China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3)

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘Keep pushing, my darling child, keep pushing. Your baby is almost here. Yes, yes!’ Édith shouted. ‘She is here!’ Édith laughed as the tiny premature baby cried at the top of her lungs. ‘Hello, little one,’ Édith cooed. ‘That’s right. You tell the world you have arrived.’ Édith looked at Thérèse and they both laughed at the racket Claire’s baby was making.

  Worn out, Claire sank into the settee. ‘A towel, Thérèse,’ Édith whispered. And when her daughter-in-law passed her a small white hand towel, Édith wrapped the tiny mite in it. Then she laid the child in Claire’s arms. ‘Say hello to your daughter, my darling.’

  Claire looked down and smiled. ‘Hello baby,’ she whispered, and closed her eyes.

  ‘Stay with her, Thérèse. I am going to wash my hands and fetch a blanket. Then,’ she said, ‘You and I have earned a glass of wine.’

  As Édith left the sitting room the doctor arrived. ‘Boil some water, Madame. How many minutes between contractions?’ He took off his coat, threw it across a chair and began rolling up his sleeves.

  ‘The baby is here,’ she said, pouring hot water into the bowl in the sink for the doctor to wash his hands. ‘Use this, I will boil some more.’ The doctor scrubbed his hands and lower arms. ‘My niece is in the sitting room, with my daughter-in-law. If you’d like to go through, I shall bring in the water.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Wish your Aunt Édith a happy Christmas, Baby,’ Claire said, as Édith entered the kitchen. Kissing her daughter on the top of her head, she handed her to Édith. ‘I’ll make the coffee.’

  ‘Hello, beautiful baby. Yes, you are beautiful, aren’t you? Yes you are.... You can’t keep calling her Baby,’ Édith said, rocking the contented child, who suddenly jerked her head towards her. ‘You see, she agrees with her old aunt, don’t you my darling? Yes you do.’

  Claire put the coffee pot on the table and sat down. ‘I wish...’ She looked at her daughter and broke down in tears. ‘I wish Alain was here,’ she sobbed.

  Putting the baby in her Moses basket, Édith held Claire until she had exhausted herself crying. ‘Is Alain alive, Édith? I keep telling myself he is, but if only I knew for certain. If only I knew I would see him again, that he would one day know his daughter. I keep dreaming that he’s… No! I will not say the word,’ Claire said, and sobbed again. Édith held her and rocked her gently. ‘Aimée,’ Claire said suddenly. ‘I shall call her Aimée, after Alain’s sister. And her middle names will be Edwina, after my best friend in England, and Édith, after my wonderful friend and aunt in France.’

  ‘And her aunt will take care of her, and you, until Alain returns. And he will return, you know,’ Édith said, wiping Claire’s face.

  ‘Will he?’ Claire whispered. ‘My head says he is dead, but my heart says he is alive.’ Claire looked pleadingly into Édith’s eyes. ‘I would know, wouldn’t I? Feel it, if he was dead?’ She inhaled deeply and blew out a shuddering breath. ‘I’m sorry for being weak, Édith. I’m just tired.’

  ‘You are not weak, child, you are strong. You have been very strong since Aimée’s birth. Sometimes it can take months for a woman to settle down after she has a baby.’ Édith pushed a stray curl of hair from Claire’s face. ‘At times like Christmas your emotions are bound to be on the surface. I know mine are. But,’ she said, smiling, ‘we must be positive and try to enjoy the holiday. First we enjoy our coffee, yes?’ Claire nodded. ‘Then we prepare the food. André and Thérèse are coming over, Frédéric will be here of course, and you, me, and Aimée.’ Smiling, Claire looked at her sleeping daughter. ‘That’s better,’ Édith said. ‘All will be well, you’ll see.’

  André and Thérèse arrived mid-morning with gifts. ‘They are mostly for Baby,’ Thérèse said, looking in the cradle and cooing.

  Claire went over to her friends and welcomed them. ‘I have decided on a name. Aimée Edwina Édith, meet your Aunt Thérèse and Uncle André,’ Claire said, lifting Aimée out of the basket and handing her to Thérèse.

  ‘What beautiful names. We love the name Aimée, don’t we, André?’

