Lady Pixie's War Ch. 10: La France

With Jenny settled, and with Winston now Prime Minister, I wanted to get back to Suffolk, but events kept getting in the way. From my telephone calls I knew that Beccy was in rude health and missing me, but she assured me that Anna was taking care of "all my needs." That last was said in such a salacious manner that it had me longing to be back with her. But London held me in its grip.

As a Church Commissioner, I had to attend a meeting at Lambeth Palace to discuss how the Church was going to react to the crisis. As the news got worse every day, the Archbishop, Cosmo Lang, suggested a day of national repentance and prayer, which we went ahead with, but Billy Temple and I talked afterwards over a cream tea during which the latter showed all sides of his humanity: he was hugely concerned with the privations that war would bring; but he also managed to scoff more jam and scones than was good for anyone.

We agreed that while a "day of repentance" was a good idea, we needed something more practical to go with it. Out of that conversation came the idea of churches providing help for those in need, as well as places of shelter for anyone made homeless should the Nazis begin bombing. On top of that, we agreed that the sort of "new deal" I had pioneered on Oldham and Manchester should be explored more widely. It just had to be possible to build what Billy called a "real new Jerusalem" at the end of this.

In the meantime, it began to look as though the "end" might come rather sooner than anticipated. By late May the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) had been cut off from the French army and was in full retreat to Dunkirk. The problem was that we had no plan to get it back home.

As Edward Halifax told it to Archie, there was a crucial Cabinet on 26 May in which he walked out, declaring that Winston's policy of fighting on was fantasy. Winston's response was to call a full Cabinet the following day and declare that he would fight to his last breath. Labour and Liberal Ministers cheered him to the echo. For a moment it looked as though the Cabinet would split; but Edward drew back from the brink.

I heard from Jack in early June that de Gaulle had been appointed to the new French Government, but the pace of events was too fast, even for the General. The only relief came on 4 June when news came that the BEF had been evacuated from the beaches of Dunkirk. Later that day Winston declared in the Commons:

"We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender."

Archie, like his boss, Edward Halifax, dismissed this as mere posturing.

"How the hell can we win this. Pixie? We needed a bunch of pleasure cruisers and rowing boats to get our men back. They left their equipment on the beaches. We need to talk to Herr Hitler."

Speechless with anger, I had to walk away.

No doubt Winston was a mad romantic with a belief in England, but so was I. We could not, must not, and would not surrender.

It became clear to me that Archie, like Beccy's father, Lord Roger, and others, wanted an armistice with Hitler. A movement that was gaining support in England, won the day in France, its armies in disarray.

At a meeting on 13 June the French premier, Reynaud, asked to be released from the promise that Britain and France would stand together. He told Winston that a majority of his own Cabinet, led by the Great War hero, Marshal Pétain, wanted to see what terms Hitler might grant France.

The anxiety was palpable. One scanned to radio waves and the Westminster gossip. All the things that had seemed secure had come unmoored at record speed.

On 16 June I came back from the Lords in a mood of near despondency. For the sake of morale one kept up a cheerful demeanour, but inside I felt close to despair. But we would, as Winston said, fight - to the death.

Just after lunch, Molly came to see me.

"Your Ladyship, Lord Jack is at the door, there is a gentleman with him. Can they come in?"

I went to the door, and there was Jack, indeed, and with him the commanding figure of General de Gaulle!

"Milady, I apologise for the lack of notice, but this is an emergency, The General needs to see Churchill urgently, and I wondered if we might rest a while here?"

From his commanding height, the General added:

"Milady, je m'excuse d'apparaître ici en tant que prétendant, mais si vous pouviez m'accorder un abri pendant un certain temps, la France vous en serait reconnaissante."

[My Lady I apologise for appearing here as a suitor, but if you could grant me shelter for a while, France would be grateful.]

Even then, at almost the lowest point, de Gaulle spoke not for himself, but for "la France." It would always be so.

The agony which I saw in those eyes has never left me. It must have been thus that Mother Mary looked as her beloved son was crucified. It pulled from me a statement which he never let me forget:

"Je suis au service de la France qui souffre, et quelle aide je peux apporter, c'est la tienne."

