by Deborah Carr
Her mother smiled. “I understand how you feel,” she said holding open the bedroom door, waiting for Alice to pass. “Which is exactly why I’ve insisted you accompany me today. It will take you out of yourself. You’ve spent far too much time wallowing up here in your bedroom. It isn’t seemly.”
Alice didn’t have the energy to argue. She stepped forward to leave the room. The baby kicked several times and, forgetting she was in company, let her hand automatically go to her stomach. Realising what she had done, she glanced at her mother’s face. She was staring at Alice’s stomach, her eyes wide with unsuppressed shock.
Horrified, Alice forced her legs to work. Hoping to divert her mother, she walked out to the hallway. “Come along, or we’re going to be late,” she said breaking the silence.
Her mother didn’t move. Bracing herself, Alice turned. Her mother was still motionless, her mouth open as she tried and failed to speak.
“Mother?” she asked, willing her to pretend she had misunderstood what had passed between them.
Jeanette hummed as she walked between the dining room and kitchen, and Alice’s mother moved instantly stepping forward and grabbing her by the arm. She pulled Alice back into her room, quietly closing the door. Alice’s heart hammered against her ribcage. It was time to face up to her family.
Her mother reached out a trembling hand, hesitating before resting it lightly on Alice’s stomach. She gasped feeling the roundness of it, all colour vanishing from her face.
“You’re with child?” she asked, shaking her head as if to dispel the inconceivable notion. “Unmarried, and too far to find a husband to marry.” She sat down heavily on the side of the bed.
“Mother,” Alice said, desperate to calm her. “Ed and I were to be married. Before, well before he died.”
“Never mind what you had planned, you naïve, irresponsible girl,” she said through gritted teeth. “What were you thinking? Having,” she considered her words, before adding. “Intimate relations?” She closed her eyes. “I have no idea what to say to you.”
Alice winced. She could feel her mother’s crushing disappointment. “I’m fully aware of my predicament,” she whispered, taking her mother’s hand in hers, only for it to be snatched away. “Don’t you think I’ve wished a thousand, or more times that Ed was here with me now?”
“Why didn’t you wait to be married, Alice?” Her mother looked close to tears. “You’ve ruined your reputation and your entire life. And what about ours? How can you remain living on the island?”
“You’re telling me to leave? Now?” Alice replied in shock.
Her mother stood up and clasped her hands in front of her waist. “I have no choice.”
“You do,” Alice argued. “Please, Mother.”
She shook her head. “No. My mind is made up.”
Alice could see her mother’s face harden. She hesitated before going over to the window and staring silently out. “It will break my heart to send you away, truly it will. However, you’ve left me with little choice.”
Alice knew in her heart that her mother was right. What she had done by bringing her shame home was appalling.
“I understand,” Alice admitted. “Where shall I go? I have no one else.”
Her mother turned to face her, her face ashen. “You have the legacy your grandfather put in place for you,” she said, obviously working things through in her own mind. “You must have made friends while volunteering in France? You mentioned Mary several times.”
Alice thought of Mary currently on honeymoon with Peter in Cornwall. “No,” she said, unable to help feelings of envy towards her dearest friend. “She’s away right now.”
“Then I have no idea.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll keep your secret for you,” her mother said. “There’s no need to upset your father.”
The baby kicked again. Alice understood her mother’s reasoning but knew that whatever happened to this child of hers and Ed’s she’d never turn her back on it, for any reason.
“Whatever you wish, Mother.”
“I’ll leave you to pack and go and take tea with my friends alone,” her mother said, finally. “I’ll make your apologies, tell them you’ve fallen ill with a headache. “We’ll speak later, when I return. Maybe by then you’ll have come up with a solution about where you could live.”
Alice watched her leave the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She had never felt truly alone before now. Bracing herself, she pulled her case down from above her wardrobe and placing it on the bed, opened it. Her sluggish brain seemed incapable of forming a cohesive plan. Unable to find a solution about where she could go, Alice focused on deciding what to pack. She would not be coming back, of that she was certain.
She decided that clothes could be replaced, but photos and her favourite books could not. Alice packed up her letters and Ed’s personal belongings, relieved that he had given instructions for them to be sent to her after his death. She took the black tin box she’d found for keeping his letters, watch and wallet and placed it inside her case. It took up two thirds of the case, but she didn’t mind; she could not bear to leave behind.
“Oh, Ed,” she cried, brushing the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She had to be practical. This wasn’t a time for self-pity. She was going to be a mother and needed to think of somewhere safe where she could go to have her baby. But where?
She spotted her poppy brooch lying on her bedside table. Recalling the evening Ed had surprised her with the precious memento, from their weekend at the farm, it dawned on Alice where she would go.
That evening, her mother came to her room. Spotting the packed case at the end of Alice’s bed, with her handbag, and a smaller case next to it. “Have you decided?”
“I have,” Alice said, her guilt assuaged slightly by her mother’s obvious relief. “I’m returning to France.”
“Whatever for?”
“There’s a small farmhouse on the outskirts of Doullens. I stayed there one weekend.”
