Ambulance Girls Under Fire

by Deborah Burrows

  I found myself thinking. Surely Cedric wouldn’t have hurt a child. Not even a Jewish child. He couldn’t have meant to hurt Leo. He only wanted to frighten me. Because the thought that once I had once loved, married and shared a bed with a man who could hurt a child made me feel sick.

  Common sense reasserted itself. Even if Cedric wouldn’t really have hurt Leo, he had frightened us both half to death by pretending that he would. It was not an honourable act, and I despised him for it.

  ‘Do you really have a gun?’ I asked. ‘You said you had a gun.’

  He shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. ‘It’s in my coat. Which is in your flat with a young child. I should think the boy’s in more danger alone with a loaded gun than he ever would be from me. Tell him to open the door, darling. I’ll pick up my things and leave immediately. Please, darling.’

  ‘Don’t call me that. Never call me that again.’ I said. ‘No. I won’t ask him to open the door until you have gone.’

  ‘Then we have a conundrum,’ he said. His manner was calm, somewhat amused and somewhat annoyed. ‘I need my coat and hat, and my gun, and it seems that you no longer trust me in the slightest.’

  I glanced at my watch. It was nearly five o’clock. I was relieved to hear that the gun was with Leo in the flat and I assumed that was why it hadn’t appeared before now. I did not for a moment believe that Leo would look inside Cedric’s coat, but I was worried that Simon would arrive at any moment. He would be angry when he saw my bruised cheek and the thought of Cedric and Simon engaged in a fight over me was abhorrent.

  So I sighed and turned to Cedric. I was holding my hands so tightly that my nails were digging into the palms, but my voice indicated my calm acceptance of his right to his possessions, my annoyance of the fact that his actions had brought us to this situation and my hope that all could be amicably resolved.

  I said, ‘I will bring your coat and hat—’ He began to speak, and I talked across him. ‘I won’t bring the gun. I’m keeping that, but I’ll bring your hat and coat to the Dorchester this evening. But Cedric, please leave now. I won’t ask Leo to open the door to the flat until I know you’ve actually gone.’

  He looked at me, as if trying to gauge how serious I was. I returned his gaze steadily, pushing aside my fear that Simon would arrive, trying to show that I meant every word I had said. I was pleased that Katherine was close by and had made it clear that she was looking out for me. Her timely arrival meant that Cedric knew his Gestapo tactics wouldn’t work. If I screamed then he’d be dealing with two angry women, and knowing Katherine she’d emerge with a fire-iron ready to swing at his head.

  Cedric’s eyes held an indefinable expression and a shadow of unease was evident underneath his nonchalance. I thought he was annoyed and trying hard to hide the fact, but surprising to me was the lingering unhappiness underneath the annoyance. It seemed close to misery.

  ‘That would be kind of you,’ he said at last. ‘But please bring them to the Café de Paris. Please darling. The man who’s coming with Archie and Isolde, this Arthur Fripp, he may be the one who holds the key to my future.’

  He held out his hands to me in a gesture of supplication. ‘I gave you my word that I’d allow you to divorce me, if you still wanted it, and I’ll keep my word. But darling, for pity’s sake, help me now. Fripp wants to meet you. He made a point of telling Archie that. I need your help. Please, darling.’

  There was a bleakness in his eyes that I had never seen before in my husband, usually the most self-confident of men. He seemed calm and sincere. Cedric had lost everything he treasured – his social position, his political influence and me. For the first time in my life I pitied him. And so it was pity that led me to take the decision that in a few hours would hurl me into the abyss.

  I blew out a breath. ‘Very well, I’ll deliver the hat and coat to the Café de Paris tonight. I’ll drop them into the cloakroom and I’ll come down to say hello to your guests. But Cedric, then I will excuse myself. I won’t stay for the evening.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You were always kind. I never appreciated how—’

  ‘And please understand, I won’t see you any more after tonight. Our marriage is over.’

