Always In My Heart Read online

  Reaching the Loire, the lorry drove alongside the river for some miles, stopping whenever they found a village to ask the vital question: ‘Do you know Adèle Rouanet?’ The locals would give a puzzled frown or shake their head in disinterest.

  Towards the end of the day Alexis warned that he was running out of petrol. ‘I’d love to stay and help you, but I have only one can of fuel left, and there’s a limit to the time I can offer.’

  ‘We do understand that,’ Brenda said, worrying how far they could manage to walk. Depression was again sinking into her, causing odd palpitations in her heart. ‘I’m beginning to think we’re wasting our time doing this search. Apart from the fact that the Loire Valley is a huge area to cover, we’ve no proof that Camille and Adèle will still be here. They could be anywhere.’

  ‘They might even have escaped to England,’ Emma suggested. ‘But if they haven’t managed that yet, wouldn’t some member of the Stuart family know where they are, or where Adèle lives?’

  Brenda heaved a weary sigh. ‘I wish I knew the answer to that one, although I would expect them to know something. Those dear ladies might well have decided that England was the safest place for baby Tommy, being heir to Trowbridge Hall. On the other hand, they might have hidden him away some place, as Jews do with their children when they’re in danger of being captured. Who knows where they may have gone?’

  ‘We could try to find a train heading south, and keep searching as we progress towards England,’ Emma suggested. ‘Never give up.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Brenda agreed.

  ‘What if they crossed the border into Switzerland?’ Alexis suggested. ‘Many people are doing that. Even the Vichy government has been hounding and persecuting Jews. Some Jewish children have become separated from families who’ve been captured, as were you, only they suffered far worse. Various groups are attempting to help by hiding them, then sending the children on to safety in places such as Switzerland or the United States.’

  ‘Switzerland! Oh, goodness, that would be so frustrating, considering we’ve just come from near there,’ Emma replied, glancing at the anguish on her dear friend’s face. ‘Let’s hope these two ladies are indeed on their way home to England.’

  ‘If not, then the people to ask for help are the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants, known as the OSE,’ Alexis told them. ‘They run orphanages for children whose parents have been imprisoned in concentration camps, or executed. They operate secretly, like the Resistance, but I can give you the address of my friend Jeanne, who works for them in Tours,’ he said, fishing in his pocket for a pen. Unable to find even a scrap of paper, he wrote it on the back of Brenda’s hand.

  ‘Thank you so much, Alexis. However difficult it might be, I’m not prepared to give up searching yet,’ she staunchly insisted. ‘But if I fail to find Tommy soon, then I agree it makes sense for us to go back to England.’

  Sleeping that night in the back of the lorry, Brenda examined her hand, going over all that Alexis had told them, her heart once more in anguish for her missing son. She felt as if she’d lost a limb, and her entire reason for living. There had been a time, not feeling too well after the rape, when she’d feared it might result in further anguish. The last thing she wanted was to give birth to a child of that Gestapo brute. And as her monthlies had long since stopped, how could she be sure she was safe? Fortunately, Brenda was now feeling much better, so hopefully all would be well. And finding Tommy was much more important.

  Surely the two cousins would be more likely to go to England than Switzerland. But Camille was not a well woman, so what if something had happened to her? What would Adèle do then? Would she take Tommy home to his family, if that were at all possible, or would she seek help in order to do so? In which case, she might well go to these OSE people. It was an interesting thought. Again reading the address on the back of her hand, Brenda carefully copied the details on to a paper bag she happened to have. Should they go and see this friend of Alexis’s, or not? Sleep overcame her before she’d reached any decision.

  The next morning they scoured one last village and the medieval town of Amboise, admiring the half-timbered cottages, the magnificent Château d’Amboise, and the view from the bridge over the River Loire.

  ‘Adèle is a very grand lady, so this town would suit her perfectly,’ Brenda acknowledged.

