In Love and War (31 page)

‘A couple of hours, that's all, and we will reach Flushing before dark.'

‘Do you know what will happen to us then?'

‘Only that you will be met by someone, and they will organise the rest of your journey.' She slipped out of the cabin, leaving Elsie to struggle out of her wet things and take on her new persona as Anneke, the barge captain's pregnant daughter. Elsie brushed her hair and plaited the damp tresses, winding them around her head. Surveying the result in a mirror pinned to the bulkhead, she smiled at her reflection. ‘So now you're Anneke,' she whispered. ‘I've had so many incarnations in the past two years that I've almost forgotten the real me.'

She picked up her soiled clothing and went into the saloon to find Guy struggling into a pair of baggy trousers. He secured them with a leather belt and shrugged on the jacket provided. He sat down suddenly. ‘Damnation,' he said breathlessly. ‘My leg is still weak. Lying around all day hasn't helped to strengthen my muscles.'

She dumped her bundle on the table and hurried over to help him. ‘Let me take off your boots.'

‘No. I've got to manage on my own.'

Ignoring his gruff refusal she knelt down and unlaced his boots.

‘I'm sorry, Elsie,' he said apologetically. ‘I didn't mean to snap, but I'm sick to death of being dependent on others. Sometimes I wish they'd killed me outright.'

‘Don't say things like that.' She peeled off his wet socks and replaced them with dry ones. ‘Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help and it's not like you. You've been so strong all the time we were hiding out.'

‘You're only sorry for me. You don't really care.'

She leapt to her feet, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. ‘Stop it. Of course I care.' She tightened her grip, giving him another shake. ‘If this is a ploy to get sympathy you're not getting any from me. We're almost there. You can't give up now – Wouter.'

He stared up at her with a baffled frown. ‘Wouter?'

‘That's your new name,' she said, giggling. ‘You're Wouter and I'm your wife, Anneke. She's the captain's daughter and she's about to give birth any day now.' She snatched up a cushion and tucked it under her blouse in an attempt to make him laugh. ‘We're going to be parents, Wouter.' She danced about the saloon, clutching her bump. The ridiculousness of quarrelling over nothing hit her forcibly. She was laughing and somehow she could not stop. Guy stood up and caught her in his arms as she was about to pass him for the second time. He held her with surprising strength and his mouth found hers in a kiss that caught her by surprise, and even more astonishing she found herself kissing him back. The cushion slid to the deck and she realised dimly that her body fitted exactly to his, as if they had been created as one. At last, dazed and breathless, she tried to pull away. ‘Let me go, Guy. This is crazy.'

‘I don't agree.' His eyes were dark with desire as he held her gaze. ‘I wish it were true. I wish I was Wouter or whatever his name is, and that you were my wife.'

Her knees threatened to give way beneath her and her heart seemed to be doing somersaults inside her breast. His kisses had taken her to another dimension, far away from the dangers they still faced, but now it was time to face reality. She stared down at the cushion where it lay between them. ‘We dropped the baby. It's lucky it wasn't a real one.'

He released her and sat down abruptly. ‘I suppose you think this is all a joke.'

She picked up the cushion and wrapped her arms around it, holding it close. ‘No, Guy. I'm not laughing.'

‘I'm sorry,' he said, bowing his head. ‘I took advantage of you. It won't happen again. I've resisted the temptation all these months – I shouldn't have kissed you.'

She opened her mouth to argue but the captain's wife chose that moment to enter the saloon, putting a stop to the argument. She carried a tray laden with bread, cheese and rosy red apples which she set down on the table. ‘I'm sure you're hungry,' she said cheerfully. She took in their changed appearances with a pleased smile. ‘You could pass for Anneke and Wouter, but let's hope we get across the border without incurring a search. The German soldiers turn everything upside down. Heaven alone knows what they think they might find.' She scooped up their wet garments. ‘I'd better get on if I'm to have these ready for you when you leave us.'

‘Thank you,' Elsie said wholeheartedly. ‘You're very kind and we're truly grateful.'

