by Mary Wood
‘They have the way clear, Squadron Leader; they’re saying the mission can complete as per schedule.’
‘I don’t like it. Tell them we will drop the supplies, but won’t come in. Tell them the person will parachute in.’
Once this was done, the second pilot took hold of the parachute. ‘Here, I’ll help you on with this. I’ll just unhook it. Leave it with the Resistance group, and they’ll return it to the next shipment. Even if it’s damaged, parts of it can be recycled.’
Lucinda breathed a sigh of relief as she donned the parachute and checked that she could locate the ripcord. But her relief soon dissolved into fear as the hatch was opened. Beneath her lay a mass of blackness. No light could be seen anywhere.
‘Wait for it. Right, give them the signal.’
Another radio message was sent and below her Lucinda saw a runway of flames light up.
‘Go!’
As the rush of air caught her breath, she felt a moment of panic. She’d never jumped from this height before. She had no idea when to release her parachute. She’d been reckless, as she wasn’t trained for this kind of jump.
Her body swirled and descended. She tried desperately to judge how near the flames below were. When she thought she had free-fallen long enough, and the flames looked as near as she remembered the ground looking in her previous jumps, she pulled the ripcord and prayed.
Within a few minutes, pain jarred her shins as her feet smashed against a solid mass. Intending to use the rolling technique, she tried to break the rest of her fall, but something prevented her from moving. Agonizing pain ripped through her body, as what felt like a thousand sticks stabbed into her. Voices came to her from below. Reaching out, she felt the rough bark of a tree. Her body slipped, and something tightened around her neck. Oh God . . . help me!
Her body shifted again. Torches shone on her. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs dangled. Judging by the tightness of her jacket, she knew it had caught on something. Terrifying clarity about the horrific danger she was in came to Lucinda. If the bough that her parachute was caught on broke, or the material gave way, she would hang.
A desperate voice shouted in French, ‘Grab that branch to your right. Henrique is coming. Quick, hold on to it – take your weight.’
Reaching out, Lucinda tried in vain to find the branch they were talking about, but then a tearing sound and the sinking of her body took all her strength. The pain in her neck zinged through her. She had no air. The thought came to her: My baby, my baby . . . Then a blackness overcame her that she knew she would never come out of.
Roland pressed the bell for a third time. ‘There’s no answer. Wait a minute, I have a key to Simon’s flat. We’ll go in there, and up to Lucinda’s flat that way.’
Flo felt her heart begin to race. Trepidation settled in her. Lucinda, please be in. Please.
A shiver took hold of her body as they entered Simon’s cold, empty apartment. There was a silence clothing the whole house that spoke to Flo of doom.
Inside Lucinda’s apartment, Flo’s eyes were drawn to the note leaning against the clock on the mantelpiece. For a moment she stared at her name, beautifully written on the white envelope.
‘You’d better open it. Then I think you’d better tell me what this is all about – what trouble Lucinda is in. I’ve been worried sick all week. I called Simon to tell him I was coming here to meet you, but he couldn’t make it. I almost told him Lucinda had a problem and that she wasn’t answering her phone, but decided not to worry him until I’d got to the bottom of things.’
‘I knaw. I managed to get to use a phone and tried calling her.’
The ripping open of the letter gave Flo a feeling that she was about to read something that would change all of their lives: Dear Flo & Roland, Forgive me . . .
Flo handed the letter to Roland and listened as he read it out. ‘Oh, dear. This is the last thing we needed to hear. I knew she wanted to be a war correspondent, but why go now, when she is in trouble? Look, sit down, Flo. I’ll put the kettle on. While we drink some tea, which I’m surely in need of, you can tell me what all this is about.’
The tea tasted good. Roland must have found some sugar. It had been a long time since Flo had tasted its smooth sweetness, so different from the bitter saccharine they were forced to use, if they wanted to sweeten anything.
Roland was quiet for some time as he scrutinized the letter once more. It was as if he thought there was more than he’d initially read. Flo waited.
‘She seems to have gone three days ago, but she says nothing about the trouble you spoke of. What is it, Flo? What trouble had Lucinda got herself into?’