  His voice became wooden. ‘If that’s what you really want, then so be it. I’ll tell my solicitor to take the steps to prepare for divorce.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A minute or so later and we were standing on the St Andrew’s doorstep. The wind, scented with brick dust from the ruins of London, whipped past my cheeks and made them sting. I shivered in my thin woollen frock. It was a cold evening and very dark, but I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the full moon would rise. A bombers’ moon would sail the skies tonight in a clear sky and London would be fair game to the Luftwaffe.

  Cedric turned away from me without a word and walked down Gray’s Inn Road, heading, I suspected, for the Tube station near Russell Square. His arms were wrapped around his body for warmth, as mine were, to give some protection against the arctic wind. I felt cold, shaky and sick, and I suddenly wanted to cry.

  Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and was about to turn and re-enter St Andrew’s when the shuttered headlights of a small car came along the road from the south. I waited as the car pulled up outside the building and the engine was turned off. A door opened and slammed shut. The thin beam of a masked torch bobbed its way around the car and across the footpath towards me. Torchlight fell on the front step, then my shoes, and bounced upwards to illuminate my face.

  ‘You’re late,’ I said.

  ‘Celia?’ Simon sounded astonished. ‘What the devil are you – it’s freezing. Come inside.’ He bustled me through the door and into the lobby, saying in his usual offhand manner, ‘Sorry I’m late. Got caught up at the hospital. Has Leo behaved himself?’

  A lower, harsher note came into his voice when he saw me in the dim light of the lobby. ‘What happened to your face?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Leo opened the door at once when Simon asked him to do so. As Simon was calling through the door to the boy, Katherine poked her head out. She saw Simon, waved and smiled at us both and returned to her flat.

  Once Simon was inside Leo clung to him with a fixed rigidity and hid his head in Simon’s chest. That I had the almost overwhelming desire to do the same, I put down to the aftermath of my fright.

  Simon lifted Leo up into his arms, carried him into the sitting room, and sat with him on the sofa, still holding him close. They remained like that for some time, with Simon murmuring to Leo. I couldn’t hear what he said. Leo said nothing in response. It wasn’t until Bobby, who was perched on the curtain rod, called out ‘God Save the King’ that Leo began to loosen his grip.

  The parrot squawked again, ‘God Save the King’ and added, ‘Good bird.’

  At that Leo’s head came up, and he looked at Bobby and then at Simon.

  ‘The braunhemd hit Celia,’ said Leo, ‘and then Bobby made sounds like a bomb and the braunhemd was afraid and he ran away.’

  ‘Bobby’s a very clever bird,’ said Simon.

  ‘Then he made scheisse – what is the English?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘He did it on the braunhemd’s coat.’

  I looked and, sure enough, a large white and green smear now decorated Cedric’s black cashmere overcoat. Bobby was house-trained and it was almost certainly an act of defiance and distain on the part of the bird.

  Simon glanced at the coat. ‘As I said, he’s a very smart bird.’

  Leo giggled.

  At that my legs gave way and I sat – no, I collapsed – into a chair. And stupidly, helplessly, I began to cry, hiding my face behind my hands. It was the relief, of course. Knowing that Leo had not retreated into silence again, and that despite all that had happened because of my stupidity in allowing Cedric into the flat, Leo was able to laugh.

  I was pulled up out of my chair and Simon’s arms wrapped tightly around me. I hid my head in his ches
t just as Leo had done, breathing in the scent of him, feeling his thudding heart against my ear. My stupid sobbing would not cease. Leo hugged me also, wrapping his thin arms around my waist and resting his head on my back, saying something in German to me, over and over, in a soothing tone as if I were the child in need of comfort. I remember thinking, All I need now is the parrot on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck. At that, tears gave way to bubbles of inappropriate laughter and it wasn’t long before I pushed away to loosen Simon and Leo’s hold.

  ‘I’m all right,’ I said, avoiding Simon’s eyes. ‘It’s not hysteria. It’s just some sort of reaction to it all.’

  I sat on the sofa and Leo climbed on to my lap. I found it enormously comforting to hug the boy. Simon sat opposite us. I looked up and met his gaze.

  Simon took Leo home in his car, leaving me alone with the parrot and Cedric’s richly and rather ripely decorated overcoat. He insisted I wasn’t to leave the flat until he returned, and said that we’d work out what to do with Cedric’s coat and hat then. I had the firm impression that his preferred option was to throw both coat and hat into the Thames.

