No Regrets: A Novel of Love and Lies in World War II England (The Thornton Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

“My dear young lady, I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. My home is not a boarding house. I do, however, run a business here. It’s for the entertainment of gentlemen. Do you understand what I mean?”

Elise’s face turned scarlet. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. No wonder the porter at the railway station had looked at her suspiciously. No wonder the people whom she thought were boarders were dancing so closely and dressed in such a risqué manner. The house was a brothel.

“Oh, Madame Violette. I am so sorry. I wasn’t told the full story. Did Brigitte know of your - your business?”

“Perhaps not. I may not have made that perfectly clear. I hope you aren’t too shocked. I run a very upscale establishment. You’ll not see any riff-raff here. My employees are of the highest caliber. I don’t suppose you wish to join my working girls?”

“Oh, no, no. I apologize. I don’t mean to insult you. What you choose to do is your own private concern. But I could never be - well - I simply couldn’t.”

“I understand perfectly. You look very young and inexperienced. Quite shy, in fact. I’m terribly sorry you endured such an ordeal with the soldiers. I wouldn’t welcome such vile pigs to my establishment. Of course you felt the need to run. I’m a kind woman and will be happy to help you. I have extra space. You’re welcome to a room here, and I don’t need your money. Stay as long as you like. I’ll explain to the other ladies. You’ll find they’re not such a bad lot. Some have experienced tragedies similar to yours. If you don’t want to be bothered, I’ll make it clear that no one should annoy you.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I’m not certain I’d be welcomed by your other - um - guests.”

“Elise, they’re not guests. They work here. But they aren’t monsters. They have a need to earn an income, and they do very well here. It isn’t easy for a woman to make a decent wage in our society.”

“I understand. I’m grateful for your offer of help. I’d like to accept it, at least for a short while, until I can sort myself out. You’re being very generous to me. I don’t know where else I would go. I do have money to pay for my room and board.”

“That isn’t necessary. I’m a French woman, too, although I’ve been an English citizen for years. I’m patriotic. I’d like to do something to lend support during this dreadful war.”

“Then I do accept your offer. Thank you. I’ll try not to be a bother. Can you tell me the routine of the house, so I’m aware of how to behave?”

“Certainly. Breakfast is quite late. The girls generally don’t wake early, due to entertaining until the wee hours. The dining room table is set from nine to eleven o’clock; luncheon is served, buffet style, from noon until two; we dine at six o’clock in the evening. Festivities generally begin later. We welcome visitors any time after eight o’clock at night. Tea is also served at three o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll show you the layout when I take you to your sleeping room. Of course, you’re free to come and go as you please. I expect that you not to speak about the sort of business I operate. It’s well-known in town, and the authorities even avail themselves of my services, but it’s not spoken about. I simply say that I operate a gentleman’s club, where men can find a place to smoke cigars, play poker, drink fine whiskey and dance with lovely women.”

“I understand,” Elise gulped. “I would never say anything to harm your business.”

Violette smiled. “It would be difficult to harm my business,
Mon Cherie
. My house is considered one of the finest in all southeast England. But I appreciate your consideration. Have you any other questions?”

“I can think of nothing at the moment. Again, thank you. If you could show me to my room, I’d appreciate it. I’m very tired. It’s been a long, arduous day.”

“Of course. Come with me,” Violette answered, rising from her chair. Elise followed, feeling a bit strange as she passed the drawing room again. There were fewer couples than before. She and Madame Violette climbed the staircase and walked down a long hallway. The house was quite large. Violette led her to an empty room at the very end, decorated in the same lavender as the house’s exterior. The cover on the bed was a duplicate of the wallpaper in Violette’s office. Draperies matched. A bath was connected to the room, which pleased Elise greatly. She wouldn’t have to worry about sharing with one or more of the working ladies. She smiled and turned to her hostess.

“This is lovely. I feel very fortunate. I’ll be most comfortable here. You’re so kind.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s actually my best room. I keep it for special guests. I thought you would prefer your own loo, as they say in England.”

“Loo?”

“Yes. You need to learn their little colloquialisms. Loo is an oft-used word for toilet.”

“Ah – I’ll remember that. Yes, I
do
like having my own, private loo,” Elise smiled.

“Right then. Have a good rest. I promise no one will disturb you. I’ll explain the situation to my girls. Don‘t be frightened. They’ll be kind to you.”