The telephone ringing prevented her from answering. She jumped up and ran to it. ‘Simon! Simon? Simon, what’s wrong?’ Flo’s whole body turned cold. Goosebumps stood up on her arms. Roland took the phone from her. His face drained of colour.
Something terrible had happened, but Flo didn’t want to know what. Simon’s sobs told of something so painful that she didn’t know if she would be able to stand it.
‘Oh God, no! No . . . Oh, my darling. Look, I’m here with Flo. We’ll come to you. I’m in my car, as I – well, I’ll explain when I see you. Have they given you compassionate leave? . . . Good. We’ll bring you back here. Hang on, Simon, my darling man. Hang on.’
The ting of the phone as it disconnected brought Flo the realization that the moment was upon her. She wanted to cover her ears with her hands. When Roland did speak, the shock in his voice was so deep it cut into her.
‘He – he . . . Simon, he said, Lu-Lucinda is dead. Dead – oh God!’
Flo’s world – the wonderful new world these people had given her – tumbled out of all understanding at these words. Her lips opened to release the scream that threatened to strangle her, but instead she sank under her own body weight and landed in the fireside chair that Lucinda had said was her favourite. A big, comfy chair that seemed to wrap its arms around you, but which today had no impact on Flo.
But then she saw how Roland’s every limb trembled. His eyes stared blankly and his mouth hung slack. His need spurred her to get up and go to him. ‘Sit down, Roland. Please. Sit down.’ As she spoke she tried to be a source of strength to him. She coaxed him and rubbed his back – natural comforting actions – and yet nothing around her was natural, or even familiar any more, for it had all been scarred by the impact of the horrific words Roland had uttered. Lucinda . . . dead? No . . . No!
Gradually Roland was able to tell her what had happened. When he’d finished, his voice was a desperate plea. ‘I need to go to Simon. We both do. We need to bring him back here. Oh, poor man. Poor, poor Simon. And Lucinda. Darling Lucinda. How could such a thing happen? Why did she go? Did you know she was going? Is this what the trouble was: did you want me to stop her?’
In that moment it came to Flo that she wouldn’t tell him the whole truth. She would keep Lucinda’s secret about the baby, and she wouldn’t tell them the true nationality of her boyfriend. ‘She . . . she was in love. She had a French boyfriend. She wanted to go to him, and this was the only way. I begged her not to. I – I . . . Sh-she had agreed to come up to Leeds for a few days to be with you. Until I had to change our plans.’
‘That can’t have been all. Flo, you said she was in trouble. Having a French boyfriend isn’t trouble. Sad, yes, as they would have to be apart so much, but not trouble.’
Weighing up the lesser of the two evils – fraternizing or . . . – she blurted out, ‘She was pregnant.’
‘No!’ This came out on a gasp, and it was a long moment before Roland spoke again. ‘We can’t tell Simon.’
‘But what will we tell him as to why we were here?’
Roland was silent for a moment.
‘We’ll say that Lucinda had told you she intended to go to France, and begged you not to tell Simon until she was there. So you asked me to try and persuade her not to go. I thought it best to come up and see if I could get Lucinda to come to stay with me for a whi
le, to talk it all over. We’ll leave it at that. No mention of the French boyfriend. Though I suppose we ought to try to contact him.’
‘She was going to give me an address so that Simon would know where she was. She said to tell him that she would be with her boyfriend and his aunt.’
‘See if there’s anything else in the envelope.’
‘Yes, there’s a small card.’ Flo’s hands shook as she pulled the card out. Please don’t let it have Aldric’s name on it. It didn’t, only a French-sounding female name, Mme Bonheur. She must be Aldric’s aunt. Flo handed the card to Roland.
‘Do you know the name of the boyfriend?’
Afraid to say, in case it was an obviously German name, Flo lied again. ‘No. Lucinda did mention it, but – well, I can’t remember. I . . . Oh, Roland, I can’t believe she’s dead.’
His arms came around her. ‘I know. Poor Lucinda.’
‘How did she die?’
‘I – I don’t know. Simon couldn’t tell me. Look, we need to get to him. Leave this other business with me. I can speak French. I will take it on myself to write to this lady. I’ll tell her we are sorry that we don’t know her nephew’s name. But I’ll ask her to kindly inform him.’