  There was a market open so they took the opportunity to stock up a little on food, as well as asking the all-important question, which sadly brought forth the same negative responses. Finally accepting defeat, Brenda asked Alexis to drop them off at the Gare Amboise. She thanked him for his generosity and help, assuring him that she’d made a note of everything he’d told her, even though she hadn’t yet made up her mind what to do with it. They waved goodbye as he drove off back to Paris, no doubt to face yet more dangerous duties. The two girls sat in a far corner of the platform to nibble on a sandwich and patiently wait for a train.

  ‘Do we head south to Toulouse, then over the Pyrenees through Spain and back to England, or to Tours to find this Jeanne?’ Emma asked.

  ‘No idea. I wish I could decide which was the best option.’

  Some hours later, when a train finally came puffing slowly into the station, it was not heading south to Toulouse, but indeed to Tours.

  ‘I believe this must be an omen,’ Brenda said. ‘I do take Alexis’s point. This group he mentioned, the OSE, sound like experts where lost children are concerned, so they might help me to find Tommy.’

  ‘Right, let’s go and ask them,’ Emma said with a grin, and they quickly climbed on board.

  Sixteen

  1945

  Prue boarded the Lady of Mann quite late that evening. This time, as it crossed the churning Irish Sea, the ship was not escorted by a frigate, and unlike poor Dino, she was not going to be interned. But the boat was so packed with passengers that she had no choice but to sleep on deck. Fortunately it was a warm June night, so that was not a problem, although the tossing and rocking of the boat did keep waking her.

  Arriving at Douglas early the next morning she at once took a train to Ramsey, where Dino had told her in his most recent letter that he was being held. It was a lovely ride through the hills and countryside in the early morning on the Manx railway. The excitement that she would soon be seeing him pulsated within her. She’d longed for him so much. But how she would set about achieving his release was still to be resolved.

  The moment Prue arrived in the small town she set out in search of accommodation, carrying her brown suitcase and feeling deeply tired. The streets looked stark, with huge lengths of barbed wire fencing off sections of the promenade. She called at several boarding houses, failing to find any spare rooms available while other landladies would slam the door shut stating they didn’t have anything to do with internees. Eventually one agreed to take her in, Prue having quickly explained why she was here. It wasn’t exactly the smartest place she’d stayed at, with no sign of any carpets, and all personal items and ornaments having been removed from the sitting room. Perhaps because this landlady didn’t trust internees either, or their visitors.

  Being shown into a single room high up on the top floor, it felt small and sparsely furnished. But at least there was a wonderful view out over the sea.

  ‘You’re not allowed any visitors to your room,’ Mrs Pickering, the landlady, sternly informed her. ‘And you must be in by nine o’clock or you’ll find the door locked. Lunch will be in half an hour.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be lovely. It has been a long journey.’

  Unpacking the few possessions she’d brought with her, Prue felt a tide of loneliness wash over her. What should she do now? How she wished her dear friend Brenda was here to support her. She was such a brave lady, despite having suffered so much trauma herself. Prue felt a little lost, as if her own courage was rapidly fading. Had this been another hasty decision she’d made, one she would come to regret? She really did hope not, but how could she possibly help Dino? Would anyone even
be prepared to listen when she begged for his release?

  ‘Who would you recommend I speak to?’ she asked as the landlady placed a most welcome plate of sausage and mash before her.

  ‘You’ll need to ask the camp commandant that, love. Many camps have already been cleared out. Some of the police and guards in charge are also leaving, even though numbers are on the rise again now that German prisoners of war have started arriving. Is your fellow one of them?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Prue quickly assured her. ‘He’s Italian.’

  ‘There are still a few hundred internees here at Mooragh, and across at Peveril, and some women and married couples at Port Erin. But most internees have now left, many having been held for as long as five years.’

  ‘Then why would my fiancé be brought back here?’

  ‘No doubt they are classing him as a war criminal,’ Mrs Pickering quietly suggested.

  ‘He’s not at all. He’s perfectly innocent.’ The prospect that Dino was being looked upon as a war criminal simply for falling in love with her, felt utterly soul destroying. How could she ever hope to save him if that was the case?

