by Allen, Anne
The day ticked slowly by. Eve slept most of the time, only waking for short periods and asking for a drink of water, no food. Hélène and Nicole took it in turns to relieve the nurse for a few minutes at a time and Adrian volunteered to do a supermarket shop, driving off with a hastily scribbled list from his wife.
Ben called in and had a chat with Hélène before checking on Eve.
Nicole was hovering nearby as he came out of her bedroom. Telling him she needed to talk, he followed her into the dining-room. She recounted what her grandmother had said that morning, adding that she’d already retrieved the diaries from the attic.
‘I’ll start reading the diaries tonight when I’m sitting with Grandmother. In one way I’d like to know the full story as I’ve already heard so much that’s intrigued me,’ she finished, with a sigh.
‘Let’s hope that Hélène finds the truth equally intriguing,’ Ben replied, dryly.
Nicole settled down in the armchair in Eve’s bedroom. It had been moved away from the bed and near a table lamp to enable reading without disturbing Eve. Hélène had left at ten o’clock and Nicole’s watch would finish at four in the morning when Adrian would take over until the nurse arrived. It helped that none of them had to go to work in the morning and Nicole, once a seasoned clubber, was used to late nights.
Nicole retrieved the diaries from the large brown envelope she’d brought with her and now began examining them more closely. The faded blue, dog-eared exercise books were filled with neat lines of writing under daily date headings, beginning June 1940 and finishing in May 1945. After sorting them into chronological order, Nicole began to read.
chapter 39
The first few entries confirmed what Eve had already told Nicole about the evacuation to England. What was also clear was Eve’s instant attraction to Philip: “I stood rooted to the ground as this Young God smiled at me. He even knew my name!”
Flicking through the pages Nicole read vivid descriptions of Home Farm – “The farmhouse is an old granite building in a lot better state than my parents’ farm. It’s a long, low building with the dairy at one end, next to the pens for the chickens. I was told we have to lock ‘em in at night to keep them safe from the foxes, something we don’t have to worry about back home. During the day the hens are allowed to roam everywhere and our job is to search their favourite laying spots for eggs. The other girls said one of ‘em always lays right on top of the hay bales, meaning a bit of a climb for us. Pesky bird!…The cows are enormous! Big red South Devon cows they are, so different to our gentle Guernseys. But I’m told they’re good milkers.”
Nicole was intrigued when, further along, she found descriptions of Moreton Hall, the family home. It certainly sounded grand – “I’ve not seen anything like it before! It’s bigger and grander than Saumarez Manor and they told me it’s Elizabethan. It does look very old, for sure. Made of stone, with tall chimneys sticking up into the sky and dozens of little leaded windows watching everywhere you go. I went there when us Land Girls were introduced to Sir Michael and Lady Andrews. They were that snobbish that they made us stand in the hall while we gave them our names. We were then packed off to the kitchen for a cup of tea with the cook. Of course, they only lived in The Wing, the main part was for wounded soldiers. But it would have been nice to see something of the house. I did see the enormous black oak staircase and loads of beams.”
The diaries went on to describe the daily life on the farm, making Nicole feel thankful for her much easier lot in life. “The milking barn …freezing, with a draught through the large open doorway…had to check for signs of rats…and in the hay barn…set special traps. Our bedroom…so cold that we’ve slept in our clothes, huddled under our coats and bedspreads…so tired…up at five.”
Eve also recorded how she became friends with Lady Helen, Philip’s paternal grandmother, while delivering food from the farm to the Dower House. “By rights I shouldn’t have seen Lady Helen as I was directed to go straight to the kitchen. But as I was headed there, she came out from the garden and asked me who I was. We got chatting and she seemed to like hearing about Guernsey and asked me to call in again. So I will.”
Philip became a prominent part of Eve’s daily musings and Nicole read of her growing feelings for him. Initially it seemed that Eve thought Philip was merely flirting with her and couldn’t be serious. The social gap was too great. “When he looks at me with that big smile, I feel all gooey inside, like I’m the only one he has eyes for. But I know that can’t be true, as Mrs Combe told me his parents hope Philip will marry a Miss Leyton from a nearby estate. So I know he can’t love me. Not like I love him.”
