‘We’ll have to talk to Noah about this,’ Mog said as she paid the bill. ‘He’ll know more about how we should go about it.’
‘Then you want to go?’ Belle said, taking Mog’s arm as they left.
‘Well, it sounds a lot more exciting than Tunbridge Wells,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to go on a long sea voyage.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d get a passage until the war ends,’ Vera said. ‘There’s still the danger of being shelled or torpedoed. I’m going back on a troop ship and I’ll be helping with the wounded going home. But everyone is saying there is going to be an Armistice any day now.’
While Belle and Mog were in Brighton they’d heard much the same thing. But as people had been saying for the last four years that the war would all be over by Christmas, they didn’t want to get their hopes up until there was an official announcement.
‘We couldn’t go yet anyway, not until all our affairs are straightened out,’ Mog mused. ‘But what a wonderful thing to look forward to!’
That evening after Mog had gone off to bed, Vera and Belle discussed it further.
‘I can hardly believe Mog was so excited about it,’ Belle said.
‘I think going back to Seven Dials did it,’ Vera said thoughtfully. ‘I noticed she looked horrified some of the time, like she thought she might end up there again.’
‘Maybe,’ Belle said. ‘When this place is sold it will be the first time in her life she’s ever had more than a few shillings of her own. She’s also aware that she’s got the responsibility to make it work for her. I expect she thinks it will go further in New Zealand. Will it?’
‘I’d say a great deal further,’ Vera said. ‘My father seems to think there will be something of a boom in New Zealand when the war’s over. Not straight away obviously, but in the next two or three years. Russell is tiny, Belle, it’s had a shocking past, but that history makes it appealing to visitors. And of course there’s the sailing, fishing and the lovely scenery. Pop’s farsighted. He started the bakery with next to nothing and built it up; if he thinks visitors will come for holidays, then I’d be inclined to put my shirt on it. But even if you find Russell is too sleepy for you both, you can always go to Auckland, Wellington or Christchurch.’
Belle smiled at her friend. She had worked a small miracle on her and Mog, brought them out of themselves and given them new hope.
‘We’re going to miss you so much after you’ve gone,’ she sighed. ‘You’ve cheered us both up, you’ve given us so much to think about. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘It won’t be goodbye, only au revoir,’ Vera grinned. ‘Anyway, we’ve still got tomorrow.’
Across London in St John’s Wood, Noah was in his study typing up an article for a magazine when Lisette came in. She had put on a little weight after giving birth to Rose, but she was still a very pretty woman with her lustrous dark hair, creamy skin and delicate features. Noah had always considered her to be the personification of French elegance, and today he thought she looked good enough to eat in her cream and brown striped dress.
‘Come to distract me?’ he asked.
‘Would you welcome distraction?’ she said in her delightfully accented English.
‘Always, from you,’ he said, holding out his arms for her to come and sit on his lap.
She ruffled his wavy hair with her fingers. ‘Theese needs cutting,’ she said. ‘It is like a bush.’
Noah laughed. ‘Is that all you came to say?’
‘No, I was thinking about Etienne,’ she said. ‘What proof is there that ’e is dead?’
‘Jimmy got a letter from a comrade about him getting the Croix de Guerre.’
‘Yes, I understand that, but the Engleesh always seem to think that honour only goes to Frenchmen when they die in battle. That isn’t so.’
‘Isn’t it? But surely the man who sent the letter must know if Etienne survived?’
‘’Ow would he? You of all people must understand that stories get twisted and added to as they get retold,’ she said. ‘If Etienne had received such an honour on ’is death, I believe the French army would ’ave written to you immediately. That medal is a very special one, it means great honour.’
‘We’ve got no way of knowing if Etienne got around to informing anyone that I was to be contacted. The French army were late in getting to the lines at Ypres. The assault had already been delayed because of that. You, my sweet little wife, have no idea of the confusion at such times. Even the best-laid plans go awry.’
