Far From Home (42 page)

‘I had a lot to learn,’ Danuta replied flatly, ‘and it was very hard, living in the snow, scratching for food and warmth, and shelter – and keeping one step ahead of the Gestapo who were looking for us. They got too close after we’d blown up an ammunition factory, and caused big damage to many of their tanks and soldiers. Jean-Luc had become our leader, and his reputation as a brave freedom fighter had spread. But this meant we eventually had to leave Poland and make our way over the mountains into occupied Czechoslovakia.’

She sniffed and blew her nose. ‘It was early spring by the time we arrived there, and through Jean-Luc’s contacts, we joined with the Czech resistance. But we soon had to move again. They were still looking for him, and his presence with the group was jeopardising their safety. So four of us decided to head for Switzerland, which was neutral. We planned to rest there, to find money and guns and men willing to carry on the fight against the invaders.’

‘My geography is vague,’ muttered Polly. ‘But that sounds a terribly long journey. Surely you didn’t walk it?’

Danuta’s smile held little warmth as she shook her head. ‘We killed the border guards and blew up their station, then stole their truck along with their rifles and ammunition. The truck got us over the mountains into Austria, but it was not safe to use it too long, so we had to walk a long time before we could find bicycles. Jean-Luc had taught me German and French – I found I had a flair for languages during those early days with him, and was a quick pupil – so between us we could buy food and get the four of us out of trouble when we were stopped. We all carried false identification papers and said we were farm labourers – peasants.’

Danuta twisted her hands in her lap. ‘Jean-Luc became restless in Switzerland. He wanted to fight, to be a part of the growing resistance against the enemy, but the Swiss were too comfortable on their fence – they did not want to become involved. Our comrades decided to remain there – they had had enough of fighting – so we left them and eventually crossed the mountain border into France.’

Danuta fell silent for a moment, remembering the terrible things she had done to secure their safety as they’d crawled past guard-posts and gun emplacements, and hidden from fleets of enemy tanks which roared within inches of the ditches where they lay. She had learnt to kill during those months after she’d left Warsaw, and had become adept at slitting throats and making booby traps – but Polly should not hear this, she would not understand.

‘We eventually managed to join a group of French resistance men and women through Jean-Luc’s family contacts in Lyon – but we had to be very careful. The Vichy French were only too happy to collaborate with the Boches, and we never knew who we could trust.’

But it had not all been dark and forbidding, and she sighed as she remembered the hot, early summer days when they’d made love in the long grass, and lay watching the celestial displays in that enormous dark sky. ‘Our baby was conceived in France, and one day I would like to take him there. It is very beautiful, even though the memories are sad.’

Danuta gave a grim smile. ‘We did a lot of damage in and around Lyon before an informer told the Gestapo where we were hiding. Jean-Luc was almost caught one night trying to get back to us after he’d sabotaged the Germans’ army base, and he insisted it was time for me to leave him.’

Tears sparkled on her lashes and she blinked them away. ‘We knew I was having a baby, and he was desperate we should survive, for he also knew that the Gestapo were getting closer by the day, and soon it would be too late for us to escape.’

Her voice caught and her heart thudded as she remembered those terrible last hours. ‘I begged him to come with me, but he refused – there was work to be done, and he was determined to see it through for as long as he lived.’

Her voice was barely above a whisper as the pain seared through her. ‘I said goodbye to him that night, knowing I might never see him again, and before dawn I left with one of the Frenchmen who would take me to another group further into France.’

Danuta’s resolve faltered and she could no longer fight the crippling pain that gripped her. ‘We had not left the camp more than one half-hour when we saw the convoy of Gestapo cars and motorbikes make their way along the road towards the camp. There was nothing we could do but hide in the trees and watch.’

She swallowed and blew her nose. ‘Jean-Luc and the others put up a fight, but they were too few against so many. Jean-Luc was wounded, but they didn’t kill him. He was thrown into a truck and driven away to Gestapo headquarters.’