[I am at the service of suffering France, and whatever help I can offer, it is yours.]

He looked at me. As our eyes met, I felt it. He was France, he was feeling her agony. My heart went out.

He bowed:

"Votre paroles me donnez de l'espoir, et bien qu'elle tombe, la France se relèvera dans la gloire."

[Your words give me how, and though France should fall, she will rise again in glory]

I looked at him and at Jack. They were men who had been through hell; in de Gaulle's case he was still there.

I got Molly to get them some tea, and showed them into the Drawing Room.

Jack explained that they were seeing Winston that afternoon to discuss a Franco-British union. I could see the agony in de Gaulle's eyes. It was an index of how bad things were that he was willing to consider uniting his beloved France with Britain; a real case of needs must when the devil drives.

Rested, the two men left at four o'clock. Jack was not sure if they would be back. When I saw Archie later, he told me that the conversation by phone with Reynaud, the French Prime Minister, had been broken off by a poor connection. De Gaulle and Jack were, he said, flying back to "seal the deal."

The tension that night was palpable. Archie's sources went dead. We had no idea what was going on.

The Monday morning was equally tense. Archie phoned to say that the French had rejected the offer of a union and that Reynaud had resigned. Marshal Pétain was forming a new government with the intention of seeking an armistice.

Just as lunch was finishing, there was a knock on the door. I dashed to open it first. There were de Gaulle and Jack, looking, if anything, even worse than the previous day; the General was ashen faced.

"Pixie, can we rest here a while. We are seeing Winston later. And can our men keep these boxes here?"

Four burly soldiers carried in ten heavy boxes.

"Of course, what are they?"

"About a hundred thousand francs, Lady P - the whole of the French secret service reserve."

It turned out that de Gaulle, having been dismissed by Pétain, had been given the funds by Reynaud and brought them with him on the last flight out of Paris.

After rustling up a scratch lunch for them, I let de Gaulle and Jack go to Downing Street to see Winston. They came back looking, if possible, even more exhausted.

Winston was, Jack said, going to make a great speech on the morrow, pledging us to fight on. He had agreed that de Gaulle could use the BBC to make a similar appeal to the French people.

Dinner that night was tense. Archie was not best pleased that I had invited de Gaulle to stay with us. As he said afterwards:

"The man is a traitor, Pixie, there is a warrant out for his arrest. When we make peace with the Germans, they will extradite him!"

Maybe it was the tension of the hour; maybe it was what I had seen in de Gaulle's eyes and the promise I had made to him; maybe it was sheer madness; or maybe it was years of agreeing to disagree with Archie; but in retrospect, I know it was all of them; I erupted:

"We are NOT making peace with the fucking Germans, Archie. I am not making fucking peace with them. We will fight on!"

The look on his face lit a fuse which was ignited by what he said in response:

"With what? The Dutch are gone, the Belgians are gone, the French are going. The Yanks are fighting an election in which both candidates are vying to stay out of this godforsaken war; it's over Pixie."

"It is NOT. Not until we give in."

"We have to preserve what we can Pixie. You don't understand. Hitler has no real quarrel with us in these Islands. He admires the Empire. We will get good terms. We just need that blowhard Winston to blow himself up!"

I felt myself trembling with anger. I blew:

"Archie, if you want to surrender to Hitler, leave this fucking house. I have had it. We fight and we fight to win."

"Idiot!" He snarled at me. He stormed from the room.

I stood there shaking. I slept but little and rose early on that fateful morning of 18 June 1940. De Gaulle was on edge, as was Jack.

"Pixie, we have asked for permission for the General to give a speech, but have heard nothing."

"Look, I am going to the Commons to listen to Winston, if you two come with me, you can wait in the dining room. I will try to catch Edward."

So that was what we did.

The mood in the Commons was febrile. Everyone knew that France was surrendering, and many, I sensed, would have followed a lead in the direction Archie wanted. Instead they got Winston at his best.

