The Lost Years (32 page)

Perys had a good command of the French language and, aided by Grace, who had spent some time in the country, he was able to refuse many of the offers without causing offence, by pleading that he would be flying again later in the day.

Eventually, the gourmet meal came to an end and the restaurateur earned the applause of the diners by refusing to accept payment for the memorable meal enjoyed by the happy pair. They finally escaped from the restaurant, but not until Perys had shaken hands with all the men present and been kissed by the restaurant owner’s wife, the waitresses and every female diner.

Perys and Grace realised there was no sense in returning to the Embassy before late afternoon and they decided to take advantage of the Paris sunshine. After crossing the spacious and impressive Place de la Concorde, they walked along the north bank of the River Seine as far as the lie de la Cite and the splendour of the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

Uniforms were very much in evidence on the streets of Paris, yet the British pair still attracted a great deal of interest from those they met along the way, and there were smiles of approbation from most.

Returning to the Embassy in the Rue du Faubourg St Honore at about four-thirty, they found Major General Ballard uncharacteristically flustered.

Speaking to Grace, he said, ‘Darling, I am afraid there has been a change of plan. We will not be able to enjoy dinner tonight after all. Field Marshal French was visiting Paris today and he decided to attend the meeting. He read my report and wants me to travel with him to London tonight to place some of the points I have raised before the War Cabinet in the morning. We are leaving by train this evening. In fact, I should be on my way right now. The Embassy motor-car has been waiting for some twenty minutes. I am so very, very sorry, my dear.’

‘I am too.’ Grace seemed close to tears. ‘I was so looking forward to spending an evening with you. But I do understand - and you must not keep the field marshal waiting.’

Field Marshal Sir John French was the commander-in-chief of the British army in France.

‘Thank you, my dear. But, here . . .’ Reaching into a pocket, the general thrust a wad of notes into her hands. ‘When an opportunity arises, treat yourself and your friends to a really good meal.’

Holding out a hand to Perys, he said, ‘It has been a very real pleasure to get to know you, Perys. You took care of me splendidly. I look forward to welcoming you to our home in Oxfordshire in the not-too-distant future.’ With this and a final hug and kiss for Grace, he hurried away to the waiting motor-car, leaving Grace standing on the Embassy steps. Perys thought she looked very vulnerable and forlorn.

‘I am very sorry your evening has been spoiled, Grace, but I know your father is equally disappointed. He was really looking forward to spending some time with you.’

‘I realise it is not his fault,’ Grace said, with a resigned shrug. ‘He had no way of knowing Field Marshal French would be here, and Father is a soldier. It’s his life. He can’t say, ‘Sorry, Field Marshal, I am not coming back to London with you because I have promised to have dinner with my daughter, whom I haven’t seen for months.’

Despite her apparent understanding there was bitterness in her voice, and Perys said, gently, ‘You’re right, Grace. He can’t say that, much as he might wish to. Your father has worked hard on his report. Field Marshal French obviously thinks it is important. So do I. You do too, really.’

‘Yes . . . yes, I do. It’s just . . . oh, I don’t know, it’s so disappointing, especially as I have been given a few days off. One of the French nurses I work with has given me the keys to her flat here in Paris, in the hope that Father might have been able to spend a while with me . . .’ She shrugged, unhappily. ‘We have got to expect such things to happen in wartime.’ Giving Perys a weak smile, she added, ‘I suppose now that Father is on his way back to England by train you will need to get back to your airfield?’

‘Actually, no!’ Perys said. ‘In fact, I too must obey the orders of a senior officer. My squadron commander told me I should take a few days leave in Paris before returning to duty,’

It took a few moments for his words to sink in, then a disbelieving Grace said, ‘You mean . . . you can stay in Paris for a while?’

‘That’s right. Look, I saw quite a pleasant hotel just along the road from here. Why don’t I book in there and telephone the liaison officer at the airfield. I’ll ask him to take care of my aeroplane for a couple of days and send my belongings along to the hotel. Then I can take you out to dinner tonight and we can make plans to spend some time together over the next few days.’