Silence fell for several minutes as Danuta tried to compose herself. ‘I wanted to make the Gestapo headquarters explode,’ she said bitterly. ‘I wanted to run after that truck and shoot them all down, even if it meant killing Jean-Luc. At least then they would not torture him.’ She heaved a deep, sad sigh. ‘But of course I couldn’t. Jean-Luc had entrusted me to look after our child, and I had to honour that trust by staying alive.’

‘And so you have, you brave, brave girl. Oh, Danuta.’ Polly swept her up in a hug as their tears flowed.

‘I am sorry, Polly,’ Danuta finally managed. ‘It is not a good story to tell before sleep, and it is after three o’clock. You will be very tired for your journey.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Polly. ‘I can always sleep on the train. Come on, Danuta, let’s cuddle up under the eiderdown and talk about other things until we get too tired to dream.’

Danuta nestled into Polly’s embrace and, as the minutes ticked away and their talk became desultory, she felt her eyelids droop. Sleep came softly and dreamlessly for the first time in months.

Polly had left Danuta once she was sure she was sleeping soundly, and clambered into her own bed. She’d fallen asleep almost immediately, but now she was having a strange and disturbing dream in which Alice was in a lifeboat and the Gestapo were shooting at her. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of a telephone ringing, and now she was in an unfamiliar room and they were at the door, knocking on it, calling her name.

She sat up abruptly as the door opened. Her heart was hammering with fear, for the dream still entangled her, and she fully expected an SS officer to step into the room. But it was only Peggy, and she was looking flustered. Feeling incredibly silly for being so easily frightened, Polly glanced at the clock; it was barely five.

‘Polly, Danuta. I’m sorry to disturb you both, but this is important.’

Polly stiffened as Peggy came to stand next to her bed and reached for her hand. She tried to read the other woman’s expression, and her heart thudded painfully when she realised that no good news came at such a time of day. ‘What is it?’ she breathed.

Peggy licked her lips. ‘Polly, there’s been a telephone call, dear. From the hospital. Adam has had some kind of fit and he’s being prepared for theatre.’

Polly leapt from the bed and began to drag on her clothes. ‘What kind of fit? Why does he need an operation? How serious is it?’

Peggy was wringing her hands. ‘Matron just gave me the bare facts. I’m sorry, I don’t know.’ She chewed her bottom lip anxiously as she twisted the cord of her dressing gown between restless fingers. ‘But she did say it was important you get there as quickly as possible.’

‘I come with you.’ Danuta clambered out of bed and was dressed before Polly could get her coat on.

Polly shot her a grateful glance and was out of the door and charging down the stairs. Her heart was beating a tattoo in time with her running footsteps as she raced along the pavement. She couldn’t lose Adam – not now.

MATRON WAS WAITING
outside the ward. ‘Your husband will be taken up to theatre in a few minutes. Mr Fortescue is already preparing for surgery.’

‘What happened?’

‘He woke this evening complaining of being in pain. Within a few hours he had a fit, and Mr Fortescue thinks there must be something pressing on his brain. He had hoped all the shrapnel had been extricated, but he fears something could have been missed.’

‘But you told me …’

Matron’s glare silenced her. ‘Surgery is not always straightforward, Staff Nurse Brown. Mr Fortescue is the best neurosurgeon in the country, and he has been known to work miracles, but nothing is ever certain in these cases.’

Chastened, Polly dipped her chin. ‘Can I see Adam?’

‘He’s been prepped for theatre and won’t know you’re there,’ warned Matron.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ replied Polly, ‘I want to see him anyway.’

Matron threw a stony glance at Danuta, who was looking very dishevelled and out of breath as she trudged towards them. Matron had never forgiven her for leaving the laundry, and decided to ignore her.

She turned back to Polly. ‘I cannot permit any other visitors at this time of the morning,’ she said firmly. ‘Your
friend
should wait outside.’

Polly nodded at Danuta and hurried after Matron, who was already striding down the ward to Adam’s bed. Mary wasn’t on duty, the curtains were drawn, and a nurse she didn’t recognise was taking his pulse and temperature.

