38. Angelique
March 1944
France
Spring isa time of hope and new beginnings. This first day of the season is no exception. The French who oppose the German presence are hoping the war will end soon with the Allies the victors. The resistance and SOE agents are hoping D-Day will soon be upon us.
And I hope my baby is all right, and I’ll soon get word from Johann that he is safe.
I gaze out of the flat window, the longing to be out there and doing resistance work strong. Henri recently decided I am not to participate in any more missions. For now, all I’m permitted to do is go for short walks, not get noticed by the Gestapo, and look like every other pregnant woman in France who prays her baby will be all right.
Henri has apprised Baker Street of the situation since he is down one agent. They agreed it’s too dangerous to evacuate me out of France. I need to wait until the baby is born.
The one piece of news Baker Street hasn’t been told about is that the baby’s father is The Wolf—the German soldier Allaire told them about when I had questioned Johann’s loyalty to Germany and Hitler. They also do not know—as far as I am aware—that The Wolf has deserted the German Army.
“Do you need anything?” Lise asks, wrapping her faded silk scarf around her neck. “I won’t be long.”
I grin, hiding my agitation at not getting to do something useful. The smile, though, is genuine. None of this is Lise’s fault. “I don’t think you can get most of the things on my list.” Including Johann or word of him.
Discomfort twinges in my lower back. I shift on the settee in an attempt to get more comfortable.
“You’re sure you will be all right while I’m gone?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be sitting here reading.” It’s about the only thing I can do. I have read Voyage au bout de la nuit so many times, I am close to having it memorised.
Lise leaves, and I pick up my book from the coffee table.
The discomfort in my lower back grows, and I shift position again. It doesn’t make a difference. Lately, I’m uncomfortable most of time. Four more weeks. That’s all I have left until my baby will be in my arms and the discomfort will be gone. Unless…unless the baby is coming early.
I shut that thought down and try to focus on the novel once more. I am not prepared yet. I really want Johann to be here before the baby arrives.
An hour later, the flat door clicks open with Lise’s return, and the discomfort is no longer just in my lower back. As of fifteen minutes ago, it has shifted to include my belly. There’s no doubt now that I am in labour.
Bloody hell, I’m not ready for this.
While I was engaged to Charles, I’d imagined us one day having children. But not once had I imagined I would be in a war-torn country occupied by the enemy when the baby came into the world, and the location of my baby’s father would be unknown.
I push myself unsteadily to my swollen feet and waddle around the cramped space. One hand rests on my lower back, the other on the knot of muscles surrounding my belly. I focus on the cloudless sky outside the window and breathe through the discomfort.
“Are you okay?” Lise asks.
My attention remains on the sky, but I don’t miss the concern in her tone.
“I think I might be in labour.” My voice comes out casual and breezy—the opposite to how I feel.
“Oh. Do you want to sit?”
My gaze drops from the not-quite-so-calming blue of the sky to Lise. She’s wringing her hands, deep lines stretched across her brow.
“I’d rather keep moving.” I resume waddling.
“I’ll get Fran?oise. I won’t be long.” Lise doesn’t give me a chance to respond. She darts out the door to fetch the midwife.
Another contraction hits, more intense than the other ones. The pain I experienced when Dr. Hubert repaired my hand was worse than this, but knowing that doesn’t bring me much comfort. I groan.
If feels like a lifetime and a half before Lise walks into the flat with Fran?oise. She was probably only gone for a quarter of an hour. They come into the drawing room the same moment I release a long moan. Fluid trickles down my leg and pools on the hardwood floor.
“It looks like your baby is eager to come into the world.” The soft smile in Fran?oise’s tone is no doubt meant to reassure me, and I allow myself to relax and catch my breath.
“Let’s get you on the bed, éve, and see how things are progressing.” She lists off the items for Lise to round up for my baby’s grand entrance into the world.
* * *
“She’s beautiful,”Lise says, peering at the small bundle in her arms, wrapped in the softest blanket I could find when I was pregnant. She sways on the spot, rocking my daughter. “She looks like her maman.”
I laugh, the sound weak from exhaustion, strong with love and joy. “She looks like every blue-eyed, bald baby. But I agree. She is beautiful.”
Neither of us points out the obvious. My daughter is small for a newborn. But she is also four weeks early. If it hadn’t been for Lise and Henri, as well as Dr. Hubert and Rosita—all who made sure I had enough food while I was pregnant—my daughter would have been smaller and less likely to survive.
“Do you have a name for her?” Lise asks.
“I was thinking of calling her Anna, after her Austrian aunt. Her name is…or was…Anja.”
Lise nods. She knows a bit about Johann’s sister and how she was deaf and trying to escape the Nazis. “Do you think your daughter is…?” Her gaze drops to Anna.
“Do I think she’s deaf too? I don’t know. Time will tell.” It was a worry that constantly visited me while I was pregnant.
“It’s a good thing the Nazis are too busy to pay attention to whether she’s deaf or not…” Lise doesn’t have to finish her sentence for me to know what she’s referring to. Hitler stopped publicly rounding up disabled adults and children years ago, but it doesn’t mean he altogether ceased killing or sterilising them in secret. They don’t fit his view of the perfect Aryan society.
If Anna is deaf, her life will be at risk if I don’t get her out of France.
“Hopefully the war will be over before any of them concern themselves with that,” I say, praying it’s true. D-Day is coming soon. The SOE and resistance networks are preparing for it, even though we don’t have a date yet. Sabotage has increased on the factories manufacturing supplies for the Germans.
I hate that I can’t be part of it, but my daughter’s well-being comes first. Right now, my plan is to do whatever I can to keep her safe.
Lise hands me the sleeping bundle. I eagerly take my daughter, desperate to keep her safe in my arms. Willing to fight Hitler himself just to protect her.
I peer down at her beautiful face, and more love and joy than I thought any person could possibly feel blooms in my chest. I kiss her brow, sending all my love to her in that tiny gesture. She’s the most perfect thing to come out of this war.
“I’ll let Henri know your baby is out in the world now,” Lise tells me, a soft smile in her tone. “Until Baker Street can get you and her out, he wants you to stay hidden.”
“Female members of the resistance have been pushing around prams with hidden explosives in them,” I remind her, “and none of the Germans or Milice have suspected them of wrongdoing.”
“That might be so, but the last thing you want is for them to become suspicious and hurt your daughter while they search her pram. The Germans sense something is coming. They won’t take any chances. More people are resisting. It’s making the Germans antsy.”
She’s right. As much as I want to help end this war, it is too dangerous. I’m all my daughter has. There are already so many orphans in France and Britain and everywhere else this war has impacted. I am not ready to add my daughter to the list, especially when I have no idea where Johann is.
“I need to leave for a few hours. Stay safe, you two, while I’m gone.” Lise heads for the door with a quick stride and departs the flat.
And I’m left dwelling once again on my daughter’s future and where her father might be.
I push my fears aside, not wanting our little angel to sense them. “How about I tell you about the brave and loving man who is your father? The man who will be so excited to finally meet you, ma petite.”