With that, Violette turned and left the room. Elise took a deep breath and folded back the bed covers. In a moment she’d run a bath and then collapse under the soft, down-filled comforter. She’d worry about everything else in the morning.

Elise had been living at
Maison de Violette
three months when she realized she was pregnant. At first she attributed the lack of her monthly curse to the trauma of the assault, followed by the stress of relocation to England. However, other symptoms started to pop up. She’d come to view Violette as a mother figure – caring, concerned and understanding of Elise’s deep-seated pain. So, she was the obvious person to talk with about pregnancy fears.

After teatime she tapped gently on Violette’s office door. She was immediately told to enter. Violette was dressed in a variation of her usual colour – a purple gown with soft lace ruffles at the neckline. Elise wore a simple, yellow linen frock, with long sleeves and a loose waistline. She had replenished her wardrobe with a shopping trip, shortly after her arrival in Brighton. Thank goodness, the frocks she’d purchased were mostly chemise-style. There wasn’t a hint of pregnancy, yet, but if her fears were realized, she would need clothing that wasn’t form-fitting. After she sat down in Violette’s office, she was hesitant about how to broach the subject. However, from the moment Violette had heard about the attack, she’d been worried about just such an outcome. If Elise hadn’t found the words, Violette would have.

“Violette, I may be in a terrible predicament. I’m so uninformed. I lost my mother at an early age, and no one has ever explained things I should know. I’m afraid I’m pregnant. Until what happened to me in the farmhouse, I’d never been intimate with a man. It never crossed my mind that a baby could result from such violence. I’m terrified. Oh, Madame Violette, please tell me I’m being an innocent fool.”

“All right,
Mon Cherie
, let’s chat. Obviously the beasts who assaulted you didn’t use any protection. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do. No - no - none of them did.”

“The filthy swine! Well, then it
is
entirely possible that you’re going to have a baby. Do you remember when you had your last monthly?”

“I’d have to look at a calendar. It was before those men attacked me. I’m sure of that. Perhaps about two weeks before. I remember running out of necessary supplies. I’d intended to go to the village to buy more. My curse never came. I was so anxious about everything else, it completely slipped my mind. But all of a sudden, today I remembered.”

“How are you feeling? Are you at all ill?” asked Violette.

“For the last few weeks, I’ve been rather nauseous in the mornings. Sometimes I feel a bit dizzy. Oh - and my, my, breasts…“

“Yes, dear. Your breasts. Are they tender and swollen?”

“Oh yes. Is that a sign, too?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, Elise.”

“What am I going to do? I’m so frightened.”

“We have to find out for certain. You need to see a physician.”

“A doctor? Oh - I couldn’t. How perfectly revolting.”

“It’s the only way you can be absolutely certain. After we have the answer, we can discuss plans.”

“But where would I find a physician?”

“That’s no problem. I have a man who calls regularly to check my girls. This sort of establishment calls for very strict health assessments. Each girl is examined monthly. The doctor is a very kind gentleman. You needn’t be frightened. I’ll ring him, and he’ll pay a visit. I’ll stay with you. You were a nurse, Elise. Surely you know what a gynecological examination is?”

“Yes. I do. It’s just that I’ve never had one. It seems so – so – embarrassing.”

“Dr. Rice is very professional. You won’t be embarrassed. Go back to your room. I’ll let you know when he’ll be here.”

Elise left Violette’s office, relieved to have allowed the older woman to help her, but still terrified. Having a baby, when she wasn’t married, was bad enough. But to have become an expectant mother in such a deplorable way – not to know which of three men had impregnated her - was repugnant.

***

By nightfall, Elise knew with certainty. Violette had been right. Dr. Rice was a kindly, older gentleman. Violette made it clear to him that the lovely, French girl was not one of her employees. With Elise’s permission, she shared the tragic story of how she’d come to be in such a wretched state. It was clear that the doctor was infuriated when he learned about Elise’s dreadful ordeal. He was very gentle and didn’t make her feel ashamed. Unfortunately, he couldn’t alter reality. She was pregnant, nearly thirteen weeks. She tried to keep her composure, but when he left, she turned her head into the pillow, sobbing pitifully. Violette sat beside the poor girl, trying to calm her.

“You aren’t alone, Elise. I’m here with you. You’ll get through this. I know it’s a terrible situation. But we have to talk calmly. We must make plans and decisions.”