Flo had a moment of misgiving. What if Aldric didn’t believe that Lucinda was dead? What if he thought her English family had found out about him and had made up her death? He might try to come over again! But then, surely he would realize that they didn’t know he was German, so they would have no need to lie. This thought settled her mind. But another dread replaced it. How was she going to face Simon?
13
Molly & Ruby
Forming a Sisterly Bond
Molly leaned against the wall and the bitter wind chilled her bones, making her teeth chatter. The flimsy skirt she wore flapped in the breeze, whipping her bare legs as if with icy fingers.
Ruby huddled up to her, her thin body allowing her protruding bones to dig into Molly’s side.
Neither of them had eaten for days. Both had been given only a week to recover from the backlash of finding Molly’s tea-caddy. Gus had beaten the already injured Molly after satisfying himself on her, and the hairbrush-man had been let loose on Ruby. Only the screams of horror from the other girls in the house at the time had brought the onslaught to a halt. Since then, Molly and Ruby had been put out on the streets every afternoon to tout for business. If they failed to attract any customers for themselves, or to send any punters to the house, they were left to starve.
Molly prayed that Trixie would come along today, as she had done once before this week. Trixie hadn’t had any spare money to give them, but she had taken them for a cup tea.
The prayer had hardly died in her mind when the chirpy Trixie came round the corner. ‘Look at you – you’ll freeze to your deaths. Let’s go to the Kettle and Tea Pot. I’ll treat you to a Rosie Lee and a bun. I’ve made a bleedin’ killing today.’
Molly moved stiffly. Ruby sank even more heavily onto her. ‘I need help with Ruby, Trixie.’
‘It ain’t bleedin’ right how that cow, Eva, treats yer. She wants stringing up, mate. Yer should come to Peggy’s and work for her. You’re a good-looker and have the figure for it. At least, you were. Look at you, Molly, you’re not half the girl I saw a few weeks ago. You were walking out with that bitch who owns you, and you looked lovely. I was glad you weren’t working the streets then, as you’d have been real competition. Does Eva keep you clean, down below?’
Trixie had hold of Ruby’s other arm, and together they managed to get her to the small cafe in a back alley.
The warmth of the place, and the stench that permeated from it, hit Molly – stale body odour and cigarette smoke, mixed with that of the food bubbling on the stove behind the counter, made her stomach churn. Her body swayed.
‘What you dragged in now, Trixie girl? You’re a bleedin’ do-gooder, and you can’t afford to be. Some of these whores’ll take yer purse just as soon as look at yer.’
At this, Molly recovered. Trying to muster what dignity she could, she stood straight and, in her best voice, spoke up for herself. ‘I beg your pardon, Missus. I may be down on me uppers, but I’m not a thief.’
‘What were you and her doing the other day in me back yard then, eh?’
‘We were only looking for any scraps you might have thrown out. We’re starving.’
‘Give them a break, Dolly. Here, love, come and sit here with me. I’ll buy you a pot of Rosie Lee, but you’ll have to open your legs to pay me back.’
‘Shad up, Mikey. You’re not funny.’
‘Sorry, Trixie. I was only joking. You don’t think me, or anyone in their right mind, would put our old man into either of them two, do yer?’
Everyone laughed. The sound brought Molly lower than she’d ever been. Her instinct was to run, but the pull of a hot drink and a bun was too much for her.
‘Take no notice, girls. Let’s sit over there by the window. I want to keep me eye open for any of our lot who might tell on me. Peggy’s all right, but if she’s crossed, she can be a tartar. Besides, it won’t do me standing any good to be seen with you, so if I see a potential customer coming, I can move away.’
Molly had never dreamed the day would come when a known prostitute would think it below her to be seen sitting with her.
‘Look, don’t take umbrage at me saying that. It’s only a business thing. I’d always look out for you girls. You’re me mates, and I don’t let mates down.’
Molly understood and thought that, although she’d never had a sister, the bond she had with Ruby and Trixie must be how it felt between sisters. She wondered if Trixie felt the same, and tested the water by asking a favour. ‘Trixie, would you try to get a message to me dad for me?’
‘You have a family! Blimey, how did a girl like you come to get this low?’
‘It’s a long story. But me dad’s me only hope of things changing for me.’
‘Where does he live, then?’
