you’ve had to face? Please tell me more. What kind of a life did you and Mama live in Paris, and how on earth did you cope when the Germans arrived? Oh, do tell me everything, I need to hear all your news.’
Brenda brushed aside these questions with a sad little smile. ‘Maybe later. It’s a long story and not a pleasant one, thanks to the war. But Camille was very happy to be back in her home country. Sadly, in 1941 she had to leave her beloved apartment to live somewhere in the Loire Valley with her cousin, as I’ve explained to your brother. But I don’t know where.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because of the dangers involved in staying in Paris. It was a complete nightmare.’
Prue’s eyes darkened as they met her friend’s gaze with deep sympathy. ‘This dratted war has ruined the lives of entire families.’
‘Indeed it has, including yours and mine.’ How could she be sure that her little Tommy was safe? The chill within Brenda worsened as images and memories she preferred to block out returned yet again to haunt her. ‘I like to think that all the traumas I’ve had to deal with have made me so much stronger. I’m sure the same is true of you too.’ Putting her arms about her friend, she gave her a warm hug. ‘So what is he called, this PoW?’
‘Dino, and we’re becoming quite close friends,’ Prue said, her cheeks turning slightly pink. ‘He’s a lovely man.’
‘Sounds as if it might grow into something more than friendship,’ Brenda commented with a smile.
‘It already has, not that I’ve revealed this fact to Melissa or Hugh. I know they would never approve. If they believed for one moment that I was falling for one of the enemy, I’m quite sure they’d send Dino straight back to the prison camp. And were it not for the fact that I’m their sister, they’d toss me out too, just as they did with you. So please don’t say a word to them on the subject, not till I’ve explained to Hugh how we feel about each other.’
‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.’ Brenda chuckled. ‘I firmly believe that we women should be free to make our own decisions in life, particularly when there’s a war on. So go for it, girl. Do what is right for you, as I did by marrying your lovely brother. At least we had some happy months together, if not the lifetime we’d hoped for. But the war will soon be over and we must then look to the future.’
‘We certainly will, and must help each other as much as we can. I can feel an anguish in you, sweetie, and I believe the only way to deal with such pain is for you to talk about it. I’m happy to listen.’
Looking into her dear friend’s eyes, Brenda realised she might well be right. She’d struggled so many times to do that in the past, sadly with little success. It was hard to find the right words to express her emotions. Some elements of the various traumas she’d suffered were now lost to her, shut out forever, perhaps because the stress and strain of remembering was far too painful. She really had no wish to dig down too deep and open that locked box again. But perhaps she could tell a little, if only in the hope that it might help her to sleep better and bring her back into the real world.
Sitting on a bench beneath an old oak tree, Brenda began to speak of what had happened to her following Jack’s death. But she resolutely made no mention of the birth of her son. There would come a time when she must reveal more facts, but not right now. She simply couldn’t cope with everything at once.
France, 1941
Brenda kept her head down in the Paris apartment for a couple of weeks. By the end of that time she was beginning to feel quite claustrophobic and anxious to get back to her normal routine. Surely she’d be reasonably safe, or at no greater risk than anyone else? Resistance was increasing. They were bombing railway lines and derailing trains in order to block the lines and make things as difficult as possible for the occupiers of their land, just as Jack had insisted they should. But the Germans always retaliated brutally. As did the British. There were frequent air raids upon the city, and they lived in fear of the apartment being bombed.
It was late one afternoon when she was coming home loaded with shopping, after venturing out to one of the many local markets in the city, that the bridge over the railway line she was about to cross suddenly exploded in front of her. Brenda found herself flung off her feet and knocked to the ground. One moment lights had flashed all around her, then darkness descended.
She came round to find rubble, dust, stones and scraps of burning metal scattered all over her. Terror erupted within her, and gently moving her limbs, she felt deeply relieved to find they were still working, if rather cut, bruised and stinging from the burns. Brenda felt fortunate to still be alive. Had she arrived at the bridge a few moments earlier, it could have been an entirely different story. Staggering to her feet, she gathered up the remnants of her shopping and slowly made her way back to the apartment.
Yet again Camille was shocked to the core at the sorry state of her when Brenda came limping into the drawing room. ‘Oh, my dear girl, what has happened this time? Not more trouble?’ she cried.
‘Don’t panic, I’ve no serious injuries. Just feel a bit shell-shocked,’ Brenda assured her, gathering her strength. Then quickly telling them about the bombed bridge, she glanced across at the baby fast asleep in his crib and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that her precious child had not been with her. Keeping Tommy safe was becoming a serious concern.
Adèle at once rushed to fetch hot water, bandages and iodine to tend to the injuries on Brenda’s arms and legs.
In the days following, Brenda suffered yet more sleepless nights, nightmares and constant flashbacks, as if locked back in time and experiencing the incident over and over again in her head. At other times she felt entirely disconnected from the world, as if she’d dropped back into that black pit she’d fallen into following Jack’s death. She would feel entirely unable to concentrate or remember anything, riddled with an intense fear, a sense of helplessness and horror-sensations she valiantly fought to block out.
Camille strived to help her deal with her distress by feeding and comforting her, as well as encouraging her to speak of how she felt, which Brenda found almost impossible to do.
‘You should return to England, dear girl,’ Camille suggested, as she had a dozen or more times. ‘You need to take Tommy home to the house and estate he will one day inherit, and where he will be safe. That is what Jack wished, as it is where his son belongs.’
Remembering the will Jack had written to protect their future family, Brenda fully intended to ensure his wishes were carried out. She looked forward to showing Tommy the farm and land that would one day be his; the great stone barns filled with the sweet scent of hay, the milking parlour and sheep-folds, the lush green intake land close to the house where the flock was wintered. There was so much she’d loved about living and working there. Yet when that could happen was beyond imagining.
‘Sorry, Camille, but is this the right moment? Trying to find a safe way out of France will present enormous difficulties.’
Her mother-in-law let out a heavy sigh. ‘We could make a few enquiries, quietly among friends.’
Later, sitting drinking a mug of hot chocolate, Brenda met the anxious expressions of these lovely ladies with a suggestion that had been gnawing at her for some time. ‘I wonder if we should all leave Paris and find somewhere safer to live outside of the city.’
‘Oh, that’s an excellent idea,’ Adèle said, clapping her hands. ‘I’ve said as much to Camille more than once. We could go and live in my house in the Loire Valley. We’d be much safer there, far away from any bombing, let alone the presence of those dreadful brothels.’
‘Why not?’ Camille said with a nod. ‘At least until we find a way to get Brenda and Tommy safely back to England.’
And so it was agreed.
Wasting no time, they were in the midst