Chapter 60 #2
Where would they go? They couldn’t live in a hotel for ever. She’d surprised everyone, not just herself, by arriving here, and no one had made arrangements for her.
‘Autumn is rolling in fast,’ said a voice, speaking in French.
Margot looked up to see Mr Gray approaching, striding towards her at a clip.
Today he was wearing a vivid red tartan, and beneath his arm he carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
He paused at Arielle’s pram and beamed in at the little girl.
‘I have gifts for you, mademoiselle. Some clothes that belonged to my own children.’ He added in a whisper, ‘No clothing coupons required, eh?’ Then he nodded to the bench beside Margot and asked, ‘May I?’
‘Of course.’ Margot smiled, patting the space beside her. ‘Everyone has been so kind. Doesn’t Arielle look happy in her pram?’ Then she sighed and asked him, ‘And Theo? How is he?’
‘Expected to recover,’ he said and smiled. ‘Although I’m afraid I can’t say for sure when you’ll see one another again. There are certain protocols we need to follow, given his nationality and unfortunate family ties. I hope you understand?’
After all Theo had done for the Allies, the sacrifices he had made, he was still regarded with suspicion.
‘He is a good man,’ Margot insisted, but she knew that she and Theo were powerless.
She hated the thought that he’d survive his wound just to be put in a prison cell for the rest of the war.
‘He’s nothing like that monster – you know he blinded Theo when they were children? You must believe me, Monsieur Gray.’
He nodded and said kindly, ‘I know. And I believe all will be well for the gentleman; I hope you will trust me when I say that. He has worked on our behalf for a long time and at great risk.’ Then Mr Gray drew in a deep breath and went on.
‘But I have good news for you and Arielle, madame. A safe home, a worthwhile job and the chance to settle and see out the war until you can go home.’
‘Oh, monsieur, thank you so much,’ Margot said. She almost hugged him, but realised British people were reserved and he might be taken by surprise.
‘My family seat up north at Rievaulx has been requisitioned for the war effort. I need someone who can operate a radio and might be willing to do a few extra hours here and there cataloguing the family library,’ Mr Gray explained.
‘There’s a little cottage in the grounds going begging and my darling old ma just a stone’s throw away, desperate to coddle a baby now all of my lot are grown and flown. What do you say, madame?’
Margot couldn’t have imagined anything more perfect; the only thing it lacked was Theo.
Gray arranged for Margot and Arielle to travel up to Yorkshire, a long journey from the south coast. She saw so much of England on their journey; the damaged towns and cities, and so many people in uniform.
The population looked tired and their clothes were almost as darned and makeshift as Margot had become used to in France.
But there were no German soldiers here. No one was marching along the streets or bellowing through megaphones; no SS were knocking at the doors to drag people away.
Instead, she saw colourful posters at the stations they passed through, with English words she could pick out here and there, encouraging the nation to do what they could to carry on.
She got the impression of a country who had united to fight an enemy, despite the suffering they were having to endure.
As they travelled through the countryside, Margot saw wide, tilled fields with birds swooping above them, which, in a few months, would ripple with crops. Then the landscape changed; the fields were smaller now, populated by sheep, and on the horizon she saw the looming shapes of huge hills.
A cheery young woman in an army jeep met Margot and Arielle at the station.
She had neatly braided hair and a tidy uniform, and she spoke near-perfect French.
Arielle stared at her with fascination and the young woman merely chuckled when the baby tugged her cheek.
There was something about her that reminded Margot of Monsieur Gray, and eventually she realised that she was being driven by Gray’s own daughter.
The jeep went through a pair of stone gates topped with heraldic shields held by carved unicorns.
After a long drive down a wooded avenue that had turned golden with autumn, Margot saw rows of twinkling windows that had caught the setting sun.
Monsieur Gray’s house was like an English version of the famous chateaux in the Loire Valley in France, albeit one with military vehicles lined up neatly in the carriage circle.
Although the elaborate fountain with its dramatic stone statues in front of the enormous stone house wasn’t spouting water, Margot could imagine how grand it looked when it did.