“With him?” her mother scowled.
“No, Mother. It was all very proper,” she insisted, not admitting that she must have fallen pregnant during her stay in a poppy field. “I stayed with the landlady. Ed stayed elsewhere.”
“You have a plan, that’s good to know.” Her mother shook her head. “However, I have to say, I honestly don’t know what’s become of young girls since this war began. Standards seem to have been ignored or forgotten. Many rushed marriages with families pretending they don’t know the reasoning behind them, and now this.” She stared at Alice’s stomach. “Oh, Alice, what were you thinking?”
Alice stepped forward to hug her mother goodbye. She moved away, as if Alice’s touch would taint her.
Her mother raised her hands. “I’ll help arrange your passage to the continent. I’ll also ensure you have access to your grandfather’s money, but that is all I’m willing to do.” She gave a shuddering sigh, as if her world was ending. “I never thought you capable of something like this.”
“Neither did I,” Alice answered, honestly. It seemed as if her mother had shrunk in stature during the afternoon. “I’m deeply sorry, Mother,” she said. “I hate that I’ve disappointed you so terribly.”
“As do I, Alice.”
They stood in silence.
“I’ll go to the docks first thing,” Alice said, desperate to move on, now that she knew she must. “I’ll take the first boat to St Malo. I’ll leave a letter for father,” she added. “I’ll write that I’ve been asked to return to work in a hospital in France for some time. Will that suffice?”
“It will have to.” Her mother stared at her for a moment. “Write to me when you’re settled. I’d like to know where you are and that you are well.”
“I promise, I will,” Alice said, aware that her mother had not mentioned the baby, but relieved not to have all contact severed.
“I’ll wish you a good night then,” her mother said stiffly. Alice noticed tears threatening t
o fall and turned away, saving her the humiliation. “Good night, Mother,” she said. “I’ll leave before you rise for breakfast.”
“Very well.”
She waited for her mother to go. Hearing the door close before she turned, Alice longed to be back at the farm already. She wasn’t sure how it would feel to be there without Ed, but it was the one place in the world that still existed where they had shared memories.
She hoped Madam Gaston still lived at the farm and would allow her to rent a room when she learnt of her condition. Alice’s mind whirled. Her life in Jersey was at an end.
Grief washed across her. It was all well and good to try and make plans, but she wasn’t ready to let go of the ones she and Ed had made. Not yet. Slumping down on her eiderdown, Alice sobbed. Frightened and alone, she was determined to make the baby the focus of her life now. She took a deep breath and blew her nose. She had much to do. Now though, she needed to be brave.
Days later, on a frosty afternoon, Alice arrived at the farm. Her feet ached where her shoes pinched. She prayed that Madam Gaston still lived here. If she didn’t, Alice had no idea where to go next. Hand trembling, she pushed open the front gate and stared at the house. It still had the green moss discolouring the front wall, but there were fresh flowers on one of the living room window sills. Relieved, to find the place occupied, she walked up to the door. She put down her cases and knocked on the door, inadvertently displacing tiny flecks of paint.
Hearing footprints, Alice held her breath, willing them to be Madam Gaston’s. The door opened and there she was. She peered at Alice, frowning as if trying to place her. Then she smiled.
“Mademoiselle Le Breton,” she stepped back enthusiastically waving Alice inside.
“Je m’appelle, Alice,” she said picking up her cases and going into the familiar living room. She accepted the offer of coffee and sat down at the table. It was a relief to take the weight off her swollen feet. Should they already be this big? She wished some of her nursing training had prepared her for the arrival of her baby. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of cases and two tea chests in the corner of the room.
Madame Gaston returned carrying a tray.
“You are leaving? Partir?” Alice asked, concerned.
The older woman nodded. “Oui.” She handed Alice a cup of dark coffee and pointed to herself. “Odette.”
She sat opposite Alice and took a sip of her drink. Her eyes drifted to Alice’s stomach. “Bebe?”
Alice swallowed her mouthful of coffee, wincing as the hot liquid flowed down her throat. She had not expected such a direct question from someone she barely knew. There was no point in trying to cover up the obvious, so she nodded.
“You wish, er, sleep ‘ere?”
“Yes, I mean, oui.”
“Papa? C’est mort?”
Alice nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath. “He died, last year.”
Odette shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Mon fils,” she said holding up three fingers to show that she had lost three sons. “Et mon mari, aussi.”
Alice recalled that she had lost her husband and sons. “When will you go?”
Odette gave a slow shrug. “Two, maybe three?”
“Days?” Alice asked horrified
Odette shook her head. “Non, er.” She couldn’t find the word.
“Weeks?” Alice suggested.
Odette nodded.
“But this house? Who comes to live here?” She was unsure how well her attempt at making Odette understand her was going to come across.
Again, Odette shrugged.
She didn’t know? A ray of hope pierced Alice’s bruised heart. Surely, she wouldn’t be lucky enough to be able to buy this place? Could she?
“Madame, I mean, Odette. Will you sell the farm to me?” She made gestures to show the exchange of money.
