Chapter 28 January 1942
Chapter 28
January 1942
As the Lysander bumped down onto British soil, Fitz let out a long sigh of relief. Was it really only two weeks ago that she’d been about to set off on her mission to France? So much had happened in that time. Her whole world had been turned upside down. And she’d returned home with an orphaned French girl. If someone had told her what was in store for her, she would never have believed them.
She climbed out of the aircraft and one of the crew lifted Yvette down. A car was already on the tarmac waiting for them and they were whisked away to Bignor Manor.
Barbara Bertram ushered them into the kitchen where a pot of soup was warming on the stove ready for their consumption. It was most welcome after twenty-four hours with only fruit and bread to eat.
That night, although tucked up in a warm bed with clean, crisp bedlinen and Yvette sleeping soundly in the bed next to her, Fitz found it hard to get to sleep. Her mind was still on high alert, as it had been since she’d left England. Her body might be ready to rest, but her mind was reluctant to relax. Thoughts of the past two weeks swirled around on a constant loop. Before they’d left France, Frédéric had received word that Jeanne and her children were all right, though their home had been thoroughly searched and all three of them had been questioned for over an hour. But the Germans had left without harming anyone – physically at least. Jeanne had managed to convince them that Madame Cussac was a gossip and troublemaker. Whether they believed her entirely or not, was another matter, but Jeanne was safe as were her children. Fitz was more than relieved to hear this.
As yet, Fitz hadn’t heard anything about Philippe or Margot. When she’d asked Yvette what had happened, the little girl had only been able to give scant information. The morning after Fitz had been arrested, Margot had tried to take Yvette out of the chateau, to where she didn’t know, but they had been stopped by the soldiers. When they found Yvette didn’t have any relations in Josselin and had come from Saint Pierre, they had taken her away and put her in a hall along with other people. Fitz had no doubt Engel had been behind that order. After that Yvette had been bundled onto the truck. She cried as she relayed this to Fitz. The poor child was traumatised by events.
And now here they were in a foreign country where Yvette didn’t speak the language and knew no one. Fitz consoled herself with the fact that Yvette was alive and safe.
Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Sam. He was never far from the front of her mind, but she realised with a deep sadness, that somewhere along the line, she had begun to prepare herself for the fact that he hadn’t survived. The reality of life in France, the events she had experienced first-hand over the last few days, had been a sharp reminder that she had to now face the truth. Her romantic idea that Sam had somehow survived a plane crash and been found by the resistance and then made it back to England, seemed more fanciful than ever.
Eventually, she had fallen asleep but it had only been for a few short hours. When she woke the following morning, Yvette was already awake and sitting on her bed fully dressed.
‘You’re an early bird,’ said Fitz. She looked at the end of her bed and saw all her clothes set out. She looked back at Yvette properly and noted the anxious look on the child’s face and the teddy tightly clutched to her.
‘Do we have to leave?’ asked Yvette.
Fitz pushed the covers back and slid out of bed, going to sit beside Yvette. She put her arm around her. ‘We will be leaving, but not yet and not in a hurry. We’re safe here. No one is coming who we have to hide from or run away from.’
Yvette looked up at her. ‘But I heard voices downstairs. Men.’
‘That will be Mr Bertram, who lives here or perhaps some of the other guests,’ explained Fitz. ‘Everyone here is our friend. The Germans aren’t here in England. You know, sometimes Mr and Mrs Bertram have French people here.’ She hoped this would help reassure her. ‘Now, I’ll get dressed and we can go down for breakfast together. How does that sound?’ She made to sniff the air. ‘In fact, I think I can smell breakfast. Eggs and bacon and toast.’
Yvette’s eyes lit up and she jumped to her feet. ‘Hurry up,’ she urged.
Fitz laughed and did as she was told, getting dressed as fast as she could.
When they went into the dining room, two men were sitting at the table. They both rose and greeted Fitz and Yvette, who took their seats on the opposite side of the table.
