Time for Silence (14 page)

“Your great anxiety is for your sister,” said Marcus.

The young man nodded. He had not touched his apple pie.

“I should try to eat, if I were you,” said Marcus gently. But the young man shook his head and pushed the plate away.

As soon as the meal was over, I went up to see Edouard. He was sleeping peacefully. I felt depressed by the conversation with the young man, who was just another of those who were enduring terrible suffering at this time.

When I rejoined the party, he was still there. He obviously found comfort in the society of sympathetic listeners.

He was still talking about his sister, Andrée, and stressing how relieved he would be if she were safe in England.

At length Marcus reminded us that we had to make an early start in the morning and what we needed was a good night’s sleep. So we said good-bye to the young man, whom we had by this time discovered was Georges Latour, wished him the best of luck and went to our rooms.

I was pleased to see that Edouard was still sleeping peacefully. I slept in the bed with him, and Annabelinda took the other; and in spite of the excitement of the day, I was soon fast asleep.

When I awoke, I wondered where I was until I looked around the room and saw Edouard beside me and Annabelinda asleep in the other bed.

I yawned and got up, wondering what this day would bring.

In the dining room there was coffee and crusty bread, hot from the oven. Georges Latour was at the table.

“Andrée is not up yet,” he said.

“Is she feeling better?” I said.

“A little, I think. Things never seem quite so bad in the morning, do they?”

“I suppose not.”

I fed Edouard, who regarded Georges Latour solemnly. He said, “Whose is the baby?”

I told him about the Zeppelin raid and the deaths of Jacques and Marguerite Plantain, and how I had found Edouard in his perambulator in the garden.

“I knew him, you see. I used to visit them. It wasn’t as though he were a stranger to me. I could not leave him.”

“What a tragedy this war is for so many!” said Georges.

And I was sorry to have reminded him of his own tragedy. We sat in gloomy silence for a few minutes, and then Marcus came. The atmosphere changed. Even Georges Latour seemed to brighten a little.

“Ah, up in good time, I see,” said Marcus. “And young Edouard? How is he finding life this morning?”

“Much as usual,” I replied. “He seems to be rather indifferent to his surroundings.”

“As long as he has someone to see to his comforts, what does he care where he is?” said Marcus. “You really are very good at looking after him.”

“It’s easy, and he is a good child.”

Marcus then said to Georges, “And you…you’ll be leaving soon, I suppose?”

“As soon as my sister is ready.”

“How is she this morning?”

“More or less the same.”

“I hope it all works out….”

Marcus drank some coffee and ate some of the bread. Miss Carruthers joined us. “It will be wonderful if we can get across the Channel tonight,” she said.

“We’ll try,” said Marcus. “There’ll be troopships coming over, so there may be a little delay. But we’ll make it, never fear….If not tonight, tomorrow.”

“It will be wonderful to be home,” I said.

Then Annabelinda came in.

“Oh, am I late?” she asked.

“Not really,” Marcus assured her. “Just let us say the others were early.”

“How kind you are! I do like people who make excuses for me! Oh, what delicious-looking bread! And coffee, too!”

We chatted for a while and Marcus asked if we could all be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Then we would set off. We all declared we could be, and he went out to get the car.

But we did not leave in fifteen minutes.

We were assembled in the lounge. Andrée had come down, ready for departure. She smiled at us wanly. We did not like to ask how she was in case she thought the inquiry referred to her abrupt departure from the dining room on the previous night.

We were sitting there rather uneasily when Marcus came in.

“There’s a hitch,” he said. “Something wrong with the vehicle.”

We all looked dismayed, and he smiled his bright smile.

“It can’t be much I’m sure we’ll get it fixed in no time.”

Georges Latour, who was also preparing to leave, said he would go to a garage and get someone to come to the inn.

“That will delay your start,” said Marcus.

“That’s nothing. It won’t take long in the car. I’ll bring someone back. Talk to Andrée while I’m gone.”

“A little delay won’t hurt,” said Marcus. “We may get to the coast in time to board a ferry. If not, there’s tomorrow.”

