In Love and War (27 page)

They were both watching her and waiting for her to taste the food. She speared a piece of the white flesh with her fork and bit into it. To her astonishment it was delicious. She smiled. ‘It's very good. Thank you.'

‘You see,' the skipper said, nodding. ‘You should not be afraid to try new things. Now eat up and we'll be on our way again.'

It was a long and exhausting day but they managed to pass through the various checkpoints with surprising ease. There had been tense moments beneath the smelly tarpaulin when Elsie was afraid that Guy would give them away, but she had managed to calm him by stroking his hot forehead or simply holding his hand. He seemed to draw comfort from knowing that she was near, and whenever possible she continued to bathe him with rags wrung out in river water.

It was dusk when they hove to beside the barge that was to take them on to Antwerp. Matters were swiftly taken out of her hands as crew from the vessel leapt on board with a makeshift stretcher. Elsie said her goodbyes, thanking the skipper and his mate for their help and kindness. The captain blushed beneath his tan and muttered something into his beard, but the mate was less shy when it came to showing his feelings and he kissed her hand, wishing her good luck. Guy was lifted onto the barge and Elsie climbed on board, helped by one of the crew. She paused on deck watching the fishing boat sail away with a feeling almost akin to panic. She was once again amongst strangers and facing the unknown. No one had told her what was to happen when they reached Antwerp, or how she would travel on from there, but her main concern must be for Guy, who was in urgent need of medical attention. Once again she had to put her trust in the agents of La Dame Blanche.

She discovered with some embarrassment that they had been given the captain's cabin. ‘This is very kind of you,' she said shyly.

The bargee gave her a curt bow. ‘We must all do what we can for our allies.' He glanced at Guy, shaking his head. ‘He looks to be in a bad way, but you are welcome to take what you need from my medicine chest. We will not reach Antwerp until tomorrow, so I suggest you make him as comfortable as possible.' He unlocked a small cupboard and handed her the key.

‘I can't thank you enough,' Elsie began, but he cut her short with a wave of his hand.

‘No thanks needed, mademoiselle. I will leave you now but you must keep out of sight, especially if we should be stopped by a German patrol boat.'

Guy was groaning softly and when Elsie laid her hand on his forehead she was alarmed to find him hot and feverish. She examined the contents of the medicine chest, but it contained very little that would be of use to her other than a bottle of laudanum. She mixed a few drops in water and held the cup to Guy's lips, encouraging him to take small sips.

It was some time after she had settled him for the night that she realised the barge had stopped moving. She went out on deck to find out why. The captain gave her what her mother would have called an old-fashioned look. ‘All traffic must cease at night, even on the river,' he said as if speaking to a small child. ‘There is a curfew, you know, and I told you to remain in my cabin.'

‘I – I didn't realise it affected river traffic,' she said humbly. ‘When will we arrive in Antwerp?'

‘All things being equal we will be there by mid-afternoon tomorrow.'

‘Do you know what will happen to us then?'

He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture with which she was now familiar. ‘Who knows? But you will be told when the time comes. Now, I suggest you get some sleep.'

‘But it's your cabin, captain. Surely you will want it for yourself?'

‘I would not expect a young lady to share with the crew. Don't worry about me. You have enough to do taking care of the injured man.'

Elsie acknowledged this with a smile and returned to the cabin. The laudanum had done its work, and she made herself as comfortable as possible on the padded leather bench. She did not think she would sleep, but gradually her eyelids grew heavier and heavier and the gentle rocking motion of the barge had its effect.

She was awakened by a tap on the door. She opened her eyes, blinking as sunlight streamed in through the window. ‘Come in.'

The door opened and a boy of about fourteen breezed in carrying a tray. He placed it on the captain's desk. ‘Coffee and hot rolls,' he said cheerfully. ‘We live well on the
Wilhelmina
.'

Elsie struggled to a sitting position. ‘I can see you do,' she said, smiling. It was lovely to be awakened by someone who looked as though he was enjoying life despite the constraints of living in an occupied country. She sniffed the aroma of freshly baked bread. ‘Is that real butter?'