‘Perys, that would be wonderful! But I will take you out to dinner with the money my father gave to me.’

‘I won’t argue with that, Grace. Now, let’s see if they will allow me to use the Embassy telephone . . .’

Chapter 50

The liaison officer at the Paris airfield told Perys the BE2c would be perfectly safe where it was for as long as he wished to leave it there. He would send a driver right away to deliver Perys’s single piece of luggage to the Hotel Castigliane, where Perys had no difficulty in booking a room.

For their evening meal, Perys and Grace chose another unpretentious but superb restaurant that had been recommended by the French nurse who had given Grace the use of her flat.

Once again, the presence of an English pilot and nurse appealed to the romantic and generous nature of the Parisians. The proprietor insisted that the wine be enjoyed as a present from the establishment. Then, after a superb meal and a delightful evening together, the young couple discovered that their bill had been settled by one of the other diners who had left without making himself known.

Outside, in the narrow Paris street, Grace took hold of Perys’s arm and hugged it to her. ‘It has been a wonderful evening after all, Perys, exactly as Paris should be. This is a truly magical city.’

Perys agreed, then, becoming practical, he asked how she was planning to make her way back to the flat where she was staying.

‘Oh, it’s not very far away,’ was her reply. ‘I was hoping you would walk me there.’

‘I would like that very much.’ Perys was delighted at the opportunity to make the happy evening last for as long as was possible.

Their route took them alongside the river which seemed to have attracted all the lovers in Paris. They walked hand-in-hand, arm-in-arm with arms about each other’s waists, or stood kissing on the wide stone walkways that followed both river banks. Others occupied shadowy recesses in the walls that rose high above the river walks to the roads above them.

‘The war seems so far away from here,’ said Perys, as a water bus glided past them with a party on board who were lustily singing a popular music-hall song of the day.

‘Shh!’ Grace put a finger to his lips. ‘Talk of war is not allowed for as long as we are in Paris together . . . By the way, how long will you be able to stay here?’

‘Three or four days. How about you?’

‘I have another three days before I need to be back.’

Grace had forbidden all mention of war, but speaking of the time she and Perys would have together in Paris was in itself a reminder of what they would be returning to at the end of their time together. Sensing her sudden unhappiness, Perys freed his arm from hers and put it about her waist, pulling her closer.

They were passing beneath a bridge and, without a word being spoken, they stopped and kissed. When they resumed walking, with arms about each other, they said very little, each content in the nearness of the other.

Soon, Grace guided him towards a flight of steps that led away from the river. Leaving behind the Seine and the wide boulevards that flanked it, they walked through ever narrower streets until, beside a wide-fronted church, Grace stopped before a tall building.

Pointing to a door of impressive proportions, she said, ‘This is where I am staying. Yvonne’s flat is on the first floor.’

Reluctant for the evening to come to an end, Perys said, ‘This has been a wonderful night, Grace. The most enjoyable I have ever spent.’

It seemed that Grace was equally disinclined to bring the evening to an end. ‘Would you like to come up for a coffee, Perys? I haven’t yet learned to make it as the French do, but I promise it will be reasonably drinkable.’

The stairs were narrow, uneven and complaining, but as soon as Perys followed Grace into the first-floor flat he realised that Yvonne possessed both money and considerable taste. The flat was luxuriously yet stylishly furnished.

When Perys aired his observations aloud, Grace smiled. ‘The flat is a present to Yvonne from an elderly but extremely wealthy lover.’

Trying to hide his astonishment that Grace could talk of such a relationship so casually, he said, ‘Are you saying she gave up a comfortable life here to become a nurse?’

‘That’s right - and she is a very good nurse. Her lover lost his only son in the battle that was fought to keep the Germans from taking Paris and he is very proud of Yvonne. He delights in sending unexpected luxuries for her and all the nurses at the field hospital. They arrive in such quantities that we often share them out among our patients.’

‘It would seem he is a very generous, man,’ Perys commented.

‘Yes . . . now, would you like a cognac with your coffee? I believe that too is the best money can buy, although I am no expert.’

