Full Circle (11 page)

It took roughly an hour for the doctor to do all the things he promised, but to Nick it felt more like three. Jean helped him sit up as the doctor taped up the ribs and the pain made his head swim and his eyes water. The leg was bandaged with two planks on either side to prevent moving or bending. The rest was not as bad. Dr. Attal gave him a shot of morphine to ease the pain and Nick fell into a dreamless sleep before the two men even left the cellar.

Nick woke up with a start and tried to focus. He was still groggy from the morphine and he had no idea how long he had been asleep. Something must have woken him. It didn’t take long to figure out what that was. He heard it again almost immediately. It was the barking of dogs followed by loud banging on the front door upstairs. So they found him. Nick’s drowsiness fled as a surge of adrenaline flowed through his veins. He couldn’t move, not that there was anywhere to hide. He hoped the Lavelles would not suffer too much for helping him. Nick reached over with his left hand and groped on the crate in the darkness looking for the snapshot of Lily that he put there when Jean stripped him of his uniform. He couldn’t see her face, but he held it close to his heart needing her to be close.

Someone must have opened the door because the heavy thud of jackboots on a wooden floor could be heard from above. There seemed to be at least three of them, judging by the footsteps and what seemed like an entire kennel of dogs. They were barking madly and Nick could hear them scratching at the floor. It wasn’t long before he could hear the trap door opening, but he couldn’t see it like he did before. There was something blocking him from view. The Germans must have descended the ladder because he heard their guttural voices from somewhere close. The dogs were still barking, but they seemed to have stayed above. Nick saw a tiny sliver of light appear under what must be a door and realized that his cot was in a separate room of the cellar. How long till the Nazi’s figured out there was another room? He heard them talking to each other and calling to the man they left upstairs with the dogs. The light under the door flickered and then disappeared as they went back up the ladder. Nick heard the trap door slam and let out his breath. He vaguely wondered if Guillaume was made to piss in the cellar as well to disguise his smell.

The Germans were shouting something upstairs, but he couldn’t make anything out besides the cadence of their voices and the softer voice of Jean answering them. Eventually the door slammed and all got quiet again. Nick must have dosed off again after a time. The morphine was still doing its job and he was able to breathe a little easier, taking in big gulps of air to calm himself.

When he opened his eyes again the darkness was so complete that he couldn’t even see shadows. He had no idea how long he had been out, but he was cold, hungry and desperately needed a piss. It was very quiet upstairs and Nick prayed that the Germans did not take the Lavelles into custody on suspicion of aiding him. He closed his eyes and tried to breath evenly to battle his rising panic. He felt like he was entombed. The smell of damp earth wasn’t helping the claustrophobia. It was like being in a coffin. He remembered seeing sacks of potatoes and apples along the far wall, but the idea of getting up and groping in the dark for an apple quickly lost appeal. The thin blanket didn’t do much to keep out the damp chill of the cellar and Nick shivered causing another ripple of pain from his ribs. He didn’t pray often, but this seemed like a particularly good time to commune with the Almighty, so he said a prayer commanding Roger’s soul to God and asking for help in his present situation.

The Lord must have been in a good mood because no sooner did he say “Amen” that he heard the sound of the trap door opening beyond his little cell. There was a sound of something heavy being pushed aside and then the low, arched door opened to admit the woman he saw earlier and assumed to be Mrs. Lavelle. She was wearing some kind of flowery dress with an apron tied over it and rubber boots and was holding a large woven basket over her arm. Nick shielded his eyes as she shone her torch on him.

“Hello, Nicholas. I am Jean’s wife Juliette. How do you feel?” She set the basket down on the crate and went to get another one to sit on. She was a nice looking woman in her late thirties or early forties with blond, shoulder length hair and dark eyes. Juliette put her hand on Nick’s forehead partly to check for fever and partly in benediction as she sat down to feed him.

Nick wasn’t sure how to approach the problem of his bladder, but Juliette already thought of that. She pulled an empty jar off the shelf in the corner and came back to Nick pulling off the blanket. She pulled down his shorts without flinching and held the jar while he relieved himself, putting it under the cot matter-of-factly before beginning to spoon soup into his mouth. The soup spread a nice feeling of warmth through his chilled body and he began to feel better.

“I heard the Germans.”

“They were here.” Juliette continued to administer the soup in a businesslike manner. “They searched the house and the barn and made a big mess with their filthy boots and mangy dogs, but they are gone now. We waited a few hours to come down just to be safe. It’s after midnight now.”

“Where is the boy?” Nick asked wondering if he was her son.

“Guillaume went home with his father. He is our nephew. We have no children.” After the soup and the bread were gone, Juliette went back up only to return in a few minutes. She brought another thick blanket which she spread over Nick and a candle in a pewter candlestick.

“Jean put everything in a sack and buried it under the old outdoor privy. Not many people will go digging there, for obvious reasons.” She smiled and her whole face lit up with mischief. She was quite pretty when she didn’t look so worried.

“Nicholas, there is no electricity in this cellar and I cannot leave you the torch since the batteries will run out very quickly. You must light the candle only when you really need; suddenly buying more candles would arouse suspicion in the village. I will put it right here on the crate where you can easily reach it. I will bring you breakfast in the morning before we leave and then supper after Jean and I return in the evening. We own a café in the village, so we are gone all day. You will be here alone. You must not make any noise or try to come up. Do you understand?”

“I do. Thank you, Juliette. I will be the model patient.” Juliette gave him a quick kiss on the brow and left him alone in the dark. Nick was still hungry, but he felt considerably better with his bladder no longer threatening to explode and the chill held at bay by the heavy blanket. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Ian came back on Wednesday evening. He had reported for his new job and spent the day acquainting himself with his duties. He brought Lily an orange.

