Charles Todd - A Bitter Truth

“How did you smuggle her out of Rouen? She doesn’t know you.”

“I was clever. I took her to an American nurse, told her the child was frightened out of her wits-and that was true, as God is my witness!-and could she sedate her until I could find her family. Everyone knew about the fire. You could see the flames and then the smoke. It was dark, everything at sixes and sevens. I think she’s a little sweet on me, that nurse, and she gave the child something to calm her. She’s been sleeping like this ever since. Exhaustion as well as the drug. I went out to get some milk for her last night, and that’s when I was picked up. I was frantic something would happen to her while I was in custody.” He gestured to the door. “I had a key, for what it’s worth. But I had to take the chance, Sister. There wasn’t much choice.”

“But how did you get her aboard ship?”

“That was the easiest part. It was late, very dark, and there were a great many wounded being loaded. I slipped aboard when no one was looking and found a rope locker down below. When we landed I picked up a mop and a pail, and walked off with it in one hand and the little one wrapped up in an Army blanket and slung over my shoulder. We’d only just arrived when I telephoned your mother, and I found this hotel straightaway. I couldn’t help but think I might have been a German spy. There’s a frightening thought for you.”

“Yes, and you could well have been mistaken for one. And shot. It was a terrible risk. And what would they have said, if they’d found you with Sophie?”

“I’d have told them she was mine. That I’d taken her from her dead French mother and was carrying her to my English fiancée.” He grinned. “That’s you. Besides, I’m fair enough to make that believable.”

And he was.

“Sister Marie Joseph will be mourning her. They will all mourn her. I must take her back.”

“No such thing, Sister. She belongs here. And she’s young enough to settle in now. Wait until the war is over and the lawyers are finished, and it will be twice as hard for her. She’ll be right as rain, wait and see.”

But Roger Ellis was in England just now, and that complicated matters no end. I’d let him think I hadn’t found her. What would he say when I walked into Vixen Hill with her?

The Sergeant said gently, almost as if he realized the quandary I was in, “You can always take her back, if it doesn’t work out.”

And he was right, I could. But with what explanation?

“They don’t have to know she left France. Someone could have rescued her and kept her. She’s that pretty.”

And that was true too.

“All right.”

He pulled back the bedclothes, lifted Sophie like a bundle of old clothes, although his hands were gentle and he held her with care.

“Do you have children of your own?” I asked, watching him.

“God, no, Sister. I haven’t found the right wife yet.”

We went out the door, down the passage, and out into the street. I made a point of leaving the key on the desk at Reception.

Outside, he said, “You’d better hurry. She’s waking up.”

“Let me have her.”

“Not yet. She’s heavier than you’d think.”

But he gave her to me when we reached the port again, and I walked along the water until I found a ship bound for Rouen. There was a nursing sister mopping up blood from the deck as we came aboard, and I said, “Sister, I’ve got a patient here. He’s not right in his mind. Somehow he got sent to England with the latest casualties because of his burns, but he belongs at the Base Hospital in Rouen. Can you see him safely back there? My leave is just starting, I’d hate to lose it.”

She straightened up, massaging her back. I knew how it must hurt after a night voyage from France.

“Base Hospital, you said? Rouen? Is he an American?”

“No, he was there being treated. He was collected with the other casualties by mistake. He’s safe enough, he just has no idea where he is or how he got here. He’ll sit quietly until you tell him to disembark.”

It took some persuasion. I didn’t think she wanted to be encumbered by a patient on the return crossing, when she could spend the time catching up on her sleep. But Sergeant Larimore was a tall, attractive man, and that was in his favor. I could read that in her face too.

I said, “He’s no trouble. Just confused and uncertain. Will you see him safely back?”

“Just starting your leave, you said? Where did you find him?”

“Walking the streets of Dover. Fortunately I recognized him. A pathetic case, really, I don’t know if he’ll ever be entirely right. But he’s gentle. I’ve had no trouble with him.”

Sophie stirred in her bundle of wraps.

“Who’s that?” the sister said, peering into the little face that was emerging.

“My goddaughter. I really must go. Her mother will be frantic by now. I was just taking Sophie for a walk when I ran into the Sergeant here.”

“All right, I’ll see him safely back to base.” She looked him up and down. “Was he in a fire?”

I shrugged. “How should I know? When I left him, he was clean, shaven, and quiet.”

“Not shell shock, is it?”

“No. I swear to you it isn’t shell shock.” That I could state with complete truthfulness.

She must have believed me. Ordering Sergeant Larimore below, she told him, “I’ll sort you out in a few minutes.”

“He’ll need something to eat,” I reminded her. “I don’t know when he last had a meal. He can’t remember.”

I followed him to the companionway, as if making sure he went below, saying to him in a low voice, “If there’s any trouble, send for me.”

“I’ll do that, Sister. Although I think I’ve earned the right to call you Bess now.” He grinned, cast a quick look around the empty deck, and then before I could stop him, he stooped and kissed me on the lips. Then he was gone.

I looked after him, hoping he’d be all right, and then carried the wriggling bundle in my arms off the ship and out of the port. Sophie was beginning to whimper, and I hurried to the Major’s motorcar, making what soothing sounds I could. The sun was well over the horizon by that time, winter bright and blinding as it created a golden path across the water.

What was I to do now? I asked myself as I turned the crank.

Where was I to take her? To my mother? To Vixen Hill?

I’d have been happy to pass the problem to my mother, who had the reputation of being able to cope no matter what was happening all around her. But this was, in a sense, my doing, for having unwittingly involved Sergeant Larimore.

The first order of business was to get as far from Dover as I could.

By the time I’d reached Canterbury, Sophie was wide eyed and staring around. I’d handled and looked after babies and small children during my training, and so I began to talk to her in French, smiling and asking her name, telling her mine. We counted to ten, and sang a little song. She bounced in time with the ruts of the road. When that palled, she made the sound of the motor, pretending there was a wheel in front of her and turning it this way and that, mimicking me. I don’t think she’d ever been in a motorcar before, and it fascinated her.

I stopped in a village not far from Chillingham and bought milk for her as well as a few biscuits. She drank the milk with an appetite, but I didn’t think she’d ever had biscuits, for she turned them this way and that, before I could persuade her to taste one of them. Then she was so enthralled she hummed to herself as she ate them.

Beyond Canterbury, the warmth of the sun in the motorcar made her eyes heavy, and her head flopped to one side as she fell asleep on the rug I’d wrapped around my shoulders the night before.