by Mary Wood
The woman’s reply, given through Michael, was disappointing. ‘No, that is not possible. We can’t understand what you say, and I don’t want to confuse the children. We will be leaving very soon for Poland. Thank you very much, but no.’
Ada felt as though she had a lead weight in her chest at having let Edith down. She watched the woman walk away. There was nothing she could do. Nothing!
Trying to allay Michael’s concern, she turned to him and said, ‘Well, you win some and you lose some.’ It was a flippant remark that didn’t speak of how she felt at all, or of the determination inside her to get those babies back to Edith. Somehow she would find a way of keeping the Tolenskis here as she felt sure that, once Edith received her letter, she would come home and claim the girls as rightfully hers.
29
Edith
Abbeville, late October 1917
An acceptance of life
‘Edith, we must talk. You’re worn out. Every night for weeks and weeks now you’ve sat by Captain Pevensy. You’re not getting your rest, and I have to tell you that we must now send him to the French Military Hospital in Shaftesbury Avenue, London. It is where we send all our special cases. He is fit to travel and needs more than we can offer.’
Edith knew that what the French matron was saying to her was true. Laurent had made many improvements in the four weeks since he had arrived, even though he remained very ill.
Laurent looked up at her. Still only able to say a few words, he mouthed, ‘I love you.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘I know. I will not abandon you, my darling. I will travel with you.’
His face lit up.
She didn’t feel any concern about leaving; during her long absence the team had taken on new doctors and had reshuffled their responsibilities. It wasn’t that she wasn’t needed, more that she wouldn’t be missed too much, as there was a full team without her.
Seeing a smile on the matron’s face, Edith asked, ‘You understood what we said to each other?’
At the matron’s nod, a little laugh escaped Edith as she voiced her thoughts. ‘You French are amazing. If I had said that in a British hospital, I would be in trouble for fraternizing!’
‘Ah, but we French love lovers. I will leave you a while and go and make the final arrangements.’
Turning back to Laurent, Edith told him, ‘I’m glad this day has arrived. There is something I haven’t told you yet; nor have we broached the subject of my true status when I met you. I only know that you at last received my first letter to you, and you gave me no indication that its contents changed things between us.’
His eyes closed and he shook his head. The gesture told her it didn’t matter to him. When he opened his eyes she read compassion there and felt emboldened to continue. She chose to speak in English, in the hope that the soldiers around them wouldn’t understand, and told him of her pain at finding that the Tolenskis had moved and taken her children.
‘But I have had a letter which gives me hope that they are in England! I don’t know why the Tolenskis have done this, but it is important for me to catch up with them and claim my girls back.’
His attempt at a smile tore at her and made her feel sad. She looked away, determined not to show her distress. Laurent had not yet seen what had happened to his beautiful face. It would be a shock to him, but there was hope it could be repaired; at least she was sure the gaping hole could be covered and, though scarred, wouldn’t look so distressing.
As soon as she arrived in England she would contact her dear friend, Wilfred Young. They had done their basic training together as surgeons, and he had gone on to specialize in plastic surgery. He now worked in Cambridge Military Hospital, where his expertise was used to help disfigured soldiers returning from the war. She knew he would be able to help Laurent.
Saying her goodbyes to Connie, Nancy, Jennifer and Mark had become an emotional affair. All knew that Edith wouldn’t be returning this time. From what they said, they imagined that she intended devoting her life to Laurent. There was nothing for her to deny in this, but part of her wanted to tell these wonderful friends the truth. Not being able to do so left her feeling a little out of the close-knit circle they had formed.
She had, however, told them about her charity, and they had all spoken of a reunion once this bloody war was over. Connie and Nancy thought they might like to work for her charity. ‘That’s if the pay’s right. I’m done with being an angel of mercy. I’m going to line me pockets when I get home and set meself up proper,’ said Connie. Then Nancy had said, ‘Well, I don’t care about money. I just hope there’s a bloke waiting somewhere for me. I’m not for being a spinster. I want a proper life with kids and all of that!’
This had deepened her own feelings of longing: longing for Laurent to get well, longing to be reunited with her little girls and even deeper still, a longing for the day to come when she could marry Laurent and they could adopt the twins and become a proper family, without the scandal of their birth ever getting out.
The ship looked magnificent. A liner, HMS Opulous, had been commandeered as a hospital ship at the beginning of the war and had served well. Her interior still displayed the grandeur of her intended working life, showing the luxury of an age Edith thought would never return.
There had been no objection to Edith travelling with her patient, though settling him in had been taken over by the medical staff, leaving her to wander around the ship and find her cabin. She found that she was sharing with an Irish nurse, a bubbly girl who lifted her spirits. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Doctor. I’m Helen. I’m from Belfast, where it is sure that the girls are all beautiful and the men are as hopeless as the day they were born.’
Laughing out loud, Edith said, ‘Pleased to meet you too. Are you working today?’
‘I am that. I’m on duty in an hour, when we sail. We are doing the first bit in shifts as it is very tiring. The staff who do the reception of the patients need a break as soon as that is done. I’ll be on duty at twelve noon, till we dock in around three hours’ time. We’ll not be far offshore by then.’
