Read All I Have to Give Online
Authors: Mary Wood
Hardly able to breathe, Edith asked, ‘Do you know his name?’
‘Pevensy. Captain Laurent Pevensy . . .’
Her body swayed.
‘Hey, hold on, old thing. Are you all right?’
‘Tell me he isn’t going to die.
Please
tell me he isn’t going to die.’
‘I’m sorry, Edith, but he doesn’t stand much chance. You should go to him. He is in the second tent along from here. Good luck, old thing. I’ve done all I can for him.
I’ll have to go to have a lie-down now. Other patients could come in, in the next few hours.’
‘No, tell me. Tell me what has happened to him.’
‘He’s lost a leg and has stomach injuries from shrapnel. His leg was infected. I don’t know how far the gangrene has spread or if I’ve got it all. And he has facial
injuries. But he had some treatment before he got here, so that helped, otherwise he would have bled to death. I’m so sorry, Edith. He obviously is someone very important in your life, but I
won’t ask how.’
‘Thanks, Mark. One day I will tell you about it. And, Mark, I am happy about you and Jennifer, but please take care.’
He thanked her with a wry smile. She knew he would know that she meant him to take care in all ways, because fraternizing wasn’t allowed among the medical staff – let alone what
could happen if they took their love too far. The disgrace for Jennifer would be too much for her to bear. As she knew only too well.
She felt crushed as she looked down on the still figure of Laurent. Life had almost left him. His pallor made his eyebrows – something she hadn’t noticed before
– look as black as coal. His moustache was gone. His left cheek had a hole in it, exposing his broken teeth and jawbone. But his lips were intact . . . A brush of memory gave her his soft,
beautiful lips. Now, as she bent to kiss them, they were hard and crusty.
‘Laurent. It’s Edith. Laurent, darling, don’t give up. Fight, my darling. Hold on to life. I am waiting here for you.’
The still form didn’t move. Taking his hand in hers, she held it gently. ‘I am here for you, Laurent.’ Stroking the loose skin, she wondered how he would cope with having lost
his leg, but then he was courageous. He would find something within himself to help him. But what about his work?
Funny I should think like this after all, for what does that matter? All that
matters is that he lives!
‘Oh, Laurent, I love you.’
His head moved. His eyes opened. He went to speak, but couldn’t.
‘Don’t try to talk. Your face is injured, and they have operated on your jaw, darling. It will heal. You will heal. I won’t let you die.’
Hope came into his eyes. ‘Edith.’
Her name was formed; not perfectly, and she wondered how Mark had deciphered it, but Laurent had said her name!
‘Rest, darling. I will be by your side. You can get well – you
can.
I have seen miracles happen here. And usually it is down to the will of the person. Be strong, darling;
fight!’
He nodded his head. Then closed his eyes.
Chiswick, October 1917
A different view
Steam engulfed Petra. Working in the Acton Road Laundry helped to keep the rent paid and put bread on the table, but it was a million miles away from the farm that she used to
look upon as a grind, but now thought of as paradise.
The money Edith had sent them had funded their escape. They couldn’t go to Poland, not yet. But soon. The government of Poland was now recognized by the Germans and Russians, but was still
under their rule and was a client state of Germany. But there was a new constitution. Everyone knew it was only to legitimize the military occupation, but still, it would mean a kind of peace, and
that she and Aleksi could return there soon. A lot of inducements were being given to move people from the Baltic area; and their daughter, Marcelina, and her husband Feodor and his family had
settled back into the new state of Poland.
Petra had written to Marcelina and Feodor and had told them of the babies she was bringing to them, and of where they were now living. Marcelina’s reply had been very moving. She spoke of
the prayers she sent up for the girls’ poor dead mother, and implored Petra to try and find the girls’ mother’s family, before bringing the children to Poland.
At the sound of the hooter, Petra moved away from the press she had been working on and another woman took over. Their only exchange was a nod of the head. A tram ride took her to the flat they
had been able to rent on the border between London and Chiswick.
‘I’m home.’
