The Germans were then attacking violently in the Champagne area east of Paris, and General Rommel had reached the Seine south of Rouen-but this time, the bridges were blown up under his nose. Le Bourget aerodrome was repeatedly bombed, and Tours was full of rumours that the Government were leaving for the chвteaux of the Loire. 'I hope the chвteaux are on the telephone,' said Elizabeth morosely. But General Weygand was full of confidence. 'My orders are still for every man to fight without thought of retreat,' he declared. 'The enemy will soon reach the end of his tether. We are on the last lap. Tenez.'_
On the Sunday morning, the Germans were in Soissons, 75 miles from Paris. We decided to go, mould or not. We would make for St Nazaire, Cherbourg being uncomfortably near the battle. The Germans already had their hands on Dieppe. Incredibly, I had sailed into it with perfect safety only a fortnight before. We shared the feeling of everyone else in France-when Hitler's finger-tips brush the nape of your neck, you jump from the nearest window.
We went to the hotel in a last speculative, unconfident chance of catching Lamartine. 'Para,' snapped the porter in the striped waistcoat. When Elizabeth asked where, he swore at her and said 'Inconnu'. As he turned to defend himself against newcomers imploring accommodation, Elizabeth calmly reached across for the key of number 35.
The room was a mess, and smelt of shaving soap, face powder and feet. There were newspapers everywhere, full ashtrays, an empty cognac bottle. Strands of Madame Chalmar's blonde hair decorated the pillow of an unmade double bed. Our search revealed a forgotten jar of Coty's face cream and a 25 centime piece with a hole in the middle, which I still have.
'I suppose they've bolted for Marseilles,' said Elizabeth, as we stared at one another dourly.
'We'll have to follow them.'
'We'd never find them.'
'We could ask at the shipping offices.'
'Really, Jim! They're not booking a Mediterranean cruise.'
I noticed a scrap of paper on the floor by the commode, which bore on its cracked marble top the ancient, decorative telephone in its spindly cradle. Pencilled in writing which I recognized as Lamartine's was _Bordeaux 45-444._
'Of course, the number could be one of his relatives, or another doctor or another girl-friend,' I suggested. 'But surely it's worth ringing, just to find out?'
'We'll have to go a little carefully, darling, with everyone utterly hysterical about spies. And even in peacetime, the telephone system was not one of the glories of France.'
We tried telephoning Bordeaux from the Perronets'. There was a six hour delay. 'I think we should go to Bordeaux,' decided Elizabeth after listening to the news bulletin on the TSF. 'The further we are from the front, the better our chance of getting home all in one piece.'
Our Bordeaux call came through. Madame at the other end announced herself to Elizabeth as the Hotel d'Avignon. Elizabeth asked for Lamartine. No, the doctor and his wife had not yet arrived. Elizabeth slammed the telephone back on its stand triumphantly. We decided to start early the following morning, a 200-mile drive without headlights along a Route Nationale Ten choked with traffic daunting even Elizabeth.
During our next day's crawling passage past garages chalked _Pas d'Essence,_ Mussolini announced from his usual perch in the Palazzo Venezia in Rome that Italy had declared war against the plutocratic and reactionary democracies of the West. And the French Government announced it was leaving Paris for Tours. At midnight, Monsieur Reynard and General de Gaulle were sharing the same car to quit Paris by the Porte de Chвtillon. On their heels came several million of their fellow Parisians. Elizabeth and I were somewhere between Poitiers and Angoulкme, a hundred miles from Bordeaux, and the car had broken down.
We pushed the car on the verge between the poplars, with a press of cars, lorries, carts, bicycles and walkers in the darkness on the cobbles behind us. The torrent which burst from Paris forced trickles along every country road in France, even those reserved as strategic highways by the Army. We decided to spend the night in the back, huddled under Elizabeth's khaki greatcoat. She discovered a month-old Times, and insisted on doing the crossword in the light of a torch.
About seven in the morning an Army lorry came hooting importantly upon us. Elizabeth leapt into the road. A pretty girl in a British uniform was sufficient to bring any military driver to a halt. Our only possessions in our pockets, we were dumped at Angoulкme station. There were still trains to Bordeaux, all arriving crammed from Paris. 'Then we shall have to travel on the buffers,' said Elizabeth, and I was not confident that she was joking.