It was a speech which lasted just over half an hour. He made it clear that we would fight on. One could feel the mood shift, and then came that peroration:

"What General Weygand called the "Battle of France" is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty and so bear ourselves that if the British Commonwealth and Empire lasts for a thousand years, men will still say: "This was their finest hour"."

I am not ashamed to say I was in tears; I was not the only one. Order papers were waved, and there was a great cheer. I felt as though I wanted to go to the White Cliffs of Dover and wave my fist across the Channel: "very well then, alone!"

As the lobby cleared, I bumped into Winston who was flushed. He looked at me.

"My Lady?"

I knew what he needed.

I hugged him.

"That was bloody magnificent you!"

He grinned.

"From you, that is a compliment."

"Winston, de Gaulle, he wants to speak on the BBC."

"He can."

"Edward has not given the word, and Duffie seems paralysed."

"I am the bloody Prime Minister," he growled. "Here," he said, hastily signing a piece of paper, "show the buggers that!"

And with that he was gone.

I dashed to the dining room where Jack and de Gaulle were sitting.

"To Broadcasting House," I declared.

In the short taxi ride, I told them what Winston had said. De Gaulle almost smiled. Jack was elated.

I think I am the only person who heard both Winston's famous speech, and de Gaulle's. In retrospect what the General said in his four-minute broadcast was as important as what Winston said, but at the time no one knew that; the BBC did not even keep a copy. I was moved, not least by his peroration:

"Whatever happens, the flame of the French resistance must not be extinguished and will not be extinguished."

I knew I had seen something that day. It remains with me. For all that would follow, the two men were great men, they embodied the spirit of their countries. We went back to Carlton House Terrace to dine. There was a note from Archie:

"Staying at the Club."

And that was all he said.

The next few days were as tense as any I can remember.

It was clear to me that the Foreign Office rather took Archie's view, and Jack reported that he had been told to get de Gaulle to tone down his comments. Indeed, he was refused permission to speak on the BBC on 19 June because he wanted to call Pétain and the traitors what they were. The FO clearly thought they could do business with the new French Government. I learnt later that they were also trying to persuade the French Governors of Morocco and Algeria to work with them.

It got more and more frustrating. On 27 June I managed to obtain an audience with Winston. I told him what was going on, adding that if he failed to back de Gaulle, his own enemies would be thereby emboldened.

"You know they are just waiting for you to fail, Winston, then they will make peace with the Germans."

He looked over his pince-nez.

"Pixie," he growled, (the first time he ever used my name like that), "you have a point. Jock!" he shouted, and in came his private secretary, Jock Colville, "get one of the girls in."

Colville did as he was told. Winston dictated a note which she typed.

"Jock, this goes to Edward and the FO, with a copy to every bugger who needs it. Pixie, give this to your General."

It read:

"Dear De Gaulle,

I herewith recognise you as leader of the Free French. You will receive our support. I hereby appoint Lady Fortescue as your liaison officer with the Government.

Sincerely,

Winston S Churchill"

I looked at him, stunned.

"Well he is your chum, Pixie, keep him in order."

And with that, the next five years of my life were sealed - not to mention my whole future.

The idea that I, or anyone, could keep de Gaulle in order, was a mad fantasy, but that night, he was as delighted as could be. So was Jack.

"You did it Pixie!"

We sealed our partnership over dinner. De Gaulle retired for the night a little later.

"Milady," Jack said over a brandy afterwards, "I heard from Beccy earlier, she sends her love and is in good form. But you, my lady, you worry me."

"I am fine Jack!"

"Really? So where is his lordship?"

"At his Club."

"He wants to surrender, doesn't he?"

I nodded.

"I must to bed Jack."

I stood, so did Jack.

"My lady, may I?"

I nodded, and he hugged me tight.

"You are the best and bravest of us. I wish I could show you how I feel as a man."

As we disengaged, I looked up at him:

"If I were ever to, it would be with you, but you know how I am Jack!"

"If I have crossed a line, I apologise."

That was sweet of him, and I told him so. It was the closest I ever came to being with a man. Had I had any inclinations that way, I should have been happy had it been him. He was a rare soul.

