Survivor (18 page)

‘You don’t want me around,
harping on about war,’ he said to Lisette as he saw them into the car.
‘You have a good time together, it might be the last chance you get for some
years to enjoy a relaxed holiday.’

As Andrews drove the car out of the
driveway, Mariette looked back at her godfather standing on the doorstep. She
thought he looked suddenly older, and a little fearful.

‘He is haunted by things he saw in
the last war,’ Lisette said, picking up on the same thought. ‘He was so
sure all those millions of brave young men, on both sides, had died to ensure
lasting peace. Now he finds he was wrong, and that is hard for an idealist to come
to terms with. He told me this morning he is going to find some kind of war work,
and I’m hoping that will pull him round.’

Lisette’s words jolted Mariette
and made her think of her father. She hadn’t ever really considered before
what he went through in the last war. She had always known he had been a war hero
and was awarded the Croix de Guerre, France’s highest military honour. But was
he feeling the same as Noah now, thinking that perhaps the sacrifices made by so
many of his countrymen had all been for nothing? He was getting old and it must be
hard for him to watch young men full of fire and patriotism enlisting, knowing that
many of them would die.

Was he worrying about her too? Afraid
that she might be hurt or killed? She had spoken to him on the telephone, just after
Noah had explained why she couldn’t go home, and he
sounded calm, not even slightly emotional. But he had
said something which she thought sounded very odd.

‘War can bring out the best or the
worst in us, Mari. True courage is when you can hold on to what is right, whatever
the cost to yourself, even when it seems all hope has gone. I hope you will never
find yourself in that situation. But if you do, remember what I told you.’

All gloomy thoughts of what war might
bring to them and their families vanished when Lisette and the girls arrived at the
quaint thatched cottage in Arundel. It was tiny, with just a living-room-cum-kitchen
and two bedrooms. There was no bathroom, and the lavatory was out in the garden, but
it was so pretty and had a view over fields to the river, so they didn’t mind.
Rose said it was like a doll’s house, and she suggested they all take turns to
cook and tidy up so that Lisette could have a real rest.

She grinned at Mariette. ‘Of
course, that means we’ll only get a decent meal every three days, when
it’s Mama’s turn. And expect salad from me, I can’t do much
else.’

It was good to see Lisette relaxing; at
home, she was always busy with voluntary work, gardening and jobs around the house.
Mariette had often wondered why she didn’t get Mrs Andrews to do a little more
– she was, after all, supposed to be the housekeeper.

‘Isn’t it odd that when you
go away you enjoy the ordinary things so much more?’ Rose said on the second
morning, while they were eating breakfast at a little table just outside the kitchen
door. ‘I mean, we eat toast every day at home. But this toast, with this
superb marmalade, tastes so much better in the open air. At home, I think it’s
a terrible chore going to the shop to buy some eggs or something. But the
thought of wandering up the lane later
to buy a few groceries fills me with delight.’

‘You’d soon get bored, if
you lived here all the time,’ Lisette laughed. ‘And speaking of going to
the shop in the village, we ought to start buying up some sugar, tea, flour and such
like. It will all be rationed as soon as the war starts.’

‘Isn’t hoarding food
frightfully bad form?’ Rose asked.

‘Maybe. But I remember going
without, and how awful it was, in the last war. I used to go over to Blackheath
sometimes, when Belle was in France. Mog always seemed able to lay her hands on meat
and cheese, I think Garth must have got it on the black market. I envied that so
much. She always stuffed some little parcels in my bag before I went home. We had a
day bottling fruit together too, and that’s something we should do when we get
back – in fact, we can probably buy a lot of plums to take home with us.’

‘Mog still bottles fruit, makes
jam and chutneys,’ Mariette said, suddenly seeing an image of Mog stirring a
huge saucepan on the stove with rows and rows of sparkling jam jars lined up on the
kitchen table. ‘We ought to grow vegetables in the garden, Auntie Lisette, and
maybe get some chickens. That was what kept us going, when times were hard a few
years back – that, and Dad going fishing. I know all about chickens, I could look
after them.’

