Page 14 of Resistance
‘Well it’s a good job I have a decent memory, isn’t it?’
‘Mmm, if you say so. Right let’s focus on this life of mine… I know, let me tell you about London and the start of the war.’ Dottie paused while Maude listened to the satnav and took a turning onto a quieter road.
Once they joined the flow of traffic she continued. ‘I want you to picture your great-grand-parents’ café not how it is now with its fancy neon sign and all the vibrant colours of the rainbow passing by, but like in the photos at home. Not completely black and white, maybe with just a hint of colour here and there.’
Dottie saw Maude nod. ‘Remember it was wartime, in the thick of the Blitz and rationing, and for the life of me I can’t remember it any other way than a smudge of muted colours. Utility clothing, uniforms everywhere, dark navies, khaki browns and air force blues, sandbags and dust, the blackest of blacked-out nights. There was colour, of course there was, splashes here and there, the union flag, Dad’s tomatoes and vegetables he grew on the allotment, the flowers in Hyde Park that popped up regardless of what fell from the sky, like bright dollops of defiance.
‘Between the sepia we tried our best and even nature kept up appearances. We made do and mended, transforming our old summer dresses, putting beetroot juice on our lips and boot polish and spit on our eyelashes yet still, for me the city was always grey. I desperately wanted it to light up again. I wanted to light up too, feel hope, not resignation and the tinge of fear when the siren sounded. I wanted to fight back. I can feel it now, you know, here, deep inside.’ Dottie touched her chest.
‘It was like anger brewing but not yet formed, or panic, yes that’s a good way to describe it, a suffocating sense of frustration at our situation. Not just for Britain but for the whole world that was being infested by the Nazi regime. I had to do something. That’s why I joined up and found myself in the hallowed halls of the War Office.’
Dottie took a breath, surprised by the passion that overcame her. Taking a moment, she was grateful for Maude’s silence. This was where the journal would begin, with a young woman on the brink of her greatest adventure. Dottie could almost touch the scene in her head, the kitchen above the café, a letter, her father pacing the worn lino and the unrelenting tears of her dear mother.
Maman, Papa et Mémère Delphine
Hackney, London, 1942
Tommy Tanner took a break from wearing a hole in the floor and pulled another ciggie from his packet of Park Drive, lighting it quickly before taking what looked like a long, life-saving drag. The enormous swirling puff of smoke that he exhaled reassured Dottie that he wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Once he’d imbibed some strength, Tommy took position behind his wife, Paulette, who was sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing into her handkerchief while on the other side sat Mémère Delphine.
The living accommodation above the café was usually warm and enticing but tonight it felt sombre, a shadow cast upon it. The kitchen-cum-living-room was where they all gathered for meals or to discuss the day’s events, seated around the long, scrubbed pine table with its mismatched chairs collected one by one from the second-hand stall on the market.
During the winter months the fire in the kitchen grate welcomed you in and they spent many happy times, or since the outbreak of war, worrying ones, seated on the battered old sofa and chairs as they listened to the radio. The three bedrooms along the corridor were in darkness, their windows blacked out as were those where they sat. Despite the roaring fire, the meal of stew and potatoes they’d mopped up with bread and the hum of the radio, the current atmosphere belied the ambience of the room.
While her parents were visibly distressed, Dottie’s grandmother appeared quite unmoved by the scene, understanding everything, saying nothing, but that was her way. Only when she had something of value to offer and a suitable moment arose in which to impart her erudite words would she interject so until then, Dottie knew Delphine would keep her counsel.
She was thankful though, that at least one member of her family was being sensible because as far as Dottie was concerned, the other two were completely overreacting to her news.
Tommy eventually cut through the silence, patting Paulette’s shoulder in between puffs and soothing words. ‘Now, now, love, don’t take on so. There’s no need to get into a state. Our girl’s just taking a little trip, ain’t you, Dot? And it don’t mean she’ll be in any danger, they might just have her doing a bit of typing, like she does now. Nothing to worry about at all.’