  ‘If you say so, my love,’ André said, looking at Claire and shrugging his shoulders as if to say he had no recollection of having discussed names.

  Édith had said it wasn’t good to keep picking Aimée up, but Claire was not going to stop Thérèse from doing so. She and André had been trying for a baby for as long as they had been married. Thérèse blamed herself for not conceiving, but she couldn’t know. Édith said it would happen when they least expected it, and that it was just a matter of time. Watching Thérèse with Aimée now, Claire knew she’d make a good mother.

  ‘As soon as Aimée has been fed and Frédéric is down, we will go to church. Shout up to your brother, André. Tell him if he isn’t downstairs in five minutes, he will be going to church without any breakfast.’ André left the room, muttering under his breath.

  Taking Aimée from Thérèse, Claire followed André. ‘I’ll take Aimée up and feed her.’

  ‘I’ll bring you up a cup of coffee, shall I, Claire?’

  ‘No, I won’t drink coffee while I’m feeding her.’ Thérèse looked disappointed. ‘But come up and keep me company. Aimée isn’t much of a conversationalist yet.’

  When she’d had enough to eat, Aimée fell asleep. Claire laid her on a towel and Thérèse changed her nappy, while Claire dressed in a warm woollen skirt and thick jumper. Sitting at the dressing table mirror, Claire watched how loving and gentle her friend was with Aimée and hoped with all her heart that she would have a child of her own soon. ‘I’m going down. See you two in a minute,’ she said, putting out Aimée’s clothes and leaving Thérèse to dress her.

  When Frédéric came down, the Belland family left for church. The two brothers, tall and handsome in their best winter coats and trilby hats, led the way. Thérèse followed, pushing Aimée, who was hidden beneath warm blankets, in the pram she had bought in preparation for when she had her own child. Claire and Édith, arm in arm, trailed behind.

  Walking to church after a recent snowfall reminded Claire of Foxden. She breathed the cold winter air. ‘The last Christmas I was home it was just like this,’ she said to Édith. ‘Snow for as far as you could see.’

  ‘Have you written to your family lately?’

  ‘Yes, I wrote to my oldest sister. I also wrote to my friend in the WAAF. I enclosed a letter for my parents and asked her to post it on to them, so it would have an English postmark. My parents can’t know I’m here, but if I didn’t get in touch at this time of year they would worry.’

  ‘Did you tell your sister about Aimée?’

  ‘No. Do you think I should have?’

  ‘No. I just wondered.’

  The two women walked the rest of the way to the church in silence. The sound of the organ playing a slow and rather sad tune, and the scents of musky spice and vanilla, met them as they entered. The church was full except for the pew at the front, where the Belland family sat. Édith stopped to speak to one of her neighbours and ended up sitting nearest the aisle and the pram. Claire was next to her and Thérèse sat between her husband and her brother-in-law.

  The priest walked down the aisle swinging the incense bowl, and when he’d lit the altar candles the service began. Kneeling in a Catholic church with her French family, Claire prayed for their safety and for the safety of her brave comrades of the Resistance. She prayed too for her parents, her friend Eddie in the WAAF, her brother Tom in the Army, and her sisters Bess, Margaret and Ena. And she prayed for Mitch. She prayed that he would come home to her and his daughter. She looked along the pew. Édith was rocking the pram gently.

  When the service ended, Claire took the pram and joined the worshippers standing in line to thank the priest. When it came to her turn, she put out her hand to shake his, and he said, ‘When will you be having your child christened?’

  Shocked, Claire replied, ‘When my husband comes home.’

  ‘I look forward to that day, Madame,’ he sa
id, shaking Claire’s hand. Bending over and smiling at Aimée, he said, ‘God bless you my child.’

  ‘That was nice of Father Albert to offer to christen Aimée,’ Thérèse said, ‘especially as he doesn’t really know you.’

  ‘I’ve been to a few services where he has officiated,’ Claire said.