‘I think you should try and get confirmation one way or another,’ she said. ‘If ’e is dead, then ’is affairs will need to be put in order. But if ’e is alive, ’e won’t contact Belle because ’e thinks she is taking care of Jimmy. ’E will have no way of knowing Jimmy is dead now.’
‘Did I ever tell you that you are a very caring, clever woman, as well as a very beautiful one?’ Noah said.
‘Not often enough,’ she laughed, kissing his nose. ‘Belle and Mog are making plans for their future, and from what you ’ave told me, Belle ’as grieved long over Etienne. If ’e is dead, then ’is farm in Marseille should go to her, and if ’e is alive, then maybe she should go to ’im.’
‘What if he is alive and badly wounded like Jimmy was? Wouldn’t that be even worse for her?’
‘Should we be the people to decide that?’ She raised one black eyebrow questioningly. ‘And you, Noah, you are ’is friend. Don’t you want to know if ’e needs ’elp?’
‘Well, yes. Until you brought this up I didn’t question whether he was really dead. Tomorrow I will make some inquiries. But we must not give Belle false hope. This is just between us until we know for certain, either way.’
Lisette held his face between her hands and kissed him on the lips. ‘Je vais garder l’espoir d’un regroupement romantique, mon chéri.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The bells were ringing out all over to London to celebrate that the war was over. People were out on the streets shouting, laughing and hugging one another in shared joy.
Although Mog and Belle felt happiness and huge relief it was all over at last, and had gone out on the street earlier to add their voices to the gathering joyful throng, like so many others who had lost husbands, sons and brothers, they hadn’t got the heart for any wild celebrations.
They had spent their day sorting and packing, and once that was done they sat by the fire together and talked about the good times before the war. Tomorrow, 12 November, they would be leaving the Railway for good.
A gentleman by the name of Charles Wyatt wanted to buy it, and as he was anxious to start trading as soon as possible, Mog was renting it to him as a temporary measure until Probate was settled. When everything was finalized her solicitor would act on her behalf to exchange contracts with Wyatt, and then pass on the proceeds of the sale to Mog.
Thanks to Noah and his knowledge of business, it had worked out well, as Mog would be getting rent from Wyatt until the sale. He was delighted that he could move in, and Mog and Belle could move away knowing the building was in safe hands. Wyatt had already purchased all the stock in the bar and cellar, and most of Mog’s furniture.
They had decided that New Zealand was where they wanted to go. After Vera left they discussed it endlessly. Oddly enough, it was Mog who wanted to go the most; she claimed she’d never had an adventure in her life and never been on any ship, apart from the river boat on the Thames.
Belle had brought up many counter-arguments – that Mog might be seasick the whole way, that she might find it dull living in a small, isolated place with no theatres, big shops, trams and markets. This wasn’t because she herself didn’t want to go, but she wanted to be absolutely certain Mog knew what she was letting herself in for.
But Mog just laughed. ‘I’ve only been to two or three theatres in my whole life, in fact I’ve spent most of my life indoors, cooking and cleaning. I want to see new places, try food I’ve never tasted before. I really love the idea of start
ing all over again.’
Noah was very shocked when they told him what they intended to do. He said it seemed so drastic, and couldn’t they wait a couple more years? But when he saw they were serious about it he admitted he was being selfish, because he knew he was going to miss them. He did agreed that New Zealand would be a much pleasanter country to live in, with no bitter winters, and that it would be good for them to leave the past behind. But he made Mog promise that when her financial affairs were sorted out, she would put some money aside just in case they ever wanted to come home.
All Mog’s favourite things, items she and Garth had bought or were given as wedding presents, including a velvet button-back chair, her sewing machine, an ornate mahogany dressing table, chest of drawers and their bed, were being taken into storage until they could be shipped to New Zealand. Belle had kept only the very smallest of keepsakes, and her millinery blocks and steamer.