‘You may stay one minute,’ said Matron, chivvying the nurse out and snapping the curtains shut behind them.

Polly looked down at Adam and a chill of dread ran through her. He was the most ghastly colour, his eyes sunken above his sharp cheekbones as his breath rasped in his throat. She took his hand and realised he was already deeply sedated. ‘Don’t leave me, Adam. Please don’t leave me,’ she whispered desperately. ‘Alice and I need you so much.’

His fingers twitched in her hand and, encouraged that he might be able to hear and understand what she was saying, she continued. ‘Alice is well, my darling, and safe – and soon we will go and see her and be a family again. Oh, my darling, I love you so much,’ she murmured, her tears falling on their entwined fingers. ‘Please, please don’t leave us.’

‘That’s quite enough of that,’ said Matron brusquely as she swept back the curtains to let the porters through with the trolley. ‘Go to the relatives’ room, Staff Nurse, and I’ll get someone to bring you a cup of tea.’

She didn’t want tea; didn’t want anything but reassurance – and that was clearly not on Matron’s agenda. Polly stood back to give the porters room and watched as they carefully transferred Adam from the bed to the trolley.

‘How long will he be in theatre?’ she managed through her tear-filled throat as they pushed him along the ward and out into the corridor past a worried-looking Danuta.

‘As long as it takes.’ Matron took her arm and steered her towards the swing doors. Her austere expression softened momentarily. ‘I know how hard this must be, but try not to worry,’ she said softly. ‘He’s in very capable hands, and Mr Fortescue will do his utmost to pull him through this.’

Polly stared at her, wanting to believe her, but mistakes had been made already and now Adam’s life hung in the balance. But she said nothing and pushed through the doors to find Danuta restlessly pacing the corridor.

When she had answered all of Danuta’s questions as well as she could, she tucked her hand round Danuta’s arm and led her away from the ward. ‘I need some fresh air,’ she said. ‘The smell of this place is getting to me for once, and the thought of having to wait while they dig about inside Adam is making me feel quite ill.’

They slowly went through the silent reception area and down the steps until they were outside. A thin line of light along the horizon heralded the dawn as birds started twittering and the gulls began to screech at one another.

Polly sank on to the bottom step and looked at the sky, wondering what this new day had in store for her. Emotionally she was drained, and lack of sleep made her feel heavy with weariness – and yet she knew she had to find the strength to face whatever came, for the people she loved most in the world depended upon her.

‘You will not be going to Scotland today, I think,’ said Danuta, as she lit their cigarettes and puffed smoke into the still, cool air.

Polly stared at her in horror. ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. ‘I’d forgotten all about Scotland.’

‘It’s not surprising,’ said Danuta, daintily removing a wisp of tobacco from her tongue and flicking it away. ‘There has been much drama this last half-hour.’

‘But what kind of mother am I to forget something so important?’ Polly crushed the barely smoked cigarette she hadn’t really wanted underfoot. ‘I must ask Matron if I can use her telephone. Perhaps Kate Jackson can arrange for me to speak to Alice, so I can explain to her why I can’t come just yet.’

‘It is a little early, Polly. Miss Jackson will not be in her office.’

‘I’ve got her private number in my bag …’ Realisation dawned and her spirits tumbled further. ‘I left it at home,’ she muttered, ‘and I dare not go and fetch it in case I’m needed here.’

‘I will go and find it.’ Danuta stood and ruffled her hair until it stood in spikes. ‘I will come back very quick,’ she assured her, and then set off at a fast walk and was soon out of sight.

Polly remained on the hospital step and listened to the sounds of Cliffehaven waking up. The milk cart rattled by, pulled by the plodding dray which knew the round so well, he probably didn’t need the dairyman to guide him any more. The newspaper man cycled past shortly after, his tuneful whistling sounding quite cheerful for such an early hour.

More nurses and doctors were in evidence now, ambulances were being driven out ready for emergencies, porters were hurrying back and forth, and the sky was struggling to lighten beneath a heavy pall of cloud.