Sarah was startled and turned quickly. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Jane! You made me jump!" She laughed. "What did you say?"
"I said I'd give a penny for your thoughts."
"Oh." Sarah looked down at the ring upon her finger. "Well, if you must know, I was just saying goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Jane frowned. "I don't understand. There's no-one here."
“Yes, there is.” Sarah tapped her chest. “Here in my heart. I’ve decided to stop dwelling on what might have been, and face the future." She took off the ring, and as she saw it laying in the palm of her hand her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I won't wear his ring anymore. It’s a constant reminder of what might have been. I’m sure Joe wouldn’t want me to waste my life living in a dream.”
Jane reached out to embrace her friend. "Oh, Sarah. I know how hard this must be for you, but you're doing the right thing."
Sarah pulled away and nodded. "I know. But it isn't going to be easy."
"You'd be surprised!" Jane laughed. "I've seen the way some of our patients look at you. Now that you don’t wear his ring anymore, I’m sure the men will come flocking!”
Sarah laughed. "Really, Jane! I didn't mean that and you know it!" Her face resumed its serious expression. "Seriously though, I'm not ready to fall in love again. Especially with the uncertainty of war. I couldn't bear to fall in love again, only to lose that man like I lost Joe."
"Do you wish you’d never loved Joe?”
"Of course not! How could you... Oh, I see what you mean. If I loved and lost again, it would be better than not loving at all."
Jane nodded. "Something like that." She sighed. "I often think I'll never fall in love."
"Don't be ridiculous! You've had more boyfriends than I've had hot dinners!"
"But I've never been in love." Jane chuckled. "Still, I can keep looking! Which reminds me, there's a dance on in Marlborough tonight. Do you want to come with me?"
Sarah looked at Joe’s ring once more. "No. I don't think so."
"Come on, Sarah. I may be looking for the man of my dreams, but that doesn't mean you have to! Just come along and enjoy yourself."
Sarah thought for a moment then nodded emphatically, closing her fist around Joe’s ring in a strangely final gesture.
"All right. I will!"
It felt strange to Sarah to be walking into a room full of men and women laughing and dancing, and so obviously having a good time. She had not been to a dance since Joe’s death. She had hardly left the grounds of Heronfield in all those lonely months, and though she was grateful for the peace and healing of that place, she now realised how close she had come to burying herself there, to allowing her work to become her whole life. Watching the couples dancing, she was aware of what a waste that would have been. Jane turned towards her friend, and was cheered by the smile which lit her face.
"Glad you came?"
Sarah nodded.
"Come on, let's find a seat."
They edged their way around the dance floor to a vacant table in the corner, but had barely seated themselves before two young airmen came to join them.
“Hello, Jane. Who’s you’re new friend?”
Jane smiled up at the two.
"Graham, Nick, I'd like you to meet Sarah Porter. We work together at Heronfield."
The two young men grinned. "Pleased to meet you,” they chorused
Sarah found their grins infectious and smiled in return.
"Hello."
Nick took Jane by the hand and led her out onto the dance floor. Graham watched them go, then turned to Sarah.
"Would you like to dance?"
She nodded and followed him onto the floor. She had forgotten how good it felt to be in the arms of a man, moving to the rhythm of the music.
"Are you new at Heronfield? Only I've never seen you before. I would certainly remember you if I had."
Sarah shook her head. "No. I've been there since the hospital opened eighteen months ago."
"Eighteen months! Then where have you been hiding yourself?"
"Oh, I've been busy."
"You should never be too busy to go out and enjoy yourself. Come on."
Graham began to swing her energetically around the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer, and Sarah began to enjoy herself, but after four dances she pulled away from his arms, laughing breathlessly.
"Enough! Please, I must sit down!"
Graham laughed too, and led her towards the table where Jane and Nick were already sitting. As the breathless couple sank into their seats, Nick indicated the glasses on the table.
"I got some drinks for you."
They reached gratefully for the glasses and murmured their thanks. Sarah turned to Jane, her face glowing.
"No wonder you find it hard to get up in the mornings if you dance like this all night!"
Jane smiled warmly at her friend. "Enjoying yourself?"
The nod was superfluous, the shining eyes and smiling face said it all.
Sarah danced more that evening than she had done since the outbreak of war, sometimes with Nick, but mostly with Graham who seemed fascinated by her. While she was dancing with Nick, Graham took the opportunity to move closer to Jane.
"Who is she, Jane? And why has she never been here with you before?"
"I'm sure she's told you who she is. She's been here once or twice, though not for the last six or seven months."
"Why not?"
"Hasn't she told you?"
Graham shook his head, and Jane gazed thoughtfully at her friend on the dance floor before making a decision.
"It's no secret I suppose, but don't let her know I've told you. She's not looking for sympathy."
"Sympathy?" Graham was intrigued.
"Yes. Her fiancé was killed in a bombing raid earlier this year. She’s only now coming to terms with it. This is her first time out.”
Graham looked at Sarah and Nick enjoying themselves on the dance floor.
"Poor girl. But she seems to be over it now."
"Don't let her fool you." Jane's face was serious. "She's decided that she must get out and about again, but she's not looking for another relationship yet."