She beamed at them. ‘It's always a pleasure to help young lovers. It does my sentimental heart good to see you two together – just like my Anneke and her Wouter.'

Elsie smiled and nodded. She dared not look at Guy in case she burst into hysterical laughter. ‘Thank you for the food,' she said hastily. ‘I'm starving.'

‘Of course. Young people always are.' The captain's wife smiled and left the saloon, closing the door softly behind her.

Elsie busied herself slicing the bread. She hoped that Guy could not see that her hand shook as she pared slivers from the cheese. Her pulses continued to race and she could still feel the pressure of his body against hers. The taste and scent of him lingered, and she was finding it difficult to concentrate even on the simplest task. She told herself that being thrown together had created a false set of emotions. It was not love. It was not. She turned to Guy. ‘Would you like some bread and cheese? The apples look good too.'

After breakfast, there was nothing to do but sit and wait for the moment when the barge sailed into neutral Holland. Elsie knew they should have been celebrating the fact that they had come this far, but the atmosphere in the saloon was strained. She could not look Guy in the face without blushing, and he seemed equally ill at ease. He lay back on the bench and feigned sleep. She could tell by the way he was breathing that he was simply lying there with his eyes shut, but at least it saved her the bother of trying to make polite conversation. She was edgy and frightened, and in an emotional maelstrom. She had never thought of Guy in a romantic way; even when he had proposed to her in the teashop she had managed to remain objective. She had always liked him, but things had changed dramatically since Hendrick had carried the injured soldier into the kitchen of the Merchant's House. She stole a glance at Guy's prostrate figure. She had dressed his wounds and bathed his naked flesh, so that she knew his body almost as intimately as she knew her own. She had slept at his side and taken comfort from his nearness. She had shared his fears and they had laughed at the same silly things. She snatched up the cushion and held it close. It had been the baby they had momentarily shared and then lost. It had not been real, but for a few seconds it had seemed real. She wanted him to open his eyes and smile at her. She wanted him to love her again, but she knew that she had missed her chance. They had simply shared a moment of madness, and now it was over.

She sat back on the hard seat, still clutching the cushion, as she tried to conjure up a vision of Henri. She closed her eyes; she had held on to the dream for so long that she had imagined it to be real. She tried hard to resurrect the feeling she had for him, but it was like walking through a peasouper. Each time she felt that she was drawing closer to Henri she found that he had moved on. His shadow was fast disappearing into the mists of a forgotten memory.

She opened her eyes with a start and sat bolt upright. She was still drugged with sleep, but the noises on deck were real enough. She was more than familiar with the sound of orders being barked out in German. Guy was already on his feet and he had opened the saloon door. The voices were growing louder, and even though she could not understand a word, it was obvious that they were not going to cross the border without an inspection. ‘What will we do?' she gasped. ‘Guy, you must hide. I might get away with it, but you won't.'

He looked round the saloon, but all the furnishings were built in and bolted to the deck. ‘You couldn't conceal a mouse in here.' He closed the door. ‘Get up and go into the cabin.'

‘There's nowhere to hide in there.'

He moved towards her and took the cushion from her hands. ‘Our baby,' he said with a grim smile. ‘You must pretend to be in labour, and I'll act like the anxious father to be. If you scream loud enough it might just work. It's our only chance.'

Elsie hurried into the cabin and kicked off her shoes. She leapt onto the bunk and grabbed the cushion, securing it under her clothes. Guy knelt at her side and as the door burst open she let out an ear-splitting scream. His look of alarm was as genuine as that of the young German soldier who stood in the doorway, his jaw slackened in surprise as he took in the scene.

Acting for all she was worth, Elsie writhed and yelled, clutching Guy's hand until she heard his knuckles crack. She gasped for breath and screamed again. Tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks and her sobs were genuine. She held on to Guy, forgetting everything other than the need to keep him safe. She gave no thought to her own danger, or the fact that she could be arrested as a spy and might face a firing squad. She let out yet another loud howl and the captain's wife pushed past the soldier, shouting at him in rapid Flemish. He backed into the saloon and she slammed the door in his face. She leaned against it, closing her eyes and her lips moved as if in silent prayer.

