Page 76 of Resistance
‘Lord Grosvenor will see you now.’
Barely acknowledging his remark, Dottie followed, her feet making their moves on the chessboard below.
The butler swung open the panelled door and there he was, seated in a leather winged-back chair behind his writing desk. A portrait of someone she assumed would be one of Hugh’s scurrilous relatives peered down on them while a fire burned in the grate. The room smelled of smoke, cigars and polish, similar to a library, faintly musty but well-cared-for.
Hugh spoke first. ‘Dottie, what a m-magnificent surprise. Please forgive me for not getting out of this b-blasted chair but the old gout is playing up and cooler weather plays havoc with m-my leg. Do sit, would you like some tea or p-perhaps something stronger?’
Motioning with her hand that his chair bound predicament was fine, Dottie seated herself before speaking. ‘Nothing to drink for me, and I must apologise for springing my visit on you like this, but I’m off on holiday so needed to pop in before left. I have a Christmas gift for you.’
Hugh silently dismissed his butler with a nod before replying. ‘Oh r-really, that’s very kind and unexpected. I don’t think I’ve ever received a Christmas p-present from you before. Have I done s-something to deserve special treatment?’
Dottie’s laugh tinkled, sounding as false as it felt. ‘You could say that.’
Hugh left it a heartbeat, appearing to consider her comment then diverted. ‘S-so where and when are you off?’
‘Next week. I’m returning to France. I spent some time there in August, as it happens, in the village where we were based during the war, and I’ve been invited to stay with old friends for the festivities. Maude has jetted off to Australia so I’m at a loose end and have a yearning to go back.’ Dottie watched him so closely that she thought her eyes would pop from the sockets with the strain. Nothing, not even the merest flicker.
‘France, my, my. After all these years you finally s-succumbed. What made you decide to go back? You always seemed set against a trip down m-memory lane. Our m-mutual avoidance of that particular period in our lives seemed like self-preservation, so I’m surprised to say the least.’ Hugh rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and made a pyramid shape with his index fingers, fixing Dottie with a stare.
He hadn’t changed a bit, not really. Completely bald on top with fine wisps of grey hair at the sides, although he was thinner of face, sagging around the jowls, his giveaway pockmarked skin sallow. It was the eyes though that gave him away. For years Dottie would have described them as watchful or intelligent, but she realised they were neither. They were sly and belonged to a snake who’d shed his skin and reinvented himself, fooling them all.
‘True, but I felt it was time, you know, to lay some ghosts to rest and I wanted Maude to know all about my work there, so we set off an adventure and I must say, we got much more than we bargained for.’
There it was. She saw it; a twitch in the corner of his eye and a loss of concentration if only for a second, but now he was back, scrutinising her. Slowly she untucked her scarf from inside her coat, the warmth from the fire having an effect. Her gloves stayed on.
‘Oh r-really, in what way?’ Hugh’s demeanour feigned composure while his plummy voice betrayed great interest.
‘Quite by chance we stumbled upon a face from the past and after that, well, it was like a domino effect. We discovered survivors of the Hun invasion and relatives of our network still living in the area, so we had a jolly good get-together in thesalle de fête. It was marvellous to talk about the past and piece things together, especially about what happened after you and I left, and what happened before, actually.’ She hoped the word Hun had stung, she’d been tempted to use worse.
‘Oh, I s-see.’
Dottie fixed Hugh with her eyes, waited two beats then allowed herself a smile which he caught. ‘And there were two people in particular who had lots of memories that they were eager to share. It seemed like my return triggered them off and so many things came flooding back; the pieces of a puzzle coming together.’
‘A p-puzzle, how very intriguing, although I wasn’t aware there was one to s-solve.’ Hugh shifted in his seat, lowering his arms to his stomach, hands still clasped.
‘Neither did I but it seems, to cut a long story short, the information we received about the network being betrayed and who got rounded up was slightly inaccurate.’
‘Well, Dottie, that was to be expected r-really. You k-know how hard it was to gather information especially on the run up to D-Day, more so when our r-radio operators were being discovered left, r-right and centre. No wonder some m-messages were unreliable, passed on verbally in m-many cases, like Chinese whispers.’
‘Oh, I agree, Hugh. We relied greatly on the integrity of intelligence passed down the line and trust played a huge part in the network too. It was so hard to know who to share our secrets with, which was why the gradual round-up of our fighters hit hard and we suspected there was a traitor in our midst. But I’m running away with myself. I need to tell you about the faces from the past, one of them I wrongly assumed was amongst those shot.’ Not giving Hugh time to reply Dottie sped on.
‘Do you remember the reports that said the men from the village were taken?’ She paused but received no response. ‘And when I heard a young boy was amongst them, I immediately thought it was Polo.’
At this Hugh pulled a face, miming confusion and ignorance. ‘P-polo, no, I don’t think I remember him. But I moved around a lot and m-met so many fighters. It’s impossible to r-remember them all.’
‘Oh, but this one remembered you so well. He described you to a T, in fact.’ Dottie watched as Hugh paled, then reddened slightly, which gave her satisfaction. Facial muscles can in some part be controlled but the rush of blood, well, that had a will of its own.
‘You’ll have t-to enlighten me.’ Hugh’s voice was clipped, less relaxed.
Dottie smiled, fully prepared to do so. ‘Polo was seven at the time but wise beyond his years and an excellent foil for the Hun. They never once suspected him of carrying messages. In their eyes people like him were only fit for the gas chamber so he was largely ignored or looked down upon.’ Dottie hoped repeatedly referring to Hugh’s real comrades in a derogatory way made him wince inside, on the outer he didn’t flinch.
‘He had a withered, paralysed arm, bent at the elbow, and fingers that didn’t work so well but he was an excellent runner, a little whippet, in fact, who knew the area like the back of his hand. Polo idolised Vincent and used to follow him everywhere. He used to call Polo hispetit ombre.’
Hugh shook his head. ‘Little shadow? N-no, he still doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘And then there was Béatrice, now you must remember her… very pretty girl, a bit headstrong, Vincent’s sister.’ Dottie let the words settle. She was glad she’d never played poker with Hugh.
‘Yes, of course I r-remember Béatrice, is she well?’
