Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Looking in the bedroom mirror, Fitz was horrified to see the extent of bruising to her face. Jeanne came into the bedroom with a bottle of vodka and a pot of some sort of balm.
‘Please, can I clean your wounds? You don’t want them to become infected.’ She had dabbed Fitz’s face with the vodka and then applied what she explained was a homemade arnica balm to the bruising. ‘This will help to soothe the skin,’ she said. ‘Is it just your face?’
Fitz shook her head. She slipped the towel from her back and heard Jeanne give a sharp intake of breath. ‘You poor thing,’ said the Frenchwoman.
Fitz winced as Jeanne applied the alcohol and balm to her back. ‘Thank you,’ she said afterwards. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Some of the skin is broken,’ said Jeanne. ‘You might have scarring,’ she added gently.
Fitz didn’t really care. She was at this point simply grateful to be alive. ‘You’re very kind to take us in like this,’ she said to Jeanne, who was now looking through her wardrobe and placing some clothes on the bed.
‘How could I not? I’m glad you came to my door,’ replied Jeanne. ‘Here are some clean clothes for you. They might be a little big.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fitz again. She felt overwhelmed by the kindness of this woman, but she didn’t want to keep crying. She needed to be strong. She wouldn’t be able to stay here for long, it would be putting Jeanne in too much danger. ‘How is Yvette?’ she asked.
‘She’s not well,’ said Jeanne. ‘If her fever doesn’t break tonight, I will have to ask the doctor to visit. He is a good man.’
Fitz had known Jeanne less than an hour and already she knew she could trust the Frenchwoman. ‘I should sit with her in case she wakes up. She’ll be scared and I promised I wouldn’t leave her.’
Jeanne held up her hand. ‘You need to rest, too. Please, use my bed. I’ll bring the child up to you. Yvette, you say her name is?’
‘Yes. She’s been through a lot,’ said Fitz. She wanted to tell Jeanne, but she also knew she couldn’t. ‘I wish I could tell you more.’
‘I know, it is too dangerous. I understand,’ said Jeanne. ‘Now, please, rest while you can. Here’s a nightgown you can wear tonight. I’ll be back shortly with the child.’
Fitz slipped on the flannelette nightgown and climbed into Jeanne’s bed. It may not have been the kind of cotton sheets and quilted eiderdown she was used to back in England, but after the last few days, it was pure luxury. Jeanne soon returned with Yvette in her arms and placed her in the bed beside Fitz.
‘I will come in to check on her but if you need me at all, I will be downstairs.’ She pulled the bedclothes up over both Fitz’s and Yvette’s shoulders. ‘Rest now. You’re safe for tonight.’
Fitz knew she was tired, but she hadn’t realised quite how exhausted she had been.
She was woken in the morning by Yvette thrashing around in her sleep. Fitz sat bolt upright and took one look at Yvette and jumped out of bed, calling for Jeanne.
Yvette was sopping wet with sweat and yet she was shivering. She was writhing around like she was having a bad dream.
‘Jeanne?’ Fitz called out, stroking Yvette’s damp hair off her face.
Jeanne appeared within seconds. She felt Yvette’s forehead and then put her fingers to the child’s wrist, checking her pulse. ‘I’ll go and fetch the doctor now,’ she said. Although she was calm, there was a sense of urgency in her tone.
‘What shall I do?’ asked Fitz.
‘See if you can get her to drink a little water. Use a cool cloth on her forehead.’ Jeanne was already out the door as she called out her instructions.
Fitz went around to Yvette’s side of the bed and, putting her arm under Yvette’s back, she got her to sit up. The change of position seemed to bring Yvette out of her disturbed dream. She opened her eyes, but they darted around the room, unfocused. ‘Yvette, please try to drink some water,’ said Fitz. ‘You were having a bad dream.’ She lifted the glass to Yvette’s lips and encouraged her to take in some fluids. Yvette only managed a few sips before her eyes closed and she was drifting back to what seemed a calmer state of sleep.
Fitz wasn’t sure which she preferred – Yvette lying motionless on the bed as she was now or flailing around in distress.
It was raining again outside and it was lashing against the windowpane. Whilst Yvette was asleep, Fitz got dressed quickly. She didn’t know how long they could stay here, but taking Yvette out in the treacherous weather really wasn’t an option. Every hour they stayed here, though, put Jeanne and her family in more danger.
