‘Scrambled eggs and bacon, and a cup of tea, please,’ Claire said.
The kitchen assistant scooped a portion of watery egg and slopped it onto Claire’s plate. Then she forked a rasher of streaky bacon from among many, dropped it on top of the egg and threatened, ‘Another?’ Claire shook her head, moved to the end of the counter and poured a cup of tea from a large urn. ‘Help yourself to bread,’ the woman called. Claire turned, smiled half-heartedly, and took two rounds of bread and butter.
‘Got any English money, Eddie?’ Claire asked, as they ate their food. ‘I don’t think the local taxis will take francs. Nor will the railway station for that matter.’
‘Allow me. You must be Aircraftwomen First Class Mountjoy and Dudley?’ Both women stood up and saluted. ‘At ease,’ the officer said. ‘Eat your breakfast or it will get cold. I looked for you last night, but when I couldn’t find you I returned to my quarters.’
Claire felt her cheeks redden. ‘I’m afraid we were a little tired, so--’
‘So you were resourceful?’ he laughed. ‘I was told you might be.’ Still smiling, he turned towards the door and motioned to another officer. ‘Officer Warner will take you to Folkestone station, when you are ready. This is sufficient for your tickets to London,’ he said, handing Claire several pound notes. ‘There’s a little extra for a drink and something to eat. No telling how long you’ll have to wait for a train.’
Claire and Eddie thanked the officer and when he stood up to leave, they stood and saluted again. Eddie swooped down on the last piece of bread and butter before following Claire outside. Officer Warner was by the car reading his newspaper. He stood to attention when he saw them. By the time they had walked over, he had opened both back and front passenger doors. Claire slipped into the front seat and Eddie into the back with the case. After closing the doors, Officer Warner jumped into the driver’s seat.
‘Just heard that Folkestone railway station is closed again, but it doesn’t take long to get to Dover,’ the driver said, holding his pass against his windscreen at the main gate. The MP waved the car through and it cruised effortlessly onto the main road.
Arriving at Priory railway station, Dover, Claire and Eddie ran onto the platform as a train disappeared amidst a cloud of steam. At the ticket office Claire asked if that was the nine-twenty to London. It was. ‘What time is the next train?’
‘Eleven o’clock, Miss.’
‘Two tickets then, please, one way.’
Eddie blew out her cheeks in frustration. ‘Tea?’
‘Tea!’ Claire agreed.
Eddie bought the teas and took them over to Claire, who was seated and staring out of the window. ‘Penny for them?’
As she turned to face Eddie, Claire fought back her tears. ‘They’re worth much more than that,’ she whispered.
‘I’m sorry, Dudley,’ Eddie said, putting the teas on the table and sitting next to Claire. ‘Damn silly thing to say. I can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling.’ Eddie put her hand on Claire’s. ‘She’ll be fine, you know? Édith will make sure of that. She’ll want for nothing.’
‘Unless the Gestapo find out about the Resistance cell, which André and Frédéric --’ Claire burst into tears. She took a handkerchief from her bag. ‘You knew Frédéric was dead when you came to Paris, didn’t you?’ Eddie looked down and nodded. ‘Did Édith tell you?’
‘No. I only saw Édith for a couple of hours when I arrived and an hour in the morning. Thérèse cooked breakfast for André and me, while Édith fed Aimée. Then she took Aimée upstairs to wash and dress her. She was still up there when I left. It was André who told me his brother was dead, while we waited for the train at Gisoir station. He didn’t say how he’d died, just that he had. When he gave me the drawing, he made me promise not to tell you, just to say Frédéric had sent it. I thought about telling you while we were at Antoinette’s, but decided you had enough on your mind.’
Claire smiled through her tears. ‘Thank you.’
When the eleven o’clock train to Charing Cross pulled into Dover’s Priory station it was packed to the gunnels with servicemen. Claire and Eddie stood in the corridor, moving only occasionally to let someone pass. It was a short journey, thank goodness, which went quickly.
At Charing Cross station they were met by Vera Halliday. ‘Welcome Edwina, Claire. My goodness, you have lost weight, Claire,’ she said, taking Claire’s case. ‘I’ve got a cab waiting. I expect you’re looking forward to getting home.’
‘I’m looking forward to a long hot bath in a proper bathroom,’ Claire said.
‘And a lie-in in the morning,’ Eddie added.
‘Colonel Smith doesn’t want to see either of you until tomorrow afternoon,’ Vera Halliday said, ‘so you have time to do all that.
‘Is there any news of Captain Mitchell?’ Claire asked.
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ Claire sighed. ‘That doesn’t mean there hasn’t been any news. It means I haven’t been told of any. Colonel Smith will inform you of any developments tomorrow.’ The cab came to a halt at the front of the small apartment block on Portman Square. ‘There is food in your larders. Bread, milk, eggs, that sort of thing. I’ll telephone you tomorrow morning with the times of your appointments.’
Eddie jumped out of the cab first and took the case from the front seat. ‘You look worn out, Claire,’ Vera Halliday said. ‘Are you
