In Love and War (25 page)

There was no sign of Valentine as she entered the room, but Jim opened his eyes and managed a weak smile. Elsie pulled up the chair and sat down. ‘How are you feeling?'

He ran his hand over his clean-shaven chin. ‘A lot better than I did, ta.'

‘I'm glad. I was worried about you.'

‘I'm tough, miss. I've come this far so I don't think a scratch on me arm is going to stop me now.'

‘Can I get you anything?'

‘No, ta. The Belgian lady gave me some soup.' He reached out his hand. ‘You was the one what helped me last night, wasn't you?'

‘I didn't do much, Jim.'

‘Just hearing an English voice helped me more than you'll know. I knew I was getting close to home.' He squeezed her fingers. ‘I dunno what you're doing here, but good for you, miss.' He closed his eyes.

Elsie withdrew her hand gently and pulled the sheet up to cover his naked chest. She stood up and tiptoed out of the room, wiping away tears. His heartfelt thanks had touched her deeply: she had done little enough, but simply being there and speaking to him in his own tongue had obviously helped. She closed the door quietly, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Valentine was standing in front of the range, stirring the contents of a large saucepan, and its savoury aroma filled the room. ‘You should be asleep,' she said sternly. ‘Wearing yourself out won't help anyone and you might make mistakes.'

‘I went to check on Jim. He seems much better, thanks to you.'

Valentine frowned. ‘I'm afraid he'll lose that arm, but I've done all I can. I just hope he'll get back to England before gangrene sets in.'

‘But surely he's not well enough to move on?'

‘It's not up to me, Lotte. We do what we can for them, but it's safer for all concerned if the chain remains unbroken.'

‘He's so weak.'

‘The boy is in better shape than when he arrived last night. We can't afford to get involved with individuals. We're professionals and we have a job to do. You must remember that at all times.'

‘I'll try, but it won't be easy.'

Valentine replaced the lid on the pan. She smiled and waved the spoon at Elsie. ‘You'll have to guard that tender heart of yours, my dear. You will have to grow a protective shell around it and try to be more like your friend. Anouk has the makings of a ruthless espionage agent.'

Elsie knew that was not true but there was no point in arguing. Valentine might think that Marianne was tough and heartless, but Elsie had seen the softer side of her friend, and she knew that her blasé attitude to life was just an act. She had a picture of Marianne and Dieter fixed in her mind and she was afraid. One day she knew that Marianne would fall deeply and irrevocably in love. Elsie prayed that it would not be the handsome young German who proved to be Marianne's Nemesis.

When Elsie went to see Jim next day his bed was empty and had been stripped down to the flock-filled mattress. There was no sign that the room had been occupied recently. She felt quite ill at the thought of a sick man being moved from one safe house to the next, but it was not just his life that was at stake. They were all in danger. She laid her hand on the pillow and silently wished Jim Smith a safe passage home.

In the months that followed there was a steady trickle of British and French soldiers who came in the night, were fed and given a bed, and were gone as soon as darkness fell the following day. Valentine and Hendrick saw to their needs and Elsie was not involved with them on a personal level, apart from helping in the washhouse when Valentine was otherwise occupied. Their lice-ridden shirts and undergarments went into the copper, and Hendrick had the unenviable task of running a candle flame down the seams of the filthy tunics and trousers in an attempt to kill off the chats, as the soldiers called the lice. Elsie hated handling the verminous garments but she felt it was the least she could do for the poor devils who occupied the attic room. It was hard to imagine the dreadful conditions in the trenches and the privations the men had to endure, but at least they would travel on without suffering the torment inflicted by ravenous parasites.

The Somme offensive had begun on the first of July and news filtered through in November that it had at last come to an end, but the war raged on. The days were growing ever shorter, but Elsie had not ventured into the village since her encounter with Dieter. Valentine had offered to take her to market and she had refused politely, although she was running out of excuses. Marianne was always eager to go in her stead, even if it meant that she had to lose sleep, and Elsie was beginning to suspect that she had an ulterior motive: her worst fears were confirmed one evening when she was on duty watching the railway station. The continuing hostilities had meant that trains transporting troops and supplies to the front line were more frequent, and timetables were of little use.

