In Love and War (29 page)

‘Of course I would, Guy. Don't be so silly.'

‘You don't have to do this, you know, Elsie.'

She stared at him nonplussed. ‘What are you saying?'

‘You ought to go on alone. Let them take you to safety. I'm just a hindrance, and I'm holding you back.'

‘I won't listen to such nonsense. I'm not going anywhere without you. What sort of person do you think I am?'

He smiled and raised her hand to his lips. ‘A very brave woman and I don't deserve such a friend.'

She snatched her hand away. ‘And you won't have one if you keep talking such tripe.' She scrambled to her feet. ‘Now, if you've had enough to eat I'm going to try to get you outside to the lavatory.' She went to fetch the wheelchair and pushed it closer to the stall.

Guy bent one leg, keeping the splinted limb straight. ‘Give me a moment and I'll be fine.' He looked up with an apologetic grin. ‘I'm just a bit weak.'

‘Of course you are,' she said sympathetically. ‘Take a breather, and then we'll have another go.'

Eventually, after a considerable struggle, she managed to get him into the chair and across the yard to the outside lavatory. She was too intent on helping him without causing him additional discomfort to feel any embarrassment, and Guy suffered her ministrations without complaint. He even managed to hobble a few paces, but he sat down again quickly, leaving Elsie to get him to the pump. She washed his face and hands with a scrap of cloth torn from her petticoat. ‘I don't think I'd make a very good nurse,' she said, mopping the excess water as it trickled down his neck and soaked his shirt. ‘Sorry.'

‘You're coping magnificently,' he said manfully. ‘I'm the useless one. I'm as weak as a kitten and my right leg is useless.'

‘You'll get stronger every day.' Elsie paused for a moment to look round and was even more impressed by their surroundings when seen in daylight. ‘The baroness must be very wealthy to own such a place. She has such a lot to lose by helping us and others in a similar position. You've got to admire her.'

‘I just wish I wasn't so bloody helpless.' A note of bitterness had crept into Guy's voice and he turned his head away. ‘Don't take any notice of me, Elsie. I'm just feeling sorry for myself.' He shot her a sideways glance. ‘I should be looking after you, not the other way round.'

‘And you would if our situations were reversed. You're lucky to be alive, Guy Gifford.' She realised that she had spoken more brusquely than she had intended and she leaned over to drop a kiss on the top of his head. His hair had been savagely cropped in the hospital, and now stood up in tiny hedgehog spikes, making him look younger and even more vulnerable. She brushed a trickle of water from his cheek. ‘You've survived – that's all that matters. We'll get through this together.'

He smiled weakly. ‘You're a wonderful girl, Elsie.'

There was no doubting his sincerity and she was touched, but she turned away. This was not the time to weaken; she must be strong for both of them. She splashed water on her hot cheeks. It was ice-cold but invigorating and she dried her face on her skirt. ‘I'd give anything for some decent clothes,' she said, steering the subject to safer ground. ‘I must look an absolute fright.'

‘You look beautiful,' Guy said seriously. ‘I'll always remember you like this. You're the bravest woman I've ever met, and the loveliest.'

‘You're obviously feverish,' she said, laughing. ‘Let's get you back to the stables before the baroness spots us and tells us off for loitering.' There were tears in her eyes as she seized the handles and began to push the wheelchair across the cobblestones. Guy was completely dependent upon her and she had to be brave, but deep down she was terrified. At any moment they could be discovered and shot as spies or at the very least thrown into prison for the duration of the war. Home seemed a long way away, and getting to the Dutch border was not going to be easy. They had just reached the stable door when she spotted the baroness hurrying towards them. She could tell by her tense expression that all was not well. ‘Is anything wrong, madame?'

‘There's been a change of plan. You were supposed to remain here for a few days, but I've just been informed that my home has been commandeered by the Germans. They are going to billet some of their most important officers here.'

‘But that's terrible, baroness. What will happen to you?'

‘I'll be treated well enough, but for the time being my work for La Dame Blanche will have to cease. It would be too dangerous to carry on.'