  ‘Of course.’ Thérèse rested her hand on the handle of the pram and walked at Claire’s side. ‘And you met him at mother-in-law’s house when he came to tell us that poor Monique was dead.’ Claire looked at Édith. She hadn’t told André and Thérèse how Monique had died, or that it was Claire and Alain who had found her. That was a secret shared only by Édith, Father Albert and herself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Claire unpacked the shopping and put it in the larder. Leaving a tin of baby milk and a small bottle with a rubber teat on the table, she made coffee. Pleased that she had found the baby formula she sat down, sipped her coffee, and read the back of the tin. Baby’s first formula, six to twelve months, and instructions on how to make it. She took the teat from the bottle and rinsed it under the tap. Then she filled the kettle, put it on the cooker and lit the gas. As soon as it boiled, Claire poured the water into Édith’s white jug and while it cooled she went into the yard to get the washing in.

  The garments that were dry she folded and took into the laundry room. She checked the water again. It was cooler, so she spooned two teaspoons of the formula into the bottle, added the water, and after shaking the bottle, tested it on her wrist. It felt like the correct temperature.

  ‘Hey… Baby,’ she said to Aimée, who had woken and was kicking her legs contentedly. She lifted Aimée out of the pram and, sitting on the wooden bench by the back door, teased her with the warm teat on the bottle. Aimée’s mouth opened, but before Claire had time to place the teat between her lips she closed her mouth and turned her head away. Claire lowered the bottle. ‘If you don’t like it, darling, you don’t have to drink it,’ she said, and unbuttoned her blouse. She offered Aimée her breast, but as she did to the bottle, she turned away. ‘Not hungry?’ She put Aimée back into her pram and buttoned her blouse. Rocking the pram with her foot, she picked up the bottle of formula and put it to her own lips. It was sweet, a bit thick and powdery-tasting, but it had all the goodness required. Aimée began a grizzly hungry cry, so Claire took her from her pram and put the bottle to her lips again. She sucked and pulled a face. Then she closed her eyes and sucked contentedly. By the time the bottle was empty, Aimée was almost asleep. ‘Good girl,’ Claire said, lifting her daughter and putting her over her shoulder. She rubbed Aimée’s back until she was winded, and then put her down for her afternoon nap in the warm June sunshine.

  Édith entered the yard and went straight over to Aimée. ‘So you are home from your walk, my lovely,’ she cooed to the sleeping child. ‘It is a beautiful day, but too hot for your aunt.’ She turned the pram a little so the sun was not directly on it. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Jacques said more men were taken from German headquarters to Périgueux prison today. He didn’t know if Alain was among them.’ Claire shook her head. ‘His friend who works there is trying to find out, but as always I don’t expect he’ll come up with anything.’

  Édith touched Claire affectionately on the shoulder. ‘I must take off these shoes,’ she said, entering the kitchen.

  ‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ Claire called after her.

  ‘What is this?’ Édith returned almost immediately holding the baby formula at arm’s length.

  Claire knew Édith wouldn’t approve. ‘I thought I’d try her on it in case I was ever held up somewhere. Then you could give her a feed. I mean, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind.’ She clicked her tongue, looked into the pram, and cooed again the way doting aunts do.

  ‘This message is to go to London as soon as possible, Jacques.’ Claire gave the wireless operator the hand-written message.

  ‘Hot dogs in abundance. Uncle Sam looking for his children. Might hitch a lift. But need seaside togs and papers. Any news of The French Can? China Blue,’ Jacques read. ‘At this time of day I expect a reply. If you would like to wait?’ he said, showing Claire into his sitting room. Ten minutes later Jacques joined her. ‘It is done. And the reply,’ he said, ‘Paris is nice at this time of year.’

  ‘Thank you, Jacques. London has given me permission to go to Paris.’ Claire put her arms round the flamboyant man, who when they first met she had not trusted, and hugged him to her.

  ‘You are welcome,’ he said, when Claire released him.

  Claire had grown fond of Jacques. His jubilant personality and extravagant clothes, a cover for the heartbreak he felt over the loss of his wife, was as much a part of him now as his fedora and umbrella.

  Claire left Jacques at seven and strolled along the avenue. It was a sultry evening, a perfect evening for lovers. She began to walk faster. God willing she would one day, in the not too distant future, see her lover again. But now it was her daughter that she longed to see.