It was another twenty minutes before Jeanne returned with the doctor. He nodded an acknowledgement at Fitz. ‘ Bonjour, mademoiselle ,’ was all he said before turning his attention to the patient. Both Fitz and Jeanne stood by the window, watching the doctor examine Yvette. Fitz was silently willing Yvette to be all right. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her now. She’d feel completely to blame if anything did.
Eventually, the doctor completed his examination. He clipped his black medical case shut. ‘She’s going to be all right,’ he said kindly.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ said Fitz. Her heart fluttered in relief.
‘She’s very unwell, but she is lucky that the cough hasn’t developed into an infection. I can give you something to help soothe the cough. Also, if you have a peppermint balm to rub on her chest, that will help clear the airways for her. Keep her in a slightly sitting-up position. Plenty of fluids. If the fever hasn’t broken in the next twelve hours, you will need to come and get me again.’
‘Thank you, so much,’ said Fitz. She suddenly thought about the cost of the medication. ‘Can I pay you?’ she asked. ‘Where’s my skirt? I have some Francs sewn into the hem in case of emergencies.’
But the doctor was already waving his hand. ‘Not at all. I don’t want paying. You might need that for a real emergency,’ he said.
Fitz noticed a look pass between the doctor and her host. Jeanne spoke. ‘The doctor can help you get to safety,’ she said quietly.
‘Really? But what if that is not here in France?’ Fitz was hesitant to give away too much detail.
‘It can still happen,’ said the doctor. ‘Especially if it was somewhere like England. Would that be somewhere you’d like to go?’
Fitz gulped back a ball of emotion. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It would very much be somewhere I’d like to go.’
The doctor patted her hand. ‘It will take a few days to organise.’
‘And Yvette?’ she added.
‘She can’t be moved until she’s better,’ said the doctor.
‘I can’t leave her,’ said Fitz. ‘I won’t go until she’s well enough to travel with me.’
The doctor cleared his throat. ‘It can be arranged. Normally, I wouldn’t advocate such action. Taking a child from her homeland but in these times of occupation, I believe she will be safer in England.’
‘She will. I promised her I wouldn’t leave her,’ said Fitz. ‘She has no one as far as I know.’
‘You have to promise me one thing, though,’ continued the doctor.
Fitz nodded. ‘What is it?’
‘After the war, when it is safe to do so, please bring her back to France. Try to find her family. She deserves to be reunited with them.’
‘I promise,’ said Fitz solemnly. ‘You have my word.’
The doctor studied her for a moment. ‘Yes, I believe I do,’ he said finally.
By the following morning, after another disturbed and restless night, Yvette’s fever had broken, much to everyone’s relief. The doctor had been back to check on her and was pleased to find her sitting up comfortably in bed. Still very weak, but awake. Fitz spent the next two days barely moving from Yvette’s side, as she tended to her every need. Thoughts of going home to England were never far from her mind, but her priority was Yvette’s health.
New Year’s Eve came and went. Fitz was barely been aware of the days going by, as she fretted over Yvette. On the third morning, she had gone downstairs to help Jeanne with the breakfast and was pleased, if not surprised, to see Yvette at the foot of the stairs.
‘You’re up,’ she said, going over to her and hugging the nine-year-old. ‘But look, you’ve nothing on your feet. You’ll make yourself ill again.’
‘I’m hungry,’ said Yvette.
‘That is a good sign,’ said Jeanne. ‘We don’t have much, but I’m making porridge and just for today, you can have breakfast in bed. Now go back upstairs.’
‘Go on, shoo,’ said Fitz, good naturedly. She watched Yvette scuttle back up the stairs. ‘It’s amazing how quickly children recover,’ she said going back to the stove where she was stirring the porridge in a pot.
‘I know,’ agreed Jeanne. ‘One minute she was at death’s door and now, look at her, skipping up the stairs.’
‘I’m so relieved she’s recovered,’ said Fitz. ‘Although she was still coughing this morning.’
‘She’ll have that cough a while,’ said Jeanne. ‘But she is certainly over the worst of it now.’
Fitz lifted the pot from the heat. ‘I suppose that means I will be able to go home soon.’
‘Yes. It probably does,’ said Jeanne, taking the pot from Fitz and scooping porridge into the waiting bowls lined up on the table.
