Time for Silence Page 10

“I can and I’m going to. He is going to England with me.”

  “And what…when we get there?”

  I felt a twinge of pity for her. She was frightened, and I had rarely seen Annabelinda in that state. I relented a little. I had broken a promise and I was ashamed of myself in a way, and yet, I asked myself, why should I be silent now? Why should she not know who Edouard was? Why should she not shoulder her responsibilities? This helpless child, lying on the bed, looking from one to the other of us, was hers.

  Yet I felt he was mine. She would never give him the love and care he needed.

  Then I relented. She was having that effect on me which she always had. She was wayward Annabelinda and whatever she did could not alter my affection for her.

  I was calmer now. The storm was passing. I must try to do all I could to mend the damage I had done by breaking my promise.

  “Listen, Annabelinda,” I said. “I know what happened, because I found out. I know your grandfather and the Princesse took you away. You went to a clinic in Bergerac; the child was born there. Madame Rochère was in the secret. She wanted no scandals at the school, and she was a strong ally of your grandfather. She knew that Madame Plantain had just lost a child, and it seemed an opportunity too good to miss. There must have been some misgiving about putting Edouard so near the school. However, it all seemed remote enough, and you would be there only for another two years. It appeared to be a satisfactory solution. I suppose it would have been. I discovered so much because I had been visiting the Plantains. Anyway, I was in on the secret. That wouldn’t have mattered. I would have said nothing. Then the war came and changed everything. So I have planned what I shall do. I shall take Edouard home with me. My mother will help me.”

  “You will tell her…”

  “I shall just say that his foster-parents were killed. I had visited them and was fond of him and could not leave him behind. I know it will be all right. He will be like a brother to me and to Charles. I know I can rely on my parents.”

  “Don’t tell them, Lucinda. Promise you won’t tell.”

  “I won’t promise. But I will only tell them if it is necessary to do so.”

  “But…no one must know. It would be awful!”

  “I shall tell no one. I know I burst out with it…but that was to you.”

  “I didn’t know he was my baby.”

  “I was aware of that. The arrangement with the Plantains was between them and your grandfather’s solicitors.”

  “Oh, Lucinda, it’s terrible! And I thought it was all over. What terrible bad luck.”

  I could not help smiling at her. Her secret was disclosed because there was a war. I thought of Jacques Plantain lying dead in the remains of his home, and Madame Plantain’s last thoughts for the welfare of the child she loved. And this, to Annabelinda, was her bad luck.

  Well, she was Annabelinda. She would see every event as it affected her. Perhaps we all did. Perhaps I should not think too badly of Annabelinda.

  I said to her, “What is done is done. We just have to go on from here. Edouard will have a good home with my parents. You know my mother. She will welcome him. I will make her understand that I had to bring him.”

  “And so no one need know,” said Annabelinda. “He will be just a child who lost his parents in an air raid in Belgium. And you brought him home with you because you could not leave a child.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Lucinda. If it ever came out…”

  “It need not,” I assured her.

  “You have always been my best friend. We are fond of each other, in spite of…”

  “Yes, Annabelinda, that’s true. I want to help you. You behaved very foolishly over that young man.”

  “I know.”

  “But it is over now. We have to forget. We shall take the baby home with us. I am sure everything will go smoothly. My parents will raise no objections. I only have to let them see how important Edouard is to me. It will all seem quite plausible because it is wartime. It is going to be all right, Annabelinda.”

  She threw herself into my arms and hugged me. The baby crowed with pleasure, as though he found the scene very amusing.

  I went to him and picked him up. “Look, Annabelinda,” I said. “Isn’t he a little darling?”

  They regarded each other speculatively.

  “Sit down,” I said. She did and I put him on her lap. He studied her with curiosity. Then he began to whimper suddenly; he turned away from her and held out his arms to me.

  Exodus

  IT WAS MID-MORNING OF the next day when Major Merrivale arrived at La Pinière.

  From the moment I saw him my spirits rose; and that was the effect he had on everyone. There was about him a certain rare quality that changed the atmosphere merely by his presence. He had an air of extreme confidence; his manner implied that all was well with his world and he was going to make it so for others.

  In the first place he was tall—a little over six feet. He had brown eyes that sparkled with merriment. His features were not set in a classical mold, but they were well formed and he had a kindly expression. But it was his apparent conviction that all was well with him, and would be with all those around him, that was just what we needed at that time.

  Madame Rochère was clearly extremely relieved, for she had become very worried about our continued stay at La Pinière, as she did not know from one hour to the next how close the Germans were to the school. And that our rescuer should be a man of overwhelming charm who inspired such confidence was a blessing indeed.

  He drove up in an army car—a large vehicle—and came striding into the hall.

  “I’m Merrivale,” he announced. “I believe you are expecting me.”

  We all went very quickly to the hall, for we had been on the alert for his arrival for some time.

  “Yes, yes, we have been waiting for you,” Madame Rochère said. “The girls are ready to leave whenever you wish. I expect you would like a little refreshment before you leave. It shall be prepared at once. I will have the girls brought here.”