Elsie groaned and was working herself up for another spate of screaming when Guy laid his finger to his lips. ‘I think they're leaving.'

The captain's wife opened the door and stood there, her head cocked on one side. She uttered a sigh of relief. ‘They've gone ashore. Thank God for that.' She turned to Elsie with a smile. ‘That was quite a performance. I almost believed that you were in labour.'

Guy withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers. ‘Are you all right, Elsie?'

She lay there exhausted but triumphant. ‘I've just given birth to a lovely plump cushion,' she said, and found she was crying.

‘We're moving again.' The captain's wife made to leave the cabin. ‘This calls for a cup of real coffee. I have a small supply that I keep for special occasions.'

Elsie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk. ‘I'd give anything for a cup of tea,' she whispered.

Guy smiled. ‘I know a charming teashop in Piccadilly.'

FELICIA LOOKED UP
from reading the newspaper without a flicker of surprise. ‘So you're back, Elsie. How was it in Paris?'

‘Interesting,' Elsie said, taking off the woollen beret that the Red Cross worker had given her when she and Guy had landed at Harwich.

Felicia peered at her over the top of her reading glasses. ‘You look frightful, darling. Where did you get that rig-out?'

‘It's a long story.' Elsie hesitated, gazing anxiously at Felicia. ‘I know there's no reason for me to be here now, and I promise I'll look for accommodation elsewhere, but I wonder if I could stay with you for a while?'

Felicia took off her reading glasses and stared at her in overt astonishment. ‘It never occurred to me that you'd go anywhere else. I've missed having you and Marianne around the place, and Anthea is hardly ever at home these days.'

‘Are you sure, Felicia? I don't want to outstay my welcome, and I'm not even sure I have a job to go back to.'

‘Darling, it's wartime. London has been bombed and there's talk of food rationing, apart from the fact that millions of young men have lost their lives. We're all in this together and you can stay here as long as you like.'

Elsie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I don't know what to say other than thank you.'

Felicia reached across the back of the sofa and tugged at the bell pull. ‘I'll get Gerda to run a bath for you.' She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. ‘There's a distinct smell of fish about you.'

‘That would be really wonderful.' Elsie was too tired to go into details of their journey from Flushing to Harwich in a small fishing boat. They had narrowly escaped being sunk by a German submarine, and Guy had been seasick from the moment they left the relatively calm waters of the Scheldt estuary. They had arrived with the false papers given them in Belgium to identify them as well as their British passports, and had been taken straight to the nearest police station. Eventually, after a long night spent in a prison cell, they had been released. Guy had been taken to an army hospital and she had received a rail pass authorising her to travel to London. She might have spent longer in jail had it not been for a telephone call from Military Intelligence confirming her story. ‘Who's Gerda?' she asked wearily.

‘She's a Belgian refugee. I got her from your people – they're always on the lookout for someone to offer employment and accommodation even now. She's a good girl, but she doesn't speak very good English. Anyway, I'm off again in a couple of weeks. I'll spend the rest of the year entertaining the troops. What about you, Elsie?'

‘I've got to report to Room 40 tomorrow. I hope they'll give me my old job back with Blinker's Beauty Chorus.'

Felicia frowned. ‘Where's Marianne? Why didn't she come with you?'

‘We got separated, Felicia. I'm not sure where she is at the moment.'

‘Well, one thing is certain – Marianne will be all right. She's a survivor if ever there was one.' Felicia turned her head as the maid burst into the room. ‘What have I told you about knocking first, Gerda?'

‘I'm sorry, madame. I forget.'

‘I want you to run a bath for Miss Mead, and then you can make up her bed. It's the room at the end of the corridor. She'll show you which one.' Felicia dismissed her with a wave of her hand. ‘You'd better go with her, Elsie. She hasn't quite learned the layout of the flat yet, although heaven knows it's small enough. I'll see you at dinner.' She went back to reading her newspaper.