China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘You are right. I shall go and find him.’ Before he got to the wood, Pierre turned back. ‘You are an attractive woman, Claire. I overheard the men talking. They have great respect for you, but some are young and--’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can look after myself.’

  ‘I noticed.’ Claire could see relief on Pierre’s face. ‘I admit that, as angry as I was with Frédéric, I didn’t know what I was going to do without him. I will speak to him immediately. I don’t expect he’ll have left yet anyway. He’ll have invented a dozen excuses for what he did by the time we get back to the safe house. Are you coming?’

  ‘Give me a minute. I’ll catch you up.’ When she was sure Pierre would not return, Claire crossed her arms protectively over her stomach. She looked down. Until now she had managed to hide her expanding waistline. Not for much longer, she thought, tucking her shirt into the waistband of her trousers. The belt she used to use to hold up her trousers had been in her kitbag for more than a month.

  ‘Frédéric has something to say to you, Claire,’ Pierre said, as she stepped out of the wood and into the clearing. ‘I’ll see you at the house.’

  ‘Thank you for talking Pierre into keeping me in the group,’ Frédéric said when they were on their own. ‘After frightening you like that I don’t deserve your kindness.’

  ‘It wasn’t kindness, Frédéric. The group needs you.’ Frédéric looked down. ‘I’m sure the whole thing at the river was a misunderstanding. I will forget it, if you do, okay?’

  ‘Okay. I will not say anything,’ he said, looking at her stomach.

  ‘You won’t have to say anything if you keep looking at me like that, Frédéric. Forget what you saw and concentrate on what you have to do tonight. We are all relying on you. Come on,’ she said, walking towards the safe house. Frédéric limped along beside her.

  ‘Food, Claire? Frédéric?’ Pierre’s wife, Yvette, said when they arrived. ‘Sit down and eat.’

  Claire sat between two of her comrades and watched Yvette dish up a watery stew that had small chunks of rabbit in it, but was mostly vegetables. The lads tucked in and Claire followed. She didn’t want the food, but she didn’t want to give anyone reason to wonder why she wasn’t eating either. She joined in the discussion on tonight’s sortie and tomorrow’s. She thought about what Pierre had said to Frédéric. He was not a liability, but she might be. She wasn’t able to move as quickly, let alone run, which wasn’t fair on the rest of the group. Nor was it fair on the baby she was carrying. Suddenly the baby kicked and she put her hand on her stomach. She smiled inwardly, and wanted to laugh. She wanted to tell everyone that she and Alain had made something beautiful. Instead, she caressed her tummy beneath the table.

  She had grown too big for her single cot at the safe house, and wasn’t able to sleep, so she volunteered to do another watch, two hours on and two hours off. She looked around the table. She loved the people she was sharing the meal with. They were like family. She trusted them with her life, and they trusted her with theirs. With that thought foremost in her mind, Claire decided to tell Pierre she would be leaving the group at the end of the week. Tomorrow would be soon enough. For now she was part of this amazingly brave Resistance group and, although she felt like curling up in her comfortable bed at Édith’s house in Gisoir, she sat and ate and laughed with her comrades.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘Claire? Welcome home, my dear.’ Édith Belland, her face lighting up with surprise, jumped up and dashed across the room. ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, leading Claire to the table and pulling out a chair. ‘Sit down, you look exhausted.’ Édith helped Claire out of her coat and hung it up. ‘Is Frédéric with you, or André?’

  ‘Here, Mother,’ André called from the kitchen door. Édith turned, ran to her son and put her arms round him. He picked her up and swung her around.

  ‘Put me down!’ Édith giggled like a young girl. ‘Stop now. I’m dizzy as if on a merry-go-round.’ André put his mother down and held her until she got her balance. Still laughing, she pulled her pinafore down and patted her hair. ‘Where is Frédéric?’

  ‘He sends his love. He and Pierre have stayed to take some telephone lines down.’ Claire saw disappointment in Édith’s eyes.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll make coffee.’ She put her hands to her face. ‘I don’t have any hot food for you. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, so I didn’t cook. There is cheese and cold meat, and bread.’ Édith dropped onto the chair next to Claire and began to weep.

  ‘Mama, don’t cry. Frédéric will be here tomorrow, the next day at the latest. Come on now.’

