Chapter 36 Lilias
Lilias
It was five o’clock in the evening. The light in Bill Cartwright’s office was dim. Lilias found herself remembering the afternoon she’d met him at the Ritz. What an age ago that seemed now.
“You’ve done very well in your training, Lilias; I hear your superiors can’t praise you enough. They’re convinced you’d be a real asset in France.”
She blinked, unused now to being addressed as anything other than Jacquelyn.
“And yet you tell me there’s some doubt now about whether you’ll go at all?”
He sounded let down, and she was deeply sorry for that.
But she couldn’t allow it to influence her.
Of course there was important work to be done in France, but what would be the point of committing to it unless she was one hundred percent focussed on the task in hand?
And how could she be that unless she was absolutely sure there was no chance of finding her baby?
Harry’s baby. After all, there were no safety ropes in France, no blank bullets.
“You do realise that if you decide not to use your training, you’ll have to remain in a safe house for the duration of the war? We can’t risk what you’ve learnt about the methods of the Special Operations Executive falling into the wrong hands.”
Lilias lifted her chin. “Yes, I understand perfectly, Bill. That’s quite acceptable. Just as long as . . . I would be able to have my baby there with me?”
His face registered his shock. “You have a baby? My dear, I had no idea.”
So she told her father’s long-time friend the whole story, and by the end, he sat, shaking his head, looking more shocked still.
“Lilias, my dear. I don’t know what to say.
Of course, you must find your child to make sure she’s all right.
I only wish you’d come to me about this before now.
” He leant towards her across the desk. “Tell me everything you know. I’ll see if I can use my resources and connections to help you to track down your daughter. ”
Bill Cartwright was as good as his word. A week later, Lilias was back in London with an address in her coat pocket. She didn’t really need the slip of paper it was written on. She’d looked at it so many times, the address was etched onto her soul.
Number twelve Hickory Street.
Lilias didn’t know how Bill had acquired the address, and she didn’t care. Just so long as it was accurate, and she had a feeling it would be.
Anyway, she would soon find out. According to the map she’d memorised, Hickory Street was the next street on the left.
Yes, there it was. The houses were much like those in Barker Street—where she’d given birth—but critically, this area wasn’t near the docks.
As such, there was less chance of the houses being bombed.
Though any chance was too much of a chance.
A woman was coming out of a side alley next to number twelve.
Lilias quickly crossed the road, observing the woman cautiously.
Like Lilias, she was wearing a head scarf tied beneath her chin and carrying a shopping basket.
As she turned the corner, Lilias caught a glimpse of the woman’s profile.
Nadine’s mother—it had to be. This must be the right place. Bill hadn’t let her down.
There was no one in view. Quickly, Lilias doubled back to head across the road to the alley.
As she got there, the unmistakable sound of a crying baby reached her.
Piercing and desperate, the wailing cries were coming from a yard down the alleyway, and, just for a second, Lilias stopped, her heart jagging inside her chest. Her baby.
It was her baby. She needed her. Lilias’s breasts began to ache in response, although her milk had dried up long ago now.
She crossed her arms, hugging herself. After a few seconds, her training kicked in, allowing her to regain her self-control and to slip silently along the dark space between the two houses.
The crying was coming from the yard of the property on the right. Lilias reached the closed gate and peered through some gaps in the fence slats. A perambulator was parked just a few feet away—Nadine had left her baby to cry alone. She was weak, defenceless and unhappy.
Anybody could just open the gate and take her.
The baby’s cries were getting more desperate by the second. Lilias’s hand was on the gate latch. She was just about to open the gate to let herself in when she heard the creak of another door as it opened. Then a voice, Nadine’s voice.
Lilias looked through the gap in the fence slats again to see Nadine emerging from the outside privy, smoothing down her skirt. “Oy, oy, madam,” she was saying. “What’s all this ruckus? Can’t your old mum even go to the lav in peace, eh?”
Lilias had never heard Nadine use that affectionate tone of voice before. Always, to David, Nadine had spoken sharply or impatiently. She had to press her hand to her mouth to stop herself from moaning out loud.
As she watched, Lilias saw Nadine reach into the perambulator to lift the baby out. Saw the child’s agitated expression, the way her red face clashed with the colourful pink of her dress.
Nadine placed the baby in the crook of her arm and rocked her soothingly. “There, there. It ain’t the end of the world, girl. I’m here now, ain’t I?”
She bent over the baby, a huge smile stretching across her face as she did so, and, as Lilias watched, part of her mind wondering at the change the smile made to Nadine’s looks, the baby—Lilias’s baby—smiled back.
Nadine laughed, utterly delighted. “Are you smiling at me, you poppet? Are you smiling at me? Lord bless you, darling. You’re smiling at your mummy! Good girl. Good girl.” And she kissed the baby’s cheek.
“Come on, then, let’s take you indoors and get you fed, darlin’, shall we?”
Leaving the perambulator where it was, Nadine took the baby inside and closed the door behind her.
Shortly afterwards, Lilias emerged from the alleyway to make her way slowly back to the tube station. It was the longest walk of her life.
The next day she reported to Bill Cartwright.
“My dear,” he said, searching her face compassionately. “How did it go?”
Lilias used every last bit of self-control to keep her expression impassive. “Very well. Thank you so much. I’ve been able to see for myself that my daughter is in loving hands. And now my mind is at rest about that, I’m ready to serve my country.”