Nicole felt Eve’s pain from all those years ago. A young woman, only eighteen, and in a strange country and in love with a man supposedly out of reach. But it seems Philip was a good man and loved her in spite of his parents. Eve’s joy shone through as she realised her love was reciprocated. “When he kissed me tonight after the dance, he whispered,‘I love you and I want to marry you’. Marry me! He said he wanted to marry me. I nearly fainted in shock. I’d never dreamed…although I’d hoped…He said we’d have to wait a while…the war…But I’m happy to wait. I only need to know we’ll be married one day. For now, we have to keep it a secret…his parents…but he’s telling his grandmother.”
Taking a break from reading, Nicole stood up and stretched before checking on her grandmother. Eve slept peacefully, her breathing still slow but less laboured. Nicole returned to her chair and unscrewed the top of the Thermos flask holding much needed hot chocolate. As she sipped the thick, reviving drink, Nicole found her mind filling with images brought to life by her grandmother’s words. It felt so real and as she gazed at the recumbent form before her, it seemed as if her grandmother’s life was flashing before her eyes, a bit like that of the proverbial drowning man. Although, in reality, only a very small part of Eve’s life, Nicole knew it was the most significant.
As Nicole read on towards the end, she discovered what Eve had meant by the “truth”. And her heart sank.
After being relieved by Adrian promptly at four o’clock, Nicole crawled upstairs to bed. Weighed down by more than physical tiredness, she fell asleep instantly, not waking until late morning.
Walking into the kitchen Nicole made herself a coffee and took it outside, hoping the fresh air would help to revive her. She let the sun’s rays play on her body and began to feel the tension of the night ease. The caffeine hit also played its part and she was just about to return to the kitchen for some toast when Hélène appeared.
‘Morning. Did you manage to get much sleep?’
‘Yes, thanks. Just coming round now. How’s Grandmother?’
Hélène bit her lip. ‘No change. The nurse is with her now and I’ll relieve her at lunchtime. Hope you didn’t get too bored last night, did you have a good book to read?’
If you only knew! Nicole thought, muttering that she had.
After finishing her toast Nicole told Hélène she was going out for a walk.
With a shock, Nicole realised she’d not left the house since the wedding four days ago and struck out along the cliff path in pursuit of serious exercise. The fresh breeze carried the salty air from the sea below, soon clearing the cobwebs. She shifted into a light jog. Squabbling seagulls wheeled and shrieked over her head but otherwise it was as if she was alone; just her and the sea shimmering below. Her thoughts careered around her brain as she reviewed what she’d learnt. Letting out a heartfelt sigh, she returned home, trying to prepare herself for what lay ahead.
Ben arrived that afternoon and, after checking on Eve, told the waiting family that he could find no change.
Hélène poured him a cup of tea as they sat on the terrace lost in their own thoughts.
‘My mother’s not in a coma is she? Only she hasn’t woken for hours now.’
‘Not quite, no. Her body’s slowly shutting down. Sleep is natural at this stage but she may still wake up and want to talk before be
coming unconscious again.’ He gripped Hélène’s hand. ‘Your mother’s very peaceful and she’s in no pain. But please call me at any time if you’re worried.’
Nicole walked with Ben to his car and told him she’d read the diaries. She shared what she’d learned and they both agreed that it would be better to wait before telling Hélène.
After another night of shared vigil Nicole was glad to creep back into her bed. Eve had remained unconscious but her breathing had changed. Shallow, quick breaths were followed by spaces of no breathing, leaving Nicole on edge during the long, weary hours. Even the latest PD James novel failed to grab her attention.
She was aroused from a deep sleep by the nurse shaking her arm.
‘Nicole, wake up! Your grandmother’s come round and wants to see you.’
Dragging on jeans and a T-shirt, Nicole followed her downstairs to Eve’s bedroom. The nurse stayed outside as Nicole hurried over to join a white-faced Hélène at Eve’s side.
