Pascale’s presence at least gave me some sleep, had I been alone I would have probably lain awake all night with my mind churning out a million questions for which there were no answers.
At last, I woke to find myself alone and sat up, trying to see the clock but it was too dark.
The tiny cut-out in the shutters showed the cold grey glimmer of morning so I knew it was still early.
I reached to the side and switched on the little lamp beside my bed which produced enough light to see that it was just after six.
Swinging my legs over the side to the floor, I sat for a minute, gathering my thoughts and wondering at what time Pascale had risen when the door slowly opened accompanied by a clinking of cups and saucers.
“Ah, you’re awake,” she said.
“Yes, just,” I answered her, “How long have you been up?”
“Oh, not long really. Just long enough to make some tea for us. Did you sleep all right?”
She placed the cups upon the little bedside stand whilst she sat herself beside me.
“No, not really but at least the comfort of your presence allowed me some respite. Did you?”
“No, I didn’t sleep at all,” she said, almost shyly.
“I’m sorry, you must be exhausted,” I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her to me.
“Not really,” she smiled. “I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savour every minute of being so close to you. I felt you stir a number of times so I just held you tighter until you relaxed back into sleep.”
My heart thumped gently but firmly as I realised that, for the first time in my life, someone actually loved me, someone who wanted me just for who I was and not for what I would do for them. I squeezed her more tightly against me for a moment.
She smiled and stared at the floor before looking up again, directly at me.
“Karen, let me come with you, for a short time at least. I can’t bear to think of you managing alone.”
I breathed out with a big sigh.
“Pascale, I’m sorry, I really am. You are a beautiful woman and, along with your mum and sister, are the the most wonderful person I have ever met but it would not be fair on you to drag you away from them and expect you to cope with my ailment as well.”
“But Karen…” I stopped her with a finger pressed gently to her lips
“No, Sweetheart. This is something I have to attempt on my own.”
I removed the finger and replaced it with my lips, a gentle loving kiss.
“I love you all very much, Pascale, You know that. I will come come back as soon as I can, I promise.”
She gazed for a moment into my eyes, her own becoming a little moist, then she smiled resignedly and threw her arms around my neck.
“Thank you for being honest with me,” her voice muffled as she pressed her face against my neck.
We remained that way for a few moments until I patted her gently upon the back.
“Come on, now,” I said quietly, “The tea is getting cold.”
“She gave a half hearted chuckle and released me.
“I love you, Karen,” she whispered.
“I know you do, Sweetheart,” I smiled. The truth was, I loved her too but not in the way that she wanted.
We chatted whilst we waited for sounds of movement from the others. She said she would not accompany me to the airport but would rather make her goodbyes here, at home.
I agreed that it was probably better that way.
She opened the shutters and allowed the early morning light to fill the room. It was too early for the sun but already the sky was turning a lighter blue as it approached the horizon.
I heard the stairs creaking as not one but two sets of feet trod carefully as they descended.
Pascale and I went to the door as Françoise and my dad reached the bottom.
“Good morning, you two!”
They both jumped as I spoke.
“Oh, Good morning, Karen.” my dad looked a little sheepish, “We just bumped…” he didn’t finish the sentence as he saw the disbelieving look on both our faces.
“Dad, please, it’s all right, honestly. I think it was just the shock that triggered my, um, episode, last night.”
I looked at Françoise.
“I told him we talked,” she said, “but he is afraid.”
I took his hand.
“Dad, I will be fine, I promise but I do need to be treated normally, you know?”
He smiled.
“I will try,” he answered.
Breakfast was a hearty affair, a little like the last meal of a condemned man, as Dominique wasn’t afraid to point out and was swiftly admonished.
We busied ourselves for the next couple of hours and I spent a little longer than usual in preparing for the journey. I decided that the best way was to try to behave as though I was going to work.
I bathed and then spent ages ensuring that my make-up was perfect until, finally, I dressed in the perfectly ironed blouse and pressed skirt, tying my neck scarf, ensuring that it sat just so and ensuring that the seams of my flesh coloured stockings were perfectly straight and in line with the centre of the back of my gleaming black, patent leather court shoes. Before putting on my jacket I arranged my hair in a neat bun and pinned my hat above it so that it sat neatly on my head with the bun immediately below.
Finally, I slipped on the scarlet jacket and stood back to examine my appearance in the mirror.
The reflection that stared back was that of the perfect Air Hostess, the ‘S’ winged badge on my left lapel shining as brightly as my hopes.
I looked down at my hands. Perfectly manicured and moisturised, having been so careful with them since I had almost damaged them so many weeks before only now, they were shaking, in time with the trembling inside of me.
I took a deep breath and turned and left the room for the last time.
When I entered the hallway I stopped dead to the sound of a long low whistle.
“Wow, look at you, Baby!”
I smiled widely and blushed so deeply that I felt my face must surely be the same colour as my uniform!
“Good Morning, Doctor Harlow,” I greeting the astonished looking doctor.