She was seated at the desk in her room, staring out into the darkness. She rarely allowed herself the luxury of thinking about Henri, but the melancholy winter evening had evoked a feeling of loss and longing. The last soldier they had sheltered had been a Frenchman and she had found herself wishing that it was Henri they were helping on his way to neutral Holland and freedom. Guy was also in her thoughts and she made a point of asking the British soldiers who passed through their hands if they knew him, but so far without any success. She still suffered pangs of remorse when she remembered their last meeting, and the sight of him walking off and disappearing into the crowds in Piccadilly still haunted her dreams.

She was about to sip her rapidly cooling coffee when a movement below caught her eye. She leaned forward to get a clearer view and her heart lurched against her ribs. Marianne was supposed to be catching up on her sleep in readiness to take over the watch at midnight, but she was crossing the street, walking with a swing in her step as if she were going to a party. There was no reason for her to be out when everyone in the village was obeying the curfew, and she could be shot for disobeying the law or sent to a prison camp. Elsie was tempted to go after her, but even as she rose to her feet she saw a shadowy figure emerge from the station. She knew instinctively that it was Dieter who enveloped Marianne in a passionate embrace and drew her into the deep shadows. Elsie's knees buckled and she sat down again. Her heart was racing and her palms were clammy with sweat. Marianne must have lost her mind to risk all their lives for a romance that was doomed from the start.

She sat, rigid with fear, waiting for the couple to reappear for what seemed like hours. Eventually they stepped out of the shadows, parting with one last kiss. ‘You fool, Marianne,' Elsie cried angrily. ‘You idiot.' She jumped to her feet and raced downstairs, waiting impatiently to confront Marianne as she entered the house. She dragged her into the dining room.

‘What the hell? What d'you think you're doing, Elsie?' Marianne demanded breathlessly. ‘You gave me the fright of my life.'

Elsie closed the door and leaned against it. ‘Don't act the innocent. I saw you and him. I saw you, Marianne.'

‘It's just a bit of harmless fun, darling. Heaven knows we get little enough of that.'

‘Harmless fun? Not only were you breaking the curfew, but you were consorting with the enemy, and you were pretending to be me. I'll be the one who goes before the firing squad if you're caught, not you.'

‘Don't be ridiculous.' Marianne faced her with a defiant toss of her head. ‘You're over-dramatising the whole thing. Dieter won't betray us. He's in love with me.'

‘And I suppose you're madly in love with him.'

Marianne shrugged her shoulders. ‘Maybe, although I'm not sure I know what love is.'

‘You're in love with the idea of being in love, Marianne. You're bored with what we're doing even though you know it will save lives. You're a selfish, stupid girl and I've a good mind to tell Valentine.'

Marianne's face was a pale oval as the lights from the station shone into the room. ‘You wouldn't dare. She'd blame you as much as me.'

‘You'll get us all killed. Don't you care?'

‘I'm not having this conversation, Elsie. I'm going to my room, so move out of the way.'

‘I'm not letting you go until you promise not to see him again.'

Marianne's defiant expression was replaced by a pleading look. ‘I know it's dangerous and that I'm being foolish, but this could be the real thing, Elsie. It might be what I've been waiting for all my life, and if it is then nothing will keep us apart.'

‘Death will, Marianne. He'll end up with a court martial and you'll be shot along with the rest of us. A whole unit of La Dame Blanche will be at risk because you want thrills. You don't love him – it's all a game to you.'

‘I need a cigarette,' Marianne said crossly. ‘Move out of the way, Elsie. I've got to get some sleep before I take over from you.'

‘I'm only letting you go because there's a train due to arrive at any minute, but you'd better think about what I said. If you don't tell the German that you've been deceiving him, I will.'

‘Go to hell.' Marianne flung out of the room.

There were three troop trains in quick succession and it was closer to one o'clock in the morning when Marianne put in an appearance. Her hair was tangled and she had the crumpled look of someone who had fallen asleep fully dressed. ‘I'm sorry,' she muttered. ‘I meant to relieve you at midnight but I fell asleep.'