Lisette laughed at Mariette’s
earnest expression. ‘I never expected to hear you suggest growing vegetables
or keeping chickens,’ she said. ‘But you are right, that’s exactly
what we should do. We kept chickens, pigs and grew vegetables when I was a girl in
France. Back then, I used to wish for a pretty garden with lots of flowers. When
Noah bought the house we live in now, I was so excited that I could finally have my
flower garden. Now you want me to dig it all up to grow things to eat?’

It was the first
time Lisette had ever said anything about her childhood, and Mariette wanted to know
more.

‘You could keep some flower
beds,’ she said. ‘But were your family poor?’

‘Very poor,’ Lisette said
with a grimace. ‘I was one of five children, and I can remember being hungry
many times and having holes in the soles of my shoes. I used to dream of food –
roast beef, pork and big fruit cakes. I wanted pretty dresses and dainty underwear,
a warm coat and shoes that fitted properly. I ran off to Paris when I was only
fourteen, believing all these things were waiting for me there. I soon found out
that there is only one way to get them, and that is to work very hard.’

‘Or marry a rich man,’
Mariette said.

‘Rich men don’t marry poor
little country girls with ragged clothes,’ Lisette said sharply.

Mariette blushed, sensing she’d
touched a raw nerve with her remark.

‘You never say anything about your
brothers and sister. Are they still alive?’ Rose asked her mother.

‘My sister died of pneumonia in
1911. My brothers may have died in the war. But if they survived, they would be in
their late sixties and seventies now as I was the youngest. We fell out a very long
time ago. They were mean-spirited people, I do not want to know them.’

Mariette was sure there was a great
story behind the little that Lisette had revealed, and resolved to tackle her about
it another time.

Meanwhile, it was the best kind of
holiday. The weather was beautiful, and they went for many long walks exploring the
countryside, caught the train to Littlehampton, or sat around in the garden reading.
They bought Kilner jars, bottled gooseberries and plums, and made a large quantity
of
raspberry jam to take back to London.
In the evenings, they played card games or just chatted.

As the end of August approached, it
seemed that everyone in England was holding their breath, waiting for an
announcement about the war on the wireless. As there was no wireless in the cottage,
their elderly neighbours invited them in on Sunday, 3rd September, at eleven
o’clock to hear Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain make his speech.

The day was hot and still. As they
clustered around the wireless, somehow as soon as they heard the grave tone of
Chamberlain’s voice, they knew he had only bad news.

‘This morning the British
Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that, unless
we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to
withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.

‘I have to tell you now that no
such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war
with Germany.’

Everything seemed to go into slow motion
for Mariette as Chamberlain continued his speech. She watched a tear trickle down
Lisette’s cheek, saw the alarm on the faces of the old couple who, she already
knew, had lost both their sons in the previous war. Rose just stared into space, as
if she’d been turned to stone.

Mariette noticed there was a bee stuck
on the lace curtains at the window. She wanted to go and help it get free, but it
seemed wrong to do something so trivial at such a moment.

‘Now may God bless you all,’
Chamberlain finished up. ‘May He defend the right. It is the evil things that
we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression
and persecution – and against them I am
certain that the right will prevail.’

The old man was the first to speak.
‘Well, war or not, I need to water my runner beans,’ he said.

That broke the silence. Lisette got up
and thanked the couple for allowing them to hear the broadcast. Then they went back
to their cottage.

Without anyone saying a word, they all
sensed that the holiday was now over. Lisette put the kettle on, and Mariette and
Rose sat at the table waiting to be told what they must do.

‘I should go to the telephone box
and ring Noah,’ Lisette said. ‘I expect he’s already told Andrews
to come and get us. So, while I’m ringing him, you had better start
packing.’

‘How long will it be before bombs
start dropping?’ Rose asked anxiously.

