No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) (10 page)

They left the car and were welcomed to the home by Anne, her mother, and her father. They couldn’t have been nicer. As the girls entered the enormous drawing room, decorated in gold and white, with a Persian rug covering the fine, polished wood floor, both were nearly speechless. French doors ran from ceiling to floor, leading out to the terrace in front of the mansion. The sunlight, through the glass, made everything in the room sparkle. A silver tea service sat on a marble-topped table, between two down-filled sofas. Other seating arrangements were scattered about the large room.

Major Cabot was already there. He stood as the two young ladies entered. Introductions were made, and everyone found a cosy place to sit. It didn’t take Giselle and Elise much time to figure out why they’d received the invitations. Major Ted Cabot didn’t mince words. He made it abundantly clear that there’d been a prior conversation about fraternizing with social inferiors. It wasn’t put so rudely, but that was the gist of his words.

Major Cabot couldn’t believe how stunning the French women were. His breath was taken away by Elise’s beauty. She looked like a storybook character. Cinderella perhaps, or an innocent Greek Goddess. But the longer they visited, his attention turned to Giselle. He’d always been drawn to her sort. Her shiny, raven hair set off the fair porcelain skin, and her eyes, green, with long lashes, sent his head spinning. Her hair was long and swirled about her shoulders. He thought she was very lovely. There was nothing at all about her that seemed common. Regardless of her social background, she was exquisite. The only thought that kept running through his mind was whether he’d be able to see her again – preferably alone. Was there a chance she might be the slightest bit interested in him? He didn’t have a clue. Ted didn’t fully understand English tradition. It never crossed his mind that a girl like Giselle wouldn’t dream someone of his social class might be interested in
her
. She tried to concentrate upon the present – to make small talk – not to be overly impressed by Major Cabot. But it was very hard. How many times had she talked about her fantasy of meeting and falling in love with an American gentleman? Was this the man about whom she’d dreamed?

Sloan continued his correspondence with Anne, although the letters were devoid of any romantic overtones. It was apparent that, at least as far as he was concerned, the issue of their engagement had been dealt with. He obviously thought of Anne as only a longtime friend. Anne answered his letters and tried to sound equally un-romantic. Sloan seldom mentioned Elise. Anne wasn’t about to tell him that the girl for whom he’d been willing to break his engagement was living in his home village. Now that she had information about Elise’s past, she felt certain Sloan would eventually reconcile with her, begging forgiveness. But that would have to wait until the war ended, and he returned to England. In the meantime, she wrote friendly letters, certain someday he’d come to his senses.

She followed all RAF military deployments with worry and concern. Sloan was sent from one country to another, as war spread across the globe. Burma, Java, Sumatra, India. Places she’d only read about in books. Now, in spring 1942, she hoped he might be transferred back to England. It was very hard to understand what his letters said. Censors made certain nothing that might render aid to the enemy was written. Anne came away with the impression that he was definitely leaving the area where he’d been for a long time. By paying attention to what was happening in the war, she was able to see that the Allies were concentrating a lot of attention on bombing Germany. The Italian campaign was also in full force. Spitfires were being flown from aircraft carriers in the Mediterranean Sea to reinforce air defences in Malta. He might be anywhere. If Sloan had been sent back to England, she wasn’t aware of it. It was her hope that he’d be able to come home, for even a short furlough. Nothing of the sort happened. She continued to receive letters, but all mention of his whereabouts was deleted.

In truth, he never came near his homeland. He was still with the Allied forces in Northwest Africa. Sloan was heavily involved in the desert battle of El Almein, during which he was one of hundreds of RAF pilots who flew over five thousand sorties, assisting in delaying the Nazi General Rommel’s advance, allowing the British Eighth Army to take up positions at El Almein. That was July 1942.

Although over two years had passed since his brief meeting with Elise, he hadn’t forgotten her. He prayed a lot, as did the majority of his chums, and Elise was always one of those he asked God to protect. His mind was occupied with the war the majority of the time, but late at night, in the quiet of the desert, he often took out her photograph. Sometimes it all seemed like a dream. When other soldiers spoke longingly of their wives and lovers, Sloan never mentioned Elise, because he would have been embarrassed to admit he scarcely knew her. Still, he was as convinced as ever that she was his ideal – his soulmate – and his plans to find her, when fighting ceased, were as firmly entrenched as before. Naturally he’d go home first. He missed his parents, and longed to see
Highcroft Hall
, but as soon as possible after that, he meant to find the incomparable Elise.