Odette lowered her cup onto her slightly chipped saucer and placed a hand on her chest. “Oui?”
Alice laughed. It looked like she was finally in the right place and at the best time. “Oui. I would love to achete votre maison.”
Odette burst into tears. Sobbing loudly. Taken aback for a second, Alice was unsure what to do. Then, remembering that she was not at home with her mother and her strict codes of conduct, circled the table and hugged Odette from behind. “Shush, please don’t cry.”
After an hour of stilted conversation and notes on scrap paper, they agreed a price. Alice could tell that Odette was as delighted with the exchange as her. She was even more relieved that Odette had agreed to postpone her departure for several months until the baby was born.
Finally, she had something to look forward to. If only she could share her news with Ed. She decided that if she couldn’t speak to him, then she would write to him. That night, ensconced in the farmhouse spare room, resting in the same bed she had inhabited during her weekend there several months before, she penned her first letter to Ed since learning of his death.
My darling Ed,
You will never believe what I am about to tell you. I have come back to where we were happiest, and I believe I have found a way to cope. I am to live here at our farm with our baby. It is not what we planned, but it is the best I can do after all that’s happened.
She continued writing into the early hours, aware that there was no point posting the letter. She would have to find somewhere to hide it for now. Alice recalled standing on a squeaky floorboard on her last visit and moving from the bed walked quietly on the floor until she located it. Bending down, as best she could, she took her metal nail file and managed to work the short piece of board until it lifted.
She sat back. This was where she would keep her treasures, until she needed a bigger space. She would enjoy searching the farm and its outbuildings to find an alternative hidey hole when the time came for her to discover one, but for now this would do. She felt like she had come home.
Three months’ later, Alice thanked the postman as he hand-delivered the mail. Only one letter. She stared at the handwriting. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she remembered it from. She slowly lowered her heavy bulk onto one of the wooden chairs and shouted to Odette that there was only the one piece of mail.
Opening the envelope, she withdrew the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. Curious, Alice began reading, her mouth dropping open in surprised when she realised who had written to her.
Dear Alice,
I want to write ‘Nurse Le Breton’ but then I remind myself that the war is now over. Thankfully. I hope you don’t mind me corresponding with you in this way. I contacted your mother and explained how we knew each other and she very kindly gave me your address.
I hope this letter finds you well. I must admit that I was surprised to learn that you had returned to France. I am working for the next few months at a hospital near Amiens, which is not far from where we were all stationed until last year. If you are happy for me to do so, I would very much like to call on you and maybe I can take you for tea at the Hotel du Nord.
Please do not feel pressurised to accept this entreaty, but should you be happy to accept, then I look forward to hearing from you with regard to a convenient date when I may call upon you.
With sincerest wishes,
Jack Sullivan (Dr)
The baby kicked. Alice wondered how enthused the doctor would be to take her out if he saw her bulging stomach. She stroked her belly to sooth the lively baby. Should she accept his invitation? Although she wrote weekly to Mary, it had been months since she’d spoken to a connection to her life at the casualty clearing station. Odette was kind, but she had taken on a motherly role to Alice. Should she write to him, she wondered? Would it be fair to allow him to come here and discover her condition?
Alice reasoned that Jack Sullivan would not have too far to travel, therefore inviting him to the farm would not put him out too much. And, she mused, if they were to be friends, he needed to know that she was h
aving a baby out of wedlock. She had no intention of hiding her child from anyone. Her decision made, Alice wrote back.
Dear Jack,
Thank you for your letter, which was most welcome.
I would very much like to meet with you. However, I will only be able to consider your invitation on the proviso that you visit me at this address first. You will understand my reasoning when we meet.
I apologise for the subterfuge and look forward to hearing from you.
Kindest regards,
Alice
There, she thought, folding the letter and writing her address on to an envelope. Once they had met and he had seen for himself how things stood with her, he could make up his mind about going out for tea.
She was more nervous than she had expected to be hearing Jack’s rapping on the front door. Alice hoped the griping pains she had been experiencing for the previous day or so, weren’t contractions. They didn’t seem to be increasing in strength, so she assumed not. She remained in her bedroom, waiting for Odette to welcome him in. It surprised her how much she wanted him to accept her situation. He had always shown himself to be an honourable man during the time they worked together, but she couldn’t be friends with someone who had an issue with her pregnancy.
Hearing his deep voice speaking fluent French to Odette and their laughter, gave Alice a pang to her stomach. What if she had been wrong to test him this way? Maybe she should have simply written and told him that she wasn’t interested in making his acquaintance once again.
“Alice,” Odette called from downstairs. It was time for her to face him.
Alice checked her reflection once again in the mirror. The dress only just fitted, but it looked passable now that Odette had worked her sewing magic on it. Alice went downstairs to join them, taking a deep breath before entering the living room.
“Hello, Doctor Sullivan,” she said, studying him as he looked over at her, the smile on his face faltering only minutely.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged for several seconds. “Nurse, I mean, Miss Le Breton,” he said, as they crossed the room to shake hands. “You are looking very well.”