They seemed a little surprised to see Yvette but no one asked questions and Fitz offered no explanation. The unwritten code of never giving anything away and never asking questions prevailing.
Yvette, however, wasn’t accustomed to this code. After several minutes of glancing up at the men, her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Are you French?’ she asked.
The men exchanged a glance. The younger of the two, who Fitz thought couldn’t be any older than twenty-five, replied. ‘ Oui . We are. And you are too?’
‘Yes. Are you going to France?’ continued Yvette.
‘We hope so,’ replied the man. ‘Maybe tonight.’
Yvette fiddled with the spoon. ‘If you see my mother, can you tell her I’m here?’
The Frenchman looked up at Fitz and then back at Yvette. ‘Of course. I will tell her you are safe and being looked after well. She will be happy to know that. What is your mother’s name?’
‘Edith Moreau. My name is Yvette. Yvette Moreau.’
‘I will remember that, Yvette Moreau. And your mother Edith Moreau.’ He tapped his temple with his forefinger. ‘I won’t forget.’
Fitz’s promise to the doctor was reinforced further. She might not have Sam to live for now, but she had Yvette. She had a promise to fulfil and she embraced it. It gave her something to focus on.
Later that morning, Fitz was visited by someone from SOE, a Mr White – Fitz wasn’t sure that was his real name but as ever it was a need-to-know basis. While Yvette played in the garden with the Bertram children, Fitz had spent three hours being debriefed. Every detail of her time in France scrutinised. She was exhausted when it was finally over.
‘Thank you, Miss Fitz-Herbert,’ said Mr White, placing the copious notes he’d made into his briefcase. ‘Do you have any questions?’
‘Will I be going back into the field?’ Fitz needed to know, for Yvette’s sake as much as her own.
‘Do you feel able to go back?’
Fitz looked down. ‘Not right now. But maybe in time.’ Why did she feel like a traitor saying this?
‘What is preventing you?’ asked White.
Fitz looked out through the study window to the garden where Yvette was now helping Barbara Bertram feed the chickens. ‘I made a promise and I can’t break it.’
White followed her gaze. ‘No one can force you to go back,’ he said after a pause. ‘It’s not as if you can return anyway, until your injuries are fully healed. It might be the case that you won’t be deemed medically fit.’ He paused again as Fitz gave him a questioning look. He continued, ‘Your back. With the possible scarring. If the Gestapo see it, they will guess you’ve already been of interest to them. It would make you much more vulnerable and ultimately the weak link in operations.’
‘If there’s anything I can do here in England, then I would be more than willing to help,’ she replied.
‘Of course, you could go back to ferrying planes,’ said White. He tapped his finger on the edge of the briefcase. ‘But, as I understand it, you have excellent linguistic skills in both French and German. We have certain, how shall we say, houses, where we have foreign guests. Listening to their conversations, spoken in their mother tongue, is very revealing. We’re always on the lookout for linguists. Maybe something like that would interest you? Top secret, of course.’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Fitz. This sounded like something she’d be able to do without leaving the country. She had heard a few rumours when she was training about a stately house that had been requisitioned by MI5 and MI6 and turned into a detention centre. ‘That sounds something right up my street, Mr White.’
‘Excellent. I shall put forward a recommendation,’ said White. ‘But, first, you need to recover from your latest exploits. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Fitz.
She saw White out and went over to where Yvette was playing a game of tag with one of the Bertram children. It was a frosty winter’s morning and their breath formed puffs of air as they chased each other around. Fitz watched the scene, thinking it was the first time she’d heard Yvette laugh. It was a delightful infectious sound and warmed Fitz’s heart. As she stood there, smiling to herself, an idea formed in her head. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.
Barbara Bertram walked over to her. ‘It’s good to see them enjoying themselves,’ she said.
‘Yes. Definitely,’ agreed Fitz.
‘All finished with your visitor?’
‘Yes, he’s gone now. I’m to have a few weeks leave and then I might be able to resume duties here in England.’