  ‘I know. I’m being silly. I have been worried, imagining all sorts of things, here on my own. I want my children home and safe,’ she said, squeezing André’s hand and then Claire’s.

  Holding onto the table, Claire pulled herself up. ‘I’ll pour the coffee.’ She reached up and took cups from the dresser, before going over to the range.

  ‘Not for me, Claire. I want to see Thérèse. I have missed my wife,’ André laughed. Édith tutted shyly and shook her head. ‘See you tomorrow, Mama,’ he said, kissing his mother. ‘You too, Claire. Sleep well in your comfortable warm bed.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Claire said, bringing the coffee pot to the table and taking her seat.

  While Claire drank her coffee, Édith went to the larder, returning with the promised cold fare. ‘You must be ravenous, child. When did you last eat?’ she asked, placing the food on the table.

  ‘At lunchtime. We sat and ate together – all of us – before going our separate ways. The others are meeting back at the safe house in three days. Frédéric reckons that’s how long it will take the Germans to replace the tracks we sabotaged with tracks from the sidings.’

  Édith sat down. ‘Eat, child.’

  Claire helped herself to bread and cheese, and Édith forked a slice of white meat – chicken or pork, Claire couldn’t tell, nor did she care – onto her plate. ‘Thank you, I am hungry,’ she said, tucking into her supper.

  Édith poured them both another cup of coffee, sat down and nibbled at a small piece of cheese. ‘You said the others are meeting at the safe house in three days. Does that mean you won’t be going back?’

  ‘Not for a while.’ Claire looked at Édith for a long minute. Finally she plucked up the courage to say, ‘I am expecting a baby.’

  Édith’s face lit up. ‘I know!’

  ‘How? Has Frédéric written to you? I told him not to tell anyone.’

  ‘Frédéric? No. He may sometimes speak before he thinks, but he is an honourable boy. If you tell him a secret, he will keep it.’

  Claire laughed. ‘I didn’t tell him, exactly. He grabbed me from behind when I was at the river. He put his arm round my waist – well, where my waist used to be. It was a joke, to surprise me, and it did.’ Claire decided not to tell Édith that she had pulled a gun on her son. They carried on eating. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Since you came back from Paris.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I hoped you would tell me. I was worried when you went with André and Frédéric to work with Pierre Ruban’s group. But I told myself you are a strong woman and you would not risk your life, or the lives of the men and women you were working with.’

  ‘I think Pierre guessed. He gave me safe jobs, made sure I was always close to base. In the last couple of weeks I took over from Yvette as housekeeper. I complained that I was bored once and he said someone had to do it and it was my turn. But I knew he was looking after me. I’d have told him if I thought for a second I was putting anyone in danger. I don’t run as fast these days.’

  ‘Did Alain know?’

  ‘No.’ Claire caressed Alain’s unborn child, and yawned.

  ‘I know what you need,’ Édith said, leaping out of her chair. She opened the walk-in cupboard next to the scullery and disappeared inside. A few seconds later she appeared again, dragging the bath into the room. ‘A lon
g soak and to bed.’ She placed the bath in the middle of the room and went over to the sink. She filled two large saucepans with water, placing one on the hook above the fire and the other in the oven. While the water boiled Édith took the clothes horse and opened it up, draping old curtains round it, for privacy. When the water in the saucepan above the fire began to boil she took it from the hook and poured it into the bath. She did the same with the saucepan in the oven. ‘It’s too hot,’ she said, dipping her hand in it. ‘It needs a little cold water.’ She filled the empty saucepan with cold water, poured some in and tested it again. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Thank you, Édith,’ Claire said. ‘Oh!’ she gasped.

  ‘Is everything all right, child?’ Édith asked, rushing to Claire’s side.

  ‘Yes, fine. I think I have a footballer in my tummy.’

  Édith laughed. ‘Thank goodness! I thought something was wrong.’

  ‘Oh, and again.’ Claire took Édith’s hand and placed it palm down on the right side of her stomach, below her bellybutton. ‘There. Did you feel it, Édith? Did you feel my baby kick?’

  Édith looked at Claire with tears in her eyes. ‘Yes, child, I felt your baby. It is the most beautiful thing in the world.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ Claire put her arms round Édith and cried tears of happiness and exhaustion.

