her, but he didn’t pursue it. ‘Right. Let’s get on.’

After answering most of his questions, one came that shook her. ‘Which member of the group do you think betrayed you? We have intelligence that it was the woman Gertrude, known as Violetta Bandemer.’

‘No!’

Once more he gave her the same quizzical look, but carried on. ‘Every effort is being made to capture her, but she has gone underground and is not leaving the house she works in. If it is her, then she is very dangerous, as she is close to Herr Eberhardt and has a lot of information that she could give him: names, safe houses and so on. It is imperative that she is caught and disposed of. There are plans to do the latter.’

‘No! You must stop them. It is not Gertrude.’ He listened in astonished silence as Alice told him what Elsbeth had told her, and about her father’s journal.

‘Good God – Westlin? No, it cannot be. He is a most decorated and honoured soldier. What you have told me is damning, but I believe it is false. Oh, I understand how your father came to make those assertions, and that his mistress would believe them. It is obvious that your father would want it on record that he was innocent, as he proclaimed. And for that to have any substance he would need someone to lay the blame on. Look, I am sorry, this is something I don’t like saying, but in doing so your father has shown the kind of man he was. Westlin stood by him as much as he could. But once he saw what was happening, he had to use his friendship to get evidence that would stop it. He could not allow your father to continue jeopardizing our war efforts, and now it seems that your sister – or half-sister, or whatever – is doing the same. Chip off the old block . . .’

This hurt. Not the fact that the colonel didn’t believe her, but the inference that Gertrude was a traitor, as he believed their father to be. And the pain of what they intended to do to Gertrude ripped her apart. ‘Please listen to me. Or at least have someone go and talk to my father’s mistress. Try, please try. Westlin caused all of this – he did!’

Even to her own ears it all sounded implausible. There was no real proof. Unless the writings of her father and Elsbeth, in that last journal, provided that proof . . . ‘There is another diary, sir, and it may contain further evidence. Elsbeth told me that, once I read it, I would believe in our father’s innocence. I had it with me when we were captured. We had to bury it: Steve – I mean, agent Henderson – and I. It is in a field. The Resistance worker called Alfonse knows where it is, for he watched everything.’ Oh God! Please let that be so. Please let him have seen us bury the book!

‘Well, that’s a long shot, like finding a needle in a haystack. And then what if it is all lies? No, the whole thing is preposterous. I forbid you to speak of it ever again to anyone, Officer. And that is a command!’

Drained of energy and locked in a cocoon of fear for Steve and Gertrude, Alice felt engulfed by a feeling of helplessness. All she could do was nod her head.

‘Good. We will continue in an hour. You look as though you need a break. I am sorry. Really sorry, for you do not deserve the legacy of your father’s actions. No one that I know thinks so. Even Churchill himself expressed his faith in you by sanctioning your recruitment.’

This prompted the thought that maybe the great man didn’t really believe in her father’s guilt, but, not daring to go down the road of pursuing this, or visiting her anguish again, she did not say so. ‘Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. May I ask if I will be allowed to go back, sir? I feel as though I achieved nothing at all.’

‘Nothing? So, training rough-around-the-edges Resistance workers into a disciplined troop with skills they would need, and gaining valuable information on the Versanté factory and details that led to several trains being disrupted represents nothing in your book, does is? Well, in ours it does. You have done a sterling and courageous job. But whether you will be able to go back will depend on the level of fitness that you attain. Those injuries to your arms may leave a permanent weakness, which may impair your abilities. If it is considered at all, then you will have to go through the whole course again. So for the moment get your mind conditioned to the likelihood of a desk job being your future, or some kind of advisory role.’

She walked unsteadily along the corridor, which was once the magnificent landing of this wonderful house, and stopped when she reached the top of the beautiful staircase. Moving further along, she admired how it curved and then framed each side of the wide stairs. A glance over the banister brought back memories. She could almost see Bren standing, his back against the wall, looking up at her and calling to her, ‘Where have you been for the last hour? I have been looking for you.’ The last part of this echoed into the present as she became aware that someone had spoken to her.

‘What? Sorry . . .’

‘I said, Nurse Moisley is looking for you, ma’am.’

Astonished at hearing that name, she stared back at the man who had said the words.

‘I’m an orderly, ma’am. I’m called Freddie. Are you all right, ma’am?’

‘Yes, sorry. Forgive me, I was daydreaming about the past. Did you say Moisley?’

‘Yes. Come on, I’ll help you back to your room and tell Nurse Moisley you are there. I’ll get you a nice cup of tea and help you to drink it, how would that be?’

She wanted to snap at him and tell him not to patronize her, but she didn’t. His mention of that name had shocked her. It couldn’t be a relation to Corporal Moisley, not down here surely? Moisley had said he came from Yorkshire, and she’d assumed all of his family did as well. But then the nurse who had attended to her was northern . . .