For now they were moving into a beautiful apartment in St John’s Wood. It belonged to a friend of Noah’s, who had gone to America and was anxious to have someone reliable there to look after it. If everything went to plan they’d be leaving for New Zealand in February.
‘I’d forgotten how cold it can be in this place,’ Mog grumbled, pulling a shawl around her shoulders and huddling closer to the fire in the living room. ‘But we’ll be beautifully warm from tomorrow. Imagine us living in a place with heat in every room. I never saw the like before.’
Belle smiled. The apartment block they were moving into had a boiler in the basement which sent up hot water to heat radiators in all the apartments. Mog thought this was miraculous; she couldn’t really believe she wouldn’t be called on to stoke the boiler.
‘A kitchen full of light and a huge bath with constant hot water too,’ Belle reminded her. ‘We won’t know ourselves. And we can see more of Lisette and the children.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go and see what’s going on out there?’ Mog thumbed towards the window. The noise had grown steadily louder all day as people up the street had joined together for a party. There had been banging on the pub door too, despite the notice pinned to it explaining why it was closed. It seemed very odd to hear such commotion; Blackheath was usually such a quiet, genteel place.
Belle winced. ‘No, I don’t. It’s cold and I’d sooner be in here with you and remember all the good times.’
Mog smiled. ‘We had a lot,’ she said. ‘My wedding, then you opening the shop. Do you remember when this whole room was full of hats, feathers and artificial flowers? Then there was your wedding. And Garth got so drunk I had to leave him down on the bar floor all night.’
Belle laughed. They had tried to get him upstairs but failed because he was a dead weight.
She remembered the lovemaking with Jimmy that night too. He was so nervous she’d had to undress him. He’d scuttled under the bedclothes to hide his nakedness, yet he’d watched her undressing with eyes full of wonder.
‘Your body is so beautiful,’ he said in such an awed tone it made her eyes fill with tears. ‘How did I get so lucky to have such a treasure?’
‘Because,’ she said filling two glasses with the champagne she’d rescued from the bar downstairs, and holding one of them to his lips to drink, ‘someone up there knew what a good man you are and what a bad girl I can be, and decided you had to rescue me.’
As he drank the champagne, his hand reached out to caress her breasts. She had been afraid he would grab at her and remind her of moments in her past she wanted to forget. But his touch was sensitive and erotic, and she was instantly aroused. When she slid into bed beside him and her skin met his, he moaned with pleasure and enfolded her in his arms.
‘I’ve been imagining this moment for months,’ he said before he kissed her.
That first time was fast and furious, yet there was such tenderness in his touch, love in every fevered kiss. And although it was over too soon for her, she sensed that she’d only had the hors d’oeuvre and the banquet was yet to come.
How right she was. The next time he was only intent on pleasing her, the pace was slow and sensual, and he put his hand over her mouth because she was making so much noise.
They had a fit of helpless giggles about it later, and pulled the eiderdown over their heads so Garth and Mog wouldn’t hear. She doubted she would ever experience such joy again in her lifetime. Or feel such sorrow that the war changed them both for ever.
Mog still had many moments when she cried over losing Garth. But the excitement of starting a new life in New Zealand and all the packing and other jobs to be done had helped to distract her. She had bravely said that when she closed the door of the Railway for the last time, she wasn’t going to cry any more, just smile at the lovely memories Garth had left her with.
They were still hearing of neighbours dying from the flu, and it was frightening to read in the newspapers that it had spread all over the world. But for today the end of the war was the only subject on everyone’s lips, rationing, bombing and other hardships all put aside because soon all the men who had survived would be coming home.
On 12 January 1919 Noah arrived home late. Lisette was sitting by the fire in the sitting room doing some mending.
‘You are very late,’ she said. ‘But I kept your dinner warm. Did you ’ave any luck?’
‘None,’ he said dejectedly. ‘Another wild goose chase. I hate to say this to you, Lisette, but your lot don’t seem able to keep tabs on anyone. Not even one of their heroes.’