A tired-looking Aleksi came to greet her. Kissing her, he said. ‘The little ones have been good. I was just going to change Elka’s bottom. That one does everything with great
enthusiasm – even filling her nappy is loudly proclaimed.’
They laughed at this.
‘You get yourself to bed for an hour or two, my dear. I will wake you in plenty of time to catch the tram for work.’
‘But I wanted to spend some time with you. I wanted to talk.’
The wail that set up in the next room interrupted them. Petra hurried to lift Elka and hoped that Aleksi wouldn’t follow her. She knew what he wanted to talk about. Edith!
With Elka cleaned and comfortable, peace reigned once more and, with a weary sigh, Petra returned to the kitchen. ‘Oh, Aleksi, you should have gone to bed. The time that you can rest is
ticking away.’
‘My conscience troubles me.’
‘But we have been over and over it. Those darling babies will have a much better life with Marcelina and Feodor, and with us. Edith told us that she couldn’t recognize them as her
own children. Oh, yes, she would have provided for them, but where would they have lived? With some nanny or other! And how often could they see their mother, especially if she married and had
other children! Look at how she allowed herself to linger with that stranger you saw her with. And she let him kiss her! You saw her, from that tree you hid behind. That is not correct behaviour!
Edith is one of those women driven by her passion for men. I have seen how her class is here. They do not mix with the working class, and yet she did. She allowed herself to be taken by a murderer.
A deserter. And I do not believe that he took her against her will. Is this the kind of woman you would entrust our precious Elka and Ania with?’
‘I know you are right, Petra, but Edith adored them. It hurts to think that she will never see them again. How will it be for her, when she returns to collect them and finds that we have
gone?’
‘It will be very painful for her, but she has her work. And, like I say, her love of what the menfolk have to offer will soon distract her. We left her supplies, so she would have been all
right for a couple of days while she came to terms with it all, and I don’t think it would take her much longer than that. Her kind flit from one thing to another. It will be a relief for
her. The burden has been taken care of. Besides, she might not have returned, and might never have done so in the future.’
‘How can you say that? She sent money.’
‘Money appeases conscience! Now, get to bed, stop worrying and earn all you can at that munitions factory, to get us back to Poland!’
Not convinced that was the last she would hear on the subject, Petra watched Aleksi go through the door to the bedroom. She had a letter to write and to get into the post. She would do that now,
and put Aleksi’s objections and concerns out of her head. She was on a mission, and one that she was determined to win. Her darling girls would be loved and cared for, if her plan succeeded,
and that was all that mattered. Not the flirty Edith!
More lies poured from Petra as she wrote:
My darling daughter,
The girl’s mother had no family – not immediate family anyway – and that is why she stayed with us when she found that the rape had caused her to become pregnant. She
had plans to leave the children with us, and return to her work in the field tents until the war was over and she could make a life for her children. Sadly her death changed
everything.
Where would I look for family that is remote? And if I found any family members, would they want to know? Yes, I could go to the Red Cross, but my fear is that these beautiful girls
would end up in an orphanage. I have not seen or heard of a good one here in England. It is better that we – you, my darling daughter – take them as your own, where they will have a
loving home.
We have been accepted here as refugees of the Kingdom of Poland. We told them that we escaped to France with our newborn grandchildren when our daughter died during the birth, and then
found our way to England. I hated saying that you had died, but we had to have a legitimate reason for having our grandchildren with us.
As they didn’t have any certificates, the authorities here have made us register them. Here the authorities are strict on papers; in France they didn’t care about the babies
having papers – only us. So now they are British citizens, but I gave them the name of Feodor’s family: Dranansk. Once home, we can make them citizens of Poland and have them taken
into the Jewish faith.
We have made friends with another Polish refugee, Endixsi Grothan. He is from mid-Poland. His English is good and he is helping us with the language, and he secured the job in the
laundry for me and in the munitions factory for your father.
Tour father works nights, and I work in the day. Father is an amazing grandparent to little Elka and Ania. We both get some rest when they sleep, which is often, as they are such
contented children. Elka shows tendencies of being the forthright one. She is much more demanding, and it is very funny how cross she gets if Ania is getting the attention. Ania is very calm
and takes everything as it comes. She will only murmur if she has a need, whereas Elka will scream the place down!
