The Second World War: PART 9 - Roger Farrier - Paris (1944) #2

            FARRIER

9.

1944

PARIS

The smashed mirror of water became whole when the unshaven face emerged from it. 

After a moment, the surface became still.  Roger Farrier gripped the sink with both hands.  He breathed in through his nose and puffed out, repeating the process two more times.  Then he looked at the open letter on the toilet seat – it wasn’t long and had been typewritten.

“My handsome soldier,

I love you with all my heart, I want you to remember that as you read these words.

This is my farewell. So goodbye, my dearest.

As you know, the Resistance had nothing to do with our chance meeting.  They recruited me a year after Dunkirk when I was twenty-three, and I have worked for them ever since.  I was in love with a Frenchman, still was, until you came along.  He was trying to destroy sensitive material from a downed R.A.F Spitfire - the Germans caught him, and they shot him.  He looked a lot like you, the same dreamy eyes and messy brown hair.  He had a moustache though; something you despise in a man. 

At the time, I felt I’d killed him, so I joined them.  Edmund Burke once wrote ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.’  So, I was also, in a sense, to blame. It drove me to a dark place of ruin.

By the time of 3 anniversaire of his death, I was already in love with you. The Resistance wanted me to seduce the Nazis at the garrison for intelligence and I said no.  How could I with you in my life?  They withdrew their help getting you home and I took over the evacuation myself. 

A year ago, I bailed on an old contact of mine – I didn’t want you to go - I knew that your heart lay with Sophie, it would break mine and be the death of me.  I realised it was wrong and a few months ago I paid a pilot to get you home.  He took my money and ran for Switzerland.  At that time, the Gestapo were snooping around the café.  I didn’t tell you.  They found Pierre and hung him from a tree in the Latin Quartier.  They made enquiries into my movements, but nothing’s come of it.  

***

This morning, I missed my period for the third time and I’m pregnant; I’m pregnant with your baby, Roger.  I thought we could escape to Spain from Bayonne. Hoping you would give up on your quest to return to England, to her, but I knew you wouldn’t.  No matter my love for you. 

Now I’ve told you, it’s the end of our love.  You’ll never forgive me.  I promise to raise our child by the sea, I can get to Saville on the last of my money and do you proud. I will always love you, maybe a part of you, deep down, loves me in return.  But there it is, my handsome soldier, my darling, my everything.  

It’s late now and I’m tired, I have a long journey ahead of me.  I kissed your forehead with your favourite lip rouge before I packed my bags.

It is done.

Adelise & Bump.” 

Farrier threw it down and punched the mirror with both fists, it didn’t break.  He stood back from it, looking at the spot that she had stared into only hours before, then cursed aloud in a ghastly profanity.  His eyes were wet with regret.  He’d lost Adelise and wouldn’t win her back.  She was gone for good this time.  

When the Gestapo broke down the door an hour or so later, he didn’t put up a fight.  The fight had left him now.  They marched him outside, shoved him into a blacked-out Mercedes and took him for a long drive.