Lisette moved closer to her daughter and
caressed her cheek comfortingly. ‘I don’t know, darling, but I would
assume Germany will attack France first. But, as you know, they began evacuating all
the London children on Friday. And they’ve been urging us to take our gas
masks everywhere for weeks now, so maybe the government are expecting bombs
immediately.’

‘Is it wise to go back to London
then?’ Rose said fearfully. ‘Why can’t Papa come and stay with us
here?’

‘I don’t want to stay here.
I want to do something useful for the war, and that means being in London,’
Mariette said eagerly. She liked Arundel for a holiday, but she’d be bored
stiff if their stay ran into months. ‘I’m sure you want to do something
too, Rose. And won’t all your clients need you back?’

‘I think a great many of them will
leave London too,’ Rose said.

‘Noah will decide where we go for
the duration of the
war,’ Lisette
said firmly. ‘I know I would prefer to take my chances in my own home. We
have, after all, got a fine cellar beneath it. Besides, my place is with my
husband.’

Just the day after they returned from
Arundel, Peter and Gerald called round to say they’d enlisted in the RAF. As
both of them had been in the RAF cadet corps at school, and they had some flying
experience too, they were going straight to pilot training school the following
morning to learn how to fly Spitfires and Hurricanes.

Mariette applauded them both, but Rose
burst into tears, throwing herself into Peter’s arms and saying she was afraid
he’d be shot down.

‘Come on, old girl,’ he
said, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I’ve got to do my bit for King and
country and all that. We will get leave, you know. We’ll only be in Kent, easy
enough to get back and see you.’

Gerald suddenly looked far more
attractive to Mariette. Later that same evening, when the four of them went up to
Hampstead Heath for a drink, she kissed him passionately in the pub car park and
promised to write to him.

‘It will mean so much to me,
knowing you are my girl and are waiting for me,’ he said, showering her face
with kisses. ‘You mean the world to me.’

‘I’m very fond of you
too,’ she said, suddenly aware that she really was. ‘Just keep safe,
Gerry.’

As it turned out, for the general
public there was no need for panic or hasty decisions, because nothing happened at
all. There were no bombs, no threat of imminent invasion, nothing. The newspapers
reported that Poland had been taken by the Germans, but in England it became known
as the ‘Phoney War’. People complained about the ration books
that were issued, and about the
blackout regulations, as if they didn’t believe the real war would ever affect
England. In fact, by Christmas, many of the children who had been evacuated were
back in London with their parents.

When they first returned from Arundel,
Lisette’s pleas to stay put and the stringent petrol rationing that was about
to be enforced persuaded Noah to change his mind about moving away from London. He
decided to put the car into the garage for the duration of the war, and got Andrews
to clean and whitewash the cellar in readiness for using it as an air-raid
shelter.

Mariette really enjoyed the challenge of
making the cellar cosy. When Noah bought not only beds but also paraffin heaters and
oil lamps too, in case the electric went, Mariette took charge of the lamps. She
found a sense of irony in that, just a short while ago, it had been her job at home
to fill lamps and trim the wicks. And now she was doing it again. Lisette let her go
up into the attic, where she found some old pictures, a bookcase and various other
small pieces of furniture. She arranged these in the cellar, filling the bookcase
with books and collecting up a few games and jigsaw puzzles too.

‘I don’t know how you can be
so enthusiastic about spending time in here,’ Rose said when she came down to
have a look. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘It smells nasty and
it’s so cold. I think Mama is wrong to want to stay here; we’d be far
happier in the country, nearly all my friends have gone already.’

A great many of their neighbours in St
John’s Wood had boarded up the windows of their homes and moved away from
London. Mr and Mrs Andrews decided they would leave too, to go to stay with
relatives who had a farm in Dorset. ‘They’ll need us more than you
will,’ Mrs Andrews said
to
Lisette. ‘With all the young farm workers being called up, they’ll be in
a pickle.’

The morning after Mr and Mrs Andrews
left, much to Mariette’s shock, a letter arrived from Morgan, as badly written
and inarticulate as the previous ones. He wrote: