by Mary Wood
Somehow Ada took on the role of comforter, even though she was in dire need of comfort herself. Allowing Ada to help her to her chair, Edith sat down. ‘Promise me you will never tell anyone – not even Annie, or Rene, who I know you are close to. And, please, never breathe a word in front of Lady Eloise.’
‘I won’t. But you sound as though you have a burden too big for you to carry alone. Tell me all about it.’
Once she’d finished telling Ada her story, Ada was silent for a moment. Her hand rubbed up and down Edith’s back. ‘I’ll help thee, lass. I’ll do owt in me power. I’ll look after them for thee. I can think up some story or other. I don’t know what: sommat along the lines of them being related to me. . . That’s it! When were they born?’
‘March the nineteenth.’
‘Would it be possible to pass them off as five months old?’
‘I don’t know – I wouldn’t think so. They were born six weeks early and were very tiny. Why? What are you thinking?’
‘I could pass them off as Jimmy’s. He went in January, last year, but had a few days’ leave in March when his training was completed. So any child he fathered then would be five months old by now. No one knows me here, so they wouldn’t have a clue me story weren’t true. I could say as me son’s girlfriend had contacted me and said she couldn’t cope, and that she was giving the twins up for adoption, so I took them on.’
‘But if no one knows you, what will it matter, as you can put them at their right age? Oh, Ada, would you? Would you do that for me and my girls? But how would you cope? You already have your little nephew.’
‘I’ll find a way. Besides, I’ll have your help. You will visit and—’
‘Wait a minute . . . Look, yours is an excellent plan, but will put a lot of strain on you, and I can’t see how I could feature in the girls’ lives in the way I would want to, without raising suspicion. But there is a way. I have been thinking for some time about starting a place for girls in my situation. I think there will be many, because war makes people act differently from how they would normally. The place I have in mind will be a place of love, and its aim will be to help unmarried girls keep their child, if they want to. The children will be looked after, and mothers can visit and will be helped eventually to be in a position to make a home for their child. Of course there will be adoption help, for those who can’t have their child with them, for whatever reason. How does that sound to you? Do you think – with me overseeing it all – you could run such a place for me?’
‘It sounds grand, and I’d like to give it a go, but what would it mean? What would I have to do? How will it help you and your girls?’
‘I met someone. And I have written to him. I have told him everything. I am hoping with all my heart that he will still love me, despite everything that has happened, and will ask me to marry him. Then I’m hoping he will agree to adopt the girls. I could bring them back here, and we can take care of them in the home we will start, until – if Laurent is willing – the time comes when they can come to live with me as my own. Oh, that would be wonderful.’
‘It would. But eeh, Miss Edith, there’s such a lot as could go wrong. What then?’
‘I will still have them near me. In the home. And I can see to their welfare and their future. I have to do this, Ada. Putting them in your charge, in the way you describe, would leave me knowing they are well, but that is all. I could never adopt them, or even visit them, for what excuse could I use?’
‘Reet. Your plan it is then. It will mean me giving up my own plans, but I don’t care about that. It was daunting me anyroad. But me talent needn’t be wasted. I can teach the girls we have in the home how to sew. That would be sommat for them in the future. We could have a sewing room, where we make things for them; and as the children grow, they can learn how to do it for themselves. We could take older children in – those that have been orphaned.’
Edith felt lightened by Ada’s enthusiasm. It fuelled her own, to the point where she decided that she would speak to her father about her plans as soon as she could. Tonight even. Yes. He had said he would be dining with her tonight, and there was only the two of them. She would put it to him that it was this, or going back to France. She knew which option he would choose for her. Plus her training would not go unused. She would work on a part-time basis at the hospital, when they needed a surgeon with her skills, and would be the chief medical officer for the children and mothers in the home. She was sure now that this home could be established.
Despite Ada’s sorrow, she too laughed. ‘Eeh, I feel as though me future is sorted, because I was worried about starting a business up. I don’t knaw much about business, but I do know about young ’uns and what they need, and I have that knowledge in abundance to use.’
‘Thank you, Ada. I’m so glad I came. We have shared things today that will bond us in friendship, despite our different backgrounds. Ada, what do you think about calling the home “Jimmy’s Hope House”?’
Ada gasped. ‘By, that would be grand. It would be like giving him his honour back. Ta, Miss Edith. You don’t knaw what you’ve done for me today.’
‘Nor you, for me. Just to unburden myself is healing me a little. If it hadn’t been for Jimmy and the love Albert had for him, the twins wouldn’t exist, so it is a fitting name.’
Aye. Though I’ll never breathe a word as to where Albert really is, I’ll allus pray as he has found Jimmy and that they’re mates, wherever they are.’
‘I am sure they are, Ada. And thank you for your promise. I hope I haven’t burdened you by telling you the truth. But it really must never get out. I have sworn that Albert left me and went on his way.’
It was with a much lighter heart that Edith left Ada than when she came to meet her. It wasn’t just that there seemed, at last, to be a solution to how she could be with her twins. But, in Ada, Edith felt she had found a true and lasting friend.
