Page 56 of Resistance
Tears swam in Dottie’s eyes which she wiped away quickly, determined to hold on to the moment and allow Polo to react before she spoke. At first, he just stared. Dottie watched him look into her eyes, there was a flicker of recognition maybe but still he didn’t speak. Then he took in her hair and she thought he’d finally made the connection, so slowly she moved closer.
His right arm was still bent and paralysed, his long fingers twisted now. Letting go of Francine, Polo lifted his left hand towards Dottie’s outstretched arm, taking her shaking hand in his. Still he was silent.
Crouching in front of the wheelchair, Dottie spoke softly, willing herself not to cry.
‘Polo, my dearest Polo, oh I’m so pleased to see you. Do you remember, it’s me, Yvette?’
Time stood still as Polo’s eyes took in everything about Dottie and when he pulled his hand away her heart sank, lifting again when he reached out and touched her face.
‘Yvette, is it you, is it really you?’ Polo’s hand trembled as he traced a face from the past.
Dottie nodded. ‘Yes, my dear friend, it is me.’ Her voice cracked and to her right she heard a sob from Maude.
‘Yvette, my Yvette, you came back. You came back. I waited and waited, but now you are here. I knew you would return to make it right, I always knew.’ And with that Polo reached out and wrapped his arm around Dottie and pulled her close.
Dottie clung on tightly as they both sobbed into the other’s shoulder, whispering their happiness, sharing their joy at being reunited.
Francine was in tears also, even though she could have had no clue why the reunion meant so much or how they knew each other and was comforted by Maude who was similarly moved by the scene.
When Polo finally released Dottie she stood, knees creaking but holding tight to his hand. ‘Please forgive me for not coming sooner but I thought you were… I thought you were among the ones they captured. I have been such a coward, Polo, so please forgive me, I am truly sorry.’
At this Polo seemed agitated and he stumbled over eager words as he tried to speak clearly. ‘Yvette, you were never a coward, never. You are the bravest woman I know and if anyone should feel shame it is I.’
Polo lowered his head as his lip started to tremble, as did his body, which is when Francine stepped in, preventing Dottie from asking what he meant by shame.
‘Now, now, Uncle Polo, don’t upset yourself. This is a happy day because you have been reunited with your friend… shush now, it will all be fine. Why don’t we get you home and I will make us all a cool drink?’ Francine rubbed Polo’s back as she looked towards Dottie and Maude. ‘He gets like this sometimes, very distressed, talking about the past and secrets but mostly we don’t understand. Would you like to come to meet my mother and then perhaps he will be calmer and you can talk? Do you have time before you see themaire?’
Dottie nodded. ‘Of course, we will come. I don’t want to leave him like this. Lead the way.’
With that they set off, Francine pushing Polo, his wheelchair juddering over the cobbles as they made their way across the square and out of the glare of the sun. Maude linked her arm through Dottie’s and spoke softly as they walked.
‘Are you okay? This must have been such a shock for you, seeing Polo. I couldn’t believe it when Francine said his name and I swear my heart stopped for a second. The poor man probably felt the same, bless him,’
Dottie was in shock. So many thoughts and emotions to contend with and they’d knocked her for six, such was the force with which they hit. Realising Maude had asked a question she focused on a response.
‘Yes, I’m fine, dear, please don’t worry.’
Maude stared at Dottie. ‘No, you’re not. You look like you’ve seen a ghost and you’re miles away, so come on, what’s going on in that head of yours?’
‘I should have had the courage to check properly… when I was back in England. I could have found out exactly who was taken but once I knew Vincent was dead, I couldn’t bear to hear any more. Not after Maude. SOE told Hugh that all the Maquis from here had been captured and killed, that the chain had been broken, and I took their word for it.
‘I used to imagine him, Polo, being imprisoned and then executed, the horror of it. They told me how many were arrested, and I assumed when they mentioned a young boy, it was him. I was tormented by nightmares and the faces of everyone, what they would have endured, what the Nazis did and all the time, little Polo was still alive, waiting for me to come back.’
‘Stop now, Gran. Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know and we discussed this, you were in shock after losing Vincent and Maude, then what you saw on D-Day. Why would you even want to dig it all back up when you got back home? I understand, so when you explain to Polo, I’m sure he will too.’
Dottie clung on to Maude’s hand. She had never felt like this, so utterly elated yet wretched at the same time. ‘He was such a shy little boy, remember I told you, but fearsome and wily despite his problems. I adored Polo and so did Vincent. To see him now, so frail and clearly confused is breaking my heart, never mind all these wasted years. Oh, I’m so angry with myself, Maudie, I really am.’
‘Well you shouldn’t be, so please try to shake off thoughts like that and focus on the present. Polo’s face lit up when he realised it was you and now you can make up for lost time and, who knows, there might be more of your old friends still here. Let’s see what he has to say.’ Maude gave Dottie a peck on the cheek and received a weak smile in return.
Francine stopped at the gate of a modern bungalow and went to open it.
‘Here we are, come inside and meet Maman.’ Pushing Polo along the pathway through a well-tended garden, Francine concentrated on her uncle, reassuring him that they were home.
Taking a breath, Dottie followed, Maude in her wake. No matter what Polo said, right there and then she didn’t feel brave, not at all. Well there would be no more of this nonsense that was for sure. She knew that running away wasn’t the answer. Once they’d checked on Polo and met with themaireshe would find out where Vincent was buried and if she could, every single one of her comrades.
Instead of circumnavigating painful memories and cherry-picking the bits she thought she could handle, Dottie was going to embrace it all, welcome in the ghosts and pay homage to the past. France, the village, the Resistance had been the most important period of her life. It made her who she was, the woman she became.
She’d thought by locking it away in a box marked private, containing the pain, resisting the urge to relive a time that had made her feel alive, vibrant and useful would help her survive. To some extent it had worked, there had been no going back, the only way had been forward in a world dominated by men.