  ‘Come on now,’ Édith said, wiping Claire’s face with her pinafore. ‘The bath water is the right temperature. If you don’t bathe soon, I shall have to start boiling pans again.’

  Claire began to undress. She took off her ill-fitting shirt and trousers, socks and underwear and stepped into the bath. Édith picked up her clothes and took them to the scullery. ‘We will wash these tomorrow.’

  ‘There’s no rush. I’m not going back until after the baby is born.’ Claire heard a pause in Édith’s footsteps.

  ‘I will wrap a hot brick in clean rags and put it into your bed. Shall I bring your night clothes when I come down?’

  ‘Yes please. Bring my pyjama jacket and my dressing gown, I don’t think I’ll get into my nightdress. Don’t be too long, you may have to help me out of here,’ Claire said, laughing. Leaning her head on the back of the bath she closed her eyes. ‘Mmmmmm, this is lovely.’

  André and Thérèse arrived after breakfast. Thérèse ran in to greet Claire. She threw her arms around her when she stood up from behind the table – and jumped back. ‘Oh,’ she said, looking down at Claire’s stomach, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  ‘This is becoming a habit,’ Claire laughed. ‘Yes, I am expecting and no, Alain doesn’t know, I’m pleased to say. He will have enough on his mind without worrying about us.’ Claire smiled. It felt good to talk openly about the baby. ‘Come on, Thérèse, let’s go into town and I’ll tell you all about it. Well not quite all,’ she laughed.

  ‘Have a pastry, if there are any,’ André said, handing Thérèse some money.

  ‘Wait! I would like you to wear this,’ Édith said, taking off her wedding ring.

  ‘Are you ashamed of me, Édith? Of my baby and my love for Alain?’

  ‘No, my darling, of course not! It is in case you are stopped by the Germans. If you’re not wearing a wedding ring it will be a reason for them to treat you with disrespect.’

  ‘But it’s the ring your husband gave you--’

  ‘No. It is not. The ring Henri put on my finger the day we were married is next to my bed. It became too tight and dug into my finger, so I had it cut off. This is a cheap replica. It was only ever meant to be temporary, until I had my wedding band repaired, but somehow I didn’t get round to it. I shall now. We shall take it to the jeweller next time we go into town together.’

  ‘Thank you, I will take care of it,’ Claire said, allowing Édith to slip the ring onto her wedding finger. She held her hand at arm’s length. ‘One day,’ she said, ‘when I find Alain, I shall have one just like this.’ Thérèse and Claire kissed Édith and André goodbye and trooped out of the back door giggling.

  Trips into Gisoir had become a weekly treat. The centre was still overrun by officers of the Wehrmacht and Waffen SS who lounged about barking orders for drinks and food in every café, bar, and hotel in town. With autumn having rapidly turned into winter the weather had become inclement, and tables on the pavements of the cafés were vacated for those inside, making it impossible for Thérèse and Claire to find a seat in their favourite café.

  ‘Let’s go home, it’s packed in there,’ Thérèse said, peering through the window of Café La Ronde.

  ‘I would, if I could, but I don’t think I can take another step until I’ve been to the toilet.’ Claire took a deep breath. ‘I can’t wait, Thérèse,’ she said, pushing open the café’s door and waddling between the tables to the back of the room.

  Thérèse followed at the same pace, apologising as she snaked her way past one officer coming towards from the left, and another from the right. ‘Are you all right, Claire?’ Thérèse asked from outside the toilet door.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry,’ Claire said, coming out a couple of minutes later, ‘but my back aches and my feet are killing me. I need to sit down.’ She looked round the café. ‘Not one vacant table,’ she tutted. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

  They took the walk home slowly and by the time they arrived, the pain in Claire’s back had eased. ‘Phew! Thank goodness for that,’ she said, ‘we’re home. I need to go to the toilet again. You go in. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘Claire? It’s Édith, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, apart from not making it to the lavatory in time.’

  ‘Can you open the door, dear?’

  Claire struggled from the seat and pushed back the bolt. Édith entered and when she saw the puddle of water on the floor, she shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry about the mess, Édith. I’ll mop it up when I get out of here.’

  ‘It is not important. Can you walk?’