The cognac was as excellent as Grace had promised. It led to a second . . . and then to a third.

Perys was not used to drinking the quantity he had consumed that evening and he was feeling quite heady. When he eventually rose to his feet, he said, ‘It’s very late, Grace. I had better leave you to get some sleep now.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Grace too seemed somewhat unsteady on her feet. ‘It has been an absolutely wonderful evening, Perys. All I could have wished for.’

‘I’m glad, that’s just the way I feel about it.’ He kissed her. Then he kissed her again . . . and again.

He was holding her very close to him when she spoke his name in little more than a whisper.

‘Perys?’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t have to go . . . not if you would like to stay.’

‘There can only be one answer to that, Grace, but . . . are you certain it’s what you want? We’ve both had a great deal to drink - you might wake in the morning and hate me.’

Her head was against his shoulder and she shook it vigorously. ‘No, Perys, I won’t do that. I could never feel like that about you. Never, working in the field hospital I see men come in every day who have had their lives cut short before they have known a moment of real love or fulfilment. Others never will, even though they survive - well, a survival of sorts. It has changed the way I was brought up to think, Perys. Some things are no longer important. Others much more so. I believe everyone deserves to experience true happiness at least once in their lifetime. I have come to realise it is something to be seized upon if the opportunity arises. A memory, at least, is something that can never be taken away. Do you understand what I am trying to say, Perys?’

‘Yes, Grace. Yes, I do.’

He knew exactly how she felt. He had often entertained similar thoughts when a pilot or observer, fresh from training school and not long out of college, failed to return from an operational mission. It was something he needed to hide in the everyday life of the squadron, the feeling that he had witnessed a sadly wasted life before it had even begun to know the meaning of life, love and fulfilment.

‘The only thing I wish now is that we could go out and find someone to marry us –‘

His words were cut short when her finger pressed against his lips for the second time that evening. ‘That doesn’t really matter, Perys. I love you - and I think you love me too. That's what matters. That’s all that matters.’

* * *

When Grace woke the next morning, with Perys beside her, he was leaning on one elbow, looking down at her. She had the feeling he had been doing so for a long time.

‘What is it? Is there something - ?’

He kissed her, cutting off the unfinished question. When he drew away, he said, ‘I love you, Grace.’

‘In view of what we’ve been doing I am both happy . . . and relieved!’ Smiling up at him, she stretched contentedly. ‘Is this how everyone feels after doing that?’

‘I wouldn’t know about everyone, but I know how I feel.’

‘How do you feel, Perys?’

‘I feel . . . so hungry I could eat a horse.’

‘Perys Tremayne! You are hopelessly unromantic!’

‘Am I? Is that what you really think?’

He felt obliged to prove to Grace that she was mistaken . . .

* * *

The days - and the nights - passed all too quickly, as happy times are wont to do, but they were idyllic hours for both Grace and Perys.

For possibly the first time in his life, Perys knew what it was to be fulfilled and unreservedly happy. He and Grace enjoyed walking in Paris together, savouring everything that the great city had to offer. But the times that were most precious and which gave them the happiest memories were the hours they spent together in the flat.

Regrettably, all too soon it was time for each of them to take their memories in different directions.

During the dark hours of their last night together, passionate love-making gave way to tears and the abject misery that heralded imminent parting.

Not until the grey light of a Paris dawn drove away the darkness did the lovers put their nakedness behind them and don uniforms that carried with them the responsibilities of their respective callings.

Perys accompanied Grace to the crowded railway station. There they were obliged to keep their longing for each other confined to an occasional meaningful glance and a seemingly casual touching of hands.

Their moment of parting too needed to be restricted to a brief kiss and a quick, painful hug. Once the train pulled away from the platform, they were no longer lovers. They were Lieutenant Perys Tremayne, pilot in the Royal Flying Corps, and Sister Grace Ballard of the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service.

Chapter 51

The difficulties experienced by the armies on the Western Front during the final months of 1915 continued well into the following year. The wet and cold and mud, at times knee-deep, were ever-present discomforts experienced by the soldiers of both sides.