We climbed on the train about one in the morning of Wednesday, June 11, jammed rigid in an unlit corridor. The engine puffed away from the station purposefully enough, but soon halted with screeching brakes in the black countryside. 'I do so want to leave the room,' complained Elizabeth. I thought of Lamartine, cosily in bed with Madame Chalmar.
We crossed the river Dordogne about six in the morning, and were shortly tipped relievedly into the Bordeaux railway terminus against the banks of the Garonne. Elizabeth and I had been almost isolated from news for two days, though the train was crawling with unpleasant rumours like a beleaguered trench with lice. We heard that the Germans had already smashed into Paris-which was untrue, for a couple of days. And that Mr Churchill was in France-he was, flown to Briare on the River Loire escorted by a squadron of Hurricanes, to tell the French Government at the Chвteau de Muguet firmly, even fiercely, that the RAF stayed on its airfields behind British coasts.
Lamartine's Hotel d'Avignon was between the famous Esplanade des Quinconces, leading down to the river, and the Jardin Public. It was much like the hotel he had fled. We arrived there about half past eight. The woman in black behind the reception desk telephoned my name, said D'accord' into the instrument, and told us to go up.
Lamartine was fully dressed, waiting in the open doorway of his bedroom. With a short bow, he invited us inside. It was larger than his last, with coffee-coloured wallpaper and a big brass bed. Madame Chalmar was sitting in the only chair, upright, attired as if about to grace some fashionable social function.
'Would you mind sitting on the bed?' invited Lamartine, lighting a Weekend. 'There would appear to be nowhere else.'
'Why didn't you give me that penicillin mould at Tours?' I demanded. I was angry, though biochemists are peaceable beings and I have the most placid of temperaments, for which my wife continually expresses gratitude.
'I would not seem very respectful of your intelligence, Mr Elgar, if I did not tell you bluntly that I have no intention of giving what you want.'
Madame Chalmar sat looking closely at her scarlet nails.
'You are going to give me that penicillin!' I was surprised to hear myself shouting.
'Mr Elgar, I must ask you to take a more compassionate view. My situation has changed since I talked to you last Wednesday in Tours. The situation of France has changed. Then, I was pretty certain that Brigitte and I had a clear run to Algiers. Mussolini coming into the war rather upset the…what do you upset in English, Shaw used it in a play?'
'Apple cart,' said Elizabeth.
'Exactly. So I shall stay here, with the famous mould. Mr Elgar, you would not leave me defenceless against the Gestapo? That's not very amiable of you.'
Elizabeth broke in, 'We know you're mixed up with the Croix de Feu. You can hardly wait until the Germans appear to give them your loot. They'll probably pin a medal on you.'
'I hope that mademoiselle is being more fanciful than offensive.'
This remark incited me to grab him by the lapels. 'Give me that penicillin.'
'Take away your hands! This is no way to treat a colleague-'
I shook him. I had never been so furious with anyone in my life before, apart from Elizabeth's mother. 'Merde…'He snatched himself away. Madame Chalmar gave a scream, quickly choked. Lamartine produced from his armpit a small black automatic pistol, pointing it alternately at Elizabeth and myself.
'That is certainly no _way _to treat a colleag
ue,' I told him.
I was frightened. The experience accepted without undue consternation in films and television is in reality utterly demoralizing. It was horrifying to feel my life within a twitch of Lamartine's finger.
'Keep away from me,' he said, his voice shaky.
'I should not have expected a professional man to carry firearms,' I returned, somewhat primly.
'These are abnormal times.'
'Jim, stay where you are, don't do anything, don't move,' came Elizabeth's voice.
My brain resumed functioning. 'You don't seem to think highly of your own neck, Lamartine. If you shoot us, you'll be arrested by the nearest gendarme. You'd be guillotined.'
'The Germans will be here long before the necessary legal processes could be completed.'
'The Germans would hardly encourage Frenchmen to be murderers.'
'You may safely leave the Germans to me, Mr Elgar.' He was still pointing the pistol. It struck me that he was in fact a German spy, or at least in their pay. Then to my relief he tucked the gun back in its holster. 'I have made my point, I believe? You see that I am prepared to use bullets to protect my possessions. Now will you please leave us in peace.'