‘I’m here, Grandmother.’
Hélène moved away to give her room and Nicole reached for Eve’s white hand. It felt icy cold. Eve’s eyes flicked open and for a moment Nicole thought she saw a slight spark.
‘Did you…find the…diaries?’ Nicole strained to hear Eve’s hoarse voice.
‘Yes, and I’ve…I’ve read them. It’s all right, Grandmother, I know what to do. Don’t worry.’ Nicole’s eyes filled with tears as Eve released a soft sigh, a smile hovering around her mouth.
‘Thank you…my dear. Be happy…won’t you? Love is…important. God Bless.’
Eve closed her eyes and, as Hélène reached for her other hand, let out her last breath and lay still.
chapter 40
The death of a loved one leaves shock and hurt in its wake. Even when it’s been expected. Hélène, after the initial outburst of grief, felt as if she was in a dream, a horrible dream, where she was expected to say and do things without really understanding what was happening. Part of her knew that her mother was dead, but another part couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept it, wanting to carry on as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t until Adrian, thrusting a glass of brandy into her hands, saying, ‘Drink this, it’ll help,’ that she realised that the dream was reality. That her mother – the infuriating woman who’d never been a hands-on mother, and who’d she resented so much for asking her, Hélène, to give up her home, her freedom – was indeed dead. Her mother, who if she was honest, she’d almost wished dead at times so that she could be free. Her mother, who over the past weeks had mellowed and been so proud of her on her wedding day…
The fiery liquid burned her throat and brought warmth to her cold limbs. Oh, she felt so cold! She heard a voice say ‘in shock’ and assumed they meant her. Her teeth chattered as she took another sip of brandy and slowly the warmth spread and her mind cleared. Looking up she saw Ben hovering nearby, his face creased with concern.
‘The nurse rang me and I’ve seen the…your mother. Her heart just gave out. I’m so sorry. Do you need anything?’
She shook her head.
‘No, thank you. I’ll be all right once…once it sinks in. You think you’re prepared but…’
‘I know. It’s still a shock. Look, I’ll fill in the forms and Adrian’s said he’ll organise the…funeral directors, so there’s nothing you need to do for the moment. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?’ His voice was gentle.
She agreed and Adrian helped her to their room. After he’d left her lying on the bed she felt something nagging at her brain. Some memory. Something to do with Nicole. What was it? Perhaps it would come back. Sighing, she closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
With the formalities completed and Eve’s body driven away, Ben returned to his practice, promising Nicole that he’d call round that evening. She felt numb, shocked by how quickly the end had come for her grandmother. But at the same time she was relieved that she hadn’t suffered a lingering, painful death.
In the kitchen Adrian made coffee for them both before disappearing to make the necessary phone calls to the family’s advocate and the vicar.
Back in the kitchen he told Nicole that the vicar would be round later to have a chat with Hélène about the funeral. Bags under his eyes vouched for his lack of sleep and his face wore a puzzled look.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s a bit odd. Advocate Lowe said that Eve called him in when she was in the nursing home and changed her will.’ With a shrug he continued, ‘He’ll call round tomorrow to read it to Hélène so we’ll find out then what’s been altered.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. Grandmother probably added a bequest to St Philippe’s or something. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’
Nicole and Adrian joined Hélène when the vicar arrived at teatime. The sombre discussion of hymns and prayers in stark contrast to the joyful occasion of only a few days previously, when Hélène was choosing the wedding music. Eve had informed Hélène of her wishes with regard to the service, choosing her favourite hymns and insisting she didn’t want lengthy eulogies or prayers.
The vicar, in his sixties, had known Eve for years and smiled as Hélène relayed her instructions.
‘Your mother always knew her own mind, Hélène. And she always liked to be prepared, didn’t like surprises, unless they were nice ones like an unexpected granddaughter,’ his eyes twinkled at Nicole. She felt herself flush.
The mood in the sitting room seemed to lighten and even Hélène managed a smile.