23
Edith
London and France, July 1917
A journey of hope, eternal despair
Anxiety dogged Edith. It came out in her irritation. ‘Oh, just pack what you think, but remember, it will be very hot in Nice!’
Denise, who had been her mother’s maid, had flapped around, asking this and that question until it had driven Edith to distraction. Never one to have a maid, thinking it an unnecessary luxury when she could very well do things for herself, Edith had felt compelled to keep Denise employed. Mother would have expected that of her. Father had paid the woman a retainer until her future could be decided, or in the hope that she would find other employment, but the latter hadn’t happened, and now Edith felt stuck with her.
‘Sorry, Miss Edith. I am just unused to what you need. I knew exactly what your—’
‘Yes, yes. All right. Look, I’m the one to apologize. Forgive me. I’m being most rude. I trust your judgement, Denise. You have packed many times for Mother’s visits to Nice and have got it just right. I will leave it to you.’
Bobbing a curtsey, Denise left the room.
Thank goodness, now I can concentrate. I must write to Laurent. Why haven’t I had a reply to my last letter? Is he safe? Did he feel disgust at my story? Did I do the right thing in telling him the truth about my babies’? She was full of questions and uncertainty.
Taking her pen and ink, she began to write:
Dear Laurent,
I hope this, my second letter, finds you safe. I will not say I am well, for how can anyone be well in the circumstances in which we find ourselves? And I have worried about you ever since I heard the news about the failed Nivelle offensive, in the Second Battle of Aisne. I have wondered if you were part of that. However, I continue to hold hope in my heart. I believe I would know if anything had happened to you.
It seems strange that such a short encounter between us could bind me to you as it has done. I pray that telling you the truth about my circumstances has not meant that you no longer wish to know me.
In my other life, I would not ha
ve been writing this letter, or have a memory of a kiss that changed me forever. But these are not normal times, and we must allow our hearts to lead us. I hope yours leads you to me . . .
Continuing to tell him of her plans, and giving him Marianne’s address, Edith finished the letter with the endearment:
My darling . . . Can I call you that? I know I am being most forward in doing so, but that is what you are to me. I am forever yours, Edith x
She blotted the page with her roller ink-blotter. A silly notion came to her. She would sprinkle the letter with her perfume. Laurent had no idea what her normal scent was. The day she met him, she must have had the smell of sweat and even vomit on her. A shudder went through her, as her intended journey that day came back to her. But then she allowed thoughts of Laurent to take her senses, as the memory of him holding her and the touch of his lips on hers came to her. Oh God! Please let him be safe!
In the six weeks since her conversation with Ada she’d made a great deal of progress in setting up her charity. She’d established an account in the name of ‘Jimmy’s Hope House’ and had made Eloise a trustee, along with Jay. She knew she could trust them to oversee the setting up of the home. Jay had even donated enough money for her to purchase a building, a disused warehouse in Hancock Street, Kensington.
Plans had been drawn up for its conversion and subject to their permission being granted – which was just a matter of rubber-stamping them as her uncle had used their standing to push them through – the purchase would be completed. Builders had already been engaged – again, Lord Mellor had seen to this – and were ready to move once the plans were approved.
In the meantime Eloise, despite being busy with her own charity, was finding time to work on engaging some old-school nannies to care for the children who would be housed in the home. And Jay had taken on the task of finding the right furniture and was doing a sterling job, choosing from catalogues and then showing his choices to Edith who, so far, had loved every one and had placed orders for their delivery on a date to be decided. Edith, meanwhile, had set about finding the equipment she would need for the clinic that was to be an integral part of the home.
All that remained was to find the children and young mothers who needed such a facility. She had thought about placing a discreet advertisement saying something along the lines of ‘Are you alone and expecting a child?’ or ‘Do you have children and can’t cope, through being made a widow?’ That kind of thing. She’d also thought about dropping leaflets into local doctors’ surgeries, or approaching the local papers about running a story about her home. Somehow she would get it off the ground.
Ada was working hard, learning about aspects of childcare so that she could command the respect of the nannies she was to manage. She was rising to the challenge, and the love she held inside her endeared her to the more experienced nannies that she was meeting as they were engaged. Ada had proven, too, that she was up to the admin side of the general management of the home, because already she had worked out the shifts that would be needed and had even put some rosters in place, marking the number of workers she would need on each shift. She’d said she would like the nannies and cleaners and cooks to choose which hours would best suit them. Edith had thought this might cause Ada a few problems when she actually put it into practice, but was willing to give her free rein and allow her to sort it out if it didn’t go to plan.
It all seemed possible now that Jimmy’s Hope House would really and truly come into being. For Edith, too, there was a sense of great relief and excitement about her own children coming to live there.
Descending the stairs, she went to place the letter to Laurent on the tray for posting, but thought better of it. She would enjoy the walk to the post office. A letter addressed to her lay on the platter. It looked official and held the stamp of the Guild of Surgeons. Opening it, she read the phrase ‘Shepherd’s Bush Military Hospital’. As she scanned the words, her heart lifted to see that she had been accepted to work on a part-time basis as a surgeon at the hospital. Built to care for wounded soldiers, Shepherd’s Bush Military Hospital had been largely founded due to the efforts of the noted surgeon Robert Jones, a friend of her father.