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Fitz grabbed two bowls from the table and quickly went upstairs and into the bedroom. ‘Shh. You have to be very quiet now,’ she whispered to Yvette. ‘Sit very still and don’t make a sound.’
Fitz listened to Jeanne opening the door. ‘Oh, Madame Cussac. What can I do for you?’
‘I was wondering if everything was all right?’ came the visitor’s voice. Madame Cussac sounded maybe the same sort of age as Jeanne, and Fitz wondered how friendly the two women were.
‘Everything is fine, thank you,’ replied Jeanne. ‘And I trust you are well?’
‘Pfft. As well as anyone can be,’ she replied. ‘I saw the doctor visited you. Have you been ill?’
Fitz wondered how anyone would be able to see Jeanne’s cottage from the village. Maybe there was another house nearby where Madame Cussac lived.
‘One of the children has a cough, that’s all,’ replied Jeanne. ‘Thank you for your concern.’
Fitz noted the lack of warmth between the two women and the thought made her nervous. She adjusted her idea that they were friends.
‘They must be ill if you’ve had the doctor here,’ continued the woman. ‘Which child was it?’
‘Monique,’ replied Jeanne. ‘She’s much better now, thank you.’
‘Monique? And I thought I saw her out collecting eggs from the farm yesterday.’
‘It must have been her sister you saw,’ replied Jeanne.
A creak of the floorboards in the hallway, had Fitz looking up. Monique had come from her room and was obviously listening to the conversation, too. She looked across the landing at Fitz and Yvette. Fitz put her finger to her mouth.
‘I was sure it was your older daughter,’ persisted Madame Cussac.
At that moment, Yvette coughed. She tried to smother it with her hand, but it was too late. She coughed again and then a third time.
Fitz reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the glass of water, passing it to Yvette in a bid to prevent the onset of a coughing fit.
‘Oh, is that Monique now?’ asked Madame Cussac.
‘It must be,’ Fitz heard Jeanne reply.
The next thing, Monique began coughing. Fitz looked up in alarm. She wanted to tell her to stop. If they weren’t careful that nosey woman downstairs would be up here like a shot. She watched as Monique went to the top of the stairs, coughing every now and again.
‘Maman,’ croaked Monique. Cough. Cough . ‘Can I have some water, please?’
Fitz closed her eyes and lifted her head towards the ceiling. The girl was a genius.
‘I need to go,’ said Jeanne. ‘As you can see, Monique is still unwell.’
‘Yes. And it wasn’t you who I saw at the farm getting eggs yesterday?’ Madame Cussac called out to Monique.
‘ Non, madame . It wasn’t me,’ replied Monique.
Honestly, the child should be on the stage. She was giving such a great performance. Fitz willed the Cussac woman to leave, just in case Yvette started to cough again.
‘Goodbye, Madame Cussac,’ Jeanne was saying.
Fitz heard the front door close and then Jeanne’s footsteps on the stairs as she came up to see them.
‘That woman,’ Jeanne said in exasperation as she entered the bedroom. ‘She is such a gossip.’
‘Monique did well,’ said Fitz. ‘Quick thinking. Well done.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Yvette. ‘I couldn’t stop it coming out.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jeanne. ‘We must be very careful now. Once that woman is on the scent of something, she is like a bloodhound. I shall have to try to speak to the doctor. We might have to find another safe house for you.’
‘You think she’d report you?’ I asked.
Jeanne shrugged. ‘I don’t know but it’s not worth the risk. Now, bring the bowls down and let me give you some porridge to eat. It was good thinking to take them upstairs. She was trying to look over my shoulder the whole time. I had to stand on the doorstep to stop her.’
Jeanne was making light of it, but Fitz knew that was probably for the children’s benefit. Underneath her calm exterior, she had no doubt, Jeanne was worried. And rightly so. Much as she hated the thought of leaving this kind woman, she was very much aware of the danger put upon Jeanne’s family by her and Yvette’s presence. If they had to move to another safe house, then so be it.
They spent the rest of the day upstairs in the bedroom with the curtains drawn, in case Madame Cussac decided to pay another visit or, indeed, if anyone else called by. Yvette wasn’t sleeping so much now she was feeling a lot better. Monique and Amelie had brought in a book for Fitz to read to Yvette and they all sat together on the bed listening to Fitz tell the story.