  ‘I think so.’ As Claire shuffled out of the toilet, Édith shouted for Thérèse. ‘I didn’t make it,’ Claire said to her friend.

  ‘Thérèse, can you take Claire’s other arm? I think the baby is coming.’

  ‘It can’t come yet, it’s too soon. It’s only November. It is only eight months since Alain and I--’

  Édith laughed. ‘Babies come when they are ready; they do not count the months. Your waters have broken. That means the baby is on the way.’ Between them, Édith and Thérèse managed to get Claire into the kitchen.

  ‘But nothing is ready-- Argh! What the--? Argh!’ Claire shouted again. ‘What the hell?’ She lunged forward and, breathing heavily, gripped the table.

  Édith and Thérèse, either side of her, waited. When the pains had subsided Édith said, ‘Can you walk?’ Panting, Claire nodded. ‘Then I suggest we go into the front room.’

  Thérèse and Édith pulled gently on Claire’s arms and she allowed them to lead her. In the sitting room Claire fell to her knees and buried her head in the cushion on the settee. ‘Whoever said giving birth was beautiful is a bloody liar,’ she said, lifting her head. It’s the most-- Argh!’

  Kneeling beside Claire, Thérèse and Édith supported her by her elbows. ‘Claire, will you let us help you onto the settee? I think you should lie down,’ Édith said. Claire nodded. ‘Thérèse? One two three, and up.’ Claire stood, but doubled over. ‘Now gently turn round. And sit down,’ she said, when Claire had her back to the settee. ‘Good girl. Now lean back. That’s it. A little further until you are lying down. Good. Go and put the kettle on, Thérèse, and while it boils fetch some towels from the chest in my bedroom.’ Thérèse left and Édith wiped Claire’s face with a tea towel that was tucked into the top of her pinafore. ‘There. Does that feel better?’

  ‘No!’ Claire spat. ‘It feels bloody awful. What the hell is happening?’ She cried out at the top of her lungs. Thérèse came rushing in with a damp cloth. ‘André is here. He is watching the kettle. He won’t come in, but asks if there is anything he c
an do.’

  ‘Yes, tell him to fetch the doctor. And tell him to hurry. If André gets there before surgery finishes, the doctor should still be sober.’ Édith looked at the clock on the mantle shelf. ‘Tell André to tell the doctor that Claire’s contractions are coming every ten minutes. Tell him it is urgent, and he must come as soon as possible.’ Claire lifted her head, called out again, and Édith dabbed her forehead with the damp cloth. ‘And Thérèse?’ Édith shouted. ‘When the kettle boils fill the white bowl. It’s under a sterilised cloth in the pantry. And fetch those damn towels.’ Édith wiped Claire’s forehead again and she fell back onto the settee.

  ‘Argh! You must be mad to have gone through this twice, Édith. Never, never, never, again. Argh!’

  ‘Claire, put your knees up,’ Édith said, trying to lift Claire’s legs.

  ‘No!’ Claire panted. ‘Where the hell’s that doctor?’ Thérèse came in with the bowl of boiling water, put it on the table, and then ran upstairs for the towels. On her return she dropped the towels onto the armchair and knelt beside Claire. Between them, Édith and Thérèse took off Claire’s underwear and lifted her knees. Then, while Thérèse held Claire’s hand, Édith went to the bottom of the settee. ‘The baby is coming, Claire. Breathe slowly. In and out, in and out – now push!’

  Claire pushed and screamed and pushed again. ‘Only push once, Claire. Breathe again for me. In and out – and now, push!’ Claire growled and pushed with all her strength. ‘I can see the baby’s head,’ Édith cried. Claire collapsed exhausted. ‘Don’t stop, Claire, you must breathe. Again now, in and out, and… push! Push, Claire. Just a little more.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m too bloody tired,’ Claire shouted, closing her eyes.

  ‘No! Don’t close your eyes. Your baby is almost here. I can see its head. You mustn’t stop now. Thérèse, talk to her while I see what’s going on.’ Édith opened Claire’s legs wider. ‘Claire? Listen to me. One more push and your child will be here. Come on now, Claire,’ Édith said, sternly. ‘Breathe and push!’ Claire pushed as hard as she was able. Her face was distorted and crimson, her hair soaked in sweat, and she grunted and screamed.