  ‘Well, you have my sympathy, love. The transportation of aliens to this Island began back in 1940,’ the landlady said as she sat herself down beside Prue to continue with her tale. ‘The news was put out in the local paper that about thirty boarding houses on the promenade were to be requisitioned to form an internment camp.

  ‘We’d expected the PoWs to be put in huts, but owners were given a week in which to gather up their personal possessions and move out, which was a bit of a shock. They were even instructed to leave their furniture behind, although some took their favourite pieces with them, replacing them with second-hand misfits,’ she said, giving a little chuckle. ‘Some folk were quite in favour, as the money they were paid made up for the loss of tourists. Then day after day the men started to arrive, young and old, carrying their gas masks, luggage, fishing rods and even some fetching a dog. We thought they’d take over the town, but the selected houses were ringed off with barbed wire.’

  ‘Which does look pretty dreadful. But I can understand why the military would need to do that, or the fascists and Nazi sympathisers could escape and create huge problems.’

  ‘Indeed, as one or two tried to do, but generally failed. Why they bothered, I don’t know, as they were all well fed. This island is not short of milk, potatoes, or other good food,’ Mrs Pickering pointed out.

  ‘I remember Dino saying he was treated well and not as an enemy. He was eventually allowed to come and work on our farm, which he greatly appreciated.’

  ‘That’s good. Some of the women were released early because they were pregnant. You aren’t in the family way, are you, love?’ she softly asked, seeing a slight flush appear upon Prue’s cheeks.

  ‘Umm, might be, not sure yet.’

  ‘I did wonder if that might have something to do with why you’ve risked coming here. Well, bearing in mind the reason your fiancé has been re-interned is probably your fraternisation, I wouldn’t recommend you using that as a plea for his release.’

  Grateful for all she’d been told, Prue smiled. ‘I take your point. Thank you.’

  ‘And as your fellow is Italian, he’ll be in the N Camp.’

  Walking along the promenade, the sound of seagulls flying overhead and waves washing along the beach lifted her spirits a little, as did the beautiful sunshine and views of the hills beyond. The temperature felt much milder than in the Pennines. Ramsey was no doubt a really pleasant harbour town before the war. But once again the sight of the barbed wire enclosing a row of Victorian houses brought her back to reality. So this was the camp. How dreadful to be locked up here, particularly when the rest of the country was celebrating peace. She could see a group of men wandering about within the compound, clearly taking a little exercise. And suddenly there he was, strolling about with his hands in his pockets, looking slightly glum and depressed. Running over, she called his name.

  ‘Dino, Dino, I’m here!’

  He looked up in stunned disbelief, then glancing around to check he wasn’t being watched, hurried over to gaze at her in delight. ‘How wonderful to see you, darling.’

  ‘I’ve come to try and help. Oh, and your mother sends her love.’ She began at once to tell him about her visit to Ancoats, pushing her fingers through the wire in an effort to reach him.

  ‘Best not to do that. We can’t touch,’ he warned her, again looking anxiously over his shoulder at the watchful guards. ‘So long as you stay well back and keep walking we can talk, although we’re only allowed out here for a short time.’ These words were barely out of his mouth when a whistle blew and the PoWs were ordered back inside.

  ‘I’ll come again tomorrow, a bit earlier,’ she promised, her heart flickering with joy that at least she had found him.

  *

  Every morning Prue would walk to and fro on the outside of the barbed wire compound on the seafront, while Dino walked alongside her within it. Sometimes windows would open and heads would pop out, as if the interned men couldn’t resist gazing upon an attractive young woman. She even heard the occasional wolf whistle, which would make her giggle.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she anxiously asked him. ‘Do they feed you properly? Do you suffer from any sickness?’

  ‘I’m fine, cara mia, if hugely bored.’

  ‘Oh, I can well believe that. What can I do to help?’