Later when the children had all gone to bed, Jeanne invited Fitz down for a coffee. The shutters were all closed and the doors bolted. A small fire flickered in the hearth and Jeanne had placed a chair either side.
‘I shall miss you when you leave,’ she said, passing a cup of coffee to Fitz. ‘It’s been nice to have some company for the last few evenings.’
‘You’ve been very kind to open your house to us,’ replied Fitz. ‘I shall never forget your kindness. You saved Yvette’s life.’
Jeanne smiled. ‘You are very fond of the child, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I am.’
‘Why is that?’
Fitz took a sip of her drink and looked at the flames flicking around the log. ‘She reminds me of me,’ she said after a while. ‘I lost my mother when I was about her age. I know how that feels. In fact, I don’t think that feeling of utter devastation has ever gone away. Not when I think about her.’
‘What about the rest of your family?’
‘There is my half-brother, and my father – he remarried within a year of my mother’s death. I found that hard.’
‘You felt you had lost your father, too,’ said Jeanne. ‘Your mother had left you and now your father had. Or at least that is how it felt?’
‘Yes. I felt all alone in a world I had no control over. No autonomy. It was frightening. And I saw that same fear and confusion in Yvette.’
‘She was vulnerable, like you. No?’
‘Exactly, that,’ agreed Fitz. It was so refreshing to find someone who understood how she felt. ‘I hated feeling like that and I think a part of me didn’t want Yvette to feel like that, either.’ She sipped her coffee as she sifted through her thoughts. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I’ve never had to look after anyone before, only myself. I didn’t want the responsibility but now it’s like I can’t choose to opt out. It feels embedded in my heart.’
Jeanne reached over and placed her hand on Fitz’s. ‘You feel like that because you care about her. Caring about a person other than ourselves is what makes us human. Love and compassion we have no control over. Don’t try to fight it. Embrace it.’
Fitz didn’t know how this woman could be so insightful.
Before she could reply, there was a rapid knocking at the back door. Jeanne jumped to her feet, spilling her coffee. ‘Quick. Upstairs,’ she whispered, snatching Fitz’s cup from her hand and rushing over to the sink, tipping it away filling it with cold water.
Fitz darted up the stairs, thankful she had taken her shoes off earlier. She waited on the landing, out of sight.
The knocking came again. ‘Jeanne. Open up. It’s me, Frédéric.’
Fitz heard the door open and then urgent whispered voices that she couldn’t make out.
Next Jeanne was hurrying up the stairs. ‘Quickly,’ she said. ‘You and Yvette must leave now. There is a patrol on the way. That horrid woman, Cussac, must have reported me.’
Fitz rushed through to the bedroom and woke Yvette. She didn’t bother taking off the nightdress but pulled the clothes on over the top. The extra layer would help keep her warm. Fitz didn’t know where they were going or who with. She hadn’t even heard Jeanne mention anyone called Frédéric.
Fitz and Yvette hurried downstairs, pausing in the doorway. ‘What will happen to you? Will you be all right?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ replied Jeanne.
‘Thank you,’ said Fitz, hugging Jeanne tightly. ‘I shall never forget your kindness.’
‘We have to go,’ hissed Frédéric.
‘Go,’ said Jeanne. ‘And may God go with you, too.’
Frédéric hurried them out through the back of the property, Fitz glanced back one last time, but the door was closed. The sound of a vehicle’s engine coming along the lane cut through the night air. Fitz caught glimpses of headlights flickering through the hedgerow.
‘Hurry!’ urged Frédéric. He picked Yvette up and threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes and broke into a run, along the hedge, heading away from the house. The moon was out and Fitz could see him ahead of her. They needed to get into the trees before the Germans spotted them.
It was only fifty yards or so and as she darted into the woodland, she looked back again and could see all the lights on in Jeanne’s house. The Germans must be inside searching for her and Yvette.
‘They will be all right,’ said Frédéric, setting Yvette down on the ground. ‘The Germans have only the word of a silly old woman who tends to get muddled. Or at least that is what the doctor will say.’ He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Old age, it comes to us all. Now come, quickly. We must get to the safe house.’
‘How far away is the safe house?’ asked Fitz, as Yvette ran over to her and clung onto her hand.
‘Just a mile,’ replied Frédéric, already walking away.
Fitz and Yvette jogged to catch up with him. At least they would have somewhere to sleep for the rest of the night. ‘After that?’ she asked.