  There was no need. Having heard the arrival, we were already there.

  “I’m Lucinda Greenham and this is Annabelinda Denver,” I said.

  He took my hand and smiled at me. I felt a deep pleasure. There was something so completely confident about him that one felt there was now nothing to fear. We should soon be home.

  “I’m sorry for the delay,” he said. “There was congestion all along the route. People are realizing that the enemy is on the way.”

  Annabelinda was smiling at him and he took her hand as he had mine.

  “I’m glad I’m here at last. We’ll have you out of this place very soon. When can you leave?”

  “Madame Printemps will serve a light luncheon,” said Madame Rochère. “Then you can get away. Most of the servants have gone. They are afraid the Germans will come here. They are trying to get over the border.”

  He nodded. “That’s the general idea,” he said.

  Miss Carruthers came into the hall.

  “Oh, Miss Carruthers, this is Major Merrivale,” I said.

  “Ah, yes,” she replied. “How do you do? You have come to take the girls home. I wondered if…” she began, and hesitated. “Well, I have to get home, too. I didn’t feel I could leave while these two were here…and, of course, I wasn’t sure how to get to the coast myself.”

  “You mean you want to come along with us,” said the major, with a smile. “But of course. There’s plenty of room.”

  Miss Carruthers’s face expressed her joy and relief. I could see that he had the same effect on her as he had on the rest of us.

  “Now,” put in Madame Rochère. “You girls have everything ready. Déjeuner will be served now…and then you can leave. Come along into the dining room and we can start.”

  We followed her there. I walked beside the major and said, “I must tell you, there is a baby.”

  He turned and looked at me. He had
a way of raising his eyebrows that was very attractive and somehow made one feel that it would be easy to make him understand.

  “A baby?” he said.

  “The cottages near the school were destroyed by a Zeppelin. The people there—a husband and wife—were killed. They left a baby. I knew them. I used to visit them. I brought the baby here.”

  “And you want to take the child along with you?”

  “I must. I made a solemn promise. It was when she was dying.”

  “I see. And you promised the mother to take care of the child. Do you know how to look after it?”

  “Oh, yes….And you don’t mind…?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think I should be very good at looking after it. But you ladies will see to that, I am sure.”

  I laughed with him. I thought he was wonderful. I turned away to hide my emotion and he took my arm and pressed it.

  Not only was he capable and lighthearted, he had understood at once.

  After the meal—which made me think of the Feast of the Passover—our pieces of baggage were put in the army vehicle, and in a short time we were driving to the border.

  We were very soon in heavy traffic. It seemed as though the entire population of Belgium was eager to get out of the country. It was a pathetic sight to see that lost, bewildered look on the faces of so many. There were vehicles of all sorts, people on bicycles, some with wheelbarrows, some on foot—all with one purpose: to get away before the invading army caught up with them.

  Major Merrivale was in complete command. He sat at the driver’s wheel and Annabelinda had contrived it so that she was in the front beside him. Miss Carruthers and I, with Edouard, sat in the back.

  The major kept up a conversation most of the time. He told us that the British army was already coming into France.

  “It won’t be long before we are driving the Germans back,” he said. “In the meantime, we have to prepare. We were all caught a little on the hop, as the saying goes, while the Germans had been planning this for years. The Kaiser was determined on it. He has been trying to get at us for years…ever since he sent that telegram of congratulations to Kruger at the time of the South African war—and that’s going back a bit. We shall have to teach him a lesson. Are you comfortable at the back?”

  “Oh, yes, thanks,” we both said.

  “And Monsieur Edouard?”

  “He’s happy. He’s finding it all very amusing.”

  “Wise child. That’s the right attitude.”

  “It can’t be very amusing for these people who are leaving their homes,” I said.

  “It will only be temporarily,” he replied. “Soon they will all be going back.”

  “When do you think the Germans will reach Mons, Major?” asked Miss Carruthers.

  “That’s hard to say, but if they keep up their present speed, I’d say in a week or so.”

  “Is it as bad as that?”

  “Oh, it was a foul thing to do…to plunge into a country which has nothing whatever to do with this…just because it is easy to get to the enemy that way. Poor little Belgium…completely without the means to resist. Never mind, we’ll soon make those Germans wish they hadn’t started this.”

  “You are very confident,” I said.

  “I’ve always been like this. Often I’m wrong, but at least I’ve had the pleasure of believing everything will come right…even if it does go the other way. So you see, it’s not such a foolish attitude to take.”

  “I think it is the right attitude,” said Annabelinda, smiling at him.

  He returned the smile. I thought, He is finding her attractive…and for the simple reason that she is.

  “It is a matter of opinion,” put in Miss Carruthers. “It’s like everything in life. There is a good side and a bad side. But the major is right when he says it is good to be optimistic, as long as one is prepared to face the truth when one is proved to be wrong.”

  “Ah,” said the major, “we have a philosopher here. A Sibyl.”

  “Actually,” said Miss Carruthers, “my name is Sybil.”

  The major gave his infectious laugh and we all joined in, Miss Carruthers as heartily as any.

