Page 49 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure

It didn’t take long for the whole of Saint-Benet to know that Mr Tommy and Clive were moving into the villa with Ellie.

Makes sense, was the general opinion. It’s good to pool resources.

But then Ellie risked using up precious petrol to drive into Marseille, and the rumour was spread that she and Tommy had gone to be married.

Most of Saint-Benet scoffed at this idea but agreed it made sense for Ellie, or she’d get no rations.

“Good luck to them, that’s what I say,” Mr Adams said. “In wartime, you do what you have to.”

“Yes, but not to that man,” Mrs Adams replied with a sniff of disgust. “You know what sort he is.”

“Perhaps he’s seen the error of his ways,” Mr Adams suggested.

“A likely story.”

Possessions were carried, bit by bit, down from Tommy and Clive’s house and up the steps to Ellie’s.

She used more valuable petrol to pack her motor car with heavier things they’d need, including a crate of chickens on the back seat, while the goats were led across by hand.

Clive brought their cat across and introduced her to Tiger.

Tiger, being the most easy-going of cats, was prepared to make instant friends, but Clive’s cat retreated under a table and hissed.

“I expect they’ll soon sort it out,” Clive said.

The major furniture was left in place as a tenant had been found to rent the house—a couple who had decided that Lyon was too close to the border of the occupied zone for comfort.

“My husband’s Jewish,” the wife said. “We can’t take any risks.”

As Ellie was crossing the harbour with baskets of provisions from the house, Nico came up to her and grabbed her fiercely by the arm, swinging her around. Ellie gave a small cry of alarm.

“Is it true what they say?” he asked, frowning at her. “It can’t be true. They say that you’ve married that man. Mr Tommy. It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is,” she said.

“But he’s ...” He tried to frame the sentence.

She smiled then. “Nico, don’t worry. If ever there was a marriage of convenience, this is one.

I couldn’t get an identity card and could have been arrested and sent to a camp.

Now I’ll be safe. It makes sense to only use one house, and it helps Tommy and Clive, too.

Now he’s a respectable married man if the Germans ever come here and start probing. ”

“Yes, but ...” Nico still looked angry. “There must have been other options.”

“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 they had 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.

“I’ve often wondered about him,” Tommy said.

“He always seems to have enough money, but he doesn’t actually go out fishing much.

I know he has that speedboat he takes people out in, but there haven’t been many visitors this year.

” He gave Ellie a questioning glance. “So do you think he’s a smuggler? A black marketeer?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “I only know he keeps things in the locked shed, and apparently this is all right with the owner.”

“But we’ve never met this owner, have we?” Tommy asked.

“I understood he lived in Paris and his affairs are handled by Monsieur Danton,” she said.

“But maybe it’s just his attorney who lives in Paris.

Who knows where the actual owner lives. I’ve often wondered .

..” She paused. “About the viscount. Could it be that he is the son of the duke who bought this villa for his mistress? I didn’t like to ask him, and he didn’t offer the information.

But it would make sense—his father bought this whole piece of land on the hillside and built two properties, side by side. ”

“I suppose it would,” Tommy agreed. “He’s a funny chap, isn’t he? One never knows when he’s here. He never mixes with us at all. Brings his own servants. Has his provisions shipped in from outside, and yet one understands that he’s quite young.”

“He is,” Ellie said. “I would think maybe late thirties, early forties?”

“You’d expect his family to want him to marry,” Tommy said. “And produce the heir.”

“He did clarify that for me. He’s the second son, and there already is a satisfactory heir from his brother. He has interests elsewhere, so I gather.”

“Really?” Tommy looked amused. “Well, I never. So is he here for the duration of the war, do you think?”

“I really don’t know. Possibly. He does have a house in Paris he can’t go to now.”

“You’d think he’d want company, wouldn’t you?”

“I have lunch with him quite often,” Ellie said. “For some reason he has taken to me.”

“Of course he would,” Tommy said. “You are the least judgemental person in the universe. He’d feel comfortable with you.”

Ellie considered this comment later. It was nice of him to say that, and she had to admit that it was probably true.

She had brought Dora here, even though for all she knew Dora could have been a demanding and critical old woman.

She had brought her cleaning lady, treating her as an equal, which most of her peers would not have done.

And she had embraced Tommy and Clive, and the viscount.

So I do have a few good qualities, she thought. I must tell Gerard when I write to him again.