by Karen Abbott
“You’ve distracted me since the day I met you!” Pierre grinned. He turned to Charles. “Didn’t I tell you how wonderful married life is! Now I’m to be a father as well!”
“Congratulations!” Charles said, clasping his brother by his shoulders. “And you, Angèlique!”
Francine wondered why his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. She had felt his glance upon her and had avoided looking at him until his eyes were elsewhere. Something was bothering him. She looked back at Pierre and saw something of the same light there.
Angela also became aware of some tension in the air. She pulled away a little from Pierre’s embrace.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Pierre held her away from him, so that he could look into her eyes as he spoke.
“Our plans are nearly ready,” he said quietly. “We don’t know how things will go and I want you to go back to England where you and our baby will be safe.”
The colour faded from Angela’s face.
“No!” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave you! My place is here with you! Please don’t make me go!”
Pierre gently drew his finger down the side of her face, tracing a line across to her lips before lowering his head and kissing them.
“I must,” he urged. “You know how it’s been, all the suspicions and accusations! I’ve got to prove my loyalty to the cause! I’ll be in the thick of it. I want to know you are safe.”
Angela stepped back, her eyes brimming with tears.
“And I want to know you are safe, too! How do think I’ll feel, miles away across the sea? I want to be here with you!”
Pierre shook his head.
“I’ve made our plans. I’m taking you before the end of the week.”
He turned to face Francine, who was feeling like an intruder as she listened to their entreaties.
“And I want you to go with us, Francine!”
Chapter 11
Francine stared at Pierre in dismay.
She wasn’t totally sure that she agreed with him in saying that Angela must return to England but at least she could understand his reasoning behind it. He wanted his wife and unborn child to be safe …
… but, for herself, she wanted to stay right here!
This was her home.
It was where her parents were being held prisoners.
And, above all of that, it was where Charles was … and where he would be putting himself into danger … and, although she knew that her presence wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference as to whether or not he survived the imminent bid for freedom, she wanted to be near to him, to know what was happening, to be able to pray for his specific safety in specific situations.
Angela had seized upon Pierre’s words and heard only that, although she would be parted from her husband, she wouldn’t be being parted from her friend.
“Oh, yes, Francine! Do say you will! That will make it not quite so unbearable to be leaving Pierre!”
She turned to Pierre, her eyes shining with her love for him.
“I’ll only go if you say I must … but it’s kind of you to think of Francine coming also.”
Francine hated to dispel Angela’s pleasure but, really, she had no choice. Her eyes were sad and she held out both of her hands towards her friend.
“I’m sorry, Angela, but it won’t be possible.”
Charles spoke at the same moment. “That’s impossible, I’m afraid!”
His voice was harsher than Francine’s and carried more weight. The other three all turned towards him, various depths of puzzlement on their faces.
Angela’s simple, “Why?” was drowned out by Pierre’s more voluble, “I don’t see why!” and Francine’s indignant, “And who are you to say what I may or may not do?”
Charles looked thoughtful, as if he were about to reconsider his opinion. His eyes shifted from Francine’s face to Pierre’s and, for once, seemed momentarily indecisive.
Francine had a flash of comprehension. He thought she wanted to take advantage of Angela’s absence to make a move on Pierre! How dare he! That was the last thing on her mind! She turned back to Pierre.
“Maybe you should take Angela, Pierre, and stay in England with her until the war is over. That would end the crazy speculation about you being the collaborator!”
Pierre shook his head.
“No! How could I run away like that! They would think it was because I am guilty! I will take Angèlique to England but I must return as soon as I have her to safety. Only by fighting alongside my brothers-in-arms can I prove my innocence!”
He put his good hand on Angela’s shoulder and looked earnestly into her eyes.
“You do see that, my ‘angel’, don’t you?”
Fighting her tears, Angela nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I know!”
Francine faced Charles, fighting the urge to admit that it was her love for him that bound her to the island.
“And what have you in mind for me?” she asked lightly. “Will I be using the transmitters as liaison?”
“No. We need you out in the salines. Daniel Mann will operate the radio transmitter. You will be part of our sabotage team. There’s a meeting planned between our local leaders and Captain Leclerc’s lot. They’ll thrash out the details and give us our orders.”
He turned to Pierre.
“If you intend to take Angèlique to England yourself, Pierre, and return in time to take part in the action, I suggest you do it at the earliest opportunity.”
A gleam of excitement shone in his eyes.
“It won’t be long, now!”
Pierre studied the tides and, together with a local fisherman who had been at school with him, he planned Angela’s departure for the next moonless night.
Once the date had been settled, the days flew by. Pierre chose the departure point on the unmanned Atlantic coast, where only wooden replica weapons now stood. The weather that night was low cloud and rain. Ideal for their purpose.
Angela tearfully bade Francine goodbye.