Confused and a little anxious, she allowed the orderly to help her. Glad of his strong arm around her and leaning heavily on him, they reached her room – a partitioned-off part of what she had known to be a much bigger room belonging to Rosamond. Not that she’d had many invites here, and none of them held happy memories for her, but she had spent some of the time of Rosamond’s coming-out weekend in this room, with Rosamond and a crowd of other girls. She remembered it had been a sitting room as well as a bedroom, with a dressing room and bathroom. She supposed all of these rooms had been used now in some way or another, and wondered once more what had become of Rosamond’s family. She would write to Lady Elizabeth and ask her.

‘Help me to the seat by the window, please, Freddie.’

The window reached from floor to ceiling, enabling her to look out onto the garden. But seeing what the war had done to other people threatened to undo the tight knot inside her. Milling around the once-perfect garden, which still held its original design but lacked the finish and floral presentation she had known, were men and women, all of them injured in some way, all tentatively picking their way around or seated in wheelchairs or on benches. There was a certain Englishness about the scene, but no likeness to any scene that she had known.

‘You cry, ma’am; seeing them poor souls is enough to make anyone cry. It does me, and I tend them every day. I want to scream at the injustice of it all sometimes.’

Turning, she saw the nurse who had attended her earlier. ‘Nurse Moisley?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Here, I saw Freddie bringing you a cuppa, so I took it off him. I’ll help you with it – you look as if you could do with one.’

‘Thank you. But no biscuits. Sorry, I’m not up to eating.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you are. But that will come. Once them bigwigs have finished what they have to do, we have other, gentler folk you can talk to. Oh, I know you can’t tell them owt much, but they’ll help you to chat. That takes a load off you. Just telling someone some of what you’ve been through.’

‘They said you were looking for me?’

‘Aye, I have to check on you regularly in your early days with us. See that you have no temperature, that sort of thing; and check on your mental welfare, and help you to settle, as it were. But let me help you with your tea first. That’s more important for now.’

‘What’s your first name? May I use it, or do I have to call you Nurse?’

‘Lil, ma’am. And aye, you can use it – most do. I’d like that. But if Matron is about then we have to be more formal.’

‘You’re from Yorkshire, aren’t you? I recognize your accent. How did you come to be working down in Kent, for they must need nurses up there?’

Lil hesitated before saying, ‘Aye, I am, and they do, but . . . Eeh, it’s no good. You’re going to find out. Me husband is Alfie Moisley. You met him once on a boat. Now, this might be a shock, ma’am, but Alfie is a cousin of yours. Oh, not full-blown, as he were born on the wrong side of the blanket, but your uncle fathered him, just the same.’

Even though she’d suspected this, Alice found it a surprise to hear it. For a moment she wanted to laugh. Was she to find relatives everywhere she went? The idea of them popping up and saying, ‘I’m your sister, your brother, your cousin, your father’s mistress’ prompted a giggle, but the giggle hurt. It grated her throat and bubbled up, not into laughter, but into a sob. More sobs followed. She couldn’t stop them. Her whole body wanted to cry and scream all the pain out of it.

‘Eeh, ma’am, no. Don’t take on like that. Eeh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you.’

The feel of Lil’s arms around her made Alice feel safe. There had only been a very few occasions in her life when another woman had held her, and it had never been with gentleness. Crying uncontrollably now, she took the comfort Lil offered. She leaned into her and allowed her to lift her to a standing position and guide her to the bed. Lil helped her onto the bed and sat beside Alice and held her – just that, nothing else, no remonstration or persuasion. Lil let her cry out all the misery, the coincidences that war had thrown at her, and her loss, her deep loss, of Bren, and now of Steve. Steve, the man she existed for. Would she ever see him again?

Once she’d calmed, Alice asked for and listened to Lil’s story. Something in her wanted to apologize to this lovely person, to tell her she was sorry that her cousin, Lil’s husband, had done such bad things, and to make her understand that Alice’s uncle had instigated it all. His actions had created a feeling of anger and rejection in Alfie. He’d closed down to feeling positive emotions, just as her mother’s actions had closed down Alice herself. Instead all she said was, ‘Lil, we’re much the same, you and I. People have done bad things to us. But we are survivors. I have a lot to tell you. Nothing is all that it seems. Especially where my father was concerned. Maybe one day I can make up to Alfie for everything he suffered, and maybe then he can change.’

‘It won’t make a difference. You see, I’m not the same lass as I was back then, ma’am.’

‘Call me Alice when we’re alone. I’d like that.’

‘Thanks, Alice.’

Her smile held a gentle love, the kind Alice needed. ‘I’m tired now. And my boss will need to see me soon, but we will talk, Lil. We’ll get to know one another and become friends. I’d very much like it if that happened.’

‘I’d like that an’ all, Alice.’

A warmth settled in Alice as Lil said this, and somehow she didn’t feel quite so alone.