They had got firm confirmation a week before Christmas that Etienne had received his medal while still alive. Included was the citation which said exactly what he had got it for, and that had been the same day that he rescued Jimmy. Noah had intended to tell Belle in time so that she could talk to Mog, explain what Etienne meant to her, and then they could all celebrate together on Christmas Day.
But then just two days later he received an official letter from Etienne’s commanding officer informing him, as next of kin, that Sergeant Carrera was missing, presumed dead. This had happened in late October, but there was no explanation as to why Noah hadn’t been informed earlier.
To have his hopes built up and then crushed so shortly afterwards was terrible. If it hadn’t been for Lisette pointing out that Etienne was only ‘presumed’ dead, Noah would have given up then and there.
Lisette hadn’t seen the battlefields. Like most people who hadn’t witnessed the carnage, she imagined the dead were all lined up in neat rows, evidence of their identity noted, then buried with prayers.
Noah knew it wasn’t like that at all. Hundreds of men were blown to so many pieces their body parts were scattered to the four winds. Others had sunk so deep into the mud they buried themselves. Many of the dead were found to have no identification on them. And as a senior officer had told Noah out there, ‘They are dead. We can’t help them, and we have to concentrate on saving the wounded who might survive.’
But Lisette kept on insisting that Etienne could be badly injured in a hospital, or he could have been taken prisoner. She urged Noah to say nothing to Belle yet, but in the New Year he must try to find out more.
Both Noah and Lisette were anxious to know the truth before Belle and Mog booked their passage. But the days went by and all Noah’s renewed efforts came to nothing. He made telephone calls and wrote dozens of letters, but the letters weren’t answered and on the telephone he was always directed to someone else.
Then Belle booked the passage to New Zealand, and now, as the day of their departure drew ever closer, she and Mog could talk of nothing but buying a trunk, and which clothes they should take and which they should leave behind. Mog had bought enough dress material, sewing cotton and buttons to take with them to make dresses for half the female population of Russell.
Today Noah had had an interview with someone from the Red Cross who dealt with prisoners of war. All he could say was that it was far more likely Etienne was dead than alive, but that he would look into it.
‘
France is in chaos, Noah,’ Lisette said soothingly. ‘There are so many men unaccounted for, you know this. Some soldiers ’ave gone home, others still ’ave duties. But your letters, they will be passed on, and soon they will come into the hands of someone who knows what ’appened.’
‘But Belle will be leaving England in a month. They have a passage booked. What if I find he is alive and she’s already gone?’
He didn’t believe Etienne was alive, not now. A man might choose to disappear if he had something to hide, but Etienne was a war hero, and if he had survived that last assault, someone would know.
Lisette went over to Noah and put her arms around him. ‘It won’t matter if she’s gone. If ’e is alive and ’alf the man I believe ’im to be, ’e’ll go and claim ’er,’ she said. ‘Now, come with me and I will get your dinner.’
‘Don’t cry, ducks,’ Mog said to Belle as the HMS Stalwart weighed anchor and began to move slowly away from the dock at Southampton. ‘We can always come back if we don’t like it. But you and I are made of strong stuff. We’ll make a good life for ourselves out there, you’ll see.’
Belle wiped her eyes and smiled at Mog. ‘I’m not sad at going. I’ll miss Noah, Lisette and the children, but there isn’t anyone else. This just reminds me of going off to France with Miranda.’
That wasn’t strictly true. She had thought about Miranda earlier, remembering how excited they’d been as the ship left Dover. But what had really made her cry was thinking about the trip from New York to New Orleans with Etienne. She’d had her first glass of champagne with him on her sixteenth birthday, and she thought she was in love with him and tried to seduce him. There was a kind of irony in that all these years later she was on another ship, this time going right to the other side of the world, yet even though he was dead he was still dominating her thoughts.
The Promise Page 42