I looked at Elizabeth. She was white, but seemed as composed as usual. 'I shall tell this tale when I'm back in London,' I said to Lamartine. 'The war can't go on for ever. You'll have some very nasty questions to answer at the end of it, take my word for that.'
_'Je m'en fiche de cela.'_ He stubbed out his Weekend and opened the packet for another.
'If you have second thoughts, you can get hold of me through the British consul. If you give me back the mould, I'll keep quiet about what's happened in this room. I promise that.'
'It is a great disadvantage of you English that unlike we French you can never see when you are beaten. You are simply not realists.'
He struck a match. Madame Chalmar still sat staring in fright, finger-tips to lips. Hand in hand, Elizabeth and I escaped.
'Darling, you were utterly wonderful, you handled him perfectly,' she said.
'He's not dangerous, he's only frightened,' I said modestly. 'Everyone's frightened, just look round you.'
We decided to make straight for the British consulate. Bordeaux was full of rootless people, as Paris had been the week before. The streets were jammed with newly arrived cars, in which the occupants had no choice but to sleep and live. The cafйs were all crammed, the food shops all sold out. The consulate lobby was full of British civilians in the same plight as ourselves. The weather had become oppressive, and everyone strained to curb their temper. There was no official in sight, but from the conversation the chances of a boat home were slim.
We spent an hour leaning against the wall holding hands, discussing the chances of being locked in the same cell with Lamartine and Madame Chalmar. Then a voice came unexpectedly, 'I say-Elizabeth Tiplady.'
I turned to find a young pink-faced man with the zig-zag braid of a Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve lieutenant.
'Why, it's Hugo,' she exclaimed.
'The uniform suits you.'
'How sweet.'
'What on earth are you doing in France?'
'I was posted to the British Hospital in Paris.'
'Really? That must have been no end of fun until the balloon went up.'
'Yes, it was, awfully.'
'Then why have you come to Bordeaux?'
'I'm trying to get home.'
'But what about your unit?'
'I seem rather to have lost it. Do you suppose I'm a deserter?' He laughed.
'I say, old thing, can you do anything about a ship?' Elizabeth asked. Under the shiny, forged steel of this conversation, which might have occurred in Gunter's tea room in Mayfair, I could detect her nervousness.
'Well, I'm in a destroyer which is sailing tonight. I expect I could get you aboard her.'
'Oh, super.'
'How's Sir Edward?'
'He seems very well. Jim, this is Hugo Mottram. Don't you remember? I was going out with him when you wanted to take me to the theatre. Hugo, this is Jim Elgar, who's coming to England with me.'
'Sorry, Elizabeth. The Navy can't transport civilians.'
'Don't be ridiculous, Hugo. You can't fuss over red tape with the Germans likely to come round the corner any minute.'
'King's Regulations are hardly red tape.'
'Anyway, Jim isn't a civilian. He's a chemist on vital war work, and we're engaged to be married.'
Hugo stared hard at my crumpled styleless clothes, my grubby semi-stiff collar, my dusty shoes and grimy, stubbly face. I still had my umbrella, which had become tattered. 'I'm so pleased,' Hugo said limply.
'Did you mean that?' I asked, as he disappeared amid the crowd.
'Do you suppose I'd say anything as serious as that on the spur of the moment? Over this past fortnight, I've simply assumed it to be the case.' I leant to kiss her. 'Darling, please! I'm in uniform.'
Shortly afterwards, one of the consular staff appeared to announce that we should both be taken off that night, and advised us to stay in the building for further orders. Our relief at this news rendered a day sustained by cups of tea and four squares of Motoring Chocolate perfectly tolerable.
I was too tired and uncomfortable to express elation at Elizabeth's admission. I was dejected at leaving France, like the British Army, in frustration and defeat. But I was overwhelmingly comforted at the prospect of the pair of us reaching English soil, the U-boats and Luftwaffe permitting. About four in the afternoon, I was amazed to see Madame Chalmar appear, carrying a bulky foolscap envelope. Elizabeth translated for me excitedly. 'She says the doctor is neither a fascist nor a traitor, just very stupid in the practical affairs of life. He should never have acquired a revolver, he's never fired one in his life. He doesn't even know how to reload it.'
