Page 87 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
“I should have thought that Mr Tommy was the safest option ever,” she replied. “I shall not have to worry about him, especially with Clive in the same house. Besides,” she added, “I notice you didn’t make me an offer.”
“No,” he said, looking startled at this accusation. “If I’d made you an offer ...” He broke off, then said quickly, “Anyway, I couldn’t. I have my mother to take care of. I have to think of her first.”
“Yes, of course,” Ellie said.
“You have your landlord’s permission, I assume?” he said, his eyes now challenging hers.
“No, but I have no written lease that spells out whether I’m allowed visitors. Besides, the owner will be glad that I have two very handy men making sure the property is in tiptop condition.”
He nodded at this.
“So I won’t mention what you are storing on his property if you don’t mention this,” she said.
“Touché.” He went to say more but turned and walked away abruptly.
By the end of October, when identity cards were required of all adults, they were fully moved in, a bigger coop had been constructed for the chickens and the two goats had made friends with Babette. Clive had produced an impressive marriage certificate. He showed Ellie the original he had copied from.
“It’s really good, Clive,” she said. “It looks quite authentic.”
“Yes, I did do a pretty good job, didn’t I?” He gave a satisfied smile. “Maybe there is work for me as a forger as this war progresses. People will need fake ID cards.”
“If you could do that, you could have made one for me,” she said. “Simpler than getting married.”
“Ah, but ID cards are more of a challenge. They require the official stamp on them, and they are registered with the town hall in Marseille,” he said. “They could easily check on you. But they can’t check on a parish church in England right now.”
So they went into Marseille, registered and collected identity and ration cards. It all seemed ridiculously simple, and nobody commented on the marriage certificate, except the clerk, a serious-looking woman with black hair in a severe bun, who remarked, “So there is hope for all of us widowed women to find a new happiness in life.”
Ellie felt a twinge of guilt as the clerk shook hands and wished them well. A new phase of life started. Ellie wasn’t at all sure what it would be like living with two men, but she soon saw the advantages. They were constantly busy. Tommy loved to cook. Clive enjoyed working in the garden and tending to the livestock. At the end of the first week theyhad a celebration dinner, and after they had drunk coffee, savouring it since coffee might not be available much longer, Ellie was led outside.
“We’ve managed to find a wedding present for you,” Clive said. “For us, really.”
And he pointed to a beehive. “We got it from the man who owns the vineyard close to the main road. With any luck we’ll have honey when there is no more sugar. And the bees will fertilize our crops.”
“Oh, how lovely.” Ellie looked from one face to the other. “I really haven’t thanked you properly for taking care of me. You’ve saved me. Well, done more than saved me. You’ve given me interest in life again. I want you to feel that this house is your home and to do what you like with it.”
“I’m so glad you said that,” Tommy replied, “because Clive has some great ideas for redecorating.” Then he burst out laughing. “Your face! Just joking, my dear. We are quite content the way it is.”
Also soon after they had moved in, Ellie received a letter. This was quite a shock as no post had come from England for a long while and she was not used to finding anything in her post office box. The postmistress hailed her as she went for the weekly ration of flour and margarine.
“You know there’s a letter sitting there for you?”
Ellie hurried to retrieve it, expecting news from England or at least another lecture from Lionel. Her heart was beating fast in case it was bad news about one of her sons. Instead, the letter had a local French stamp. She opened the envelope.
My dear Ellie,the letter began in beautiful sloping handwriting.I have been worried about you, so I am writing to see if you are safe and sound.
She skimmed to the bottom of the page. It was signed,With God’s blessing, Gerard.
Her face flushed, and she clutched the letter a little tighter. He had been worrying about her. She read the rest of the letter. Only pleasantries about the monastery, nothing intimate or too friendly. But it ended,We should all enjoy this moment of calm and peace here, because I fear it won’t be too long before the enemy sees Marseille and Toulon as strategic ports for their Mediterranean fleet.
Ellie finished the letter and folded it back into the envelope.
“Good news?” The postmistress had been observing her.
“Neither good nor bad,” she said. “Just a friend concerned about me. But all is well.”
She hadn’t realized before that mail was taken out to the island, but the postmistress said that one of the fishermen would drop any letters off when needed. So Ellie sat at her desk and wrote back to the abbot, telling him of the fake marriage and that Tommy and Clive were now living at the villa with her. She expressed her relief that she no longer had to worry about being caught. She wrote of the chickens and goats and a good crop of apples that Clive was now drying on trays to preserve them.
It felt good to know that she could write to him, that he was in touch with her, even if she couldn’t go out to the island. She saw nothing of Nico, even though she had warned Tommy and Clive that he might be seen sneaking through the garden at night.