‘Edmonton. Sebastopol Road. He has a butcher’s shop on the corner.’
‘Not him as Eva’s tied up with?’
‘Yes, and that’s how I’m like I am. They kidnapped me and forced me into this life. He can’t know how low I’ve become, as I’m sure he’d do something.’
‘I doubt it, lav. Here, get this tea down yer.’
Dolly had slammed the huge pot down on the table, with three chipped and cracked mugs. Trixie poured the steaming liquid as she spoke. ‘There ain’t any sugar, and you two could do with some of that to give you a bit of energy.’
‘We’re used to it. Let’s get some into Ruby first. Here you are, Ruby. Sip this.’
Ruby let Molly hold the mug for her. The tea dribbled out of her mouth.
‘Ruby, take some in, love. You’ll feel better then.’
Ruby opened her eyes and looked around her.
‘She needs help, Trixie. You know what you asked out there: about Eva keeping us clean? Well, she does have a quack round sometimes, but he’s never looked at Ruby. What if she’s caught something? She’s feverish.’
‘It could be, but she just looks to me like she’s got flu. Them sores around her mouth are from the wind drying and splitting her lips. I’ve got some Vaseline in me bag. I don’t always use it for me lips, though.’ Trixie laughed her common-sounding laugh, and Molly couldn’t help grinning at her.
Taking some of the Vaseline on her finger, Molly applied it to Ruby’s dry, cracked lips. ‘Let your tea cool a bit, love – it’ll smart them sores. Eat some of your bun.’
‘Have you got any family, Ruby?’
Perking up a bit, Ruby answered Trixie. ‘Not so yer’d bleedin’ know. I left home at fourteen. Me dad were killed at work and me mam married this drunk. He had a son older than me, and this so-called stepbrother started to rape me. Me mum wouldn’t listen to me. I reckon she were scared of her old man. I got out, came to London and got picked up by Eva’s lot. That were when it was the younger gangsters who ruled, and you
didn’t cross them bleedin’ lot. War took them off the patch, so Eva hooked up with this lot.’
Each girl fell silent as they went into their own thoughts. It was Trixie who spoke first. ‘Bleedin’ men. I had the same, but with an uncle. Me dad’s brother. He was having it off with me mum, an’ all, bleedin’ cow as she were. Me dad tried to help me, but he were weak-minded and opted for the quiet life. So I hopped it. I was sleeping rough, when this girl took me back to Peggy’s one night. I took to the life as if I were born to it.’
Molly told them what happened to her.
A hand stretched out and took hers. She looked into Ruby’s face and saw a love there that touched her heart. Trixie, too, extended her hands across the table and took Molly’s and Ruby’s other hands. ‘We’ll be all right, girls. You two have to get a bit canny, that’s all.’
‘Canny?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes, it’s a word me granny used to use. She was Scottish. It means to get a bit wise, play the game in your favour. You cross Eva, you get punished. You please her, you get looked after. First thing you need is food, to build you up. I’ll do what I can. We’ll meet here every day and I’ll stand you a bowl of stew.’ Letting go of their hands, Trixie shouted, ‘Dolly, two bowls of your stew over here, please. And serve it in bleedin’ clean bowls for a change.’
Laughter rippled round the customers.
‘Shut your mouth, Trixie. You’re a soft touch. Been giving you the sob-story, have they?’
‘I bring a lot of custom here, mate. If yer want that to continue, yer’ll leave me business alone and make sure there’s a good bit of meat in them bowls.’
Dolly didn’t retaliate.
‘See what I mean? Canny. I work Dolly, she don’t work me. I slap her down if she tries.’
‘What you two do now is clean yourselves up. There’s water in that bleedin’ hole yer live in, ain’t there? Well, get up early and wash yourselves. And wash your underwear out at night. And pinch some of the other girls’ slap. Brush your hair, and put slap on every day. I’ll sneak yer some clothes out. We’ll meet here at twelve noon each day. You can go round the back to get changed. I’ll sort it with Dolly. Then you can hit the streets and start earning some money. You give me a bit of what you earn, and I’ll keep it safe and add to it. You’ll have to trust me on that. Then, when we’re all better off, we’ll make plans for our future. I want a house just like Peggy’s one day, and you can come in on it with me.’