André sat down at the table and yawned. Keeping his voice low, he said, ‘I should go up to Thérèse, let her know we’re home, but…’ He looked down at his muddy clothes.
Claire put a log on the fire and tuned to the sink. ‘I’ll put some water on,’ she said, filling two of Édith’s large pans. ‘You can wash in the scullery. I’ll wash in here.’ André frowned through a yawn. ‘Well, it’s me who is doing all the work,’ she whispered, taking coffee from the cupboard and cups from the dresser.
When the coffee was made, Claire poured two cups and sat down opposite André. They spoke quietly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to be home,’ Claire said, wrapping her grubby hands around her cup.
‘I’ll see what Mother has got to eat,’ André said, struggling to his feet and opening the larder door. He came back with bread, cold meat and cheese. They ate eagerly and by the time they had finished the water was boiling. Claire hauled her tired body from the table, went to the range, and took a large pan from it. After adding cold water she gave it to André. ‘I’ll go upstairs to the linen cupboard and get us each a towel,’ she said. ‘Won’t be a minute.’ As she opened the door to the hall, she saw Édith coming down the stairs.
‘My darling Claire,’ she whispered.
‘Édith.’ Full of emotion, Claire was unable to hold back her tears. She bit her bottom lip and, aware that Aimée and Thérèse were asleep upstairs, ushered Édith into the kitchen.
‘We have had a difficult time, Mother,’ André said, putting down the pan of water and closing the door to the hall.
‘Thank God you are safe. Thérèse will be so happy to see you.’
‘Is she well?’
‘Yes, she is like a flower in bloom. She is very well.’
‘And Aimée?’ Claire asked.
Édith smiled. ‘She is also well. She talks to your photograph every day and tells me you will be home soon.’ She looked at her son. ‘André, wash and go to your wife. Claire and I will go to the sitting room. It is warmer in there and there is something I need to tell her.’
Fear gripped Claire’s heart and it began to pound, taking her breath away. If it was bad news about Mitch, she wanted to run from the house, but she knew she must hear it. Trembling, she followed Édith into the front room.
‘What is it, Édith?’ Claire asked when they were seated by the fire.
‘Alain--’
‘No, Édith.’ Claire felt the ground shift beneath her. ‘Please don’t say it,’ she said, her eyes pleading.
‘Let me finish, child,’ Édith said, taking Claire’s hands in hers. ‘Alain is here. He is in your room, asleep in your bed.’
‘Here? I-- But I must go to him,’ Claire said, jumping up.
‘No, wait!’
‘Why?’ Claire began to tremble again. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Do not worry. Alain is strong, and will soon be well, but--’
‘But?’
‘But the doctor has given him morphine for the pain in his leg, and he sleeps all of the time. The bullet was removed from his leg by the doctor in the Pyrenees, but gangrene set in.’ Claire gasped and put her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. ‘It wasn’t the old man’s fault, my dear. He and his wife risked their lives to save Alain’s. He would not have survived if he had spent another night on the mountain. If the freezing temperature didn’t kill him, the amount of blood he had lost would have. If the doctor hadn’t got him to his house and operated on him…’ Claire sat and listened. Everything Édith said after the word gangrene she was hearing down a tunnel that was a long way off. ‘The bullet had been in his leg too long. When he realised this the doctor risked his life again and went in search of a Maquis group that he knew was in the mountains. I don’t know the details but Pierre said--’
‘Pierre?’
‘Yes. Pierre and Father Albert brought Alain from Orléans.’ Claire began to cry. Pierre had lost so much when Marcel had been killed, yet he had brought Alain home. ‘Pierre will tell you, or Alain will tell you when he wakes. For now, know that the doctor in Gisoir has saved his leg, and he assures me that in time Alain will recover and will walk again. But you must be patient.’
Claire nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘There is nothing for you to be sorry about,’ Édith said, putting her arms round Claire and rocking her.
‘I am going up to Thérèse,’ André said, coming into the sitting room after having had a wash. He kissed his mother on the top of her head and turned to Claire. ‘Claire, what is it?’
Claire looked up at her comrade and smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Alain is alive. He is here.’
‘Thank God! Mother--?’
‘I will tell you tomorrow. Now you should go to your wife.’ Édith turned to Claire. ‘Why don’t you wash and I will make up your bed in here?’ Claire looked at her old friend, her eyes pleading. ‘You would like to see Alain, of course. André will have used all the hot water anyway,’ she said, moving to the door. ‘I shall heat more while you are upstairs.’
Claire crossed