When her father gave her the nod, obviously encouraging her to fib to her mum, Dottie stood firm. This was no time for pussy-footing about. It was wartime and she was doing her bit, sono waywas her thrilling opportunity being dampened down or likened to a day at bloody Margate.
‘Dad, stop it, it’s not fair on Mum and anyway, I don’t know what’s going to happen, none of us do in this bleedin’ war. But what I do know is I want to go. No, actually, I am going, I have to.’ Dottie took a moment to glance at her mémère, who remained impassive and merely sipped her coffee.
Expecting no immediate assistance there, Dottie softened and approached her mother, kneeling before her and then taking her trembling hand.
‘Maman, Mum, please stop crying and listen.’ Dottie frequently alternated how she addressed Paulette, borne from avoiding being teased by her friends in public yet in private, she enjoyed speaking in her mother’s tongue.
‘It’s going to be fun and I’ll get to see somewhere new. You’ve always wanted me to travel so now I am, and I bet wherever I’m going, it will be lovely this time of year.’ Dottie already knew it was Scotland but wasn’t allowed to say and had no idea what April in the Highlands would be like.
‘There won’t be any air raids and look at it like this, it’s probably more dangerous working in a munitions factory or Whitehall. Please cheer up, Maman. I thought you’d be proud.’ Dottie stroked Paulette’s hand and waited for the tears to subside.
Wiping her own face, Paulette then took Dottie’s in the palm of her hands, stroking flushed cheeks with her thumbs. ‘Ma précieuse fille, I have only ever wanted the very best for you, I promise this with all my heart, but still I cannot bear the thought of you going away, to a strange place and for what? I do not understand why you are going. Everywhere is dangerous and I need you here with me otherwise my heart will break, I know it.’
‘But, Mum, I have to do my bit, like everyone. I’ve been specially selected, me, Dottie Tanner from the East End, who’d have thought it?’ Dottie placed her hand on her chest and willed her mother to understand. ‘This is my chance to make a difference and I can honestly say that typing notes for the War Office, day in, day out, doesn’t really feel like I am.’
While Paulette mulled over her daughter’s words, Delphine chose to speak. For the most part, Dottie’s grandmother spoke in French but tonight she surprised them all and chose English albeit it with a strong accent. Maybe it was for Tommy’s benefit, so he could understand everything not just the odd dry insult or comical French phrase, or perhaps on that day, at that moment in time, it would make them all listen, really listen.
‘Paulette, Thomas, stop this at once. Do you not understand what is happening a few hundred miles from our door?’ She swept her arm towards an invisible enemy, her voice dropping to a hiss. ‘Do you not feel the breath of the Nazis on your neck? Hear their boots marching closer while poison pours from their minds. Soon it will wash into the sea and onto these shores and if it does,’ Delphine pointed at them in turn, ‘what you call your homeland will be invaded by sewer rats, just like they are crawling all over mine.’
Pausing as if to gather her thoughts and let the previous ones settle, Delphine eyed each person gathered around the table. Dottie was totally enthralled while her parents looked sheepish, her mother especially.
‘Do you ever wonder who lives in my beautiful family home now? Do you remember where my son, your brother is?’ She directed this at Paulette. ‘I’ll tell you who, the Gestapo, I’ll tell you where, in Germany. Our dear Bernard is forced to work for that scum, or face death in a camp. My brother was too old to go but has been evicted from our family home and faces a firing squad if he dares to defy the invaders of my beautiful St Malo.’
Delphine’s shocking words educed a gasp from Paulette and sorrowful looks from the others.
‘I read the newspapers, I listen to Mr Churchill on the radio and this war is not going our way so there must be a united effort to rid the world of this…’ Delphine paused, as if searching for her words, ‘despicable scourge.’
Paulette’s voice, when she found it, was laced with exasperation and no small measure of determination. ‘But, Maman she is just a girl… what can she do that will make such a difference? We need more guns and soldiers, planes and bombs and the help of our allies. War should be fought by men not women. What can Dottie do, look at her, this tiny thing, and why must she go away when there are jobs she can do here?’