I did not believe this, but asked quickly, 'She's got the penicillin?'
From her large handbag, Madame Chalmar produced the flask I had last seen in Florey's room at Oxford. I noticed at once that the mould was still alive. The Germans could simply have seeded out fragments, and grown as much as they liked. 'How awfully uninteresting it looks,' said Elizabeth in disappointment.
We all shook hands. Madame Chalmar said as she left, _'Enchantйe, monsieur,'_ as though breaking up a party.
'How did she manage to get it out of him?' I asked Elizabeth, looking at the flask unbelievingly.
'She said she shamed him into it. I always thought she wore the trousers in that mйnage. Lamartine is a weak character, isn't he? Utterly puny, you could tell that by all his lies when he'd no intention whatever of giving you the stuff back.'
'Even so, she was forcing him to disgorge something which might have saved both their lives.'
'Surely, darling, you know that women who suffer terrible _crises de nerfs_ over trivialities can be absolutely indomitable over fundamentals?'
I took Florey's papers outside and burnt them on the pavement. The passers-by took no notice. People were up to all manner of odd things in Bordeaux during those few days. I was desperate to destroy the mould completely, as quickly as possible, and without trace. When I got back to the consulate, Elizabeth was pink faced and swallowing hard, her khaki handkerchief to her lips. 'I've eaten it,' she announced. 'Like a good spy with a secret message. The broth stuff and all. It tasted utterly horrible. You said it was quite harmless, darling, didn't you?'
Our passage of 500 miles was stretched by detours into two and a half days. The weather broke for the first time since the sun warmed the armour of Hitler's tanks as it rose on the morning of May 10. Behind us in France, Prime Minister Paul Reynaud implored President Roosevelt to declare war on Hitler. But without success. So he resigned in favour of Marshal Pйtain. We disembarked in Plymouth on the Sunday afternoon of June 16. We went to a big hotel for tea, sitting among the plants with elderly couples impassively reading their Sunday papers while eating fingers of buttered toast and cress sandwiches and complaining about the shortage of sugar.
About seven-thirty the following morning, we stood under the clock at Paddington Station in London, suddenly shocked that we should be torn from one another.
'You do mean it?' I asked her timorously once again.
'You don't surely imagine I should have abandoned myself like that in France, if I hadn't already decided to marry you?' She said this in a hurt voice. 'I told you, Jim darling, I'm sйrieuse.' She promised to come to Oxford as soon as she could. 'Though I shall probably get into the most frightful hot water about losing that car.'
The red buses traversed Piccadilly Circus with an air of elephantine security, policemen as stolid as suet puddings in uniform halted them for the march of men in bowlers armed with umbrellas. The cinemas were opening for the afternoon performance and St James's church was advertising its next Sunday's preacher. The evening papers announced that the French were suing for an armistice. A French delegation was escorted by General Kurt von Tippelskirch to the clearing in the Forest of Compiиgne where Foch had dictated his terms in November 1918. They found Hitler sitting in the same railway coach, shifted by German Army engineers to the same position on the rusty tracks. Such petty details made the Nazis so frightening, like sending Domagk's letter for posting in Wuppertal.
28
I did not see my fiancйe for a month. I reconciled myself that separations are the saddest undertones of war. Then Elizabeth wrote from her transport depot near Norwich that she was bored to death, and would be coming to Oxford on the Saturday of July 20 by the midday train. It was awfully tedious, but she couldn't spend the night.
The German jackboots which had trampled over France now seemed likely to crunch upon English shingle. But the Luftwaffe which had smashed or scared from the sky the air forces of six nations, and paralysed European statesmen for five years, was for the first time tasting a well-mounted and well-directed adversary in the Spitfires and Hurricanes which Churchill had refused the dying prayers of the French. I was working day and night developing murderous germs to spatter any invading Nazis, who themselves seemed the most pernicious bacilli on earth. The technical details were exasperating. You can turn loose wild germs as you can turn loose a wild dog, but you cannot guarantee they will bite only the right persons.
THE INVISIBLE VICTORY Page 22