***

Giselle and Major Ted Cabot began corresponding. He’d asked for her address when they said goodbye, after tea at
Meadowlands
. Giselle was secretly delighted and found it hard to believe that the handsome American Officer was interested enough to want to keep in touch. Anne was clearly surprised that a French lady’s maid had caught his eye. Her opinion of him deteriorated, and she decided that American men had strange ideas about class equality. It didn’t really matter to her one way or the other, since her primary objective was to win back Sloan’s love. She felt she’d come a long way toward that goal by learning the truth about Elise’s background. However, she wasn’t finished yet. Now that she knew about Elise’s life in Brighton, she began to plan a trip to that seaside resort. Needless to say, she didn’t tell either Elise or Giselle about the pending journey.

She told her parents that she intended a trip to London, for some badly needed shopping, requiring only a day’s absence. They weren’t entirely in favor of her plans, due to the on-going war. She firmly promised to take every possible precaution. They relented, allowing her to leave. Of course, instead of the fictitious trip to London, Anne boarded a train to Brighton
.
When she reached that charming seaside resort, she found the brothel Elise had told her about. She also remembered the names of the two women who hadn’t been fond of Elise - Adele and Lana. So, after knocking on the door, she asked to speak to one or the other. She was invited inside and was led to a small receiving room by a smartly dressed maid, wearing a traditional black dress with frilled white apron and cap. Soon, two attractive girls entered the room. They were both quite heavily made-up and weren’t nearly as young as Anne. She introduced herself and told them she was an acquaintance of Elise de Baier. The one with red hair, Adele, laughed.

“Er name ain’t really de Baier, ya know. It’s Lisak. A Russian name. ‘Er parents was peasants. She went to France when she was little. She picked the name when she found out she were in the puddin club, and decided to lie about bein a widow.”

“Yes, I knew about her misfortune in France, with the Nazis,” answered Anne. “I didn’t know she’d changed her name, but it isn’t so surprising.”

“Why are you ‘ere, if you know everythin about ‘er? Is her a friend o yours?” asked Lana.

“Not really. In fact, I only want to know the entire truth about her, because she’s romantically involved with a dear friend of mine, from childhood. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I’d tell ‘im to stay away from her, if I was you,” Adele continued. “She’s a scammer, that one. ‘E shouldn’t believe anythin her sez.”

“Can you tell me what basis you have for those remarks?”

“Cause, she’s a liar. I suppose her told you she lived ‘ere, but weren’t one of the workin girls,” Lana chimed in.

“Well – yes – she did,” answered Anne.

“Tha’s what I’d of thought,” said Adele. “Well, I can tell you, she lived next to me room, and till her popped out with the babe, she was as busy as all the rest of us. How do you think she saved enough money to move away from ‘ere? We’ve ‘eard her has a posh cottage at the seaside.”

“Yes, she does. Not large, but quaint. I assume the girl she shares the cottage with pays her share too.”

“You mean Giselle? Giselle were the most popular whore in this ‘ouse. She come from a very hoity-toity ‘ouse in Paris. She’s very, very good at what she does.”

Anne found this fascinating. Lady Celia’s lady’s maid was a whore. She would keel over. Actually, Anne had no reason to hate Giselle, and didn’t plan on telling her about what she’d learned. The details were strictly for use in her campaign to turn Sloan against Elise. However, such information might come in handy in the future. One never knew.

“Why do the two of you have such bad feelings toward Elise? She seems like a nice girl to me,” Anne continued.

“That’s the problem. She tries to pretend she’s a nice girl. Did you know her slept with Nazis?”

“Oh My! Wait a minute. That’s an awfully serious charge. I can scarcely see Elise doing such a thing. She left France because of the Nazis, but it’s my understanding she was assaulted,” Anne answered.

“So she sez. We thinks she left because she was found out – sleepin with the enemy, if you please. Mind you, we don’t ‘ave facts, but tha’s our take. She wasn’t married. Who’s the father of ‘er little girl?”

“I don’t want to spread tales. But what I’ve been led to believe is entirely different. I’ll only say that she didn’t willingly have any relationship with her daughter’s father.”

“Oh, yeah. We know tha story. She were raped by a bunch of drunk Germans. That’s totally against the law. They woulda been ‘ung. German soldiers wouldn’t take chances like ‘hat. All she’d of ‘ad to do were report them.”

“You have a point, ladies,” Anne responded, as she gathered up her handbag, preparing to leave. She had to get back to the railway station to catch the last train to Thornton-on-Sea. “I’ve enjoyed chatting with you. I won’t tell Elise I met you. I don’t imagine you care, but rest assured, what you’ve told me will be kept confidential.”

“The only reason we care is cause Madame Violette wouldn’t be ‘appy. She treated Elise like a daughter. Just tell your friend to steer clear. If ‘e’s interested. She’s not fit to be a wife.”