“What sort of decisions? What plans?” Elise sobbed. “Why is God doing this to me? What did I do to bring on his wrath? I’m not a bad person. Why, why Violette?”

“There aren’t any answers. You need to accept that there are reasons for all things – even something as frightening as what you’re going through. You have to move beyond the past. What do you want to do about this?”

“What do you mean? What
can
I do about it? I’m going to have a baby. It seems impossible, but that’s the way it is. I don’t know how I can bear it.”

“Would you want to do something to rid yourself of this child?” Violette asked.

“Rid myself of it? What do you mean? You aren’t speaking of – of –an operation?”

“Yes. Women
do
have them. I can make certain you’d be cared for by a physician - not a butcher.”

“Oh, but Violette, that’s murder. I’d be condemned to Hell for eternity.”

“Some people believe that, yes. Others don’t. Because of the way you became pregnant, I’m not certain the church would think you should be forced to carry the baby to term. Would you want to speak with a Priest?”

“No. Even if it weren’t considered evil, I just don’t think I could ever do such a thing. It isn’t the child’s fault. The baby is innocent. My God, Violette, I know enough from my nurse’s training. The baby already has a tiny heartbeat. Why should it be destroyed because it was conceived in such a crude, wicked way? All babies deserve to be loved. The poor little one in my womb will face a hard enough life as it is - never knowing who its father is – not being wanted. But I don’t believe I have the right to choose whether it lives at all. Do you understand?”

“Yes,
Mon Cherie
. I do understand. I’m not telling you what you should do. I simply want you to be aware of your options.”

“No – let’s move on to other options. I don’t want to consider that one.”

“All right. Then I want you to know that you’re perfectly welcome to stay here as long as you wish. I told you that when you first came to Brighton. It’s more important now. You certainly can’t be alone. You’ll have the best care.”

“What will people say? What will they think? I know the ladies who work here will be kind. But, how can I walk down the street?”

“You’ll wear a wedding ring. You haven’t been here long enough to have met many people. I’ve already told others that you’re a niece of mine from France, who escaped the Nazis. Now, I’ll add that your husband was killed at Dunkirk. With a baby on the way, the fictitious husband will be added. No one will think you’re one of my girls. Don’t fret about that. Remember, you’re my niece. I know most everyone in this town. Believe it or not, most are friendly to me. While wives don’t invite me for tea, they don’t turn their heads when I walk by, either. It’s very unlikely anyone would believe you’re anything but what you appear to be– a sweet, innocent girl, whose life has been turned upside down because of this ghastly war.”

“Thank you, Violette. I’m so fortunate to have found you. Now that this pregnancy has happened, thank God I got out of France. I can’t imagine what would have become of me.”

“Yes, that’s true. So. The next question is what to do when the baby is born? I’d understand if you didn’t want to keep it.”

“But where would it go, if I didn’t keep it?”

“There are always families who can’t have children of their own. You could make arrangements to have the child adopted. The Catholic Church is known to work with such families. I don’t think you’d have much difficulty finding loving parents for him or her.”

“Oh Violette. It’s so difficult to know, isn’t it? While I loath those men who assaulted me, I wonder if I can carry a baby inside of me for nine months, and then just pass it over to someone else, like a piece of merchandise? Have you ever had children?”

“Yes, I have. I was married before I opened my business. My husband was killed at Ypres, during the Great War. I had a son, Yves. We lived in Paris. I was a designer of hats. When he was three years old, he came down with the deadly flu sweeping the globe in 1918. I lost him, and it broke my heart. I went to London. I was a pretty, young girl, not yet twenty-three, but nothing mattered to me anymore. It was easy to find work in an upscale house. I became a great favorite. French girls always find favor. Brighton was a popular get-a-way. I knew I could establish my own business here, making a good income. I’d learned a lot, of course. That was in 1934. I’d reached an age where I was able to assume the responsibilities of ownership, and that’s what I did. Anyway,
Mon Cherie
, yes, I know what it’s like to give birth. I understand how a woman feels when she becomes a mother. There’s nothing to compare with it. I’m like you. Giving a child up would have been awfully hard for me. Of course my situation was different. Only you can decide what’s right for you.”

“I suppose I don’t need to make that decision right now. I have many months ahead of me. This is all so shocking. I’m very frightened.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened about. One way or another it will work out. Whatever you decide, you’ll know in your heart it’s the right choice.”