‘So we must move on tonight?'

‘No, my dear. I'm afraid we will have to take a great risk. You will leave within the hour.'

‘How will we travel? Guy is too weak to walk.'

‘My maid's husband is a farmer. It's fortunate that today is market day, and he is already in town unloading his produce. He'll be here shortly and will take you to one of our agents closer to the Dutch border. You'll remain there until we can organise the next part of your journey.'

‘You are all taking such enormous risks,' Elsie said softly. ‘I can't thank you enough.'

‘We do what we can. Now go inside and be ready to travel. I'll bring your documents to you before you go, but stay inside until I tell you it's safe to come out. My unwelcome guests will be arriving shortly.' She strode off in the direction of the house, leaving Elsie staring after her in awe.

‘What a woman,' Guy said in a low voice. ‘I wish we'd had time to get to know her better.'

Elsie manoeuvred the chair into the stables and the horse whinnied as if in greeting. She paused outside his stall, stroking his satiny nose. ‘You'll be glad of some peace and quiet, no doubt.'

‘I wish I could help,' Guy said as he watched her clearing away evidence of their stay.

‘I can manage,' she said cheerfully.

Guy watched as she rolled up his palliasses and tidied the stall. ‘So we're going on a hayride.'

She looked up and forced a smile. ‘I don't think this is going to be much fun.'

It was hot and airless beneath the canvas sheet that covered the cart, and the wooden wheels jolted over the cobblestones in town and bounced over the rutted lanes when they reached the country. The farmer had not had time to sweep the mud off the boards, and the smell of manure was suffocating, but Elsie lay huddled up against Guy, trying to shield him from the worst of the bumps with little success. He did not complain or cry out, but she felt the tremor go through him each time the jolt was severe enough to cause him pain. ‘It's like a game of sardines,' she said in an effort to make light of their discomfort.

‘Let's hope no one finds us,' he whispered, and even in the dark she sensed that he was smiling.

She gave him an encouraging hug. ‘I think we're slowing down. Better keep quiet in case it's a German checkpoint.'

The cart drew to a lumbering halt and Elsie held her breath. She tightened her hold around Guy and she felt his muscles tense. She could hear noises but she could not make out what was happening until the cover was drawn back, and they were in the cold light of a snowy landscape. She shielded her eyes and found herself looking up into the farmer's weathered face. He held out his hand. ‘We're here,' he said, helping her to a sitting position. ‘Get out, mademoiselle, and I'll do the rest.'

She jumped to the ground and found herself standing on hard-packed snow beneath the huge sails of a windmill. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by flat fields with a silver ribbon of a river glinting in the distance. ‘Is this where we'll be staying?'

The farmer helped Guy to the ground. He nodded. ‘You are only fifteen miles from the Dutch border. The miller will take care of you from now on.'

Elsie followed his gaze, which rested on a small cottage at the rear of the mill, and even as he spoke the front door opened and a tall, muscular man emerged. He strode purposefully towards them, stopping to speak to the farmer in Flemish. After a rapid exchange he turned to Elsie and Guy with an expansive gesture. ‘Welcome,' he said in a guttural accent. He took Guy's arm and placed it around his shoulder. ‘Come.' He nodded his head in the direction of the cottage.

The farmer patted Elsie on the shoulder. ‘You will be safe here. Now I must leave you. Good luck.' He climbed up onto the driver's seat, and making encouraging noises he flicked the reins and the horse shambled off.

Elsie followed the miller and Guy into the cottage where they were greeted by the miller's wife, who hurried them upstairs to a small attic room. She spoke only Flemish, which made conversation difficult. Elsie had to rely on sign language, much to the amusement of the kindly woman, who seemed to find Elsie's attempts at miming hilarious. She brought them freshly baked bread, cheese and mugs of pale-coloured beer, which Elsie found refreshing after the long and uncomfortable journey in the cart. Guy ate little but drank thirstily and fell asleep almost immediately, lying on a bed of flour sacks stuffed with hay. The scent of the fields filled the small room beneath the eaves, and after a while Elsie began to relax. She was exhausted by the chaotic events of the past few days, and when she was not worrying about Guy her thoughts had been with Marianne. She was deeply concerned about Marianne's liaison with the German officer, and she hoped that Valentine would put an end to the affair and send her, as she had promised, to another assignment far away from temptation.