He was standing, feet apart, in the doorway a few feet in front of me. He brushed a hand back over his Brylcreem’d hair.
“Hey, I knew you were beautiful, Karen, but… phew,” he breathed out with a soft whistle.
“ Oh, give over, Doc!” I laughed, “You’ve seen Air Hostesses before.”
“Hmm, well, actually, only in pictures,” he replied sheepishly, “All my flying so far has been courtesy of the United States Air Force. Don’t get me wrong, those Air force gals are great but they can’t hold a candle to you!”
“Well, you are just too kind.” I stepped forwards and kissed his cheek.
“I gotta say, though, Karen, I am very pleased. You have gotten yourself into the right frame of mind for the journey ahead.”
“Smoke and mirrors, Doc,” I said in return, “Smoke and mirrors. I am terrified, I really am.”
“Hey, I know, Kiddo. I would have been very surprised if you hadn’t been but, nonetheless, it shows you are fighting still.”
As he spoke the rest of the family appeared in the hallway.
“I thought I heard voices, Good Morning, Doctor.” It was my dad who spoke. “And, Karen, you look amazing. I have missed so much of your life that I can never get back.”
I took his hand.
“A new beginning, Dad,” I assured him. “Time to move on. We are together again and, even though things are not perfect we have so much to be thankful for.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a half smile. “Yes indeed. Out with the old and on with the new!” His face brightened considerable as the words left his mouth and he put his arm around Françoise’ waist, holding her tightly against him. She did the same and looked at him, nodding happily.
“Right!” Doctor Harlow straightened up, “If we are all ready? Time to head for the station.”
I turned to Dominique.
“Good bye, Little One,” I said, “Keep an eye on those two.” I indicated her Mum and my Dad.
“I will,” she promised, “And you get well and come back to see us soon.”
I nodded, feeling my eyes beginning to fill then turned to Pascale who was standing quietly, patiently.
I was vaguely aware of Françoise ushering the others out of the door towards Doctor Harlow’s car as I looked into her sad blue eyes.
“I know this is so hard, Sweetheart. I promise you, it is for me too but this is not goodbye, merely ‘a bien tot’, until the next time. You are like my sister now and, if our parents are happy too, in the future they will make us legal sisters!”
She smiled weakly but it was obvious her heart was heavy.
I leaned forward and kissed her gently then hugged her for all I was worth. I felt her cough back a little sob and she whispered into my neck:
“I love you.”
“I broke the hug very slowly and carefully and whispered:
“I love you too, Pascale.”
“You do?” she almost croaked the words
I nodded.
“Now, look after your mum and sister and I will be back before you know I am gone.”
I touched the tip of her nose briefly and then, sniffing back a tear before it flowed, I turned and walked out into the bright sunlight, not daring to look back.
We drove to the station on Doctor Harlow’s old, black, Citroen light 15.
The train from Limoges to Bordeaux was similarly quiet. I had nothing to say and my Dad and Françoise seemed quite happy, chatting easily with each other. They stopped frequently and looked at me, no doubt checking that I was all right. On the occasions that I saw them looking I just smiled back at them, an attempt to reassure them without breaking my own thought blocking.
The clickety-click as the carriage wheels passed over evenly spaced rail joints, broken only by the uneven clatter of points at junction, was enough to keep me relaxed as I stared out of the window at the passing scenery.
About thirty minutes before we were due to arrive into the station I got up from my seat.
Françoise immediately looked up.
“Are you all right, Karen?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, “Just going to, well, you know.”
“Would you like me to come with you?” She seemed a little concerned.
“No, I’m fine thank you,” I replied and left the compartment, heading for the toilet at the end of the carriage.
Once inside I locked the door behind me and leaned against it. I was breathing quite heavily now, so I took short sharp breaths to control it. I knew my real journey would soon commence and I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink opposite.
The face that stared back looked gaunt, afraid, terrified even. The trembling had returned so I took a couple more deep breaths and took out my Kohl pencil to tidy up the the eye-liner that had become a little smudged during the farewells at the house.
I jumped as a sharp knock on the door brought me to my senses.
“Karen, are you still in there?” It was Doctor Harlow.
As I turned to unlock the door I realised that the clicking of the wheels was less frequent and the train was slowing.
“Thank goodness!” he breathed as I opened the door. “I was beginning to think…”
“Why? I have only been a few minutes.” I was puzzled.
“You have been almost twenty-five minutes,” he said, “Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to tidy up a little and collect my thoughts.”
We returned to the compartment and, no more than five minutes later, the train had screeched and squealed to a halt in the platform and we stepped out into the noisy, busy station.
Unlike the previous time, there was no ambulance to meet the train. I was physically healed now so Françoise had arranged for a taxi to take us to the airport. I felt very self-conscious as I walked through the station to the taxi rank, I felt as though I had a huge neon arrow pointing at me as I passed through the drab crowds in my scarlet uniform but, of course, it was just in my mind, no-one stared or even cast so much as a second glance as I passed timidly between them.