  As she entered the yard and approached the kitchen, Claire heard Aimée laughing. She put her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. It was a joy to hear her daughter happy. When she left that morning Aimée was grizzling. Her cheeks were bright red. She’d made a fist of her small hand and was trying to put it in her mouth. Édith said she was teething and had rubbed something on her gums to soothe them. It had obviously worked; it appeared to be working still.

  ‘Hello?’ Claire called, opening the door. Entering the kitchen she saw Aimée, held safely in Édith’s strong hands, sitting astride a wooden rocking horse. When she saw her mother the little girl squealed.

  ‘Just in time for dinner,’ Édith said. Claire put her hands out to lift Aimée from the horse, but the little girl held on to the horse’s mane and kicked out, making the horse quiver beneath her small frame. Édith and Claire laughed, and Aimée squealed again. ‘I may have made a mistake borrowing the horse,’ Édith said. ‘Put your hands over your ears. I don’t think this little miss will be happy when I lift her off.’ With a swoop, she took Aimée in her arms and swung her round. Aimée began to wail and Édith began to sing. Claire moved the rocking horse into the passage and by the time Édith had stopped singing, Aimée had stopped crying. A few minutes later, Aimée rubbed her eyes with the back of her small hands and reached for her mother. Claire bounced her sleepy daughter on her knee while Édith filled two large bowls and one small one with stew. When they were sitting with their food in front of them, Édith added a cold potato that she had taken from the stew earlier. She chopped it up into small pieces and mashed it into Aimée’s meal.

  Claire fed her daughter while her own food cooled. At first Aimée ate greedily, wanting another spoonful as soon as she had swallowed the first. Then she turned her head away and yawned. Claire wiped gravy from her mouth and chin, lifted her up, and held her against her chest. Supporting the sleepy child with her left hand, Claire ate her supper with her right. By the time she’d finished, Aimée was asleep. ‘I’ll take her up,’ she said.

  When she returned, Édith had cleared the kitchen and was in the sitting room listening to the wireless. ‘You look worried, Claire. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve asked England to send my WAAF uniform and papers.’ Édith’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘The Americans and Canadians are setting up a task force to investigate prisoner of war camps and prisons. With Périgueux being in Paris, I’m going to ask them if they’ll help me find Alain. Before I approach them, I need my papers and permission from my commanding officer. I’m not technically in the WAAF now, so she’ll have to send them to London, and they’ll add them to the next drop. But,’ Claire said, ‘I can only go to Paris if you’ll look after Aimée?’

  ‘Of course, but--’

  ‘And perhaps Frédéric would bring the papers to me when they come?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Claire spent the morning waiting for Frédéric, watching for
him to arrive from behind the broken shutters of Antoinette Marron’s front windows. She smiled, remembering the look of astonishment on Frédéric’s face when he put his arms round her and realised she was having a baby. Because he was the first in the Belland family to find out she was pregnant he was very protective of her – of Aimée too. He doted on her almost as much as his mother did. Claire sighed. She had never missed anyone, with the exception of Alain, as much as she missed her daughter. She promised herself that when she found him she would never let him, or Aimée, out of her sight again.

  She looked along the street. Frédéric was nowhere to be seen. If she didn’t have her WAAF papers by Sunday night she would have to cancel the meeting with the US-Canadian task force. She paced the floor. The Americans weren’t as particular, but the Canadians were sticklers for protocol. They wouldn’t let her go with them to look for Mitch without the correct military documents, because she wouldn’t be protected by the Geneva Convention.

  ‘You’re restless, Claire,’ Antoinette said, joining her.

  ‘I think I’ll take a walk to the post office,’ Claire said. ‘There might be a message for me.’

  ‘You must do what you think best, but if there has been a change to the scheduled drop they would have let you know.’

  ‘You’re right, of course, but I need to be sure.’ Claire went to the hall and put on her jacket. ‘Do you need anything while I’m out?’ Antoinette shook her head. ‘Then I shall see you in an hour.’

  Antoinette followed Claire to the front door. ‘Be careful,’ she said, opening it and scanning the street. ‘What a lovely day. It is more like mid-summer than late spring,’ she said, to give herself time to study the empty houses opposite before letting Claire pass. ‘See you later, my dear.’