After arranging the funeral for the following Tuesday at ten o’clock, the vicar left to visit a sick parishioner. Adrian offered to cook supper that evening, suggesting that Hélène and Nicole go for a walk. Relieved to get out of the house, they set off towards the cliff path.
Linking her arm through Nicole’s, Hélène stopped for a moment and gazed out to sea. The women took deep breaths of the ozone-laden air as they watched a sailing yacht tacking towards Baie de la Forge. They stood in silence as if mesmerised by the boat cutting through the waves. Hélène saw its passage as symbolic, wondering if her mother’s soul was now pursuing its own homeward journey. A comforting thought in spite of her pain.
‘I’m so glad you and Mother had time to get to know one another. It was clear to me how much she enjoyed your stay these past weeks. I…I think she died content.’
Nicole squeezed her arm.
‘I’m sure she did. Her face looked so peaceful, almost happy. She was ready to go after seeing you married, she was so proud of you.’
‘Mm, I guess so. We…we became quite close at the end. I just wish…’ Hélène sighed.
‘Hey! No regrets now. The important thing is that you did get closer. Hang onto that thought and let go how it might have been. That road only leads to pain.’
Hélène turned to her daughter and smiled.
‘You’re being the wise one again. By the way, what did Mother want to say to you this morning? She seemed very keen to ask you something.’
Nicole shuffled her feet and looked away.
‘Oh, it wasn’t important. Shall we go back? Ben said he’d call in after surgery.’
Hélène sensed that Nicole was hiding something but decided to leave it. She had enough to worry about.
They found Ben and Adrian in the kitchen, nursing bottles of lager. Ben kissed Nicole before asking Hélène how she was feeling.
‘A bit better, thanks. Our walk did me good.’ She sniffed appreciatively. ‘Mm, something smells good!’
‘An alcohol-laden beef stroganoff. It’s nearly ready, I’ve just got to make the salad. Care to join us, Ben?’ Adrian asked.
‘Love to, thanks.’
While Adrian and Hélène finished preparing the meal Nicole and Ben set the table on the terrace, complete with a bottle of Rioja to satisfy the tacit, unspoken need for a dose of alcohol after the day’s trauma.
Glasses were raised in memory of Eve, the women’s eyes glistened and the men lo
oked sombre. Then Adrian served up the stroganoff and they tucked in. Later, Hélène, slightly squiffy and glad of it, suggested that Ben stay the night rather than drive home. After a quick glance at Nicole, he accepted, saying he’d leave early in the morning. By ten o’clock they were all yawning and made their respective ways to bed. Hélène, leaning heavily on her husband, still hoped she was dreaming and that when she woke up all would be well, her mother still alive. If only…
***
Advocate Lowe arrived the next morning and, to her surprise, asked that Nicole be present for the reading of the will. Hélène, pale but composed, led the way into the dining room and the Advocate removed various papers from his briefcase before sitting opposite the two women.
He cleared his throat.
‘As you are probably aware, Hélène, your mother wrote a will leaving everything to you as sole beneficiary. However,’ another cough, ‘she recently altered her will to include her granddaughter, Nicole, as a beneficiary.’
Nicole saw her own surprise mirrored on Hélène’s face.
The Advocate continued.
‘Mrs Ferbrache leaves the value of the house and contents, when sold, to be split evenly between you both. She assumed that you wouldn’t want to live here, Hélène, but if you did then you could have a life interest in the house and…’
Hélène shook her head.
‘No, I don’t want to live here and I’m very happy for Nicole to share the proceeds. It’s only right. She’d inherit everything from me one day anyway.’ She gripped a stunned Nicole’s hand. She’d thought perhaps a little memento, something to remember her by…but not half a house!
The Advocate adjusted his glasses.
‘Good. I think that’s what your mother hoped you’d say. Now, although there’s not a lot of money it should more than cover the funeral costs. And there is one further bequest to Nicole. A ring, which I have here.’ He lifted out a small velvet box from his briefcase and handed it to Nicole.