  I thought then, Here we are, in this hazardous situation, in circumstances which are tragic to so many, and yet there are times when we can laugh and, yes, really be happy.

  And we were on our way. I had Edouard with me and there had been no opposition to his coming. Miss Carruthers was different from what she had ever been before. Annabelinda had put that upsetting scene between us right out of her mind.

  And this was all due to Major Merrivale.

  It was evening before we crossed the frontier.

  Major Merrivale told us that his name was Marcus and, as he did not see any reason why we should stand on ceremony, he suggested we should drop the “Major” and address him by his Christian name.

  “This,” he said, “is a very special occasion, is it not? We are going to remember this for a long time. Don’t you agree?”

  We all did wholeheartedly.

  “Now I think that young man at the back will be wondering why he is kept from his slumbers.”

  “Actually,” I replied, “he is deep in them now, so I am sure he is wondering no such thing.”

  “All the same, he ought to be made comfortable for the night. I think we all deserve that, and now that the desire for speed is not so intense, I am going to find an inn where we can stay.”

  “That would be wonderful,” said Annabelinda.

  We all agreed that it would be.

  “There’s a little place near Saint-Amand. We might make for that,” he said.

  “You seem to know the country well,” said Annabelinda.

  “I studied the map and I discussed it with a fellow officer who did know something. There is an inn called Le Cerf. The Stag. Sounds homely, doesn’t it? The sort of place you’d find in the New Forest, say. So we’ll look for that. There will probably be a board outside depicting the creature. If we can’t find that, we’ll soon find something else.”

  There was not so much traffic on the roads now, and I was glad. It was so depressing to see those poor people driven from their homes. I hoped they were all safely over the border by now…and that they would soon be on the way back to their homes.

  We found Le Cerf. It was a fair-sized inn with tables in the gardens surrounding it. There was a somewhat loquacious host who greeted us effusively, largely, I think, because of Marcus Merrivale’s presence. He was a member of the British army and therefore an ally.

  There were three rooms available: One was allotted to the major and one to Miss Carruthers; and Annabelinda and I shared the third with Edouard. We went to them to wash, and agreed to meet in the lounge when we were ready.

  There were two beds in our room, and first I looked after Edouard. Some soup and a creamy pudding were sent up to him. I fed him and prepared him for bed, and soon he was fast asleep.

  Annabelinda in the meantime was washing. She sat before the mirror, studying her face, while I went on dealing with Edouard.

  “This is quite an adventure,” she said contentedly.

  “We can certainly call it that.”

  “We shall soon be home now. I wonder if we shall see Major Merrivale after he has taken us there.”

  “Perhaps he will call. He will know my Uncle Gerald well, I expect.”

  “Of course. It was your Uncle Gerald who gave him the task of bringing us back. It’s rather romantic, isn’t it?” She laughed.

  “Not too loudly, please, Annabelinda. Edouard’s just going off to sleep.”

  “Perhaps I should go down. You could come when you are ready.”

  “All right. I may be some little time. I want to make sure he’s fast asleep. I wouldn’t want him waking up in a strange place and finding himself alone.”

  She went with alacrity.

  She was clearly enjoying the adventure, largely because of Major Merrivale’s presence. And I shared her euphoria. We shoul
d soon be home. I longed to see my parents. My mother would know exactly what was best for Edouard and she would understand my feelings about him immediately. How lucky I was in my parents!

  Then I began to wonder if Major Merrivale would call on us. I felt sure he would.

  I was elated that night. I kept telling myself that it was because we were on our way home and, in Major Merrivale’s care, must soon be there.

  There was a gentle tap on the door. I called, “Come in,” and Miss Carruthers entered. It was strange to think of her as Sybil.

  “I thought I’d come along and see how you were managing with the baby.”

  I pointed to Edouard. “He has just had some soup and pudding and he’s asleep now. I think he is reasonably pleased with life.”

  Miss Carruthers went over to look at him. “Poor little mite,” she said.

  “I intend that he shall be a lucky and happy little mite.”

  “You’re a good girl, Lucinda,” she said. I was surprised. I had not expected such a compliment from her. But everything was different today. It had something to do with Major Merrivale. He was having an effect on us all.

  “What a charming man the major is,” she went on. “He makes no trouble of anything. He just inspires one with confidence.”

  I agreed, and as we went down to the lounge, I said, “I shall come up again soon just to make sure Edouard is all right. I don’t know how this has affected him. I’m glad he isn’t any older. Then I feel he would have been most upset.”

  “Oh, he is too young to know what is happening. I think he is very fond of you, and while you are around he will feel safe.”

  “He will surely miss Madame Plantain.”

  “Yes. He’ll miss his mother. My dear Lucinda, you have taken on a great deal, you know.”

  “My mother will help me. She is wonderful and she will know exactly what to do.”

  “I hope I shall meet her.”

  “But of course you must. Have you far to go to your home?”

  She was silent for a few moments. “Well,” she said at length, “I stay with my cousin during holidays. I was going there for two months when school broke up. We don’t know what will be happening now, do we?”