The FitzOsbornes at War (58 page)

Well. You know what happened after that.

Those God-damned Nazis. I hope they get wiped off the face of the Earth when this Second Front starts.

20th May, 1944

I
STAYED OVERNIGHT AT THE COTTAGE
on Tuesday, because it was dusk by the time Toby finally fell silent. Julia, who’d been flitting about anxiously indoors all afternoon, darted out at the sound of our footsteps, ushered us into the kitchen and tried to feed us some dinner. Neither Toby nor I ate much. Toby looked pale and haggard, as though I’d spent the afternoon draining him of blood instead of words. I, on the other hand, felt weighed down with emotion, far too full of sorrow and anger and pity to be able to take in anything else. Presently, Toby swallowed some of his sleeping pills and collapsed into bed. Julia spent some time arranging blankets and pillows on the sofa for me, then retired herself, biting her lip. I lay awake for hours, staring into the darkness, forced to watch and re-watch a horrifying newsreel playing on the ceiling. Before my eyes, men hurtled out of the sky and smashed into pieces on the ground; mothers were dragged away from their babies and shot dead; the sea caught fire; people with open, smiling faces reached out helping hands, then suddenly turned into grinning skeletons wearing Nazi uniforms.

When I left the next morning, Julia gave me an extra-long hug and whispered, ‘I’m
sure
it was the right thing to do.’ Which only increased my disquiet, but she telephoned the following day, sounding almost like her old cheerful self, and said she’d had a long chat with Toby and that he seemed to be feeling much more at ease.

I
wasn’t, though. I felt awful. I hadn’t told Veronica about Julia’s plan, of course, but I suspected she’d figured some of it out. However, all she’d said when I arrived back from East Grinstead was, ‘Well, I’m certain it did Toby good, having you visit.’ Once upon a time, she would have pressed me for details – she would have interrogated me ruthlessly until she’d captured all the facts. Now, though, she seemed prepared to leave them in my sole possession. It was gratifying to have her trust me so deeply, but after yet another sleepless night, I started to wish I could unburden myself, if only in part, to
someone
else. Then I thought of the Colonel, who was the logical choice. At the very least, telling him would relieve me of some of the guilt I’d felt about lying to Toby.

I managed to arrange a short meeting with the Colonel in Kensington Gardens this morning.

‘I
would
have invited you to luncheon,’ he said, when we met at the Palace Gate, ‘except it’s such a bore, having to conduct security checks on all the waiters beforehand, and search all the salt cellars for hidden microphones.’

I wasn’t
entirely
certain he was joking, but he seemed pleased to see me, so I didn’t feel quite as bad about taking up his valuable time this way. (After all, I didn’t
really
believe there was anything in Toby’s story that might be of professional interest to the Colonel. There had been that traitor, Jacques – but Toby had already told the Resistance people in France about him.) I provided the Colonel with a potted version of events as we strolled through the park, and he listened with his customary careful attention. Then we reached the Round Pond, and we paused to gaze across its unruffled waters. The Colonel sighed.

‘Amazing,’ he said. ‘That Toby survived all that, I mean.’

‘He was very lucky.’ I realised now just
how
lucky Toby had been.

‘But it wasn’t just luck,’ said the Colonel. ‘It also took skill, and charm, and nerve, and sheer determination. Another man might not have made it through that first week. Still, I ought to have learned by now, never to underestimate you FitzOsbornes.’ He smiled at me. ‘Oh, and well done, Sophie, on getting Toby to open up a bit. It must have taken a great deal of strength to listen to all that.’

And suddenly I felt much lighter.

‘Speaking of FitzOsbornes,’ I said, after we’d turned back towards the Palace, ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about Simon? Where he is, or what he’s doing? He did write to Toby, but he couldn’t say anything much about himself, and I know Toby’s concerned about him . . .’

‘Well,’ said the Colonel, ‘of course, that’s all highly classified information. However, I
can
say that Simon has a posting of vital importance to the war effort; that he’s doing his job extremely well; and that he’s eating a lot of spaghetti.’

‘He’s in
Italy
now?’ I said, trying to remember how the fighting was going there. The Allies still hadn’t captured Rome, as far as I knew. ‘Oh. But he won’t be sent to France, will he, when the Second Front starts?’

‘The Second Front?’ said the Colonel. ‘What’s that? Haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. But no, probably not. And anyway, you’re distracting me from the
real
reason I wanted to see you, which was to find out how my favourite nephew is. I haven’t seen him for months.’

‘Oh, he’s wonderful,’ I said, brightening at the very thought of Rupert. ‘He’s terribly busy with his work – whatever that might be – but he’s lovely.’

‘Oh, good,’ said the Colonel. ‘Although, I must say, you
did
take your time about it. His mother and I have been trying to throw you two together for years.’