Anne walked back up the beach, past the old, chain pier and on to the railroad depot. She was glad she’d come to Brighton. While she didn’t believe one smidgeon of Adele and Lana’s nasty comments regarding Elise, they could be repeated to Sloan someday, if necessary. She wouldn’t be lying if she told him she’d visited Brighton and spoken with two ladies who’d known Elise.

***

The summer of 1942 drifted by. The entrance of the Americans into the war had begun to turn the tide, but it was still a hard slog. The Germans were adamant they were going to establish a new world, dominated by white Aryans, with Jews, homosexuals, handicapped persons, and whomever else they considered inferior, eliminated. The ‘inferiors’ were deported by the thousands, not only from Germany, but from conquered nations, including other Axis powers, like Italy and France. It was truly a battle of good versus evil.

Sloan found himself in battle again at El Alamein, in North Africa. On October 23, 1942, the second fight began at that desert location. Sloan maintained constant air patrols over enemy airfields, after a four-day bombing campaign wiped out most of the opposing forces. There were few suitable airfields, and the going was rough. On December 4, Sloan was shot down, along with nine other Bisley bombers, while they were attempting to destroy an enemy airfield. It was another close brush with death, but although his arm and pelvis were broken, Sloan survived. He was laid up in a base hospital for nearly four months. In April 1943, the Americans linked up with the British RAF, and they finally defeated the Germans at Tunisia. Sloan had recuperated and was in the cockpit again during that battle.

In Thornton-on-Sea, Chloe Arabella de Baier celebrated her second birthday in February 1943. Giselle and Elise had a sweet party for her, even managing to gather enough rationing coupons to bake a little cake for the occasion. She was a precious little girl, with golden hair and big brown eyes. Many people said she looked like Elise, except for the colour of her eyes. She had a winning personality, with a sunny outlook on life. Elise wanted her to have all of the love she herself had missed out on, due to having lost her parents at such a young age. She showered Chloe with cuddles and kisses, but also made certain she was taught proper manners and respect for elders. Because Chloe was the sole focus of Elise’s life, she put all of her time and attention into her. There was always concern in the back of her mind that someday Chloe would ask the questions all children ask; “Where did I come from? Who is my Daddy?” Elise wasn’t at all certain how she’d handle such queries. She didn’t believe in lying to a child, yet it would be a very difficult thing to explain. All she could really do was hope that the issue wouldn’t present itself until Chloe was much older, better able to understand the details surrounding her conception. Thus far, she was a happy child, who didn’t show signs of wonder about why she didn’t have a father. A lot of that probably had to do with the war, since few children her age had a father in the house.

Giselle continued to exchange letters with Major Cabot and grew fonder of him. She began to worry about what she’d do if the relationship became serious. How could she ever explain events in her past? He’d be disgusted. She’d never see him again. Yet, living with lies was anathema to her. It was already very hard to keep the many things she and Elise had said about both of their lives straight in her head. The idea of marrying a man and spending the rest of her life not being able to share the truth didn’t seem realistic. She was trapped between a rock and a hard place. If she told the truth, she’d undoubtedly lose him; if she lied, it would eat away at her conscience. She’d live in fear that someone, somewhere would learn of her background and tell him. She and Elise discussed the conundrum, because Elise had the same difficulty. She thought her dilemma was even worse, because she’d made up such an elabourate tale about a non-existent husband, his death and her subsequent widowhood. She’d even changed her name. While there was no one in her life at the moment, she did hope that someday she might find that she was able to trust again. She’d like Chloe to have a father. Then something happened to make her think even more seriously about how she’d deal with the truth.

***

On one of Anne’s regular Monday appointments, the two sat down for a chat after the lesson was finished. Elise was astounded when Anne dropped a bombshell. She said that Sloan had mentioned Elise in a letter. He’d said he wanted to be released from their engagement, because he believed Elise to be his soulmate. Anne confessed she’d known this for some time, but had ignored it because she didn’t believe he was truly serious. However, he’d continued to say that his feelings hadn’t changed, so Anne felt it was time to tell Elise the truth. She said the only reason she’d withheld the information initially, was because she thought he’d been going through some strange phase and would surely come to his senses. But he hadn’t.

The news stunned Elise. She had already admitted to having met Sloan and was glad she’d done so. She explained to Anne that she, too, believed it was a passing fancy. Elise mentioned nothing about what had occurred that long ago day at her French farmhouse. Nothing about the flirting, or the kiss. Certainly not the kiss. She truly was astounded that the soldier, who she’d scarcely known, had ended his engagement because of her! Apparently, his talk about soulmates hadn’t just been a bit of frisky behavior.