Once upon a time I would have walked with my head held high, full of confidence, expecting them to look at me, meeting each and every glance with a self satisfied smile but now? Now I was afraid to catch anyone’s eye, fearing what they may be thinking. It was silly, I knew, they didn’t know me, they had no idea about who I was or what had befallen me but, nevertheless, I avoided eye contact, staring at the floor as I walked, praying that no-one would even so much as glance at me and hurried to the entrance to get away from these people as soon as I possibly could.
Such was the depth of my inane fear that the beauty of this magnificent building was lost on me as I hurried to get away from these people…
“Hey, slow down!” I heard the American drawl of Doctor Harlow call after me. “It’s OK, Honey, take a breath,” he said, “No-ones gonna hurt you.”
I stopped and turned to face him, my heart pounding.
“I know that, honestly I do but I feel like they are all staring, accusing me.”
“That is quite normal after what you have been through and is something you have to fight against. You’ll be OK, Sweetie, you can do it. Be strong.”
I gave him a forced smile and took a deep breath, drawing myself up and nodded.
“All right, Sweetheart?” my dad asked, putting his hand on my arm, “We are here with you.”
Again I forced a smile and we walked, a little more slowly, across the huge concourse towards the glazed, entrance and out into the open air where I began to breathe again.
Success! The first hurdle was over and, although difficult, I felt a little of my old confidence returning.
“Pardonez Moi, Madame. Ou est la B illeterie , s’il vous plait?”
I looked at the young Frenchman standing expectantly before me.
For a moment I panicked, having no clue about what to say. From the edge of my vision I saw my father step forwards but Doctor Harlow stopped with an almost imperceptible movement of his head.
“I, I’m sorry, I don’t speak French,” I stammered.
“Oh,excuse me,” the young man replied, “I was, erm, asking if you know where ze, erm, ‘ow you say, Tickets?” His English was almost as bad as my French.
“Ah, I see,” I smiled, “I saw the ticket office just inside.” I indicated through the door through which we had just passed.
“Merci, Madame,” he smiled gratefully and disappeared through the portal.
That simple exchange did more for my self-esteem than anything I had experienced in the last few weeks and I suddenly felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Françoise came to my side and touched my forearm gently.
“You see?” she said, “You will be fine.”
I nodded in agreement with her. They were all right, I would get back to normal some day.
“Now then,” she turned away towards the road, “Where is that taxi? It should be here by now.”
We all looked up and down the road but there was no sign of it.
A moment later a black car, very similar to Doctor Harlow’s Citroen but somewhat longer, pulled up in front of the entrance. The driver spoke briefly with Françoise, in French and she beckoned us to get in.
The drive to Merignac was not long but the car was hot inside, even with all the windows open, and the next twenty minutes seemed more like an hour.
Unlike the ambulance on my previous visit, the taxi was not allowed onto the airfield so he dropped us at the passenger departure entrance where Françoise paid him and then waited whilst he removed my case from the boot and placed it before me.
“Bon voyage,” he said, touching his forehead with is fingertip.
“Merci beaucoup ,” I replied, using just about fifty percent of my total French vocabulary and hoping that his blessing would be heard above.
I turned towards the entrance and, once more, my heart began to beat heavily with trepidation at what lay ahead.
Picking up my case I walked slowly towards the door.
“Head up, Kiddo, you’re doing’ good,” I heard the comforting American drawl from behind as I stepped into the oh so familiar surrounds of the airport building only this time, it didn’t feel the same. I had trodden these and similar floors so many times in the past years but now I felt like a stranger, unwelcome and more than a little frightened. I paused to take a moment to look about then took another deep breath.
“Come on, Karen, you can do this,” my own inner voice urged.
“I can do it, of course can!” I told myself and again, stepped out, straight back and strong mind.
My father held the door open for me as I carried my small suitcase through and into the departure hall.
There was a separate entrance for aircrew, which bypassed the customs hall and I stopped before passing through the door. My heart was beating like a steam hammer now which, in turn, made my breathing laboured. I stared at the door for what seemed an endless amount of time but which, in reality, was just a few seconds before I turned back and faced my ‘family’.
“I can’t…” I whispered.
My father looked sad and was about to speak but Françoise took my free hand between both of hers.
“Yes, you can, Ma Cherie. Remember, you are strong. You were so independent and will be again.” She held my gaze steadily, her beautiful blue eyes staring into mine. “You will not be alone, I promise. I have arranged permission for us to accompany you to the aeroplane.”
I stood motionless for a moment, her gaze seeming to fill me with a strength and determination I could not have found alone. I took another deep breath and nodded then pushed the door open, the door which represented the start of my new life and the end of my old one. I knew that once that door closed behind me the past was gone forever and the only way was forwards. The last few months with Françoise and her friends and family was akin to the training for my future, my rebirth, and so, I passed through into the corridor and, as the door creaked gently closed behind us, I began the final walk, the last few steps towards a new beginning.
To be continued…