Elsie stood up and stretched. ‘It's been busy. The Germans seem to be throwing everything they've got at our boys. I hope to God it ends soon.'

Marianne hesitated in the doorway, a worried frown creasing her brow. ‘Are we still friends?'

‘Of course, but you know what you have to do. You have to put an end to this business with Dieter.' Elsie brushed past her. ‘I'm going downstairs to get something to drink. D'you want anything?'

Marianne shook her head. ‘I'll think about what you said, but I'm not making any promises. I do like him a lot. He makes me feel special.'

Elsie said nothing. She would give Marianne until morning to decide whether or not to end her involvement with the German, and if all else failed she might have to seek Valentine's help. She hated the thought of revealing Marianne's ill-judged affair, but all their lives were at stake. She was halfway down the second flight of stairs when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Someone was in a hurry. She reached the landing at the same time as Valentine. ‘What's the matter?' Elsie asked anxiously.

‘We've got a seriously injured man and I need someone level-headed to assist me. I'm afraid that excludes Anouk.' Valentine brushed a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. ‘I know it's your rest period, but . . .'

‘You don't have to ask. Of course I'll do anything I can.'

‘Hendrick is with him.' Valentine turned on her heel and retraced her steps with Elsie following close behind.

In the kitchen Hendrick was standing over a soldier who was stretched out on the table as if he were in an operating theatre. The stench of blood and suppuration filled the room, and even by candlelight Elsie could see that the man was barely breathing. Hendrick looked up and his expression was grim. ‘I'm surprised he made it this far. He's in a bad way.'

‘Stoke the fire, Hendrick,' Valentine said briskly. ‘We'll need plenty of hot water.' She turned to Elsie. ‘Go into the parlour and fetch my sewing box. I want a darning needle and thread and scissors. All of which you must sterilise in carbolic. It's fortunate that I persuaded the doctor to give me a fresh supply.' She started to unbutton the soldier's mud-encrusted tunic.

Looking for something in almost complete darkness was not easy but eventually Elsie found the polished rosewood box and took it to the kitchen. Hendrick and Valentine had managed to peel off the man's clothing, which now lay on the floor in a muddy heap. A clean towel covered his legs, one of which was roughly splinted, but the sight of the gaping hole just below his left shoulder made Elsie want to retch. If the smell was anything to go by infection had already set in and his condition was critical. ‘Sterilise the needle, thread and scissors,' Valentine said calmly. ‘Hendrick, tear up my last tablecloth. I don't know what we'll do when this one is gone, but perhaps some kind soul in the village will sacrifice some of their linen.' She started to clean the flesh surrounding the wound, working swiftly and methodically.

Elsie's hand was shaking as she poured carbolic into a dish. ‘What else do you want me to do?'

‘I've a small amount of chloroform left. I keep it for the most serious cases and this is one of them. I'm going to have to probe the wound to make sure there are no fragments of the shell left in it before I begin suturing. If he starts to come round I want you to pour a little of the chloroform onto a pad and hold it over his face. I'll tell you when to do it and when to stop. We don't want to send him to meet his maker before his time.'

Hendrick placed a pile of clean linen on the table. ‘Is that enough?'

‘For the moment.' Valentine probed the man's flesh, uttering a cry of triumph as she retrieved a sliver of metal. She glanced at Elsie. ‘Don't you dare faint, my girl.'

‘I'm all right. He doesn't seem to need anaesthesia, so is there anything else I can do?'

‘Thread the needle and pass it to me. I'm going to swab the wound with carbolic and sew him up.'

‘Have you done this before?' Elsie asked anxiously.

Valentine gave a short bark of a laugh. ‘I've trussed many a capon and turkey. Flesh is flesh whether it's animal or human.' She turned to Hendrick. ‘I'll need the hot water to wash him when I've finished my bit of expert darning.'

‘Yes, madame.' Hendrick nodded and grinned. ‘He's a lucky fellow.'