‘I had to keep my promise, didn’t I? To Vincent. I swore I wouldn’t go back to the village so even if I didn’t go back to England, I had to move on.’
‘He was trying to keep you safe, Gran, because he loved you so much and he was right. Look what happened to Claude and the others.’
Dottie nodded. ‘Do you think that’s why I refused to come to France again? Not being able to face what happened to the Maquis, those who were rounded up?’
‘Probably. I think you buried everything deep inside and it all got jumbled up… but did you ever check that Vincent was really dead because can you imagine if he’d survived and was…’
Dottie placed her hand on Maude’s leg, it silenced her immediately.
‘Hugh checked for me, he offered and brought me a transcript of the coded message. The details were sparse, but they mentioned our circuit had been compromised and its leader was dead. That was that; Vincent was gone, no miracles or post-war reunions.’
‘And what about Maude, Estelle, sorry I never know what to call her. Did you find out what happened to her? I know it can’t be a happy ending so I’m sorry if the question upsets you more.’
Dottie smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’m going to have to tell you anyway. When I talk about the war, she’s Estelle, a masquerade, but in my heart, she is and always will be Maude.’
Taking a deep breath, Dottie said the words she dreaded. ‘Maude was tortured and then transported to Buchenwald concentration camp in Germany. They kept her there for a while and then she was executed by firing squad.’
Dottie couldn’t cry, not for Maude because if she started she’d never stop, so instead she spoke her pain. ‘When Hugh told me, many, many months after I went back to work, I thought I would go mad from the horror of it. That my Maude had endured our worst fear, survived it only to be murdered by those vile creatures. I wanted to run out on to the road at Whitehall and scream at the world, at all the stupid, ignorant people on the bus and on the pavement who were getting on with their lives when Maude was dead. I was so angry because they had no idea what we had done, what she had sacrificed for them. I was very bitter for a long time and that resentment was the only thing that kept me going. I had to for her.’
‘Oh, Gran, I think that’s so cruel and sad… and I’m starting to understand now why you’ve lived your life like you have and the decisions you’ve made. I think a lot of them are a result of this, what you’re telling me.’
Dottie took a sip of cold tea before she spoke. ‘You may well be right, because what I’m going to tell you now will probably prove your point.’
Maude gave Dottie a quick hug and then asked, ‘So where did you go after the beach?’
‘Well this is where it all goes completely crazy because I got it into my head that I should head to St Malo, to find Mémère Delphine’s family, my uncle and his wife. The thing was, it took me over a week to get to the coast because the whole of the Atlantic Wall was riddled with Germans, so it was early June when I arrived in the port.’
‘Did you find them, your family?’
‘I found their farm, but they were gone. A neighbour told me my aunt had taken the children south to stay with relatives, my uncle, as you know, had been taken for forced labour. I stayed in their house a while, it was a roof over my head, and I knew they wouldn’t have minded. Then I joined with a local Maquis group who were gearing up for the invasion. D-Day. Our forces landed on the beaches at Normandy on the sixth of June, the Allies were pushing south. The Germans were in a state of panic, so we did our very best to make their life even worse.’
‘Bloody hell, Gran, you certainly were a sucker for punishment, weren’t you? You could have been killed, did you have a death wish or something?’ On speaking those words Maude fell silent and then her head snapped up, as though she’d realised something, a thought she passed on to her Gran. ‘Oh my God, Gran, is that what you were doing… did you want to be killed so you could be with Vincent?’
Hearing the words that mirrored the thought that had only that second popped into her own head, Dottie stood. She needed a proper drink so took a bottle from the carrier bag on the floor, gesturing to Maude who nodded and watched while two glasses were filled. Passing one to Maude before she took a seat in the armchair by the window, Dottie pondered for a moment, relishing the soft breeze of a summer evening.
‘I know that I didn’t care if I lived or died. And that I hated the Germans with a passion so fierce that the rage in me could have killed with my bare hands. Yes, I took risks, and in those eight or so weeks I fought alongside the Maquis once again. I did as much as I could to avenge Vincent and Estelle, my Maude, and all the others who I feared had been taken or lost in Renazé.’
Maude sipped her wine. ‘So how did it end for you, the war? Somehow you got back to England.’
Dottie flipped off her shoes and wiggled her toes and the sight of bare feet triggered an odd memory. ‘There were around 8,000 German troops in St Malo, or so the Maquis reckoned, and they were determined to hold the town, but the Allies were just as determined to take it. The shelling began on August the sixth. I knew the date because it was my dad’s birthday, and the only way I can describe the battle for St Malo was like hell on earth. A barrage of bombs rained from the sky, the attack hitting us from both sides when a German minesweeper shelled the cathedral wall, and allied shells hit the prison freeing those inside. The town was engulfed in an inferno of fire. I can still hear the noise now, and feel the heat on my face and everywhere was red and gold and the smoke and dust choked me. It was horrific and it lasted three days. We were trapped in the centre, a few of us, and when the order came to evacuate, I was running through the square when a shell hit, blowing me off my feet.’
Maude gasped. ‘Oh my God.’
Dottie was lost in the past so carried on. ‘When I came to there was a lull, no bombs. I was in an alleyway, covered in rubble. Someone must have dragged me there and when I finally managed to stand, I only had one shoe. I was so upset that I burst into tears, fancy that. I remember crying and crying and wandering around looking for my horrible black shoe that I hated anyway. I didn’t notice at first that the soldier who guided me to a medic was American, not German, and that the man who cleaned and dressed my feet and told me not to worry about my shoe, didn’t speak French. I still see snapshots of it, like flicking through an album of black-and-white photos, no colour, the red and gold had gone and all that surrounded me were grey bombed-out buildings, then white, clean white and a red cross, nurses with stern faces and kind English voices, and then I was home, with my family.’
‘I bet they were so happy to see you.’
‘Oh yes, they were overjoyed! Mum didn’t stop crying for days, and Delphine sat by my bed and kept me company. She never left my side. I was in a bad way, you see.’
‘Were you injured?’
‘Not physically, apart from lots of bumps and bruises, but it was up here where the damage was done.’ Dottie tapped her forehead. ‘Today they’d called it PTSD, but back then the doctors put it down to exhaustion and shock, nothing that a good rest wouldn’t sort out. They didn’t know how I felt inside, and I’d never have told anyone.’
‘And how did you feel, Gran?’
‘Like I was going mad, that there was a scream lodged in my throat and I had to hold it in because if I started, I’d never stop. I was out of place, in the wrong bed. I wanted to be back in Renazé at Tante Helene’s and hear the cockerel and the sound of the church bell strike. And I wanted Vincent.’ A sob erupted from Dottie’s throat that took her by surprise and once it was out, like the long held in scream, it flowed into tears.
Maude took her Gran in her arms and held her tightly as she sobbed quietly. Eventually Dottie calmed and pulled away slowly from the embrace.