“Where did you get that? I haven’t seen an orange in ages,” exclaimed Lily in amazement. She wanted to share it with Ian and Gwen, but they’d have none of it. It was all for her and Ian blushed, pleased by her gratitude. He seemed shy and reticent and stayed silent unless he had something to say. Lily found herself trying to draw him out. She wanted to hear more about their childhood. There was so much about Nick that she still didn’t know. They had so little time together that his early life was a blank canvas to her and she was hoping that Ian could paint some of the background. Once he felt more at ease he spent hours telling Lily about their childhood in Scotland and then their lives in London. Behind the shy exterior was a very funny, charming young man.

Lily sent Aunt Gwen home on Thursday. Lily felt much better and Gwen was visibly tired and wanting her own bed. She decided to give herself another couple of days to recuperate and was planning to return to work by the following Monday. Ian stopped by on Saturday and suggested they go to the cinema. Lily readily agreed. She was overjoyed not to have to go by herself, but found herself feeling a little awkward when she saw all the kissing couples that surrounded them in the darkness. Ian didn’t seem bothered in the least and was engrossed in the picture. After the show he insisted on taking her for dinner. They wound up at the pub where Lily and Nick went on their first date and Lily felt melancholy to be in a place that reminded her of him.

Ian was an undemanding and amusing companion and he distracted Lily from her morbid thoughts. Nick was always on her mind, especially when she was alone at night and her fears and doubts seemed to get the better of her. Lily frequently rang up Aunt Gwen. Gwen kept busy by being involved in various committees and did a lot of volunteer war work, but she always found time to talk to Lily and invited her to tea at least once a week.

“What are you doing tomorrow, Ian?” Lily asked as she popped a chip into her mouth.

“I think I will start looking for a flat. I don’t want to continue living with Aunt Gwen. I love her to bits, but she treats me like an infant. She practically spoon-feeds me and keeps calling me “Dear boy”, chuckled Ian. “I would like a little bit of breathing room.”

“Why don’t you come and live with me? There is Alice’s old room. It’s been empty for months and I would be very glad of the company, if you don’t mind the flowery wallpaper that is.”

“Are you sure that would be all right? I would like that, flowery wallpaper and all.”

“It’s settled then. Just give me a day to tidy it up a bit and you can move in any time you are ready,” said Lily beaming. She was thrilled at the thought of having a flat-mate again. She was so lonely by herself. Being with Ian was probably the closest she could get to being with Nick and she was happy of the opportunity.

Ian moved in the following week. He scarcely had any possessions and it took all of an hour to unpack everything and put it away. It felt good to see the room look lived in again. They quickly settled into a routine. He seldom went out and they spent many cozy evenings talking and listening to the wireless between trips to the bomb shelter. Sometimes they even danced. Ian was stiff because of his knee, but he enjoyed slow-dancing and felt comfortable with Lily. She was a very understanding and patient dance partner and she enjoyed dancing with Ian since she didn’t get to dance at all these days.

As the time passed the absence of Nick became a dull ache. Lily still thought about him all the time and missed him dreadfully, but she was no longer in agony. Ian did his best to make her laugh and take her out whenever she needed a distraction. They enjoyed a lot of the same things and frequently talked for hours about books and films that they had enjoyed. They spent every Sunday together going to the cinema or just for a walk in the park and out for tea.

As days turned into weeks Nick got used to the routine. Madame Lavelle would come down around 6am to bring him a thermos of strong coffee and a basket filled with a long baguette, some cheese, cold meat and water. She took out his waste bucket on her way out leaving him a new one and he didn’t see her or Jean again until past 8pm when one of them would bring him a hot meal and news of the outside world.

Nick asked Jean if there was any way to get word out to England, but Jean just shook his head preventing him from asking again. Nick tried desperately not to think of home. Lily would probably have been told that he is dead and the possibility of her taking up with someone else made him feel like there was acid burning a hole in his gut. He distracted himself by dreaming of other things. Mostly he longed for some fresh air and even a glimpse of the sun. He had vivid dreams of strolling on the beach with the warm sun on his face and cold seawater swirling around his ankles or walking through a forest at sunrise with his father, mist caressing their faces and the first rays of the rising sun shooting slanted shafts of light through the canopy of the trees, birdsong filling the morning air. He would wake up feeling desperate for light and air and write letters home in his head to distract himself from the feeling of entrapment and dread.

Nick was surprised when one day Jean came down with a bottle of brandy to accompany his dinner. Jean pulled up the crate and sat down pouring the brandy into two glasses and handing one to Nick. He lifted his glass in salute and drained it smacking his lips with satisfaction. Nick savored the feeling of warmth spreading through his chest as the brandy made its way down. Jean refilled his glass and they drank again. Nick tucked into his supper with relish. It was home-made rabbit stew with vegetables and potatoes and he mopped up the thick, brown gravy with a heel of bread.

“How are you feeling, Nicholas?” Jean was pouring more brandy and Nick was beginning to wonder if this was a celebration or a prelude to some really bad news.

“I am better. My wrist is healed and my ribs hardly hurt at all anymore,” Nick answered carefully. “And you?”

“Today I am well. I have some good news. Our German “friends” have been pulled out of our village and dispatched to the Eastern front. May they all be slaughtered by the Russians!” He raised his glass again and drank to the demise of the Germans. “I have made some discreet inquiries and I think I might have found a way to get you back to England once your leg heals. We can’t make the attempt until you can walk properly, so it will be some time yet, but the wheels are in motion. I thought that would make you happy and give you something to hold on to while you are moldering here in this hole.”

Nick felt his spirits rise aided by good news and fine brandy. “How is it that the Germans never found me?”