In Love and War (23 page)

She laid out the thin sheets of paper, pen and ink. Dusk was falling fast and soon it would be dark. The lights in the station only came on for the arrival of each train and went out again at its departure. They would enable her to see well enough to make the necessary notes, but in the meantime it was too dark to read or sew or do anything other than sit and think. She stood up and stretched, taking deep breaths of the rose-scented night air as yet untainted by soot and smoke. There was just time, she thought, to go down to the kitchen and heat up some coffee. Valentine always left a pot on the range, which retained its heat well into the night, and there would be bread and cheese in the larder in case she felt peckish. Valentine was a generous and considerate hostess, and Hendrick might appear surly, but he often left a punnet of blackberries on the kitchen table, or some peaches that he had obtained somewhere on his travels when he delivered the intelligence to their agent.

Elsie felt her way down the stairs, treading softly so that she did not disturb Marianne or Valentine, whose room was on the first floor. She had expected the kitchen to be in darkness, but when she opened the door she was met by flickering candlelight. For a second or two she thought it was Hendrick who sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a plate of food, but it was a stranger in mud-spattered British army uniform who leapt to his feet. His eyes were dark hollows in a gaunt unshaven face, and he backed away from her.

‘WHO ARE YOU?'
Her voice shook but she stood her ground.

He swallowed, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. ‘Don't scream. I won't hurt you.'

‘You're English,' she said with a sigh of relief. ‘But you're hurt.' The sleeve of his tunic had been cut away and his left arm was roughly bandaged. It was caked with blood and dirt, and she could smell the suppurating wound from where she stood. She felt nauseous and faint, but she steeled herself to meet his frightened gaze with an attempt at a smile. ‘Sit down, please. I'm English too and I promise not to call for help.'

He sank onto the seat, holding his head in his hands. ‘Sorry, miss. Feeling a bit seedy to tell the truth.'

‘Does Valentine know you're here?'

He shook his head. ‘I dunno where I am, and that's no lie. I was brought here by an old chap. He's gone to lock up, or something. He'll be back any moment.'

‘So it was Hendrick who brought you here,' she said thoughtfully. ‘What's your name?'

He shot her a wary glance. ‘Private Smith, miss.'

‘Have you got a first name? I can't call you Private Smith if I'm going to see to that arm of yours.'

‘My friends call me Jim.'

She took the kettle from the range and searched the cupboards for a bowl, which she filled with hot water. ‘I'm not a nurse but I can change a bandage.' She opened a drawer and took out one of Valentine's spotless linen tablecloths. ‘I don't suppose she'll mind if I tear this up. Anyway, it's too bad if she does.' She ripped it into narrow strips and was about to undo the filthy rags around the soldier's arm when Hendrick burst into the kitchen.

‘What's going on? Why are you down here? There's a train due soon.'

‘I know,' Elsie said calmly. ‘But this poor man looks to be in a bad way.'

Hendrick eyed the torn tablecloth, shaking his head. ‘Madame won't be pleased.'

‘She'll understand. But what this man needs is a doctor.'

‘Impossible. No one knows what we do here. One word in the wrong place and we'll all be for the firing squad.'

‘I can't speak the lingo, so I dunno what you're talking about,' Jim said weakly. ‘But if I'm putting you in danger I'd best be on my way.' He half rose from his seat but Elsie pressed him down with a gentle hand.

‘I was just telling Hendrick that you ought to get proper medical care, but he says it's too dangerous.' She glanced at Hendrick's gnarled hands. Somehow she did not see him as a male nurse. ‘I'll dress his wound, but you'll have to take over then. I've got to be in my room when the train arrives.'

Hendrick scowled at her, his eyebrows meeting over the bridge of his nose. ‘That's not right. Madame wouldn't approve.'

She would have laughed if the situation had not been so serious. ‘What do you expect him to do? He's so weak he couldn't hurt a fly.' She gave Hendrick a searching look. ‘He's not the first one you've helped, is he?'

Hendrick shrugged his shoulders. ‘I'm saying nothing.'

‘You've been hiding escapees in the attics, haven't you?'

‘Maybe we have, and maybe we haven't.' Hendrick moved swiftly round the table and helped Jim to his feet. ‘The young lady is going to see to you later. Come with me.'

