Page 23 of Resistance
‘Oh, darling, believe me, one week at Glum Hall is quite enough for anyone so I’m booked in at the Ritz with some chums and thought, I know, who would I most like to see the New Year in with, and it was you! So here I am. I hope I’m not intruding.’
At this Paulette interceded. ‘Of course not, we are honoured to have you. Dottie has told us so much about you so please, sit, I will make coffee.’
‘Oh, thank you, dear Paulette. I have been longing to meet you all, and, Mémère, how marvellous to see you at last.’ Maude stretched out her arms and rushed over to Delphine and kissed her in the accepted French way, on each cheek.
Dottie watched with amusement as Maude began to charm the birds from the trees, slipping off her fur and flinging it over the back of the battered sofa before flopping down opposite Delphine, warming her hands by the fire as she chattered away in French about the silly taxi driver who asked her three times if she was sure she’d got the right address and that she couldn’t wait to go back downstairs and try some pie and mash.
‘Oh, that reminds me.’ Maude jumped up then ran down the corridor and came back struggling with a suitcase that appeared rather heavy. ‘Here, I come bearing gifts.’
Maude heaved it upwards and deposited it on the kitchen table, just as Tommy blustered into the room. ‘Thought I’d pop up and see how you are, I’ve left little Tina minding the shop for a minute.’
‘Well you’re just in time, Tommy, because I have something you might like in here…’ Maude had undone the buckles and flipped the catch to reveal, much to everyone’s delight, what looked to be the contents of the Glum Hall larder and cellar.
After passing Tommy a rather dusty bottle of whisky, Maude presented Delphine with one containing wine that made Mémère’s eyebrows raise and put a beaming smile on her face. Paulette received chocolate truffles in a box so fancy that Dottie knew it would never be thrown away, and after that came a whole ham, a perfectly round wheel of cheese, three jars of preserves and, wrapped in brown paper, a string of sausages.
‘There, that should keep you going… I didn’t chance the eggs, even I’m not that silly.’
Dottie spoke up, voicing what she imagined was on all their minds. ‘But, Maude, won’t your mum wonder where all her food’s gone? She’ll have a fit, surely.’
At this Maude flapped her hand and raised one eyebrow. ‘Dottie, my mother has only been to the kitchen at Glum Hall once in her life, shortly after she married my father. She got lost and had to be taken back upstairs by the butler and has never been back since. My secret is safe and anyway, I rather enjoyed my clandestine foraging, you could call it extra homework.’ Maude winked at Dottie then turned away.
‘Now, where were we? Oh yes… pie and mash. Come along, Tommy, I want a huge portion, Dottie’s told me all about how delicious it is.’ And with that she linked his arm and they headed downstairs, leaving Paulette to admire her box from Fortnum and Mason and Delphine to caress the bottle of Margaux, while Dottie chuckled and began to stash their hoard of food in the larder.
It was to be one of the best New Year’s ever. Maude had no intention of heading up west to be with her chums, she’d done that so many times before. Instead she insisted on spending the evening with the Tanners and experiencing a real East End knees-up which began in the local pub and finished above the shop. Once the neighbours headed home and the kitchen was tidied, tipsy Tommy was helped to bed by Paulette after which Delphine bade everyone goodnight. Dottie and Maude then squashed into her bed, top and tail, exhausted in the darkness.
Realising that she had only one more night at home before she would be on her way again, Dottie felt as though she never wanted the night to end. Maude yawned very loudly, fidgeting in the bed, her cold feet against Dottie’s arm.
Quickly losing the battle against sleep and as her eyes began to droop, a thought popped into her head and without thinking, she asked a question. ‘Maudie, are you scared, you know, about going to France?’
Dottie waited for a glib retort, one that she was sure would lift her heart and wash away the fear she’d kept hidden inside. There was silence, just two heartbeats, and Maude replied.
‘Absolutely and utterly terrified, darling.’
12
Tour de Dottie
France, 2005
Maude and Dottie sat in subdued silence at the end of a long dusty lane and surveyed the farm and sprawling fields filled with chickens. This was it, Tante Helene’s farm, Dottie’s home during the war. Aunt, or Tante, was what she’d called the kindly woman who had taken care of her, a fellow member of the Maquis. It had hardly changed at all, thelongèrefarmhouse was still intact and exactly as she’d remembered, but the metal outbuildings were new and the sign at the end of the lane told them it was a free range egg farm, but the surname on the letterbox told them that Tante Helene’s family were gone.
During the twenty-minute journey from Châteaubriant to Renazé, Maude had listened while Dottie continued her story about how she had ended up here, her French home.
‘Did you not keep in touch after the war?’
Dottie answered. ‘I sent one letter when I got back to England, after I heard about the executions, but I never had a reply. She may have received it, or it could have got lost in the mayhem, who knows. There was no point trying to fathom it. I tried to blank it all out because there was nothing I could do, Tante Helene was in the past. They were all gone. With hindsight and in modern-day terms I think I was in shock and behaved accordingly.’
Maude reached over and placed her hand on her gran’s leg. ‘I could go and ask at the farm if you like, and see if they know anything about Tante Helene.’
‘No, let’s leave it for now. We can head off into the village and take a look there. Let’s just go for a drive and if I spot something, I’ll point it out. Today I’d like to get my bearings rather than come face to face with anyone. Does that sound feeble?’
Maude shook her head vigorously. ‘No, not at all. We’ll call this the Tour de Dottie, like the bike race but at a more sedentary pace. But as we drive, perhaps you could tell me some more about your life here, like your work with the Resistance, or do you prefer to call it the Maquis? Then I can imagine it all as we go.’
‘Of course, I’d like that. And to me it’s Maquis. Oh, and sometimes we called the Germans the Boche, they had alternative names for us, I assure you.’ Dottie then pointed to the map that lay on her lap. ‘Look, if we follow this road, we can circumnavigate all the villages around here, drive in, take a look and then on to the next. We can save the churchyard until last, or another day. I have no idea who will be buried there or where to find them so think I’ll need to work up to that.’
Maude started the engine. ‘No problem and I see your ordinance skills are intact. Right, you point me in the right direction and tell me a story about an awesome woman called Yvette who cycled everywhere to deliver secret messages. I bet you were fit as a fiddle.’
‘Oh, I was! And in the summer brown as a berry, well my face, arms and legs were. I spent almost every day outside, helping Tante Helene in the garden or as you say, cycling for miles into the forest taking supplies, picking up messages, delivering incendiaries, fuses, dynamite, whatever was needed. It was the same in winter, but slippery, raining a lot and I was much paler.’