“You will be Godmother to our baby, won’t you?” She forced a mischievous grin onto her face. “Maybe you and Charles?”
Francine grimaced. “It will be my greatest pleasure, though I’m not too sure about Charles. Anyway, if this is all over soon, who knows, we might see each other before then!”
They hugged each other tightly and, at last, stood apart.
“Au revoir! And God be with you!”
Francine watched until they were out of sight. At that moment, she felt as though she would never see Angela again and it tore through to her heart. She knew that Charles stood close behind her. She could feel the warmth from his body and she longed to be able to turn into his comforting embrace and hear him whisper words of encouragement to her.
But, that was impossible and so, instead, she turned briskly about, blinking her eyes free of glistening tears.
“We’d better be getting back!” she quipped lightly. “There’s a war on, you know!”
As predicted, people took Pierre’s temporary disappearance to mean that he had slipped away whilst he could, reinforcing the suspicions against him as the likely collaborator.
Extra militia and munitions were landed secretly by night and were distributed by different groups throughout the island. Men and equipment were hidden in barns, cellars and attics… and some were lowered inside some of the many stone-built wells that graced the majority of dwelling places.
The final preparations had begun to end the conquest of the island.
Charles tried to put all thoughts of Francine out of his head. He had too much responsibility in the coming operation to be able to waste a single second on personal matters.
Even so, he couldn’t help returning time and time again to the last time he had seen Francine and Pierre together. There had been no sign of any subterfuge between them. No secret messages flashed between their eyes. No looks of longing.
Could he have been mistaken a
bout them?
If only the dear, darling girl wasn’t so stubborn and independent! He should have swept her off her feet long ago and filled her heart and mind with love for him! Heaven knew he had plenty of it to give to her!
By the end of April, everything was ready. The remaining members of the Resistance who remained at liberty were divided into groups, each under a local leader who was to work in co-operation with an officer from the mainland passing on tactical expertise to add to their local knowledge.
Charles was placed with the group from La Chevalerie, whose mission was to destroy the lines of telecommunications between enemy personnel and to immobilise enemy transport. They had also to put barriers in place at the crossroads to prevent the possibility of any communications being made between enemy forces.
Francine was placed with the group who were to lead militia from the mainland though the salines to join those already on the island. The group from Boyardville was charged with preventing the destruction of the port, which had been mined by the enemy.
Radio contact was established between all the allied groups and the local Resistance and on April 28th each group received their orders to stand by.
Pierre returned and joined the group that Charles was in. Angela was safe in England and was on her way to her parents’ home. There had been delays, he explained, and he had not been allowed to travel with her. She sent her love to them all, he added, and hoped to see them soon.
They had little time to dwell on it. Operation Jupiter was timed to begin on 30th April at the dawn of the day.
Within six hours, all groups had completed their initial tasks of sabotage. All lines of enemy communication had been rendered inoperable and the electricity cables cut, depriving the Germans of power. The crossroads were controlled, the roads blocked by traps. German positions were isolated and they couldn’t communicate with each other. Their orders were no longer passed on. Over the entire island, ambushes were made, small enemy posts were attacked and a number of prisoners taken.
On 1st May, Leclerc met with the group at La Cotiniere and took the battery there and at La Remigeasse. In the afternoon, the group at Boyardville took their town captive. By nightfall, the Germans had capitulated. The island was entirely in the hands of the Resistance.
There had been small skirmishes and many groups had been split up in the fighting—but, now, at last, Ile D’Olèron was free of the yoke of Germany.
Francine hurried back to the St. Clare farm. She knew the battle had been won … but at what personal cost?
No-one was there! Where were they all?
She hurried into the town, running all the way, being hailed by friends and neighbours and sharing in their jubilation … but, inside, her fears were growing. Where was Charles? Where was Pierre? Who else had been in their group? Were they safe? Did anyone know?
The church bells were ringing out the news of the island’s liberation and the noise of vocal celebration in the market square soared over the rooftops and along the streets. It seemed as though everyone who lived in the town was there.
Francine found her parents, dazed and bewildered by their sudden release from the citadel. They hugged and wept and hugged again. One after another, friends and neighbours greeted them, but Francine didn’t want to linger. She was desperate to know that Charles was safe.
With a farewell hug and promise to return as soon as possible, Francine hurried on, pushing her way through the exultant crowds. Where was he?
Fear began to tug at her heart. There had been a few casualties. No-one knew the details yet. A number had been injured; a small handful killed.
Not Charles! Surely, not Charles! She couldn’t bear it!
Some hearts would weep with sorrow this day … but did it have to be hers?
So what if he no longer loved her! As long as he was alive, she could live with that!
Charles! Charles!
She didn’t know if she had called aloud or not … but, suddenly, a tall figure in the midst of a group of men turned towards her.