This town is on the banks of a great river called the Thames. It is a growing town in the suburbs of the magnificent city of London. I wish you could see it, my darling. It is a good
place to live.
It would be a good place to bring the girls up, but I know Feodor would not hear of it. His family is one of the most respected Jewish families in Poland, and their jewellery business
has established them there. But, oh, how my heart wishes that they had used their influence and riches to move away. They could build a new life here, or in America. A safe life, for I fear for
the future of the Eastern countries of Europe. You must too, as the unrest and the unjust way that Germany and Russia deal with our country can only lead to there being an uprising of protest
sometime in the future.
But we have to deal with things as they are. We are working hard to get to you, my darling, and hope to do so in the near future. In the meantime I have something special for you. We
took the girls to a photographer here, and I enclose a photo of your darling daughters. I love you, Marcelina, and can’t wait for the day that we are finally together again.
The knock on the door startled her. No one had ever called here before!
Opening the door, she looked into the faces of two young men. One of them held himself up on crutches and it was this one that asked, ‘Are you Petra Tolenski?’
This much she understood. Her ‘Yes’ came out in shaky tones. Fear gripped her. How could this man know her?’
‘I am Tom Frith.’
The young man with him spoke excellent Polish and interpreted everything the one called Tom said. ‘We are checking up on all refugees to see if there is anything we can do for you. We
understand you are coping with your grandchildren – twin girls?’
‘Who told you this?’
‘We have the approval of government bodies. They identify possible needy cases for us to approach. We work for a charity set up by Lady Daverly to help anyone affected in any way by the
war.’
‘We don’t need any help, thank you. We both have jobs and are waiting for the time we can return to our homeland.’
‘But who looks after the children and is in charge of their welfare?’
‘We do.’
‘Are you able to afford medical care? Have you had them weighed and their weight checked, to make sure they are making progress? We are not here to interfere, just to help. We can give
vaccinations against smallpox and make sure you have a supply of cod-liver oil to prevent rickets.’
‘Oh, I – I don’t know of all these things. We feed the babies milk and they are well. Why should we do anything more?’
‘We are sure you are doing your very best for them. But wouldn’t you like to be sure they are in good health? And that they continue that way? Here is the address of the home that is
run for the welfare of children. It is in Kensington, which is about five miles from here. You can catch a tram to it. It is primarily an orphanage, but they run a weekly clinic for all children
and babies. There is a nursing sister in charge, and a doctor is there once a week on a Thursday afternoon.’
Taking the paper he handed her, she read, ‘Jimmy’s Hope House, Hancock Street, Kensington’ and thought that yes, she would take the children along. It would be good to have the
girls checked over and to make sure they were healthy.
She was about to say that she would come, but what the young man said next panicked her and stopped her. ‘Jimmy was a young man who was shot in the war. Our patron, Miss Edith Mellor,
treated him in the field hospital, where she still works.’
‘Oh . . . I – I mean . . . Look, I have to go. Goodbye!’ Slamming the door, Petra leant heavily on it.
Oh God, Edith had found her! They would have to leave. She would send
a telegram to Marcelina.
‘Aleksi, wake up! Wake up!’
‘What is it, my dear? I haven’t been to sleep yet. I heard voices.’
‘We have to go. We have to leave. How much money have we saved?’
‘What are you talking about?’
Explaining about the visit, Petra began gathering things they would need. ‘So, you see, we must go – and go now!’
‘Wait a moment. Didn’t you say Edith is working in a field hospital in France?’ At her nods, Aleksi said, ‘Well, then, how could she have found us? This is what it is:
the English gentry are very big on their charity work. It is like you said earlier. Money appeases conscience, and they feel better about themselves if they are helping others. I don’t think
you have to panic. We will go along to the clinic next week. I am sure no one there is going to connect us in any way to Edith. It will be good to know the girls are really well and that we have
some preventative medicines. I haven’t enough money for the trip to Poland, and it is still too dangerous to go. We may have to wait for the war to end before we can travel. So let us not
make a fuss, but do what is expected of us.’