Jim cast a helpless look in Elsie's direction. ‘What did he say?'

‘He said he'd take you upstairs. I'll dress your wound when he's settled you in one of the attic rooms. You'll be safe up there, and I'll get to you as soon as I can.'

She stood aside as Hendrick helped the young soldier to his feet. He looped Jim's good arm round his shoulders, supporting his weight as they made their way out of the room. Hendrick's infirmities seemed to have been forgotten, or perhaps, she thought with a wry smile, it had all been an act. She gathered up the bandages and the bowl of hot water and took them to her room.

She did not have long to wait before the train arrived and she settled down to make notes in the code that was now ingrained in her memory forever. She knew she would never see a German uniform without associating it with dried peas. She forced herself to concentrate, but her hand trembled and she had to focus all her energy in order to complete the task. She waited until the train had pulled out of the station before venturing up the narrow flight of stairs into pitch darkness. She had to feel her way along the walls until she came to a room with just a sliver of light showing beneath the closed door. She opened it and went inside.

The room beneath the eaves was empty of furniture apart from a single bed and a wooden chair. A bare light bulb dangled from the rafters, shedding a dim light on the bare floorboards, and the air was still and stifling. Elsie's first instinct was to go to the small window and open the shutters, but she realised in time that this might arouse the curiosity of the soldiers who patrolled the streets at night. She went to kneel by the bed where Jim lay propped up on a couple of pillows. ‘Jim,' she said softly. ‘I've come to dress your wound.'

‘It's hot in here, miss.'

She felt his forehead and her worst fears were confirmed. ‘You've got a touch of fever, but that's only to be expected.' She adopted a brisk, no nonsense tone. ‘Now I'm going to take off the old dressing. I'll try not to hurt you.' She peeled off the filthy bandage. ‘I'm sorry,' she added when he winced with pain. The stench of suppurating flesh was almost unbearable, but she braced herself to bathe the ugly wound. It took all her willpower to remain outwardly calm, and her stomach roiled as if she were still at sea in the small boat, but she was determined to do what she could to make him more comfortable. ‘How did you get here?' she said in an attempt to take his mind off the pain. ‘Where did you come from?'

‘I can hardly remember,' he said dazedly. ‘We were in the trenches and then we went over the top. I got hit and the next thing I remember was coming to in the dark. I couldn't move and then I realised there was a dead body pinning me down. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I managed to get free and crawl to the edge of a village. A French farmer found me lying under a hedge. He could have turned me in, but instead he took me home and his wife dressed my wound.'

‘You were very lucky,' Elsie said, wrapping the strips of linen around his arm. ‘You might have been captured by the Germans and taken prisoner.'

‘I'll always be grateful to that couple. They saved my life.'

‘But that must have been miles away. How did you get here?'

‘It's all a bit of a blur, but I was passed from one person to another. They seem to have a network of people willing to risk their own lives to help British and French soldiers escape. I ended up on a barge and we came by river. Your man was waiting for me at the landing stage. I – I'll always be grateful for this.' His head lolled to one side and his eyes closed.

Elsie scooped up the soiled dressings and the bowl of bloodied water. ‘I'll be back,' she whispered. ‘You're safe here, Jim Smith.' She left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen where she found Hendrick. He had tidied away all traces of their visitor and was seated at the table with a glass of beer in his hand. He did not look up.

‘How often do you give shelter to these men?' Elsie asked as she emptied the bowl into the sink. ‘I knew I wasn't imagining things when I heard someone in the attics on my first night here.'

‘The less you know the better.' He lifted the glass to his lips and drank.

‘But I know about this man, and he needs a doctor. He has a fever and his wound is infected. He could lose his arm if gangrene sets in.'

‘Madame will know what to do.' Hendrick put the empty glass down and stood up. ‘I'm going to my bed.'

‘Valentine knows about this?' Elsie barred his way as he made for his room at the back of the kitchen. ‘Tell me what's going on, Hendrick. Why is nothing as it seems?'

He looked down on her from his great height. ‘That's just the way it is. They come and they go. It's as simple as that. We do what we can.' He sidestepped her and crossed the flagstone floor to his room.

