In Love and War (42 page)

‘Thank God,' Elsie gasped. Relief gave way to curiosity. ‘What does it say? Who sent it?'

‘It's from Marianne. It's Henri, I'm afraid. He was killed in action. I'm so sorry, Elsie.'

‘Henri's dead?' Elsie struggled to grasp the fact. In her mind's eye she could see Marianne and Henri on their wedding day. It had been such a happy occasion, similar to the one they had just witnessed.

‘Let me help you upstairs, Elsie. You need a good strong cup of tea and I could do with a tot of brandy for the shock. Bailey, be a good chap and take her other arm. You look as though you need a drink too.'

‘Poor Marianne,' Elsie murmured as they helped her to her feet. ‘I can only imagine how she must be feeling.'

‘Marianne will be well looked after,' Felicia said firmly. ‘Come along, Elsie. Best foot forward. You won't help Marianne by falling apart. She'll need family and friends more than ever with the baby on the way.'

‘I know she gets on well with Henri's parents, but they'll be more concerned about their own feelings than Marianne's.'

‘Give them credit for a bit of human kindness,' Felicia said sternly. ‘Marianne is carrying their son's child. Of course they'll take care of her. Come along now. Let's get you upstairs.'

With Elsie safely ensconced in an armchair Felicia opened the cocktail cabinet and took out the last of the Calvados. Bailey was lingering in the doorway and he cleared his throat, staring at Felicia until she remembered that she had offered him a drink. She poured a tot for herself and handed him a glass, which he downed in one go. ‘Ta, Miss Wilby. That's warmed the cockles of me heart.' He tipped his cap and left them, passing Gerda as she hurried into the room with a tray of tea.

Elsie sat back in her chair and let them fuss round her, but all she could think of was Marianne and how she must be suffering. She wished with all her heart that she could be there to comfort her, but independent travel was virtually impossible. Had she been fit she would have re-joined her unit, but that too was out of the question.

The best she could do was to concentrate on regaining her health and strength, and she set out to do just that. She forced herself to eat the plain but nourishing meals prepared by Gerda, and she exercised daily. At first she went for short walks but she pushed herself to the limit, gradually increasing the pace and distance.

In the weeks that followed, Felicia was absorbed in her work at the theatre, coming home late every evening and sleeping until late next day. As a result Elsie saw very little of her and Gerda was there in body, but her mind was clearly on other things. She went about in a dreamy state, and spent all her free time making plans for her wedding to Niels. Elsie was bored and she was lonely, and she wanted desperately to return to work, but when she attended an interview at the headquarters of the nursing yeomanry she was given a medical and advised to wait for another three months before re-applying. She returned to the flat feeling let down and despondent. The summer was coming to an end and she needed to do something other than sit around the flat all day.

She had accompanied Gerda to Hackney on several occasions and met Niels, who she decided was a thoroughly decent young man and obviously devoted to Gerda. She visited Joe Johnson and his wife, who were both delighted to see her, but the Belgian refugees were now settled and most of them spoke perfect English so her services were no longer needed.

She could have volunteered to drive a bus or work in the Post Office or on the railways, but she was determined to re-join the services in one way or another, and her main objective was to be sent back to France so that she could be there for Marianne when her baby arrived. There was one avenue left to her and on a warm morning in early September, dressed in a businesslike navy-blue shantung blouse and skirt with a matching straw hat perched on top of her bobbed hair, Elsie set off for Whitehall and Room 40.

She had to wait for over an hour, seated on a hard wooden chair in a corridor with people bustling past her as if she were invisible. Finally, when she thought she had been forgotten, she was shown into the hallowed office of Edith Lomax.

‘Take a seat, Miss Mead.' Edith steepled her hands, and gazed at Elsie with raised eyebrows. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘I contracted Spanish flu,' Elsie said simply. ‘I was one of the lucky ones who survived and I was sent home to recuperate. I'm well now but when I applied to re-join my unit in France I was told it would be another three months before they considered me fit enough to return to duty.'