‘Well, here’s to a safe crossing.’
Within half an hour Edith was by Laurent’s side again. His face showed the strain of the journey. ‘Try to sleep, darling. It only takes a little under three hours to reach Southampton. Then an ambulance will take you to London. I’ll come to you just as soon as I can.’
The journey had gone without a hitch and Laurent had been made comfortable. It was a wrench to leave him, but Edith had a pressing need: to get to Jimmy’s Hope House and see Ada.
One look at Ada’s face told of bad news. After coming out of her welcome hug, Edith held her at arm’s length and asked, ‘What is it? Has anything happened?’
‘There’s no easy way of telling you, Miss Edith, but they’re gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘Eeh, I don’t knaw. Mrs Tolenski told Michael – he’s a bloke as works for Lady Eloise’s charity and speaks languages – that they were planning to go to Poland. But I reckon, with how things are, they would find that an almost impossible task. I’m sorry. I tried to keep them here. I visited them and tried to make friends with Mrs Tolenski, taking her food parcels and gifts for the babbies, but it didn’t make any difference.’
Edith backed onto the chaise longue in the window and plonked herself down. Her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer, as the shock had ricocheted through her. Looking around the office to which she had summoned Ada, it was as if she was looking for something to anchor her, as her body took the full blow of this news.
‘By, I’m reet sorry, Miss Edith. I wish I had different news to tell. I’ve done all I can to find out sommat about where they’ve gone, but those living in the flats the Tolenskis were staying in are a close-knit bunch and no one would tell me owt.’
‘It’s not your fault, Ada. Oh God, my girls – my babies are gone again.’
‘I don’t knaw how you’re to cope with this, Miss Edith, but I do knaw
as you can. You’re strong, and you have your young man who needs you.’
‘I won’t cope, Ada – not ever. This pain is too deep ever to be reconciled with. I have no one to turn to. I can’t hire an investigator, for fear of the truth coming out. I can’t go looking myself. Why? Why did they do this? They knew my intentions. They knew I would return. Oh God, it is unbearable.’
Ada’s look of worry deepened. She crossed the room. Somehow it didn’t feel as if she was taking liberties as she sat beside Edith and took her hand. They had shared pain before. They were friends.
There was very little comfort in the gesture, but what little there was Edith would hold on to. She would throw herself into this charity and fighting for the rights of women, a cause still close to her heart; but most of all, she would concentrate her efforts on getting Laurent whole again, and their future together. That would bring her happiness. A marred happiness, but happiness all the same.
Ada, when we are alone, drop my formal address. You are very dear to me and we are friends. You must just remember to use it when we are in company.’
‘Ta, Edith. I can think of nothing better than to have you as me friend – well, except me Joe coming home and us getting married, that is.’
‘I know. We are both suffering in different ways, as most people on Earth are.’
Aye, we’re all in same boat. But we have to find a way of going forward towards the future. What kind of future that’ll be, none of us can knaw, but we have to keep going and to maintain hope.’
‘We do, Ada, we do.’
As Ada left her, Edith leaned back and allowed the tears to flow. It was better to shed them now, and then she could compose herself for her visit to Eloise and Jay’s new town house, and then to her own home. It would be good to be surrounded by those who loved her. From them she would draw strength. She would give all that she could to help others, and more especially to help Laurent recover. As Ada said: they must. She would join the march to the uncertain future. She would have Laurent by her side, and Eloise would walk with Jay. Ada would have her Joe. If God was good, Christian and Douglas would come home and pick up their lives, and life would have some normality and happiness to it.
But she knew she wouldn’t take the road forward as a follower of others; that wasn’t her nature and would leave her too much time to dwell. No, she would be more of a worker for change and would work to shape whatever future they were left with after the war ended. She only hoped it would end in the victory that looked likely, now that the Americans had truly arrived and their full might was behind the rest of the Allies.
Ada hesitated as she left the room, but then decided that Edith needed this time to herself. Eeh, that Kaiser bloke has a lot to answer for. But then this war is meant to end all wars, so if that is achieved, sommat good will have come out of it.
Soon her life would change. Lady Eloise had looked into Beryl being moved nearer and that was now likely. So she’d get a chance to rebuild their relationship, and settle Beryl some. She’d devote her spare time to that. It might even, one day, be possible for Brendan to see his mam. She hoped so, as mams shouldn’t be separated from their young ’uns. The anguished cries she could hear coming from Edith, and her own knowledge of the agony it caused, told her that.
One day soon there would be peace and they could all go about the task of rebuilding their lives and those of others. She couldn’t wait for that day, and neither could she wait to see Joe again. She’d take five minutes to fill in another visitor request form. This would be her fourth request since she last saw him. All these requests had been refused, but she wouldn’t give up. None of them could ever do that . . .
30
Petra
Poland, March 1921
Salving a conscience
‘Marcelina, look at them! Our darling girls. How happy they are!’