We sat waiting.

“I am afraid this is delaying you, too,” Miss Carruthers said to Andrée.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It is of no importance,” she said.

“I wonder what is happening at
La Pinière
,” I said. “Poor Madame Rochère. Whatever is she feeling now?”

“She should have left,” remarked Annabelinda.

“She could not bear to leave her home,” I said. “She spent all her married life there…and then she had the school all those years. It must be terrible for her. But if the Germans come…”

“She will know how to deal with them,” said Annabelinda. “They’ll be terrified of her…as we all were.”

“What nonsense! We were schoolgirls. She will be confronted by a conquering army.”

“Oh, she’ll be all right.”

We waited for about an hour before Georges came back. He looked helpless.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t get anyone. You’ve no idea of the confusion everywhere. They are working on a lot of vehicles they are going to need at any moment. No one had anyone to send.”

“I’ll see if I can discover what is wrong,” said Marcus.

“Do you know much about motors?” asked Georges.

“Not my line really. There is usually a mechanic around.”

“I have a little knowledge,” said Georges. “I might be able to see what’s wrong. I’ll have a try.”

They went out.

Edouard had awakened and was taking stock of us all. I took him onto my lap and he gripped my coat and kept hold of it as though to ensure that I did not leave him. Apart from that, he seemed quite undisturbed.

Andrée was talking a little now. She said that she must not stand in Georges’s way. He had always been keen to join the army. She thought they would be eager to take him now. They would want as many men as they could get.

“I shall have to go to my aunt in England,” she said. “I suppose I ought to be glad I’ve somewhere to go to. I don’t want Georges to worry about me and he is very worried, but I don’t want to live with my aunt.” She lifted her shoulders. “I do not know how long it will be. This war could go on and on, but I must not be a burden to Georges. Young men do not want their sisters clinging to them. I should like to do some work in England. Do you think that is a possibility? I wouldn’t mind going if I could do something. Georges will be in the army and that will help him…but myself…”

“I daresay there will be all sorts of work for people to do,” said Miss Carruthers. “Wars make work.”

“It is good to be able to talk,” said Andrée. “I feel you understand.”

“What sort of work would you want to do?” I asked.

“Anything. I wouldn’t mind working in a house at first.”

“Do you mean as a servant?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’d rather do that than go to Aunt Berthe. In any case, I should be doing dusting and cooking with her. Why not do it somewhere else?”

“Then you’ll easily find something,” said Annabelinda.

Andrée had brightened considerably. She looked almost animated.

“Do you…er…know anybody?” she asked.

“We know a lot of people, don’t we, Annabelinda?”

“Oh, yes. Our families do.”

“I’m quite good at looking after babies,” said Andrée. “I’ve always loved them.”

“Oh, then…it shouldn’t be difficult…in London or in the country,” I said.

“If you would help me…”

“But, of course we will, if we can,” said Annabelinda.

“That would be wonderful. I was just thinking…”

We waited for her to go on, but she said, “Oh, no…it would be asking too much.”

“What were you going to say?” asked Miss Carruthers.

“Well…Oh, no, I can’t. You’d think me…Oh, no.”

“Please say it,” I said.

“Well…if I could travel with you…Georges need not come as far as the coast. He could go straight to Paris and find out about joining the army. I need not go to Aunt Berthe. If I could come with you…if you would help me.”

Annabelinda and I exchanged glances. We should arrive home with a baby, a school mistress and a girl who had been a stranger to us on the previous night. It would be a surprise—I might say a shock—for my parents. But these were unusual times and when tragedies overtook people, one must do all one could to help them. I was sure my parents would understand that.

Annabelinda said, “We could, couldn’t we, Lucinda?”

“Yes, I should think so,” I replied. “Yes, you must travel with us. I’ll take you to my home. We don’t know what is happening there. My mother will surely know someone who needs a maid…that’s if you don’t mind what you do.”

“Do you really mean that?” Andrée asked.

“Of course.”

“I hope there won’t be any difficulty in getting you into England,” Miss Carruthers said. “I don’t know what the regulations are. Wartime, you know, and all that.”