  I hadn’t been able to reveal much to Simon about what had happened because Leo, snuggled on my lap, was listening to every word we exchanged. The boy had agreed to go home only because he was hungry and because Simon said that he would be able to ‘Tell Mutti all about what Bobby did.’

  I strongly suspected that my invitation to attend the Mozart recital and see Simon’s grandmother would be revoked once Elise Levy heard the news.

  The thought of having to recount the events of the afternoon in detail to Simon on his return was something I dreaded, and after Simon and Leo left I spent a long time sitting on the sofa just staring at Cedric’s coat, trying not to remember how terrified I had been for Leo’s safety. My thoughts turned to Simon and his gentleness with Leo and then with me, holding me so close that I could hear the beating of his heart. Annoyingly, tears filled my eyes, overflowed and rolled down my face. I hated that I had become the sort of woman who so easily turned to mush. My handkerchief was nowhere to be found and I wiped ineffectually at my face, wincing as I rubbed the bruised area on my cheek.

  What shocked me out of my self-absorbed misery was a fluttering of wings. To my delight, Bobby flew down from his high perch to sit on my shoulder. He nuzzled his feathery head into my neck and made clucking, cooing sounds. I spent a while stroking his feathers and I scratched his head at the spot I knew he liked to be scratched. His body was warm and soft and comforting.

  ‘You’re a smart bird all right,’ I said to him. ‘I owe you a great deal, Bobby.’

  ‘Simon Levy,’ he replied. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘As usual, right on the money. Such a smart bird.’

  I scratched Bobby’s head again, then stood up. He flew over to the bookcase and watched as I walked across to Cedric’s coat. I felt the need to be busy, and obviously I would have to sponge the coat before I returned it. As I picked it up I made a firm decision. I would return the coat and hat to Cedric, briefly meet his guests tonight, and never speak to him again except through lawyers. And then we would be divorced and I could carry on with my life.

  The overcoat was one that Cedric had had tailored for himself just after our marriage. It was black cashmere, beautifully cut. First I looked for the gun. It was tucked into the inner breast pocket, a Webley revolver. When I cracked it open I saw it was fully loaded. With hands that shook slightly I placed it in a drawer of my writing desk. Out of sight, out of mind, at least for the time being. Then I quickly checked the coat again for any other hidden surprises, but the pockets were empty.

  Bobby’s ‘message’ in white and khaki green was like an abstract painting splashed across the front of the coat. As coats of that quality had become unobtainable and I didn’t want Cedric to be able to complain about my pet ruining it, I decided to try to deal with the stain the best I could before I returned it.

  I picked up the garment and took it into the bathroom where I wet a flannel, wrung it out and began sponging the stain over the basin. It was messy work, but the droppings were fresh and I managed to clean off the worst of it. I spread out the now relatively clean coat out on my bed to dry.

  Simon’s knock at the door came soon after, but I’d learned my lesson. I put my ear against the wood.

  ‘Who is it?’ I hissed.

  ‘Simon. Open up, please.’

  As he walked in I felt an odd sort of constraint, which I put down to embarrassment. After all, I’d nearly been the cause of his foster-brother’s death or injury. He walked over to the electric fire and stood, looking down at the red bars. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his forehead was creased.

  ‘Now, supposing you tell me what happened,’ he said, turning to look at me. ‘All of it.’

  I told him. He listened in silence, watching my face. When I had finished he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  ‘Thank God for Bobby,’ he said. ‘Do you think Ashwin really would have hurt Leo? It seems pretty drastic, even if he was furious about our supposed affair.’

  ‘I keep asking myself that question, and I really don’t know. At the time I thought he would. Now I’m not sure.’ I paused. ‘Simon, what does braunhemd mean? Leo called Cedric the braunhemd.’

  ‘Brownshirt. We think his brothers were killed by Nazi brownshirts, or assaulted and then taken away by them. We think Leo saw it.’

  I stared mutely at Simon and licked my dry lips and said, ‘I am so sorry that Leo—’

  ‘Did he have a gun?’ Simon spoke across my inadequate apology.

