Suffragette Girl (46 page)

The following morning, Florrie breakfasted early before either of the other two guests in the pension made an appearance. The day was bright and sunny and, whilst she knew she
couldn’t visit the sanatorium until afternoon, she wasn’t going to sit indoors all day when such marvellous scenery awaited her. Dressed in hat, coat, gloves and sensible walking shoes,
she left the pension and walked along the main street. Davos was set in a valley, with mountains rising on either side.

She set off along the road, taking a path into the trees just behind the pension and walked towards Davos Dorf, following the winding trail and smiling as she heard the distant sound of
cowbells. It was cool and shady beneath the trees and she tracked down the sound of rushing water, coming upon a stream bubbling over boulders and rushing on down the stony bed into the valley. She
dabbled her fingers in the water, revelling in its clear, clean freshness.

Florrie sat a while beside the stream. It was so tranquil, the only sounds around her the babbling water and the clanging cowbells. She felt herself relax a little, but the anxiety over
Jacques’s health could never leave her, and now there was the growing fear that had been present ever since she’d decided to bring him to Davos.

What was Ernst’s reaction going to be when he learned the truth?

Despite the invigorating walk in the clear, pure air, Florrie was anxious to return to the sanatorium. She wanted to know how Jacques was. It was the first time since his illness had been
diagnosed by the consultant physician in London that she’d been separated from him, and she hated not knowing how he was every minute of the day – and the night too, if truth be told.
And she could not deny that she wanted to see Ernst again.

After a light lunch at the pension, she took the funicular up the mountain and walked the few yards to the gracious building. The communal veranda at ground level was crowded with day-beds, most
of them occupied by patients. A few walked slowly up and down on the two levels of grass sun terraces. Florrie scanned the faces, but Jacques was not amongst them, so she climbed the steps towards
the main entrance. As she was about to step into the hallway, she heard someone calling her name.

‘Frau Maltby, you cannot go in.’ She turned to see Hans Meyer hurrying towards her across the terrace.

‘Ah, yes. I remember now. How foolish of me.’

He looked at her with sympathetic kindness. ‘It is only natural you want to see your son.’

‘You’re with your wife? She’s out here on the terrace?’

‘Sadly, no. She – she is in her room.’ His voice dropped and shook a little. ‘She is very ill. She suffered a very bad haemorrhage last night. They want me to take her
home – but she is too sick to travel now. She – she will die here.’

‘Oh, Herr Meyer, I’m so sorry.’ Impulsively, Florrie touched his arm. ‘Is there no hope?’

He shook his head, unable to speak for a moment.

‘And they won’t let you see her?’ She was appalled to think that this nice man was being kept away from his dying wife.

‘Oh yes, but I have just come out for a breath of this fine air. It is very – how do you say – harrowing to sit there. And she is sleeping just now.’ He pulled in a deep
breath and tried to smile, despite the terrible sadness that was weighing him down. ‘But you – we must get someone to help you find your son.’ He waved behind him towards the
open-air terrace. ‘There is a nurse down there. Come with me. She will help you.’

Florrie turned and followed him back down the steps.

As they approached the nurse who was attending to one of the patients lying on a bed chair in the sunlight, Hans Meyer said, ‘Excuse me, Nurse, Frau Maltby has come to see her son. Is that
possible?’

As the woman straightened up, Florrie saw that it was Sister Bergamin. She smiled as she greeted Florrie. ‘Good afternoon, Frau Maltby. Jacques is with the doctor now. Dr Hartmann is
carrying out all the usual tests for a new arrival and arranging X-rays and so on. I’m afraid it won’t be possible for you to see your boy today. It is best that we don’t
interrupt the tests.’

Though disappointment flooded through her at not being able to see not only Jacques but Ernst also, Florrie nodded. ‘How is he?’

‘A little better this morning. He slept well last night after the journey and he has been out on the balcony of his room all morning.’ She waved her arm to encompass the glorious
scenery all around them. ‘I’m sure our wonderful air will soon begin to work its magic’

‘So – like me, you have the rest of the day to fill, yes?’ Hans Meyer said.

‘So it seems,’ Florrie murmured.

‘Then will you permit me to take you to a little cafe I know for afternoon tea?’

Florrie forced a smile. ‘That would be very nice.’

