26.
JOHANNA STEPPED INTO THE garden with a cup of coffee and a glass of berry cordial, and inhaled the warm air. Astrid was playing on the swing. Finally the flowers were in full bloom – Lily of the Valley, forget-me-nots, daisies and lilacs adding their vivid colours and heady scents. It was so nice to feel that summer might be on its way, and to see Astrid enjoying herself.
In the month since Fabienne had talked her through the plan to evacuate the children, Johanna had managed to accrue a good amount of food in the cellar. She had told Gerhard that Astrid had developed a nasty cough to keep him away from her, but better still, he had returned from work the following day with a bottle of antibiotics, which she’d passed on to Fabienne.
“Can I go and play with Nancy?” Astrid asked, kicking her legs back and forth as she swung. “It is the weekend.”
Johanna handed her the drink. She glanced towards the house, across the windows on the upper levels, to see if they were being watched. It was a habit, since she still felt Müller’s presence lurking in the shadows of the archway. She reminded herself that he was gone; that things were different now. Schmidt had got his promotion and did as he was instructed. He was out sourcing rations. Nanny kept to her room when she wasn’t teaching Astrid, and this afternoon she had gone to see a friend she’d met at the Women’s League meetings.
Gerhard was at work and wouldn’t be back until late. He wouldn’t like the fact that Johanna and Astrid were alone in the house, but Johanna didn’t care. Allowing Astrid to play with Nancy was a chance for Johanna to be with Fabienne.
“Shall we go and see?”
Astrid squealed and jumped off the swing. She ran to the side of the house and across the yard. Johanna left her cup on the kitchen step and followed her daughter. The back door to the cottage was open when she arrived.
Fabienne was out the back chopping wood. She stopped, straightened her back and smiled. “Astrid has gone upstairs. I hope that’s okay. She wanted to play with Nancy. Do you mind?”
Fabienne glanced over Johanna’s shoulder towards the house. “It’s nice, if they can.”
“My husband is working. And if he says anything, I’m inclined to tell him where to go.” Johanna laughed.
Fabienne smiled. “You’re getting brave.”
Johanna picked up a log and placed it in the woodstore. “I’m not afraid of him, Fabienne. Maybe I should be.”
“Maybe.” Fabienne chopped the wood, and Johanna put the pieces in the woodshed.
“My father was a bully,” Johanna said. It was nice being able to talk to Fabienne about things that mattered to her; there was so much about her life she wanted to share with her, and to get to know her better too. “Even before the Great War, but he was worse after it. He got on very well with Gerhard’s father. They were like-minded. I’ve always followed Gerhard’s wishes, and it seems my country values such loyalty above reason and truth.”
Fabienne chopped more wood. “My father was gentle and kind. He valued politics, not violence. Both my parents enjoyed music and theatre. We weren’t affluent, but we weren’t poor either.”
Johanna stacked the wood pieces. “You helped me to do the right thing, Fabienne. No matter what happens next, I want you to know that it was you who helped me. Not just because I fell in love with you.”
Fabienne glanced towards the kitchen as if to imply someone might be listening.
Johanna wanted the world to know how she felt, but that would create more problems than it solved. “You’re like your father, kind and gentle, and you’re free, Fabienne. No one can take those things away from you because they are a part of who you are. Am I getting brave? It doesn’t feel that way. I’m just doing what I know in my heart is right.”
Fabienne lowered the axe to the ground. “We should celebrate.”
Johanna laughed. “Celebrate what?”
Fabienne went into the kitchen. “It is because of you that Esther is recovering.” She poured them both a glass of wine. “Let’s sit outside.”
They sat side by side on the ground, their backs to the woodshed wall, and looked out over the fields to the pine forest beyond, the cattle-shed on the boundary, the dairy in the far distance. The smell wasn’t like the one Johanna had noticed on her first day at the farm; it was sweet and earthy, even pleasant now. The rumble of metal tracks on the road echoed, and the grass trembled.
“It’s more tranquil without the background noise,” Fabienne said. She smiled, sipped her drink. “We used to have three times the number of cows we have now, ducks and geese. I haven’t seen a wild boar in eighteen months. We have three chickens left and I’m not sure how long they will keep laying.”
Johanna stroked Fabienne’s thigh, leaned into her side, then removed her hand. “We had a large townhouse in Berlin and a house like yours in the countryside on the outskirts. I started playing the piano at four years old. My parents hosted dinner parties frequently and I always played for their guests.”
“You were paraded,” Fabienne said.
Johanna sighed. “Maybe. I think my mother was proud. My father liked having a trophy he could show off. I was schooled at home by Nanny and didn’t have any close friends until I joined the Philharmoniker. I knew Gerhard because our families were close and then we got together when he was at university. I thought I loved him. I cared for him and that seemed to matter more at the time. I started teaching interesting students. They had different opinions and weren’t afraid to voice them. I enjoyed debating. They opened my eyes. I had Ralf when I was twenty-two and continued working, though Gerhard thought I shouldn’t. Then, soon after Astrid was born, Gerhard was promoted and that meant I was ‘advised’ to leave the orchestra. And then, well, then the war started…”
Fabienne held her glass up to Johanna’s. “Well, here’s to the end of the war, whenever it comes.”