She was growing sleepy and she lay back on the pile of brightly coloured cushions that had been laid on the floor. She covered herself with a blanket and was drifting off when a sudden grinding noise brought her to her senses. She raised herself on her knees and peered out of the window to see the mill sails catching the wind. They spun round and round, gathering speed, but it was another and more sinister sound that made her hold her breath. She craned her neck to see better as a motor vehicle drew up outside. Two German soldiers climbed out and headed for the cottage door.

It seemed as though the world had stopped. The sails might be turning but Elsie's heart had stilled in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. She drew back from the window, hoping and praying that their hiding place would remain undiscovered, but it seemed that her prayers had been in vain when she heard footsteps on the bare wooden treads of the narrow staircase. She was about to wake Guy when the miller's wife clattered into the room. Elsie gazed down at the woman's clogs and felt a bubble of hysteria rise in her throat, but her relief was short-lived. Outside the mill the sound of raised German voices made her tremble with fear and she raised her head, sending a mute plea for help to the plump woman, who seemed oblivious to anything other than the need to tidy the room. She swooped on the dirty crockery and piled it onto a tray.

Elsie tugged at her skirt and pointed to the stairs. ‘Germans?' she said urgently. ‘Allemand – Deutsch.'

The miller's wife frowned, shaking her head. She said something in rapid Flemish, and then her expression softened. She smiled, murmuring something that was obviously meant to be comforting, and left the room with the tray clutched in her hands.

Guy slept on, apparently undisturbed by the commotion, but Elsie still feared discovery. She waited for the inevitable, despite the seeming unconcern of their hostess. Then, above the noise of the sails and the rumble of the grindstone, she heard the sound of doors being slammed followed by the cough and splutter of an engine starting up. She raised herself to take a peek out of the window, and could have cried with relief when she saw the vehicle begin to move. It backed out of view and she heard it drive away, the noise fading into the distance, leaving just the gentle humming of the mill in action. She lay down and allowed herself to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

The months passed. Christmas came and went with barely a change in their daily routine, and the seasons changed, but there was no question of making the final move until the fractured bones in Guy's leg had knitted together. His chest wound had healed, thanks to the attention of the doctors at the hospital and Axelle's devoted nursing, and he was growing stronger each day. The miller's wife kept them well fed, and, under the cover of darkness, Elsie was allowed outside, although it was made clear to her that she must not stray far from the mill. When the weather permitted the miller helped Guy down the stairs so that he could take advantage of the fresh air, and exercise muscles that had become weak from lack of use. Elsie was delighted with his progress, but she was well aware that their continued presence was putting their kind hosts in great danger.

They were so close to the border that she could almost taste freedom, and now that Guy was regaining his strength she was eager to leave, but they had to wait until they received word from La Dame Blanche. As far as Elsie was concerned it was the enforced idleness that was the hardest thing to bear. She did her best to be useful around the cottage, but although the miller's wife did not complain, Elsie suspected that she was more of a hindrance than a help.

Spending days, weeks and months confined in the small space beneath the eaves, listening to the hypnotic sound of the mill sails whirring and the grindstone rumbling was enough to drive an active person out of their mind. Elsie fretted, but Guy was ever patient. He invented word games in an attempt to keep her amused, and regaled her with stories of his childhood. He had the ability to see the humorous side of even the most mundane events, and he made her laugh until her sides ached and she forgot that they were virtually prisoners, if only for a few minutes.

In turn she told him about life in her village, although she made light of the hardships that she and her mother had endured and the unrelenting poverty that had come upon them after her father's untimely death. Then, one evening, having drunk a little too much of the local beer, she admitted her feelings for Henri.