He gave an old-fashioned courtly bow and held out his arm. She took it and together they walked back towards the funicular, but not before she’d glanced towards the windows of the X-ray
room. Jacques was in there with Ernst and how she longed to be with them both.

As they began to descend in the cabin, Florrie sighed. ‘It really is a beautiful place.’

‘It is, and it seems so sad that there is so much sickness here.’

‘I know what you mean – it’s a sort of cruel irony, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, yes – that is what I mean.’

‘But it’s becoming a centre for sports too, so a woman at the pension where I’m staying was telling me.’

Hans Meyer smiled, though the sadness never left his eyes. ‘Yes, it is good to see the young ones enjoying themselves, but, like you say, it is a strange mix.’

He took her to a restaurant in one of the smart hotels and ordered afternoon tea. ‘Like you have in England, yes?’ he teased her gently.

Florrie laughed. ‘Almost.’

They chatted, though now and again they fell into silence, but the long pauses were companionable. There was no compulsion to speak if they didn’t feel like it. There was a mutual
understanding of the personal anxiety that was never very far away.

As they rose to leave, Hans said, ‘Tomorrow morning, will you walk with me? May I suggest we take a carriage to Davoser See and walk around the lake? We saw it from the train.’

He touched her arm. ‘We will visit the sanatorium in the afternoon. By then, they may have some news about your son. And perhaps you will be able to see him.’

Florrie smiled weakly and nodded. ‘Perhaps,’ she whispered, not daring to hope too much.

The morning was bright and clear, but cooler.

‘Wrap up well, my dear,’ Frau Schwarz said as she saw Florrie’s sturdy shoes and the walking stick.

‘I will, Frau Schwarz-Hemmi.’

The woman smiled. ‘“Frau Schwarz” will do,’ she said. ‘“Hemmi” was my maiden name. It is the tradition in Switzerland that when a woman marries she adds
her maiden name to her husband’s. My husband was “Schwarz”.’ Her face fell. ‘He died two years ago.’

‘I’m sorry.’ There was a slight pause before Florrie asked. ‘Have you any family? Children?’

The woman’s face lit up again. ‘Oh yes. Two sons. They live in Geneva. They’re doing very well,’ she added with a note of pride in her tone.

‘So – they’re called Schwarz-Hemmi?’

‘Oh no. What a mouthful that would become if their wives then added on their birth names. It could go on forever.’ Frau Schwarz laughed aloud at the thought. ‘No, no, the
children of a marriage just take their father’s surname, though the father can be known by the double name. My husband could have been Schwarz-Hemmi if he’d wished, but he preferred to
keep it short, so I always say my name is just Frau Schwarz. Do you see now?’

Florrie laughed. ‘I think so. The custom must be very helpful for anyone tracing their family history.’

‘Yes, yes, it must be. I’d never thought of it before, but I see what you mean.’

There was a knock at the door and Frau Schwarz opened it to see Hans Meyer standing there.

‘Enjoy your walk,’ she said cheerfully as the two set out.

They took a carriage to beyond Davos Dorf and alighted near the lake. The sharp air stung Florrie’s cheeks as she tucked her hand through Hans Meyer’s arm and matched her stride to
his. The water of the lake was a smooth grey-blue and the path around its edge was covered with a sprinkling of snow.

Florrie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. ‘How fresh and clear the air is and how magnificent the autumn colours.’

‘In a week or two it will be even more picturesque, with gold and browns and yet still with the dark green of the firs.’

They walked and talked, telling each other of their homes, their lives, but the shadow of their sick loved ones was always with them. They returned to their separate lodgings for lunch, but met
again to ride up the funicular. They were quiet now, their pleasure in the morning gone as the weight of their shared anxiety descended once more.

As they approached the entrance, Sister Bergamin was standing on the top of the steps. It seemed she was waiting for them.

‘Herr Meyer,’ she said softly as they drew near. ‘If you would like to come with me, I’ll take you to your wife’s room.’

Hans stood very still for a long moment. Florrie touched his arm gently, but couldn’t find the words to express her feelings for him. They both knew instantly why the sister had been
waiting for them. Eva was close to death. For a brief moment Hans grasped Florrie’s hand, but he couldn’t look at her. He moved away, his shoulders hunched and his footsteps leaden.
With a heavy heart, Florrie watched him go.