  I walked over to the desk, took out the gun and handed it to him, handle first. He broke it open. ‘Fully loaded.’ He looked up at me. ‘Why would he be carrying a loaded gun?’

  ‘Who knows? Paranoia?’

  ‘Any other little surprises in the coat?’

  ‘Not that I could find.’

  ‘Are you serious about returning his hat and coat to him?’ he said. ‘Because I happen to think it’s an amazingly stupid notion.’

  I met his gaze. ‘I gave my word I’d return his coat and hat. Making that promise got him out of the flats and away from Leo. Cedric has promised to divorce me if I do this last thing for him, and I need that divorce.’

  ‘It makes no sense. Why would he give you that promise just for the return of his hat and coat?’

  I felt the heat in my cheeks. ‘It’s more than that. Cedric’s meeting a man from the War Office at the Café de Paris tonight. It’s one of his supporters who he thinks can help him. He wants me to charm the fellow. I said I’d only stay a minute.’

  Simon’s expression was almost comedic, his eyes wide and staring and his mouth open. ‘You’re willing to meet – to charm – someone who wants to put Cedric Ashwin into a position of influence?’

  ‘Arthur Fripp can’t help him into any position of influence. The man’s a junior civil servant in the Ministry of Defence who pedals silly rumours and wants to seem more important than he is. I’d never help Cedric if I thought it would harm my country.’

  ‘Why do anything at all for Cedric Ashwin? I don’t understand you, Celia. Do you feel sorry for the poor fascist without any friends?’ A strange little smile was playing around his lips now, but his eyes had a blank, dead look. ‘Are you sure you want out of your marriage?’

  ‘There’s no need for sarcasm. And yes – I’m absolutely sure I want a divorce. But – and it’s difficult to explain – in a way I do feel sorry for Cedric. He’s an unpleasant man, but he’s lost everything. Including me.’

  Simon’s anger showed in the angle of his brows and the way his lips were twisted in a mirthless smile. ‘He’s a despicable brute,’ he said bitterly, ‘and a traitor to this country. A dangerous man, a liar and a bully who is willing to hurt you in public to get what he wants. Grow up, Celia. He’ll never divorce you. Instead, he’ll use your pity to persuade you to help him. If persuasion doesn’t work then he’ll hurt you, and if th
at doesn’t work he’ll threaten those you care about. He’ll do anything he can to keep you in his power.’

  ‘I think you’re exaggerating,’ I said, hoping I believed it. ‘Cedric’s no Hitler. He’s trying to work out how to live in a world that has passed him by. One in which he has no place any more.’

  Simon shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. He’s using every trick he has to keep you with him. He threatened Leo, for God’s sake. Stop playing his games.’

  ‘I gave him my word. And he promised me the divorce. He promised.’

  There was a perceptible hardening of his features. ‘If you go to Cedric Ashwin now then there’s no hope for – whatever it is – between us.’

  ‘There’s nothing between us,’ I whispered.

  ‘You know that’s not true.’

  I felt a painful jolt, somewhere deep in my chest. ‘David—’

  ‘Is dead. I loved him. You loved him. But he’s dead, and we have to find a way to live without his memory stopping us from giving whatever this is a chance.’ His eyes were gravely intent, holding mine, giving me nowhere to hide. ‘David doesn’t stand between us; your fascist husband does.’

  I could not deal with what Simon had said, not then, when my bruised face was throbbing and my chance of obtaining a divorce was so close. Not when I had no idea what to think.

  Simon left the flat, and I didn’t try to stop him.

  I readied myself for the Café de Paris with slow, almost mechanical movements. Whatever it is between us. My skin felt tight, stretched thinly over bone and sinew, and my cheek hurt as I brushed powder over the bruise. There’s nothing between us. I coated my lashes with mascara. You know that’s not true. My lips trembled as I applied my lipstick. David doesn’t stand between us; your fascist husband does. I shrugged on my coat and picked up my handbag. Stop playing his games. I put Cedric’s coat over my arm and held his hat tightly. If you go to him now there’s no hope.