At this, Estelle placed a hand on her hip, then pulled open her draw with the other, motioning that Yvette should look. Seeing it was scattered with an assortment of lipsticks and other items required for adorning one’s face, Yvette laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. There was one more thing.
‘Here, put this on.’ Estelle held out a coat; brown wool with a huge belt and big wooden buttons, it was gorgeous.
Yvette held up both her hands in protest. ‘No, I am not taking that under any circumstances. You’ll need it more than me. The breeze along the river is harsh and I bet in winter it’s freezing.’
Estelle merely gave her the look and within seconds the coat was on Yvette’s body, the basket of clothes thrust into her hands before finding herself being bustled out of the door.
They walked in near silence to the station. Yvette struggled desperately for something to say but found no words, so instead listened to Estelle’s voice when she occasionally spoke, instructions and observations, nothing deep or meaningful,Let’s cross here, oh look they’re showingJ’accuseagain, how very dreary, stay close,you have your ticket? Yvette just took everything in about her, the voice, her scent, her profile, committing Estelle, her Maudie, to memory, just in case.
Estelle was not permitted onto the platform, so their goodbyes were said behind the barbed wire barrier in full view of the stern soldier and ticket guard. Turning her back on them to prevent prying eyes, she removed a letter from her pocket which she gave to Yvette.
‘This is for you to read when you are on the train… not now, we will both blub.’
Yvette took it and pushed it inside her deep pocket, eyes already misted and partially sighted.
‘And I want you to have this too. Please don’t say no. The letter will explain.’ Uncurling her fist Estelle produced an antique silver ring set with an oval of diamonds and at the centre, one large amethyst.
Yvette’s lips wouldn’t work as her dear, tearful friend slid it on to the ring finger of her right hand. She wanted to protest but again, the pleading blue eyes of Estelle prevented any rebuke.
She then took control of the situation. ‘Now off you go and don’t forget to write, once a month like we agreed, a nice jolly letter telling me all about carrots and beans and moo cows.’
Yvette sucked in the energy from her dearest, bravest friend and managed to respond.
‘And you write back and tell me all about the theatre and…’ but it was no good, her voice cracked. There would be no letters. It was too dangerous, but they still had make-believe. Nobody could take that from them.
Pulling her close, Estelle hugged Yvette and whispered in her ear, ‘Goodbye, my darling Dottie Doolittle, take care until we meet again but if not, don’t forget me and always remember that I love you.’
And then she was gone.
23
Dearest D
Nantes, 2005
They had followed the route that Dottie had taken all those years ago, along the quayside, letting the breeze from the river blow away the shadows that seeing the apartment had cast on the day. It was such a surreal experience revisiting a place that was littered with landmarks, like a roadmap of the mind, and even though they were camouflaged by progress and the trappings of modern-day life, they seemed to step forward, out of line and say,Here I am, remember me? Don’t walk past. Dottie hadn’t forgotten though, she’d simply filed them away. Those black-and-white images, that’s how the world seemed back then, conflicting with the bright, vibrant city around her.
But wasn’t that what they’d fought and hoped for? To be rid of the dour grey uniforms, the leather clad Gestapo in their trench coats who prowled and tormented, just like the flags, symbols of their occupation laying claim to a land that wasn’t theirs. Dottie still hated those black swastikas laid on a blanket of blood as much as she’d hated those who saluted it. No, it was good to be free, to be able to walk in her old footsteps even though the Maude by her side now was not the friend she’d left behind. Had they not sacrificed so much, they might not be here at all.
‘It’s such a lovely city, isn’t it? I’m glad we came and I’ve seen it like this.’ Dottie was linking Maude’s arm, she felt tired now and needed a rest and as much as it pained her to say so, it was time to call it a day.
‘It is, and I’m glad that it hasn’t upset you too much, telling me about your friend Maude. She sounds like the most wonderful woman. Honest, Gran, I could picture her in my mind… I don’t suppose you have a photo, do you? I’d love to see what she looked like.’
Dottie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. But I found a photograph online of her family, but it was of her as a child with her brothers and sisters. Their home is partially open to the public now and I have often been tempted to go, but then I think I’d rather remember her as she was, here and in Scotland and when she came to Mum and Dad’s that time at New Year.’
Maude nodded her agreement. ‘I know the ring you mentioned, you used to wear it all the time when I was little. I called it the princess ring, do you remember?’
A smile, picturing tiny Maude begging to wear the ring because it went with her dressing-up clothes but it was far too precious for that.
‘Yes, I do. But it became too big for me and I didn’t want to have it altered so I put it in the safe.’
Maude had another question. ‘Did you keep Maude’s letter. You didn’t say what it said, or is that too private?’
‘Yes, I kept it, folded up, hidden in the inside pocket of the coat she gave me. I kept it here, right next to my heart.’ Dottie touched her left breast. ‘I was terrified of losing it or leaving it behind at Tante Helene’s so took it with me whenever I could. It actually survived the war, would you believe that? It was as battered and tatty as I was by the time I finally got home, and I kept it all these years. It’s part of my gift to you, when I’m gone, it goes with the ring.’
A gasp. ‘What, you’re giving me the ring… but what about Mum, shouldn’t she get it?’
Dottie reached over and with her free hand gave Maude’s arm a squeeze. ‘No, my darling, I want you to have it, I always have and that’s the end of it.’