‘My relationship with Rupert developed quite naturally out of our mutual interests, and had nothing whatsoever to do with your scheming,’ I said.

‘That’s what
you
think,’ said the Colonel smugly. ‘My scheming is not only consistently successful, but also completely undetectable.’

2nd June, 1944

T
OBY HAD A MEETING AT
the War Office today, an official briefing for all the ‘Leaders of the Allied Nations Whose Headquarters Are In Britain’. Well, the second or third tier of the Exiled Leaders, at least – I assume General de Gaulle already knows exactly how and when the Allied forces are going to invade France. I went round to Julia’s Belgravia house beforehand to wish Toby luck. He was wearing a neatly pressed uniform and all his medals, but I was horrified to see him on crutches, with one trouser leg pinned up.

‘What happened to your leg?’ I said.

‘The doctors chopped it off,’ he said. ‘Too mangled to save.’

‘Toby! Where’s your
wooden
one?’

‘It’s upstairs. I thought Churchill might pay more attention to me if I limped in, looking like a true war veteran. I’m worried Montmaray has been left out of their invasion plans, you see, and I don’t want them ignoring us.’

‘Darling, you look like that one-eared cat that used to follow Rupert around Oxford,’ said Julia. ‘Battered, but defiant.’

‘I was actually aiming for “pathetic and pitiable” to attract some sympathy,’ Toby said, ‘but “defiant” might be just as effective. Oh, here’s the taxi.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?’ Julia asked.

‘Better not, I don’t think you’re supposed to know anything about it,’ he said. ‘It’s all so terribly high-level and hush-hush, you see.’

‘Well, good luck,’ I said, kissing his cheek.

‘Yes, darling, very best of luck,’ said Julia. ‘I know “break a leg” is the traditional phrase before a big performance, but –’

‘Best not to tempt fate,’ he agreed. ‘Right, see you in a few hours.’

Then he clambered into the taxi and it puttered off. Julia closed the front door and led me back to the sitting room. ‘Oh, he’s up and down,’ she said, in answer to my unspoken question. ‘More up than down these days, thank Heavens. I really do think you were a big part of that, Sophie, allowing him to get all that off his chest. All those horrific experiences . . . and I know I only heard an edited version of it from him. Anyway, he seems
much
better. Although I suppose it
could
just be that now we’re in London, he doesn’t have to eat my awful cooking any more. It’s certainly improved
my
mood, being back in the capable hands of Mrs Timms.’ Julia sank down into a sofa with a satisfied sigh. ‘Oh, but I
am
glad about this meeting, Sophie! Toby needed a reminder of how important he is.’

‘I just wish Veronica could have attended,’ I said, ‘but they wouldn’t give her permission. Heads of state only. Still, perhaps it’s all for the best, if Churchill’s going to be there.’

‘You mean, after that speech he gave in Parliament, praising Franco to the skies?’ said Julia. ‘Yes, sickening, wasn’t it? But perhaps he just needed to butter up the Spaniards so they wouldn’t interfere with the invasion plans?’

‘Well, Veronica says the Fascist propagandists in Madrid have gone wild with it, and all the Basques and Republicans are devastated. She’s absolutely furious at Churchill.’

But that was nothing compared to how furious
Toby
was when he arrived back at the house two hours later.

‘That bloody Churchill!’ he said, stomping round the sitting room (he’d put his leg back on so he could stomp more effectively). ‘It wasn’t
just
that he hadn’t planned to liberate Montmaray – I knew it wouldn’t be an immediate priority during the invasion, I’d always figured he’d need a reminder about us. But he not only ignored
everything
I had to say about Montmaray, he isn’t even interested in the
Channel
Islands! And they’re British territory! All those thousands and thousands of people who’ve been living under the Nazi jackboot since 1940, and he doesn’t give a damn about them! I couldn’t believe it!

‘I said to him, “If this invasion of France works, you realise the German troops stationed in the Channel Islands will be cut off from all their supplies? That means no food and no fuel. So, are you going to airdrop supplies to the civilian population?” And he said, “Of course not, the Germans would take it all. Let ’em starve. Anyway, what have the Channel Islanders ever done to resist the occupation? Nothing! What a weak-livered lot of quislings!” He doesn’t have a bloody
clue
what it’s like living under Nazi occupation! The way the Nazis punish whole families, whole
villages,
if they catch one single person resisting them . . . And these people live on tiny islands, for God’s sake – they don’t have anywhere to hide. How can he
possibly
compare them to the Resistance in France?’

‘I know, darling, it’s awful,’ said Julia soothingly. ‘But we just have to wait and see how this invasion of France goes first. And even then, I’m not sure you’ll be able to do very much about it –’

‘Oh,
won’t
I?’ Toby said, narrowing his eyes. ‘We’ll see about
that
.’