‘Yes. It is.’ Her reply was the most confident I had heard since we’d been there.
‘You can change your mind at any point,’ I said. ‘I just want you to be happy. I will worry about you, but we can still meet up.’
‘I know, and I can telephone you,’ said Odile. ‘I would just feel happier here with Barbara.’
‘Very well. That’s agreed, then,’ I said. And then in English for clarity: ‘I’m happy for Odile to stay here. It’s what she wants.’
‘Excellent,’ said Barbara. ‘And now, you’d better get packed. Odile, why don’t you help your cousin?’
While I packed, I questioned Odile again, just to be certain it was definitely what she wanted. She assured me it was, so when it came to say goodbye, I had no real worries; at least I knew the Bertram family would look after her well. We planned to telephone each week and for me to come back to see her in a month’s time.
Tony Bertram drove us the five miles to Pulborough station and Odile came along for the ride. I hugged her fiercely as we said our goodbyes and we promised to phone every Sunday.
It was easy to forget about the war as the train trundled out of the station towards London; I rested my head on Thomas’s shoulder and watched the passing countryside through the window. It was the first time I had felt no fear in a long time.
‘And you’re sure your mother doesn’t mind?’ I questioned.
‘No. I telephoned her this morning, and she’s looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Did you tell her about us?’
‘Not yet. I’ll give her time to get over me being home. Oh, and I’ve got to go to London on Tuesday for a meeting. I’ll be gone for a few days.’
Thomas’s mother, Geraldine, was an absolute delight, and she welcomed me into her home without hesitation. I had a room on the first floor, along the hallway from Thomas’s room, but on the opposite wing to Geraldine, who I learned spoke fluent French from her days of being brought up by a French governess. Thomas’s father had been French and so it had been natural for them all to speak French at home, hence Thomas being fluent in the language.
Every day I was learning something new about Thomas, and every day I was falling in love with him just a little more. When we were walking back from the pub one evening, I told him as much. I have to say I didn’t realise how important a role the pub played in everyday British life, but so far it had been a positive experience. I wondered what Gaston and Rachelle would say when I told them, and immediately I felt guilty. It had been an agonising few days while we waited for a coded radio message to confirm my cousins had made it to safety. It was such a relief to know this, but now all I could think was they were stuck in the middle of a forest, living on very little, just trying to stay alive and here I was in England going to the pub and socialising.
I had been staying with Thomas and his mother for two weeks and had just started to relax and feel a little at home. The wound in my side had healed nicely, although I would be left with a scar as a reminder. Thomas’s shoulder looked like it was healing well and the army surgeon was confident surgery wouldn’t be needed after all.
That day, Thomas had to go to London for a meeting, something that he couldn’t tell me about, but he assured me he would only be gone two days and then he’d be back.
‘Mother will look after you,’ he said, giving me a hug as we stood on the station waiting for the 10.14 to London. ‘I wish I could take you with me, but it’s just impossible, I’m afraid.’
‘So, are you officially back at work now?’ I asked, my hand resting gently on his shoulder.
‘I’m not fighting fit, but I’m fit to be in the office, so to speak.’
‘I’ll miss you,’ I said. It would be the first time we had been apart since he had rescued me from the Ritz that night. It was beginning to feel normal being around him. We had even made love several times when Geraldine was out, and the previous night, Thomas had even sneaked down the hallway to slip into my bed. I had no objection to that. I wanted to spend every possible moment with him. If this war had taught me anything, it was to appreciate those dear to us and not to be scared to love– because life was fragile and short. I wanted no regrets. Not anymore.
‘I’ll miss you more than you’ll know,’ he said. ‘When I get back, I’ve something important I need to talk to you about.’
I looked up at him. ‘What?’
‘Oh, don’t look so worried,’ he said with a smile, kissing the top of my head. ‘It’s something nice. Or at least I hope it will be.’ He gave a mischievous wink.
‘Oh tell me.’ I laughed. ‘I hate surprises.’
‘Not this one,’ he said. ‘Besides, I can’t tell you yet because while I’m in London, I’ve got to see someone. Once I’ve seen them, I’ll be home.’
‘See someone?’
‘Oh, not like that, you silly bean,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It’s a man who has a shop. I’ve got to pick something up. Ah, here’s my train.’
He enveloped me in his arms and kissed me for longer than necessary, much to the amusement of some schoolchildren, but I didn’t care. I was madly in love with Thomas Colvin, even more so than I had been with Marcel Reynard. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. And I had a feeling I knew just what sort of shop he’d be visiting.
‘Take care,’ I said. ‘Hurry back.’
I stood on the station until the train carrying Thomas had disappeared out of sight. I knew I was smiling to myself, but I didn’t care. That was what love did to you.