They sipped their drinks in unison.
“The summer here is beautiful,” Fabienne said.
Johanna turned her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and savoured the warmth. “I look forward to seeing it.” She felt Fabienne’s soft lips caress hers and opened her eyes.
Fabienne smiled.
“Fabienne, Fabienne, Fabienne.” Nancy ran towards them, puffing. “Come quickly. Esther is in pain.”
Fabienne leapt to her feet and ran indoors. She took the stairs two at a time, and when she reached the bedroom, she heard Esther moan.
Esther was trying to sit up, sweating, panting. “The baby’s coming.”
Nancy jumped up and down, grinning. “The baby’s coming. The baby’s coming.”
Fabienne took Nancy’s hand to still her. “Esther needs some space and calm. Go to your room and stay with Astrid. I will come get you when the baby’s born.”
“I’ll get cloths and water,” Johanna said.
Esther panted and moaned again.
Fabienne scratched her head as she processed her thoughts. Mamie would be back from town in an hour or so, but that might not be soon enough to help if the baby came quickly. “I’ll get the doctor.”
“There’s no time,” Esther said. “I’ve done this before. It won’t be— Arghhh!”
“You stay here with Esther,” Fabienne said. She ran down the stairs, stoked the stove, and put the kettle and two pans of water on to heat. She took a bottle of brandy and a glass to the bedroom. “Will this help?”
Johanna, holding Esther’s hand, laughed.
Esther shook her head and moaned and panted rhythmically.
Fabienne poured a shot and drank it. She needed it, even if Esther didn’t. She collected up the clean towels from the cupboard and set them on the bed. After all the things she’d done in the Resistance, it seemed incongruous that helping a woman give birth was the most frightening experience. How come Johanna seemed calm and in control?
Fabienne paced the room. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Esther eased herself up the bed a little, raised her knees and spread her legs. Johanna positioned herself to receive the baby. Fabienne looked away.
Esther made a sound that Fabienne had heard many times before; the low, deep sound of a cow birthing a calf.
“That’s good, Esther. You’re doing fine.” The sound came again. “And push.”
Fabienne’s hands trembled. She shoved them deep into her pockets and watched Esther’s face contort with another contraction. Then Esther screamed. Fabienne left the room and went to Nancy’s bedroom. Nancy was sitting on the bed holding Astrid’s hand. Both girls wore deep frowns.
“Is she okay?” Astrid asked.
Another scream and Nancy covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes. “It’s scary.”
Fabienne kneeled in front of the two girls and ruffled their hair as she smiled at them. “Esther is fine. The baby will be here soon. The noises she’s making are normal.”
The girls widened their eyes at another scream and then a baby’s cry brought a smile to their faces and they started to giggle.
Nancy jumped to her feet. “Can we go and see it?”
Fabienne stood. “Wait a second while I check.” She went through to the bedroom. The baby was wrapped in a towel, pressed close to Esther’s naked breast. It was the most beautiful sight Fabienne had ever witnessed.
“We must clamp and cut the cord,” Esther said. She smiled for the first time since Fabienne had known her.
“Can Nancy and Astrid come and see the baby?”
Esther kissed the child’s tiny head. “Yes. Tell them her name is Bénédicte.”
Fabienne’s heart expanded with so much joy and love she thought it might burst. She ushered the girls in and found a pair of scissors and string. She doused both items in schnaps to disinfect them, and returned with a bowl of warm water and cloths, and two more glasses. When she entered the bedroom, the girls had gone.
“The placenta will come shortly,” Esther said. Her face contorted and she moaned.
Fabienne held out the scissors to her.
She shook her head. “Would you do it, please?”
Fabienne’s heart raced and her fingers trembled as she tied the cord. It was so much easier delivering a calf. The baby was so small, so fragile. When she made the cut and Bénédicte didn’t bat an eyelid, Fabienne breathed a deep sigh. “Wow.” She poured three glasses of brandy.
Esther moaned and delivered the afterbirth. “Don’t waste it,” she said as Johanna cleared up. “Now, I will take that drink.” She raised her glass. “We are Linette and Bénédicte Moreau, and we both owe our lives to you.” She drank and rested her head against the raised pillow and gazed down at the baby suckling on her nipple. Tears slipped onto her cheeks, but she was smiling.
Fabienne put her hand in the small of Johanna’s back and stroked with her thumb. Johanna’s breath faltered. Fabienne kept her hand there; she needed the closeness. She lifted her glass to Linette, and drank. Today was a good day and tomorrow would come too soon.
She wished they could spend the afternoon and evening together celebrating, but Johanna and Astrid would have to return to the house and would not be able to talk to anyone about the baby being born in the cottage.
“I’ll explain everything to Astrid,” Johanna said, as if reading her mind. “She’s surprisingly good at keeping secrets. She still calls the kitten Réglisse.”
Fabienne smiled as she held Johanna’s gaze, hoping to convey how much she loved her, wanted her, needed her. A look was the best she had to give right now. After the war, if they made it, the words she wanted to say would come more easily.