Elka and Ania, just two days away from their fourth birthdays, ran around the table containing the celebration meal. At last peace had come to Poland and she was once more a recognized country. The Soviets had been defeated, and today – 17th March 1921 – the Second Polish Republic had adopted a constitution based on the French one. The constitution expressly ruled out discrimination on racial or religious grounds. An end to anti-Semitism was in sight.
So many of their friends had been murdered. Often accused of being in league with the Soviets, and on their return to Poland in 1917, Petra and Aleksi had feared for their lives and had regretted their decision to leave London. England had now enjoyed peace for two years, although the Spanish flu pandemic had wreaked havoc on an already weakened nation.
Squeezing Marcelina’s hand, Petra tried to gain comfort and to impart it. They had both been widowed by the pandemic, just under three years ago. Neither they nor the twins had succumbed, although darling Aleksi and Feodor had been nursed, and had died, at home.
Soon afterwards the Russians had become troublesome. Beating the White Russians, the Soviets had wanted to conquer Poland, and so another war had raged.
Feodor’s father had been adamant that he would not leave Poland again, and now they all lived in Warsaw. This decision had left Petra and Marcelina helpless, stranded with two babies and living in fear. But today was a good day. A day to celebrate. A day to remember the past too, and to look back with sadness. But, more importantly, a day to look forward with hope. At last the Jews in Poland were going to be able to live, work and worship without anxiety.
Petra watched as Marcelina played with the children. She could see the light inside Marcelina brightening and her sadness melting away. I did the right thing, thought Petra.
What did it matter that Gos and Miriam, Feodor’s parents, wouldn’t accept the girls, or believe the story that Petra had told them about how they came to be with her. The girls were safe, and her beloved Marcelina had some happiness in her life.
Her thoughts went to Edith as she watched the little red-headed Elka and Ania running away from their mama and their cousins, Jhona and Isaac – Feodor’s brother’s children – who had joined in the game.
What had become of Edith? Had she found new love and forgotten the girls? Petra doubted she’d forgotten them, but did think that, when she remembered, it would be with relief. Her problem had been sorted. She’d probably gone back to her society life a heroine, without a smear on her character. Yes. All in all, I did a good job and brought peace to two women: my beloved daughter, and Edith, whom I have to admit I became very fond of.
She thought about her secret box. Hidden away, it held the true facts and papers pertaining to the children’s real identities. This gave her an inner peace. It secured in her a knowledge that if ever it became necessary to do so, she could reveal the truth about their dual nationality, as their registration here in Poland would perhaps be the saving of them one day – who knew? With this thought, she packed her sometimes troubled conscience into the deep recesses of her mind and went to join in the fun.
31
Ada
London, March 1921
A wedding to remember
‘Oh, Ada, darling, you will look wonderful. Your frock is beautiful. Joe is going to be so proud of you when you walk up the aisle towards him.’
‘Ta, Edith. I only managed to finish me frock last night. I left the hem undone till I was sure Joe was finally coming home. I didn’t want to jeopardize his chances by having everything ready. A bit of superstition, but I thought that if I didn’t leave something undone, I might put a jinx on things – what with his release date having already been put back five times in the last nine months!’
‘Well, he is home now. And Annie has rung and said he is as nervous as a kitten.’
‘I can’t wait to see him. But I thought it best not to, till we meet in the church. When I saw him three weeks ago I told him that the next time would be as I walked up the aisle. Eeh, it were funny posting the banns in the prison chapel. But the prison chaplain said he would duplicate them in his parish church and wed us there.’
&
nbsp; ‘St Anne’s is a lovely church, with its pepperpot spire and majestic pillars. A wonderful place for a wedding. Now, come on, let’s slip your dress on.’
Taking the beautiful turquoise-satin dress by the hem, Edith slipped it carefully over Ada’s hair for her. Then Ada took over. ‘Eeh, I’m not used to being dressed. I can manage.’
They were in a bedroom in Edith’s Holland Park home. Edith had insisted that Ada stay the night before her wedding and went from there to the church.
Ada hadn’t felt out of place, as she visited often, often sitting with Christian when his nurse was off-duty and Edith needed to be working.
Christian had returned home badly wounded. He’d been blown up when the vehicle he was travelling in hit a mine. All the others in the truck had died, but Christian survived. If you could call the almost vegetative state that he was in, and being totally blind, surviving.
The last six months of the war had been terrible. When the war ended it should have been a time for rejoicing, but Edith hadn’t felt that she could. She was still going through so much heartache and torment. Though her elder brother Douglas returned home all in one piece, the shock of what happened to Christian had quickly been followed by the death of their father; and on top of that, poor Edith was coping with the broken Laurent. The love of her life.
Ada had loved Laurent on meeting him. His bravery shone from him. He courageously took on the battle to walk again, and didn’t allow his facial injuries to daunt him. Because of this, everyone accepted him as he was. He and Edith had married as soon as he could stand on his false leg. It had been a quiet affair, but a lovely wedding, and one that had helped to smooth over some of the sadness within Edith.
‘Ada, when I see the light on your hair, like it is now, I think of my girls.’
‘Aye, they had lovely hair.’