"Maybe I can make her change her mind."
The music stopped, and the dancers began to make their way back to the table.
"Don't be too hasty Graham,” Jane warned with a whisper. “And don’t you dare hurt her, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Graham turned to her in surprise. "I've never seen you so serious Jane. You’re that concerned for her?”
Jane nodded. "Just be careful."
Nick reached the table, and took Jane’s hand with a welcoming smile.
"It's time for the last dance. Come on."
Jane shot a warning look at Graham as she rose and left the table, then she turned away from the other couple as her whole attention was centred on her partner.
Graham smiled at his companion. "Can you manage the last dance?"
Sarah nodded and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor, where Graham held her closely for the last waltz.
"I've enjoyed this evening."
"Me too." Sarah nodded.
"Can I see you again?"
"Maybe."
"How about tomorrow?"
Sarah pulled away slightly so that she could see his face. He looked eager, almost too eager, and she shook her head.
"I don't think so, Graham. I've had a lovely evening but that’s all there is to it. Maybe we can spend the evening together if we meet here again, but I won’t make any promises. I’m sorry.”
Graham smiled and pulled her close once more. "That's all right, I'm used to girls saying no. But you can't blame a man for trying can you?"
64
Jean-Paul watched Tony’s body twisting silently in the air as he fell, only to be halted by the rocks below with a sickening crunch. Through the horror he also felt a deep admirati
on for the man who had not cried out as he fell. It would have been so easy to shout out in pain and fear, but that would have alerted the Germans and Jean-Paul realised that Tony put the safety of his colleagues and the destruction of the base before everything else, even his own life. He had heard his final words to Charles urging them to escape, but Jean-Paul knew that he could not leave Tony at the base of the cliff. Not only was he a brave man and the leader of their group, he was also the grandson of Madame de Thierry and his family had served hers faithfully for generations. There was no way he could leave the young man down there at the mercy of the Germans.
"Charles." Jean-Paul's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Come up. I’ll go down to Albert."
Charles looked up from his position six feet down the cliff face.
"No Jean-Paul. I’ll go down. I’ll tie the second rope around him and you can pull him up."
"Won't that compound his injuries?"
Charles glanced up at Claude. "Possibly. But what else can we do? Leave him to the Germans, or to be blown up by our own explosives? I must go."
Claude nodded and watched as the younger man descended the cliff. He moved cautiously down until his feet touched the cold wet ledge, then quickly crossed to kneel beside the inert Tony. For a moment he feared the young man might be dead, but as he leant closer he saw the gentle movement of his chest. Tony’s left leg was tucked underneath him at an unnatural angle, and Charles assumed that it was broken. There was also a deep gash above his left eyebrow which was bleeding freely. The young Frenchman had no time to check for other injuries as he bandaged the gash and straightened the leg, praying that he would not injure Tony further. He was glad the Englishman was unconscious. The task of raising him up the cliff face would be painful. Charles took the ends of the rope and tied them securely around Tony’s body, just beneath his arms. He tugged the rope to signal that he was ready, and the two men on the cliff top began to haul on the rope. Charles supported Tony as the slack was taken up and he was raised up the first few feet of the cliff face. Another tug signalled Jean-Paul and Claude to wait, and Tony hung, swinging gently, his head on his chest and his limbs hanging loosely. Charles climbed a few feet up the cliff and tied the other rope around himself so it was too short to reach the ground, that way he could trust it to save him if he fell while trying to get Tony to the top of the cliff. When he was ready, he signalled his two friends and the slow ascent began.
Jean-Paul and Claude hauled away on the two ropes while Charles braced himself, using his body as a buffer between Tony and the rock face. His feet slipped frequently on the wet stone, but he somehow managed to keep going, trusting to Jean-Paul who took up the slack and kept him from falling. It was hard, tiring work, but eventually the two men were at the top of the cliff. Charles scrambled up onto the grass before helping his two colleagues to pull Tony up behind him.
For a moment they rested, then Jean-Paul spoke. "Is he still alive?"
Charles nodded. "Yes. But I don't know how bad his injuries are. What do we do now?"
"We get him down to a deserted fishing hut I know of, some five miles down the coast. Then we will have time to think about what to do next. How long until the first explosion?"
Charles looked at his watch.
"A little over thirty minutes. We’ll have to move quickly if we’re to be clear of the area by then."
The three men rose and lifted Tony between them, before moving off into the trees. The half-mile from the edge of the cliffs to where Madeleine was waiting seemed endless. It was so dark they could hardly see where to put their feet. They were careful not to jolt Tony too much, grateful that he was still unconscious for they had to move as swiftly as possible and knew that their movements were likely to be aggravating his injuries. Twenty minutes had passed before they saw the black shadow of the car amongst the trees, and thankfully placed him on the rear seat.
"What happened?" Madeleine’s face was white in the darkness as she looked at the unconscious man.
"No time to explain." Jean-Paul climbed in beside her, Charles and Claude close behind him. "Drive out onto the road and head north."