‘And what about Yvette?’ asked Barbara.
‘I was thinking, I’ll take her with me to visit my father,’ said Fitz. ‘I have a half-brother Yvette’s age. They might be good company for each other.’
‘Oh, that sounds an excellent idea,’ said Barbara.
‘Yes. I just have to persuade my stepmother to go along with it.’ That was the only fly in the ointment. Getting Camilla to agree to having Yvette there. ‘Depending on where I’m posted, hopefully I can either return every night, I mean that would be perfect, or if too far to commute, then at weekends or days off.’
‘That sounds very nice, except … do I detect some hesitation about your stepmother?’
Fitz shrugged. ‘We haven’t always got on. I think she found me challenging.’
‘And are you?’
‘No. I mean, at least I’ve never thought of myself as challenging.’ Fitz paused and then relented ‘Maybe a little. My mother died when I was eight. Camilla, that’s my stepmother, she came along quite soon afterwards and I’m not sure I was ready for a replacement mother.’
‘Yes, I can imagine it would be difficult,’ said Barbara.
Yvette and Barbara’s son, Tim, were now creating patterns and funny faces across the lawn by scuffing their feet through the damp grass and laughing at their results.
‘Camilla tried to take my mother’s place. She was always fussing over me. Asking me what I was doing. Would I rather do this, that or the other? She bought me clothes I didn’t need. Even toys I didn’t want. It felt false,’ said Fitz. ‘I don’t think I understood when I was young and certainly wouldn’t have been able to articulate it, but looking back, that’s how it seemed.’
‘Perhaps she was only trying to care for you? I take it she hadn’t had any experience with children before that.’
‘No. Michael, my half-brother, was born a couple of years later, when I was ten.’
‘How was your father after your mother died?’
‘He was very sad to start with but, you know what, we never spoke about our feelings. We just got on with life and the next thing, Camilla arrived on the scene.’
‘Do you think perhaps Camilla was maybe trying a little too hard?’ queried Barbara. ‘Especially as she had no experience as a mother to call upon. Maybe she was trying to compensate and make you happy in other ways.’
Fitz bristled a little at this suggestion. No, Camilla didn’t care about Fitz. She thought Fitz was a nuisance. She had just wanted to assert herself in the matriarchal role of the family. And then she was trying to convince Fitz’s father to send Fitz away to Scotland. She wouldn’t do that if she cared about her stepdaughter. ‘I don’t think she was trying to do anything like that,’ replied Fitz, wishing the conversation would end.
She had inadvertently picked the scab from a wound that wouldn’t quite heal properly. A wound she’d always believed was caused by someone else, but now it was being suggested that she herself might have contributed towards it. No, that wasn’t how it was.
‘So, what are your plans for the next few days?’ asked Barbara. ‘When Mr White arrived, he mentioned that you might be here for another night or two.’
Fitz was pleased with the change in direction of the conversation. ‘I was wondering, would it be possible to stay for two nights? Tomorrow, I’d really like to try to catch up with a couple of friends from the ATA. They’re down at Hamble.’
‘Of course, that’s not a problem,’ said Barbara. ‘If you’re only going for the day tomorrow, then you can leave Yvette here with me. She and Tim seem to have hit it off rather well.’
‘Thank you, that would be so kind of you,’ said Fitz. ‘I’ll telephone Marjorie and Elsie later at the house they are billeted in.’
‘Jolly good,’ said Barbara. ‘Now, I’ve got some chores to do.’
‘Do you want any help?’ asked Fitz.
‘No, not at all. You need to recuperate. Watch the children if you want to do something useful.’ Barbara smiled and went back into the house.
Fitz sat down on the wooden bench and gently stretched out her legs. The bruises were fading now. Her bones weren’t as sore as they had been and when she leaned against the bench, there was no sharp sting to her back. She’d looked in the mirror that morning and the broken skin was healing well. She had Jeanne to thank for that.
It was a shame, Jeanne’s balm couldn’t soothe the damage to her heart.