‘You ask a lot of questions.’
‘I don’t like to be kept in dark if I can help it.’
‘You will be pleased to know there is a plane coming tomorrow night. It is bringing in supplies. And you and the child have a place on it for the return journey.’
‘A plane? Back to England?’ Fitz could scarcely believe what she was hearing.
‘Where else do you think you are going?’ The Frenchman shook his head. ‘You just need to make it through the next twenty-four hours and then you’re going home.’
Twenty-four hours. One thousand, four hundred and forty-eight minutes. That was all they had to stay safe for. The relief and excitement rushed through Fitz’s veins, sending tingling sensations to her fingertips.
Oh, please, God, let them make it. She had only been in France for two weeks, but it felt like forever. Now she knew what hell would be like, she never wanted to experience that again.
Fitz had never known time drag like the following twenty-four hours had. She had barely been able to sleep the previous night, despite feeling physically exhausted. Frédéric had taken them to a safe house, and they had slept in the hayloft of the adjacent barn. On the 3rd January, when daylight finally broke and the cool, hazy sun rose, Fitz was still awake.
For the rest of the day, they had to stay hidden in the hayloft. It was too dangerous to venture out in daylight in case any German patrol was out looking for them.
Every time Fitz heard the sound of an engine, whether it was in the distance or passing by the farm, she could feel herself breaking out into a sweat. To be caught now would be devastating. They had come this far, they deserved to make it home.
Finally, the time came for them to leave the safety of the hayloft and make a short hike across the fields to the rendezvous point. Fitz would have liked to have known exactly where they were going in case they were somehow separated from Frédéric, but he said he was under strict instructions not to divulge any information in case they were caught before they had made it. That way the Allied plane was still clear to make their drop-off.
Fitz was glad to be moving. Her nerves were nearly shot to pieces with the anticipation of going home. At least the physical exertion, albeit painful at times due to the injuries she was carrying, helped to channel those nerves in a positive way.
By the time they reached the field, which was the designated landing strip, Fitz thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach was churning like a tombola at a church fete and any minute now she was going to throw up.
They were greeted by a small group of resistance members and ordered to stay hidden in the nearby woods until the plane had touched down. Only then were they to break cover to board the aircraft.
‘You will only have one minute,’ said Frédéric. ‘They will barely stop.’
Fitz nodded. She knew the drill.
She clutched Yvette’s hand. ‘Don’t let go,’ she said to her. ‘Whatever happens, don’t let go.’
The sound of the aeroplane rumbled in the sky, getting louder and louder. Fitz got to her feet.
‘Not yet,’ ordered Frédéric.
‘I’m just getting ready,’ replied Fitz. She could barely stand still, sitting still was impossible.
She watched as the resistance welcoming party lit the torches in the field to guide the pilot down onto the grassy runway. Fitz knew that the Germans would already be sending soldiers out to find them and round them up before they could take off. She’d heard of shoot-outs on landing strips and people being killed just as they were about to board the plane. Nothing was guaranteed until the plane touched down back in England.
It seemed an age before the plane came in to land. And then suddenly Frédéric was commanding her to run. For a moment, Fitz didn’t think her legs were going to respond. She had lost all semblance of co-ordination.
But Yvette pulled at her hand and then she was back in control. Racing across the field, lengthening her stride, towing Yvette along with her. How they made it across the open field without falling, she didn’t know but then the door of the plane was opening and two men exited the aircraft.
She didn’t have time to see their faces. They were off into the night within seconds.
‘Get in!’ shouted the co-pilot who was at the door. ‘Now!’
Frédéric grabbed Yvette and practically threw her into the aircraft, which was beginning to move and pick up speed as it readied for take-off.
‘Claudine!’ cried Yvette from the doorway. The little girl stretched out her hand, before the crew member, pushed her away from the door.
‘Run!’ shouted Frédéric.
Fitz broke into a sprint. Where she found the energy from, she had no idea but she was not going to be left behind. She launched herself at the doorway and for an awful moment, thought she was going to be dragged back out but the crew member grabbed her and pulled her into the plane, before slamming the door shut.
‘Glad you could make it,’ he said, rather too cheerily for Fitz’s liking.
Yvette threw herself on top of Fitz, sobbing in relief.
Fitz cuddled the child tightly. They had made it. They were on the plane. She was going home.