He puffed out his chest. ‘We do a little trade here and there when we pass through the countryside. The Germans don't get it all their own way.' He grinned and winked and left her to enjoy her breakfast.

She stood up and stretched. She felt refreshed but crumpled and in desperate need of a wash, but her discomfort was nothing when compared to Guy's condition. She moved to his side and felt his brow. He was definitely cooler, and the wound beneath the dressing seemed to have stopped bleeding. She pinned all her hopes on finding a doctor to treat him when they reached Antwerp. Until then she would do what she could, although it was little enough. He opened his eyes which were clouded with fever and his eyelids drooped, but he managed to sip some water laced with laudanum. ‘Well done.' She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘You'll soon be better, Guy. When we reach Antwerp I'll find a proper doctor for you. We'll have you up and about in no time.'

She sat down to eat her breakfast, savouring the crisp rolls spread with butter and jam. The barge captain and his crew obviously lived well, and she discovered the reason later that morning when they were boarded by a German patrol. No one had warned her of their approach and she almost panicked, looking round instinctively for something akin to the fishermen's tarpaulin, but commonsense reasserted itself. The captain would not take such risks unless he was absolutely certain that his cabin was sacrosanct, even from the Germans. She sat beside Guy, hardly daring to breathe until the sound of booted feet faded as one by one the soldiers left the vessel. She could have cried with relief but she had to wait until the boy brought her midday meal before her curiosity could be satisfied. ‘Why didn't they make a full inspection?' she asked eagerly. ‘I was afraid they would find us.'

‘We carry cargo for the German army,' he said casually. ‘They think they have beaten us, but we know different. We humour them and we laugh at them behind their backs. They will never break our spirit.'

Elsie glanced at the ample serving of food on her plate and smiled. ‘I can see that. It's good to know that we are in safe hands.'

‘The safest.' He saluted her and swaggered out of the cabin.

It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in Antwerp. Elsie had been expecting someone to come for them the moment they tied up at the jetty, but they seemed to have been forgotten. Peering through the small window she could see cranes lifting cargo from the hold and she realised that they would have to wait a while longer to discover their fate.

It was growing dark when the cabin door opened to admit a short, stocky middle-aged man who wore a suit and carried a briefcase. He looked oddly comic and out of place on a working vessel, but Elsie did not feel like laughing. ‘Who are you?' she asked nervously.

‘I've come to escort you to your destination,' he said curtly. ‘Don't be alarmed.' His expression softened. ‘You and your companion will be quite safe.'

‘Can you tell me where we're going?'

He opened his briefcase and took out a set of papers, handing them to her. ‘These are your documents. You are Elsie Mead and the gentleman is Guy Gifford.'

She stared at him in amazement. ‘But those are our real names.'

‘Quite so, although you must not use them until you are safely over the border, so keep them well concealed.' He cleared his throat, adopting an official tone. ‘We have to get you and your companion to the place where you will rest tonight before the curfew comes into force. All I can tell you is that very soon, God willing, you will be in Holland and on your way back to England.'

‘I'm going home?' Elsie could hardly believe it. She had thought her task was to see Guy to safety, and then she would return to La Dame Blanche with another identity, but it seemed that she had been mistaken.

He nodded and a hint of a smile played on his tight lips. ‘Come with me now. My men will bring the injured man.'

Yet again their lives were in the hands of nameless people who operated the escape route, but this time their destination was a hospital. The smell of Lysol permeated the whole building as they entered through the staff entrance at the rear of the building. Guy was stretchered from the wagon and carried to a private room on the ground floor. Elsie was allowed to accompany him as far as the door but she was prevented from entering by a young nurse who introduced herself as Nurse Bosmans. ‘Come with me,' she said, bristling with efficiency. ‘You may return when the doctor has finished examining the patient.'

‘But I should be there in case my friend wakes up and is alarmed to find himself in a strange place.'

‘He is in the best of hands, but you look as though you could do with a bath, if you don't mind me saying so.'