Monsieur Gray’s daughter led the way to their cottage in the grounds of the house.
The gardens were a mixture of topiary, roses clipped back for winter, empty summer houses, and canes marking out vegetable patches.
Men and women in uniform, who worked in the house, chatted and smoked in small groups before heading back indoors across the wide lawns.
Arielle cooed in surprise as a peacock trotted past them, before he paused beside a sundial to display his wide fan of feathers.
Margot wished Theo could’ve been there to see it; she would’ve truly felt as if they were in a fairy tale if he had.
The cottage looked out across an orchard.
Few leaves were left but the trees promised an abundance of blossom come springtime.
Margot felt a pang for the home she’d left behind; the scent of apples that were turning soft on the grass reminded her of Normandy and walking through the chilly autumn air with Esther.
But then, the orchard was something familiar for her to hold on to, and she hoped she could make some Normandy specialities with the harvest to share with everyone at the main house.
Margot’s new home was built from stone with a slate roof and roses, not yet in bud, would grow around the door by summer. The kitchen had a large metal range, and there was an old, out-of-tune piano in the parlour, which made Margot miss Theo with all her heart.
Margot and Arielle quickly settled in, accepting simple but welcome gifts of plates and rugs from Gray’s wife to make their cottage a home. The little girl happily played on the rug in front of the parlour’s fire as Margot chatted in French with Gray’s mother.
She eagerly began work on Gray’s library, a double-height room with polished wooden shelves loaded with all manner of books, as well as maps in leather cases.
She wondered what Gray would’ve made of the antique map of Cordeval’s tunnels, which, despite its age, still guided people underneath the village.
The large marble fireplace did its best to keep Margot and Arielle warm as it burned apple wood from the orchard.
A ladder ran round the library on a rail, which reminded Margot of Les Pages d’Espoir every time she climbed it.
She started with Gray’s huge collection of antique books in French.
He had German books as well, and, as she tidied them, Margot daydreamed about showing them to Theo.
No one was allowed to tell her where he was.
She’d written notes to him that she couldn’t send, but she kept them, hoping she could give them to him one day.
When she wasn’t working in Gray’s library, Margot was helping with the radios. The metal and Bakelite machines, with their array of lights and dials, were lined up in what had once been a ballroom, under chandeliers shrouded in sackcloth and portraits of Gray’s ancestors.
She knew she would always remember the day that she turned the dial and spoke to Joséphine.
Although she was so far away, so untouchable and unseen, Joséphine’s voice was as clear as if she was standing next to her.
They couldn’t speak for long, in case the Germans found them talking on the frequency, but Margot didn’t feel so lost now; she knew where to find her friends on the dial.
And she smiled when she heard that the Resistance Book Club was continuing.
Her friends were still meeting in the cellar under her shop to share their love of reading.
She wore Daniel and Esther’s wedding rings round her neck on a chain, looking after them until Arielle was old enough to have them. Keeping their rings so close meant she would always think of them.
Weeks passed by and Christmas was coming ever closer.
Margot had been picking up English and was determined to learn; Gray’s mother had been helping her and she was confident that she was getting better.
She joined a group who were planning a Christmas party at the house, and it stretched her English just to follow the conversations, but she felt more and more a part of the place.
She was still working on the French books; they were her connection to the country she’d had to leave behind.
In quiet moments in the evening, when Arielle was asleep, Margot wrote on whatever paper she could find, recording everything she could remember.
It brought back her friends to her; a testimony of all they had been through.
She’d made friends with the other women who worked on the radios, and they were planning to start their own book club. But she still hadn’t heard from Theo.
She’d wrapped up warmly as the library was vast and chilly in the winter cold, before the fireplace warmed up.
She wore a thick cardigan along with a knitted scarf and fingerless gloves.
Arielle was sitting up by herself now; she sat in her pram, wearing a bonnet that Gray’s mother had knitted for her.
As Margot wheeled her over the parquet wooden floor of the corridor to the library, she noticed a soldier standing at the library’s entrance.