  ‘Just seeing you here makes me feel far less lonely. We won’t get long, so you need to know that I’m constantly called to be questioned and cross-examined, not least about my political status.’

  ‘And presumably our fraternisation.’

  He nodded. ‘That too. Those who manage to convince the committee of their loyalty and friendliness to Britain have been released. I’m trying to do that, but it does seem to take some time. I need to give them a good reason.’

  ‘Other than the fact we want to marry?’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  An armed guard came over at that point and instructed her to leave as their allotted time had run out.

  ‘Love you,’ she murmured, as she watched Dino being led back inside.

  Wasting no time, she went straight to the local admin office and requested a meeting with the camp commandant. The young officer in charge looked up at her blank-faced. ‘He’s a very busy person.’

  ‘So am I, as I’m largely in charge of growing food on our farm,’ she said, keeping her tone polite but firm. ‘Nevertheless, I do have some information about Dino Belloni which may of interest.’

  Prue’s nerves jangled as she was shown into the commandant’s office. He was seated behind his desk and didn’t even glance up from whatever he was scribbling on a file as she stood before him. She waited with trembling impatience and had almost given up hope when finally he snapped, ‘What is it you want?’

  Clearing her throat, she politely asked the question hovering at the back of her mind. ‘I am wondering why Dino Belloni has been re-interned, and when he is likely to be released?’

  Silence again followed, then glancing up at her, he said, ‘Name?’

  ‘Prudence Stuart,’ she said with a polite smile.

  ‘I mean this young man you’re referring to.’

  Hadn’t he even listened? ‘Dino Belloni,’ she carefully repeated. ‘He has worked on our farm in the Pennines for some months. He is not an enemy, nor an alien, and certainly not a fascist.’

  ‘Being anti-fascist is not sufficient reason for his release.’ He glanced back at the file he’d been working on, engaging in a quiet conversation with the young man standing beside him as he handed him various papers. When he dashed off, the commandant finally turned to Prue to answer her question. ‘This Italian prisoner of war has been returned to the Isle of Man to be interned on charges of fraternisation. As you are no doubt aware.’ His expression was grimly authoritarian, making Prue feel like a schoolgirl being chastised by her headmas
ter. ‘And here he will stay.’

  ‘But he’s done nothing wrong, save walk down to the village with me to celebrate VE Day.’ She carefully made no mention of their relationship.

  He gave a snort of disbelief. ‘If you imagine you had any right to do that, you are very much mistaken, girl. Fraternisation with PoWs is very much against the law. Good day to you.’ He thumped the bell on his desk, and a young guard came bustling in. ‘Show this young woman out!’ he snarled.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the guard smartly responded, indicating Prue should follow him.

  Ignoring him, she rested her hands on the desk to lean closer to the commandant. ‘All right, I admit we do love each other and wish to marry as soon as he is free. But why is it considered to be a crime to fall in love with an Italian, even though British soldiers are allowed to marry their German girl friends? And why hasn’t the law changed now that the war has ended?’

  ‘It may well change eventually,’ he frostily remarked, ‘but not right away. Remove her now!’

  Grasping her arm, the guard marched Prue out, almost as if she was a prisoner herself.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ she told him as he pushed her out and slammed the door in her face. Realising she’d made a bad mistake by revealing how they felt about each other, it became clear to her that getting Dino released was not going to be as easy as she’d imagined.

  Seventeen

  Summer passed in a blur of hard work but as autumn 1945 approached, Brenda was shocked to be informed by her boss at the rubber factory that her job was coming to an end. ‘How on earth can I continue to pay the rent without a wage coming in?’ she said, as Brenda and her friend Cathie shared dismay over this news. ‘I’ve no real wish to return to my late husband’s family home out on the Pennines. Not that they would welcome me.’

  Cathie gave her a consoling hug. ‘I’m sure if we look hard enough we’ll find other work, even if it’s only part time. We do have considerable experience at our fingertips, after all. Surely all these years of hard work we’ve done must count for something?’