Taken aback by this blunt approach, Elsie stared at her open-mouthed. ‘I've been travelling for two days,' she protested.

‘There is a strong smell of fish on your person, mademoiselle. There are clean clothes for you in the bathroom. You will need them for your journey.' She walked off, leaving Elsie no alternative but to follow her to the bathroom along the corridor. ‘You will find everything you need in there,' she said. ‘I will return soon.'

Stepping inside Elsie found that someone had run the water for her. Steam condensed on the clinical white tiles and trickled like tears onto the flagstone floor. She needed no encouragement to strip off her clothes and climb into the deep tub, scrubbing herself with soap and flannel until her pale skin glowed pink. Mindful of the nurse's promise to return swiftly, she dried herself and dressed in the clean garments that had been laid out for her on the towel rack. The skirt was too big, but someone had thoughtfully provided a leather belt, and the white cotton blouse was also on the large side but it was freshly laundered and smelled of lye soap, which was a great deal better than rotten fish. A rather shapeless woollen cardigan in a muddy shade of brown came almost to her knees. It completed the outfit, but there were no mirrors in the room to confirm Elsie's suspicion that she looked frumpish and nondescript. She felt guilty for even thinking about her appearance when men were dying in battle, but she would certainly pass unnoticed in such a get-up.

‘Are you ready?' Nurse Bosmans rattled the handle and opened the door. ‘You look . . .' she hesitated and her expression said it all, ‘clean and tidy. You may leave your soiled clothes. We will distribute them to the poor and needy. Come with me, please.' She led the way to Guy's room and ushered Elsie inside. ‘The doctor has given him something to ease the pain. He should sleep now. You may stay with him if you don't mind sitting up all night.'

‘I'll be fine.' Elsie sank down on the chair beside Guy's bed. She patted his hand as it rested on the spotless white coverlet. ‘He looks better already.'

‘If his condition should worsen just ring the bell and someone will come.' Nurse Bosmans turned on her heel and left the room.

Elsie knew that she faced another uncomfortable night. She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, thinking of home. It seemed too good to be true that soon she might be back in England, but on thinking it through she began to worry. She had enjoyed the time she had spent in Felicia's flat, but she wondered what sort of welcome she might receive if she turned up without Marianne. Would she still have a job in Room 40, or would she be sacked because Marianne's affair with a German officer had endangered their operations? There were so many questions that she was unable to answer, but her main concern now had to be for Guy. She was determined to get him home where he could have the best medical treatment. He moved and murmured in his sleep and she was suddenly alert. ‘We'll be home soon, Guy,' she said in a low voice. ‘You'll be well taken care of in a proper hospital. I won't leave you until I know that you're on the road to recovery.' She watched him as he slept. He had always been slim, but now he looked positively skeletal. She could only imagine the horrors he had seen and the suffering he had endured before he reached the Merchant's House. The initial signs of improvement in his condition had convinced her that he would recover, but now as he lay in the pristine hospital bed she was not so sure. His bones protruded beneath his skin, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes seemed to have sunk into his skull. He looked nothing like the well-dressed young man she had first met in London. She could almost see the angel of death hovering above the bed, but she told herself that she was being morbid, and that he was in good hands now. Resting her head against the wall she closed her eyes.

She was awakened by the sound of stertorous breathing, and she snapped into an upright position. Guy seemed to be struggling for each laboured breath. She leapt to her feet and reached for the bell, pressing it with all her might. ‘Don't die,' she pleaded. ‘Please don't leave me.'

For three days Guy's life hung in the balance. Elsie remained at his bedside, leaving only when sent out of the room by the doctor. Her meals were brought to her by a young ward maid who liked to stop and gossip but was shooed away by Nurse Bosmans, who never seemed to be off duty. Elsie could only admire the nurse's stamina and dedication to her work. She was always immaculate and seemed to be unflappable: Elsie suspected that beneath the starched white apron there was an automaton void of human emotions. There must, she decided, be a key concealed in the folds of Nurse Bosmans' blue cotton dress that Matron wound up every day before the young nurse went on duty.