Madeleine complied, and the engine roared into life. Slowly she manoeuvred the car through the trees and out onto the road where she picked up a little speed, though it was impossible to go too fast on the unlit country road without any lights. The road was empty. The curfew kept all civilians in during the night and they knew that if they met anyone at all it would be a German patrol. Their nerves were on edge as they drove into the dark of the night. There were only moments to go until all the Germans in the vicinity would be aware of their night’s work. Time seemed to drag by as Madeleine made the best speed she could. They had covered only four miles when an explosion rent the night. Jean-Paul looked back over his shoulder to see a brilliant flash light the sky followed almost immediately by another explosion. He smiled grimly.
"Whatever else happens, it looks as though you and Albert planted your explosives well."
"That was all Albert’s work, Jean-Paul.” Charles’ face was grim. “He’ll be glad to know that the submarine pens are destroyed when he wakes."
Claude looked up from where he was sitting beside Tony, trying to cushion his body against the jolts of their progress.
"If he wakes. His breathing is becoming shallower. I fear he may have internal injuries. We must get help for him. Fast."
Jean-Paul nodded. "I know. Turn here."
He indicated a small track as he spoke, and Madeleine swung into it. It was rough. Even though she took it with care they were jolted from side to side in the vehicle. Jean-Paul looked back at Tony and frowned. The Englishman’s face was pale and blood-stained, looking younger in unconsciousness than he had before, and Jean-Paul realised that this brave man was not quite twenty-four years old.
"Is this it?" Madeleine’s voice brought him round to face the front. He nodded as he saw a small, one-roomed fishing hut loom out of the night.
"Yes. Stop and let Charles and me out here. We’ll take Albert inside and do what we can to help him. You and Claude go to the village a mile further on and bring back Dr. Leclerc. I'm sure he’ll help us. But be careful. The Germans will be out searching for us by now. You may have to leave the car and go on foot."
Madeleine nodded as Jean-Paul climbed down. Charles carefully lifted the heavy weight of the unconscious man, and slid him across the seat until Jean-Paul could get a hold under his arms. Slowly, the two Frenchmen carried Tony to the hut. Claude opened the door and placed sacking over the window, before lighting a small oil lamp which illuminated the interior of the hut. It was small, a bed set against one wall and a small table and chair against the other were the only furnishings. The two men laid their burden down on the bed.
“I’ll go with Madeleine.” Claude turned and left the hut. The door closed behind him, and Jean-Paul turned his attention to Tony.
His face was ashen. Blood was seeping through the rough bandage that Charles had tied on, and was now matting his hair. Charles took a bowl from the table and left the hut, returning a few minutes later with water he had fetched from the stream a few paces from the door. Gently he began to bathe the hair.
"Don't take the bandage off until Leclerc gets here," Jean-Paul cautioned. "The less we do the better. Unless you know more about medicine than me."
Charles shook his head. "No. I'm afraid not." He gazed worriedly at Tony. "All we can do is wait. And pray."
Madeleine drove back along the twisting lane. Away to the south, the sky was lit with the burning of their night’s work. As she imagined the destruction, she smiled grimly. Approaching the junction with the main road, Madeleine cut the car’s engine and listened intently. All was quiet then, just as she was about to restart the engine, a low rumbling reached her ears. Three trucks approached at speed, heading south towards the burning, each truck full of soldiers.
Claude’s face was grim.
"They will soon be searching down this way. Perhaps we should leave the car."
Madeleine shook her head. "No. I'm not a doctor but Albert looks really bad to me. If we don't get the doctor to him quickly, it might be too late." She turned towards the older man. "There’s no point in risking both our lives. You can get out now if you like."
Claude smiled grimly. "And leave you alone with my car? No, I think I’ll come with you."
Madeleine nodded as she turned the key. The engine roared into life. Swinging north onto the coast road, she accelerated away into the dark. It only took minutes to complete the mile to the village. Madeleine left the car hidden in the shadow of a clump of trees, and went on foot to the doctor’s house, closely followed by Claude. They made their way cautiously down the garden path towards the shadowy bulk of the darkened house. When they reached the ivy-covered walls, Madeleine lifted a hand and tapped gently on the window. After a few moments without an answer, she knocked again a little louder. At last footsteps were heard approaching the other side of the door.
"Who’s there?"
"My name is Madeleine, Dr. Leclerc. Jean-Paul Boues sent me. We have an injured man."
The door opened a crack, and the face of a man in his latter years peered out. His gaze darted around the empty night then looked back at the two people who stood outside his door, a frown furrowing his brow.
"An injured man? Where?"
"Before we tell you that, may I ask you something?" Claude spoke in little more than a whisper. "How do you feel about the Germans?"
The doctor’s face was grim.
"The Germans? I hate them, like all true Frenchmen should. Especially since they killed my only son. Why do you ask?"
"Well..." Madeleine began slowly but continued with a rush. "The injured man is an English spy. Tonight we helped him to blow up a submarine base six miles from here. We need to know if we can trust you. And you need to decide if you are willing to risk your life to help."
Leclerc's eyes were wide with astonishment. "An English spy? A submarine base? Of course you can trust me! I'll get my bag."
The doctor disappeared for a moment, then came back buttoning up his coat with one hand and clutching his bag with the other.
Heronfield Page 33