‘As simple as that,' Elsie repeated, shaking her head. She washed the bowl and tossed the telltale dressings into the fire, raking the embers until the soiled bandages had burned to ash. She poured herself a cup of coffee and returned to her room to await the arrival of the next train. She checked on Jim several times during the night. It was obvious that he needed medical attention, but there was nothing she could do until morning.

Valentine was an early riser and she usually took her bath first thing. Elsie listened for the rattle of the plumbing as the water rushed through the lead pipes. She waited impatiently for Valentine to complete her ablutions, but eventually the sound of splashing ceased and she heard the bathroom door open and close. After a few minutes she went downstairs, and rapped on Valentine's bedroom door, barely allowing her time to answer before she entered. ‘I must speak to you urgently.'

‘Whatever is the matter, Lotte? You look flustered.'

‘I know all about the escape route that you and Hendrick have been organising,' Elsie said breathlessly.

‘I suppose it was inevitable that you would find out.' Valentine clutched her dressing gown around her thin body. ‘How much do you know?'

‘Hendrick didn't tell me anything, if that's what you're thinking. I went downstairs to make myself some coffee and found an injured man in the kitchen.'

‘Where was Hendrick? He should have been more careful.'

‘I'm sure he was doing his best, but the young soldier has a badly infected wound. I'm afraid he might die, or at the very least lose a limb.'

‘This isn't your problem,' Valentine said firmly.

‘He's not the first one you've helped, is he?'

‘We do what we can.'

‘I think you're very brave to risk everything in such a way, but this chap really does need a doctor.'

‘That's out of the question, I'm afraid. I'll go up and see him as soon as I'm dressed.'

‘But his wound is festering and he has a fever.'

Valentine moved towards her, placing a firm hand on Elsie's shoulder. ‘I said I will see to him, Lotte. You're tired and overwrought. Go downstairs and have something to eat and then you must rest. I am perfectly capable of dressing a wound and treating a fever. Now do as I say and then you must get some sleep. Anouk should be perfectly all right to take over from you.'

‘May I tell her what you're doing? She'll find out sooner or later.'

‘It is dangerous knowledge, but perhaps she should be told.' Valentine moved to the dressing table and picked up a silver-backed hairbrush. ‘No one in the village must find out about this. So far our exploits have been kept secret, but one word out of place could prove fatal.'

‘I understand. I won't breathe a word of it, and neither will Marianne. I can promise you that.'

Valentine sat down and began brushing her long grey hair. ‘A single ill-judged remark is all it takes, Lotte. You've just called your friend by her real name. That would be enough to incriminate us all.'

‘I'm sorry, but we're on our own. No one would know.'

‘You have to live your part. It has to become more real than the life you led before. Go downstairs and get something to eat and then sleep. Don't worry about our new friend. He will be taken care of.'

Summarily dismissed there was nothing Elsie could do other than obey Valentine's instructions. She went to the kitchen and was met by Hendrick. ‘I have something for you. Hold out your hand.' He placed a brown hen's egg on her cupped palm, closing her fingers over its smooth shell. ‘You did well last night.'

She looked up and realised that beneath the shaggy eyebrows his grey eyes were smiling. ‘Thank you,' she murmured. ‘I'll share it with Anouk.'

‘No, it is for your breakfast only. I saved it for you, but if you don't want it . . .' He made as if to take it from her, but she snatched her hand away, hiding the egg behind her back.

‘I do want it, Hendrick. It will be a treat. Thank you.'

He grunted and walked out into the back yard, allowing the door to swing shut of its own accord.

Elsie weighed the egg in her hand, wondering whether to have it boiled, fried or scrambled. She was not sure that she deserved to be singled out for such an honour, but she understood the meaning of the gift – Hendrick had accepted her at last. She was no longer an outsider. She decided to celebrate by having a boiled egg and soldiers for breakfast, something she had not had since she left England. But even as she enjoyed her meal she suffered pangs of homesickness. Perhaps it was the arrival of the young British soldier that had brought home a little closer, or maybe it was Hendrick's unexpected act of kindness that brought tears to her eyes as she dunked the last sliver of toast in the golden egg yolk. She dashed them away when Valentine bustled into the kitchen.