Edith angled her head. ‘Are you're asking me to take you on again as a translator?'

‘I'll do anything. I'll serve in the canteen or scrub floors if you'll let me.' Elsie eyed her warily. ‘Or I could go back to the rue Saint-Roch. I know my way round Paris and . . .'

‘And you want to be near your good friend Marianne Bellaire, whose husband was killed at the Marne.'

‘You know about that?'

‘It's my business to know everything about the people who work for the department. As a matter of fact I was about to get in touch with you, and you've saved me a telephone call.'

‘You wanted to speak to me?' Elsie stared at her in surprise. ‘May I ask why?'

‘Marianne might have left the service because she is expecting a child, but she is still in Paris, and is now a potential security risk.'

‘I don't understand. Why is she a risk? Marianne would die rather than betray her country.'

‘She is in a vulnerable position because of the knowledge she possesses. The Germans were caught on the back foot at the Marne, but they're not beaten yet and they're not going to give up easily. Marianne knows the names and details of many of our agents, which we don't want to fall into enemy hands, but now she is a French citizen and as such is beyond the jurisdiction of the British government. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

‘You want her brought home?'

‘Exactly, and who better to perform such a task than her good friend Elsie Mead?'

‘You'll send me to Paris?'

‘Give me a couple of days in which to have the necessary papers prepared and you may consider yourself back in the employ of the British secret service, but it will be for this one task only. Bring Marianne safely back to England whether she wants to come or not.'

‘I think she will. In fact I'm sure she will, especially if her baby is in danger.'

‘Report here in two days' time. Everything will be arranged.' Edith stood up and extended her hand. ‘Marianne is lucky to have a friend like you.'

Wearing the uniform of a nurse in the Voluntary Aid Detachment Elsie travelled to France on a hospital ship and then by hospital train from Calais to Paris. It was surprisingly straightforward, especially when compared to the journey she and Marianne had undertaken when they left Paris for an unknown destination and ended up in Brussels.

Paris seemed busier than Elsie remembered, and the uniforms of the French, British, American, Canadian and New Zealand military were seen on every street. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were snatching a few days' well-earned respite from the horrors they faced daily, and amongst them were the refugees from countries invaded by the enemy. As she alighted from the fiacre in the rue de l'Echelle, Elsie glanced up at the building, which looked a little dustier in the late summer heat, but was otherwise unchanged. She paid the cabby and rang the doorbell for the concierge, who recognised her instantly, despite her nurse's uniform.

Taking the stairs to the first floor Elsie was excited at the prospect of seeing Marianne, but she was also apprehensive. She had not heard from Marianne since the telegram giving the news of Henri's death and she did not know what to expect. She knocked on the door and waited. Moments later it was opened by the Bellaires' maid, who greeted her with a shy smile and ushered her inside.

‘I've come to see Madame Henri.' Elsie made an effort to sound casual but the apartment seemed eerily quiet. ‘Is she at home?'

‘Madame Henri is in her room, but Madame Bellaire is in the drawing room. Shall I announce you, mademoiselle?'

Elsie nodded. ‘Yes, please do.' Her worst fears seemed to have been realised. It was unlike Marianne to lock herself away. She put her small valise down and waited for the maid to reappear, and moments later she was ushered into Madame Bellaire's presence. Selene rose to her feet, extending a beautifully manicured hand.

‘Welcome, Elsie. This is a pleasant surprise.' She looked her up and down. ‘You are a nurse now?'

‘Not exactly, madame.'

‘You have come to see Marianne?'

‘I am so sorry for your loss.'

Selene sank down onto the brocaded sofa. ‘It is very painful still.' She stared down at her tightly clasped hands. ‘Marianne is very distressed.'

‘May I sit down?' Elsie edged towards a chair. She was not looking forward to breaking the news that she would be taking Marianne back to England, depriving a grieving mother of her first and only grandchild.

‘Please do. May I offer you some coffee? It is ersatz I am afraid.'