Her heart leapt within her as she spoke his name and she started forward. For a second, she didn’t know if he were Charles or Pierre and she halted in front of him, her eyes searching anxiously through the grime on his face.
She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Delight lit her face.
“Charles! You’re safe! You made it!”
Charles held out his arms and she ran into them, sobbing into his chest,
“You’re safe! You’re safe!”
Oh, it felt so good! She nestled in to him, her arms around his waist, her head against his chest … feeling his heartbeat … wrapped in his love.
Or was she?
Her breath caught in her throat. She slowly drew herself away and looked at him. His expression was one of uncertainty. She was embarrassing him!
“I’m sorry, Charles,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you’re all right. I … I …”
She couldn’t say any more. She would disgrace herself with more tears if she tried. She turned away, her face burning with shame and disappointment.
“Francine! Wait! There’s something I must say!”
No! He was going to say she’d left it too late! And could she blame him? She simply hadn’t known her own heart until she had met him again … and even then she had stubbornly fought him every step of the way.
She didn’t want to hear what he had to say!
Charles strode after Francine and seized hold of her by her shoulders.
“Will you stand still and listen to me for once in your life!” he shouted at her. “You really are the most exasperating woman I have ever had any dealing with!”
Francine felt a spark of hope flicker within her.
He sounded so angry! He wouldn’t sound like that if he were going to brush her aside, would he? He would do it calmly, quietly, devoid of feeling.
She looked at him silently.
His hair was unkempt, his clothes looked as though they were fit only for the fire, his face was streaked with black oil and his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the fact that he had had no sleep for three days. He looked like an escaped criminal … or a likely patient for a lunatic asylum!
How she loved him!
“Have you had many dealing with women, then?” she asked coolly, raising her eyebrow. She suddenly knew where his anger was coming from … but she didn’t intend to make it easy for him! Not after the heartache he had given her since her return to the island … was it still less than a year ago?
“No! Not many!”
His voice had lost much of its fury … and his expression was almost benign.
“Hardly any,” he amended lamely. “In fact…”
He grasped hold of her shoulders and made her face him squarely.
“… there’s only ever been one woman who has made any impression on me! And she’s the most exasperating woman you could ever hope to meet!”
Francine’s heart leaped with hope.
“Really? And this woman … the only one who has ever made an impression on you … have you ever told her what she means to you?”
Charles’ hands moved from her shoulders to cup around her upturned face.
“Many times ... but not recently! She never stands still long enough for me put my thoughts in order,” he said softly, his lips beginning to twitch into the vestiges of a smile.
“Then, maybe, you should practise right here and now. We could pretend I’m not here … and you could close your eyes and say whatever it is you would like to say to her. It won’t go any further!”
Charles smiled.
“She’s incorrigible, endearing, vexing and delightful. She’s adorable, infuriating, exasperating and enchanting. She argues until I’m fractious and yet has only to flash her eyes at me to make me burn like a ball of fire deep within. It’s like being engulfed by an incurable disease and knowing there will be no respite from it this side of eternity! Have you any suggestions as to how I might capture this exquisite creature and m
ake her my own?”
They were grinning idiotically at each other.
Francine’s heart was racing. She could feel the warmth of his breath upon her lips and she raised herself up onto her toes to be nearer to him. She felt giddy with expectation and fearful of not, in the end, receiving his kisses.
And she couldn’t bear to wait another second!
“I think,” she breathed quietly, “that you should kiss her right now and leave all the talking until later. You might find that she’s already yours … and always has been, although she didn’t realise it!”
For once, Charles did as she suggested.
The End
Historical footnote.
The Oleronais Resistance, consisting of 216 men and women who fought with great discipline, armed only with revolvers and small military guns, achieved the liberty of Ile d’Olèron in less than 48 hours of co-ordinated action. They captured 212 prisoners on 30th April 1945; 69 others on 1 May—and had killed 19 Germans, with a small loss of life and injuries to their own people. Some of these names are mentioned in the story but do not take any main roles. Their names are there in honour to their bravery.
The secret informer was never identified. Suffice it to say, it was neither Pierre nor Charles St. Clare.
General Larminat awarded the Cross of the Legion of Honour to the island’s leaders at St. Pierre on May 20th 1945.
Many stone memorials scattered around the island pay homage to the bravery and dedication of the inhabitants of Ile d’Olèron during its occupation.
About The Author
As a child, Karen (née Mitchell) lived at the Beehive area in between Horwich and Bolton and attended Chorley New Road infant and junior schools (1947-1953) and Rivington and Blackrod Grammar School (1953-1960)—and enjoys attending the annual Old Rivingtonians’ Reunion weekend each October.
An important part of Karen’s life is being a Christian. As well as playing an active part in her local church, Karen is a member of Aglow International, a network of caring Christian women from all denominations of the Christian faith.