Wickwythe Hall by Judithe Little

Author:Judithe Little
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: world war two, england in world war two, fleeing france just ahead of german army, french refuges in england in nineteen forty, losing everything in war, people thrown together in war, searching for loved ones in war torn france
Publisher: Black Opal Books

CHAPTER 17

Reid

Churchill stomped about the state rooms of Admiralty House in his floral dressing gown and embroidered slippers, snapping orders to his staff. His harried valet trailed him with a grey, chalk-striped suit draped over one arm. In the other hand, the valet carried a freshly-polished pair of cap-toed oxfords with zippers instead of laces. Churchill ignored the valet and turned to Reid.

“The French have sent for me,” he said, teeth clenching a cigar, eyes aglow. “Again.”

Reid felt a tightening in his chest. “This isn’t it?”

“For Paris, yes,” Churchill said. “They’ve declared it an open city. Even though I’ve urged them to fight in the streets, to fight from house to house. Instead, they’re leaving it undefended.”

“But surely they wouldn’t just hand it over to the Germans.”

“They prefer not to turn their capital city to ruins. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. We, however, have no such pride.”

Reid shook his head. It was just like the French. Save their monuments, let the British give up theirs. If it wasn’t so tragic, he would smile.

A typist handed Churchill a piece of paper. He looked it over, ordered corrections, moving around the room, directing the action. Moments of crisis were the moments he was made for. As for Reid, he hadn’t slept well. Long days and nights with Churchill were taking their toll. He tried to think. Paris falling. It had come to that. Were the French really not putting up a fight? He needed to tell the president.

He looked at his watch. “In the US, it’s still the middle of the night. It’s too early to call.”

Suddenly the room was quiet, the sort of still, windless silence before a downpour or a clap of thunder.

“Too early?” Churchill said.

Reid looked up. He’d unintentionally spoken out loud. The late hours really were catching up with him.

“My dear boy.” Churchill stood still as a statue. The crease at his brow was of river gorge proportions. “We are on the brink of far too late. Tell your president anything he can say or do to help the French now could make the difference. Tell him that.”

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