When he was out of earshot, the sister said, ‘You will find Jacques on the lower sun terrace this afternoon. His temperature is down this morning and Dr Hartmann wants him to get as much
fresh air as possible. He is not to mix with the other patients yet and still takes his meals in his room. But he is on the terrace so that you can visit him.’

‘May I see Dr Hartmann?’ The words were out before she sought to check them. ‘I mean – I want to ask him the results of the tests.’

‘Of course. I will tell him you are here. Meanwhile,’ she gestured towards the lower sun terrace and added firmly, ‘Jacques is waiting for you.’

‘Hello, darling.’ Florrie forced a cheerful greeting. ‘How are you feeling?’

He was lying on a bed chair, wearing his topcoat, a woolly hat and gloves, with warm blankets tucked tightly around him.

‘D’you know, Mother, we have to sit outside all day? The whole day. And even if it rains we have to sit under the covered part or on our own balconies.’ There was belligerence
in his tone; he was feeling better this morning.

She was delighted to hear it, yet it amused her too. No one could ever deny he was a Maltby! She sat down on a chair beside him. ‘It’s for your own good, darling—’

‘“For your own good” – that’s all I ever seem to hear these days,’ he muttered morosely. ‘How long am I going to be here? I hate this place. And I hate
him.
’

‘Who?’ Florrie asked, but she knew the answer already and her heart began to thump painfully. That was the very last thing she wanted.

‘Dr Hartmann.’

‘How can you say that, Jacques? You hardly know him. And he’s the one who’s going to get you well again.’

‘Really?’ His tone was laced with sarcasm. He pulled his arm out from under his blanket and gestured towards the other patients lying nearby. ‘Look at them all. He hasn’t
cured them, has he?’

‘It takes a long time, but this sanatorium has a very good record here. That’s why I – I chose it.’ She bit her lip at the partial lie.

‘Oh, I’m sure it has, but do you know why?’

‘Because they cure people.’

‘Some – yes. I’m sure they do. But the reason they don’t record a lot of deaths here is because they send them home to die.’

Florrie stared at him. She was thinking of what Hans Meyer had said. As if reading her mind, Jacques said, ‘They wanted to send Frau Meyer home, but she got too sick to travel, so
she’s going to die here. But if they can still travel, they ship them out. It’s common sense, if you think about it. It would be harmful for their reputation to have a catalogue of
deaths, wouldn’t it?’

Florrie stared at him. ‘Oh, Jacques, I’m sure you’re wrong. Ernst – I mean, Dr Hartmann – wouldn’t do such a thing.’

So intent on his theory was he that Jacques didn’t seem to notice her slip of the tongue. She would have to be more careful, Florrie reminded herself. She plunged on, babbling to hide her
mistake. ‘It’ll be because – if they can do no more for them – the patients will want to be with their own families when – when—’

‘Well, you can think what you like, but that’s what the other patients say. I can still talk to them, you know, out here in the open air.’ He laughed wryly. ‘Trouble is,
if we’re being sent home, we’re not going to be sure if it’s because we’re cured or because there’s no hope for us.’

Florrie sighed. How sad it was to see such bitterness and fear in the young boy. And worse still, she could think of nothing to contradict him. Ernst, she remembered bitterly, would do anything
to safeguard his reputation. She gazed at the mountains across the valley, but today their beauty had turned sour.

‘May I see Dr Hartmann?’ Florrie asked the sister again as the afternoon of sitting out on the sun terrace came to an end.

‘He has asked me to tell you that he will come to the pension this evening to tell you of his findings.’ She turned to the boy. ‘Now, Jacques, you must return to your
room.’

‘Can’t I go into the dining room with all the others?’

‘Not until Dr Hartmann says so.’

‘Dr Hartmann – Dr Hartmann,’ he muttered. ‘I seem to hear nothing but that name.’

But Emmi Bergamin only smiled. ‘Now, say “goodbye” to your mother. No physical contact,’ she said sharply, as Florrie held out her arms to embrace Jacques.
‘I’m sorry,’ she added, softening. ‘I know how hard it must be.’

As they were about to part at the foot of the entrance steps, Florrie asked, ‘How is Frau Meyer?’

The sister stared at her for a moment and then shrugged and grimaced. ‘Not good, I’m afraid. It’s only a matter of time.’

‘And – and Herr Meyer?’