Andrée looked alarmed. Then she said, “I have my papers. I was in England only last year, visiting my aunt. It was all right then.”

“The major will be able to make it right, I’m sure,” said Annabelinda.

Andrée was talking excitedly. “Oh, how can I thank you? I feel so much better. I really couldn’t face Aunt Berthe, and there’s poor Georges. If I could come with you, he could go straight to Paris. It would be such a help to us. I just have a feeling that this is going to work out well for us. We both want a complete change. We want to get away from all that…”

Her voice broke, and we all murmured our understanding and sympathy.

While we were talking, Marcus and Georges came in. They were beaming with pleasure.

“It’s done!” cried Marcus. “It’s all right, thanks to Monsieur Latour.”

“I just found the trouble,” said Georges modestly. “I’ve always enjoyed tinkering with cars.”

“So it is all right for us to leave?” asked Miss Carruthers.

“Absolutely,” replied Marcus. “But look at the time! It’s almost noon. I suggest that we all have a meal here at the inn. We should have to stop for food otherwise…on our way. I’ll tell the landlord.”

Andrée Latour said to her brother, “Georges, I have some wonderful news.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“These kind people are going to allow me to travel with them. And, Georges, I am not going to Tante Berthe. Please don’t try to persuade me to. I have made up my mind. They are going to help me find something I could do….”

“Andrée, you must go to Tante Berthe. You have to. It’s the only thing to do.”

“No, no. Listen. Mademoiselle Greenham and Mademoiselle Denver, they will take me to their home. They will find a place for me. I can work where I want to. I will try anything—anything—rather than go to Tante Berthe. So you see, Georges, you need not come with me to the coast. You can go straight to Paris. I couldn’t bear to go to Tante Berthe. Georges…say you are pleased.”

Georges was looking bewildered. I could understand. He would be leaving his sister with strangers. In ordinary circumstances that would have been out of the question, but these were no ordinary circumstances.

“But…I…I’m sure…” he began.

“It’s all so simple,” I put in. “I’ll take her to my home with us. My mother will be very helpful. She always is. My father is a Member of Parliament and there are always people around. They are certain to know someone who wants help in the house.”

But Georges was still looking uneasy and quite bemused.

We ate a good luncheon and talked a great deal.

I fed Edouard, and afterward Andrée took him onto her lap. To my surprise he did not protest.

“What a good little boy he is!” she commented and kissed the top of his head. Edouard grunted in a manner intended to express approval.

The thought occurred to me that Andrée might help with him. We should have to have a nursery for him and we should need someone there.

I felt as though I were living in a dream. Every little detail seemed of the utmost importance. If the car had not broken down, we would have set out early this morning as we had planned; we would have said good-bye to Georges and Andrée and almost certainly would never have seen them again.

How strange life was! One could never be certain what would happen next—particularly in a situation like this.

There was barely room for Andrée in the car, but we managed. Georges followed us along the road in his own car.

We should be together until he branched off for Paris. Andrée took Edouard from me and sang a little song to him:

“Il pleut, il pleut, bergère,

Presse tes blancs moutons.

Allons à la chaumière,

bergère, vite, allons…”

Edouard, who was beginning to fret, watched her mouth closely as she sang, and a beautiful smile spread over his face.

There was no doubt that he liked Andrée.

There was a tearful scene when we parted from Georges. That dream-like quality had returned. Everything that was happening seemed so extraordinary. Andrée, a stranger this time yesterday, was now one of us.

What would happen next, I wondered?

And so we made our way toward the coast.

We reached Calais in the late afternoon and soon learned that there was no hope of a sailing that night, so we put up at an inn close by the harbor. There was an uneasy atmosphere throughout the town. People looked dismayed and bewildered. We were in a country that had recently been plunged into war. The enemy were making rapid progress through Belgium and were almost at the frontier—a feat they had achieved in a matter of days.

What next? was the question on everyone’s lips.

All through the night I could hear the rhythm of the waves as they rose and fell. Tomorrow, I kept saying to myself, I shall be home.