It seems everything is falling into place for me. If only I could hear from Laurent. And, even more so, from Petra! But whether she heard from Petra or not, she would call there on her return home and collect her twin girls. Nothing would stop her doing that. Her heart thudded at the prospect of holding them again.
Edith’s return to France shocked her. The peace had gone, and the reality of war was all around her. Now, everywhere she looked, there were gaunt-looking older men and wounded younger ones, plus women and children who looked as though they were on the verge of starvation. Buildings had a tired, uncared-for look about them, as if the life had been drained from them.
‘My beloved France – how she suffers.’
Edith did not say anything to this comment from Marianne. She knew the mutiny of French soldiers after the disastrous Battle of Aisne had greatly affected Marianne and so she did not want to open sore wounds. The French were once again enthusiastically engaged in battle with the Allies at Passchendaele, so the refusal to fight had passed.
Instead, changing the subject, Edith thought this a good time to broach the matter of the length of her stay. ‘Marianne, I hope you won’t think me rude if I only stay for six days, instead of the promised ten?’
‘What? Why is this, ma chère fille? I had hoped to persuade you to stay longer, not to cut short your visit!’
‘I’m sorry, but there is so much to do. I give a great deal of importance to my charity, and if I am not there, then the extra responsibility on Jay and Eloise is too much to ask. Eloise has her own charity to run.’
‘Oh, you girls! You are wonderful. It is no more than I expect of you. I should be doing work to help the war myself. I may well do so, now that travelling through my beloved France has shown me the devastation this war is wreaking on my people. I hadn’t realized. We’re so protected in the South.’
‘So, you won’t mind?’
‘Of course I will mind. But I understand.’
The six days passed at a snail’s pace for Edith. No letter had awaited her arrival, and none came during her time in Nice. Not from anyone. Her worry increased each day. Part of her wanted to go to Laurent’s mother, to try and find out how he was and whether he was still alive. But although he had worked, lived and studied in Paris, his mother lived in Perpignan, which lay towards the border with Spain, at the foot of the Pyrenees – in the opposite direction to where she must travel.
As Edith boarded the train to Bordeaux – a necessary ploy to prevent suspicions arising in Marianne – her heart felt heavy. She had no idea why Petra hadn’t contacted her. Checking with her bank before leaving England had told her that the cheque she had sent to Petra and Aleksi had been cashed. So why had there been no word. Why?
Changing trains en route, Edith boarded one for Paris. Once there, she would stay the night before finding a suitable mode of transport to take her the thirty miles or so to the farm, which lay in the remote countryside of the Chaumont-en-Vexin area. The remoteness of the farm also made her journey difficult; it was only accessible by horse-driven vehicle or car, or on foot. No train went within miles of it. If she couldn’t hire someone to take her, then she would have to buy a car, if that was possible. What if she got lost? If only Petra had answered her letters; through contact with them, she could have told them of her plans and Aleksi would have come to pick her up in Paris.
Letting her head flop back and shifting her bottom, which had become stiff like a rock, she allowed her eyes to close. It would take another four hours to get to Paris. Her bones ached with the strain of the journey, and her stomach churned over and over with trepidation. Please don’t let anything have happened to my babies . . . please!
The night in Paris was a restless one. After a welcome and delicious dinner, during which Edith had seen that, as a lone woman, she
was the subject of much speculation among the other guests, she had taken a bath and tried to relax. But her thoughts and fears had given her no peace.
Now, having risen at seven, she had breakfasted in her room – a plush, overbearing suite, with its dull beige walls a backdrop for even duller pictures of Parisian scenes in heavy gold frames. Add to this the purple silk drapes around the bed and adorning the windows, and the overall impression was that of a funeral parlour. Sighing, Edith realized how tired she felt and was unsure of her next move. Crossing over to the window, her feet sank into the over-patterned, thick beige and purple carpet.
Outside the sun shimmered weakly, shrouded in misty, floating clouds. The street below bustled with people, horses, carriages and cars. How strange the contrast in life was. Not two hundred miles away, men fought valiantly, dying in their thousands, to preserve this way of life and save this city from occupation, and yet life went on. As it must for her. What to do next? How am I to get to the farm? Her eyes rested on a cab. Horse-drawn, it would take at least two hours to get her to the farm, but it seemed her only option. It wasn’t a prospect she relished, as much of the terrain was very rough going, and it would mean she would be bruised and sore by the time she reached her destination. Once there, though, Aleksi would hopefully bring her and her children back to Paris, to begin her journey home.
Her mind now made up, she tugged on the bell-cord and instructed the porter who attended her to engage the cab and take her luggage down for her.
At last Edith could see the farm. Her heartbeat quickened, her body shifted to the edge of her seat and, sliding the window down, she peered out. Where were the cows? Had Aleksi not let them out of the barn yet? They were just yards away from the farm now and yet she could not hear the hens. But then would she, over the hooves of the horses?
Reining in the horses, the cab driver looked down at her and asked in bewilderment, ‘Is this the place? I have followed your directions, but it looks deserted. Are you intending to stay here, Madame?’