‘No, thank you.' Elsie perched on the edge of a gilded chair. ‘I've come to take Marianne back to England, madame. There's no easy way to say this, but she and her baby are in danger if they remain in Paris.'

Selene looked up, her dark eyes wide with surprise. ‘We are all in danger.'

‘This is different,' Elsie said gently. ‘Marianne and I worked for the British secret service at the rue Saint-Roch. They sent me to bring her home.'

‘This is her home. She is a Frenchwoman now, and her child belongs here with its family.'

‘Both their lives are at risk if they stay here, madame. Marianne has knowledge that could put many intelligence agents in mortal danger.'

‘But she is safe with us. We won't allow anything to happen to her or the child.'

‘You may not be able to protect them. Marianne must return to England with me. I'm sorry, but there is no alternative. As soon as the war is over she can choose where she wants to live.'

‘This is outrageous. My husband won't allow it.'

‘It's up to Marianne. She has to make the decision.' Elsie could see that Selene was unconvinced. She stood up. ‘I need to speak to her.'

Selene nodded her head. ‘Do what you must, but we will see what my husband has to say.'

Elsie realised that the conversation had run its course. Now she must face Marianne and break the news to her. She was not looking forward to it.

Marianne was reclining on a chaise longue, listening to gramophone music, when Elsie entered her room. She looked up and her frown dissolved into a tremulous smile. She raised herself to a sitting position, patting the empty space beside her. Despite the obvious signs of advanced pregnancy Marianne was painfully thin, and her pretty face was ravaged by grief.

‘What are you doing here?' she demanded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You might have let me know you were coming.'

Elsie gave her a quick hug. ‘My carrier pigeon couldn't make it today,' she said with an attempt at a smile, although she felt like crying at the sight of her friend's distress. ‘How are you, Marianne? You look a bit peaky, as Mrs Tranter would have said.'

‘You try heaving this great lump around day in, day out,' Marianne said, patting her swollen belly. ‘I swear this little chap is going to be a rugby player. He kicked a cup of milk off my stomach the other day.'

‘You're sure it's going to be a boy, then?'

‘Absolutely. I'm going to call him Henri in memory of his father.' Marianne's voice broke on a sob. She leaned her head against Elsie's shoulder. ‘Why did it have to be him? We were so happy, and now this.'

‘I'm so sorry, Marianne.' Elsie stroked Marianne's tumbled curls, allowing her to sob until she had spent her grief.

‘I'm sorry to cry all over you, but it was such a surprise to see you walk through the door. I've really needed you, Elsie.'

‘I know. I've missed you too.'

Marianne reached for a clean handkerchief from a neatly ironed pile close at hand, and wiped her eyes. ‘Why are you dressed like a nurse? Have you left the FANYs?'

Giving Marianne a chance to recover her composure, Elsie launched into an account of her illness and how Felicia had come to the rescue.

‘I'm glad I didn't know you'd caught that dreadful disease,' Marianne said when Elsie stopped to catch her breath. ‘I would have been so worried, but you look well now.'

‘I am, although they won't take me back in the unit for a while.'

Marianne put her head on one side. ‘I know you so well, Elsie Mead. There's something you're not telling me.'

Elsie took Marianne's hands in hers. ‘I've been sent by the powers that be to take you home. You have to trust me on this.'

‘But this is my home. This is where Henri's son should be born.'

‘You're in danger and so is your unborn child. I've tried to explain things to Selene but I don't think she believes me any more than you do. You're a marked woman, Marianne. You were working for Military Intelligence for a long time and you know too much. They've sent me here to bring you back to England where you'll be safe.'

‘You're joking. I'm no one in particular. Why would anyone want to harm me?'

‘For the reason I just gave you. You know names that would be more than useful to the Germans. Think of Raoul, for instance, and the Tandel sisters. Then there are Valentine and Hendrick and all the other people you must have come across while you were at the rue Saint-Roch.'

Marianne was silent for a moment, her face pale with shock. ‘I hadn't thought about it like that.'

‘Think of your baby, Marianne. You must come with me and we have to leave first thing in the morning.'