The following day we discussed the important matter of de Gaulle's family. Yvonne and Anne were staying down in an hotel in Bromley. I suggested that they might go up to Suffolk to stay with Beccy and Anna. De Gaulle looked at me and did something he always found hard:

"Merci, Milady, ma petite Anne se souviendra de toi."

I smiled. I hoped Anne would remember me. It gave Jack a chance to see Beccy too.

As it happened, with Jack and de Gaulle needing to go o Bromley first, I arrived in Suffolk on the Thursday evening, thoroughly exhausted by the press of events. I can recall, even now, the joy I felt seeing Beccy - and the welcome she gave me.

Whilst one hardly likes to mention it, even to oneself, I have always tended to take the view that whilst it is wonderful that I am loved, there is an element of amazement to that wonder. I am petite, rather on the serious side of serious, and lack the usual female attractions. That, I think, along with a lack of self-confidence tends to make me think that it would not be surprising if my lover found someone more to her taste, and I had rather convinced myself that Beccy and Anna were now an established item, with me taking up a distant third place. Beccy's welcome disabused me of that.

I arrived back from the station, where the driver picked me up as usual. I had said that as I would be late, there was no need to hold supper, and I dined on the train. Once home, I was pleased to see Maja evidently had everything in good order. The house was clean and tidy, and she even answered the door, getting one of the new maids (another Polish exile) to take my luggage to my room.

"You must be exhausted, my lady."

I confirmed her suspicion.

"Well I shall have one of the maid's draw you a bath, and then, perhaps, you can get some rest?"

I smiled with relief.

I went up to my room to disrobe.

My mind was a whirl, and the tiredness did not help. I hated being on bad terms with Archie. In my fashion I loved him, and it hurt me to see him so wrong on something I felt so strongly about. But what if he was right? What if the Nazis did invade? I steadied myself. I was with Winston. Whether on the beaches or in the fields, I would fight, and there were worse things than death.

Then there was de Gaulle. It was clear that the Foreign Office were not enamoured of him, and his position was anomalous. Nor was it clear that he could do what we needed and rally the "Free French." It felt rather as though I had donned the shirt of Nessus in taking him on.

Slipping into my bath robe I headed for what I hoped would be a long hot bath before bedtime. Well, it was long, and hot, but bed came much later.

As I locked the door, I saw a figure in the bath - it was Beccy.

"Come on in Mama, water's wonderful! Hope is sleeping and Anna is minding her. I need to mind my much missed and beloved Mama!"

The look in her eyes melted my heart.

"Robe off, Mama, I want to see those lovely little titties of yours. Have they missed my lips? Or does your new girl give you what I can't?"

I had, of course, told her about Jenny, and on a sudden, it hit me that Beccy, my wonderful gorgeous, sexy Beccy was anxious that she might be losing me! The idea had never occurred to me, not least since the very thought that anyone would not adore Beccy and would give anything to be with her was totally alien to me.

"YOU are my special girl!"

"Am I Mama?"

That look in her eyes; I see it still.

Shrugging off my robe, I let her see my nakedness. I could feel my nipple throbbing for her, and knew I was wet; that felt good.

"You are. Let me get in!"

I climbed into the foamy water which smelt of lilies of the valley. I faced her, leaning in to kiss her lips. I found myself sliding forward, resting on her naked breasts, and looking up at her.

"Oh Mama, I have SO missed you!"

"Me, too, my darling girl."

It hit me then how much I had missed her. Something now felt whole again.

I sucked on her nipples, a few minutes on each, as she lay back, the water sloshing over the sides. It felt so sexy to be naked with her like this. My hand slid to her pussy, two fingers curling in and upwards to find her special place. She put her hand round me to hold me out of the water as I sucked hard on her right nipple.

"Oh Mama, Mama, I want you so much!"

My fingers curled and began to move, making her move in time with them. To stop the water going over the sides too much, we restricted our movement, which actually meant that much of the hand action was confined to pushing up, my palm against the bone, pressing her clit as my fingers worked inside her.

"Oh fuck, fuck, Mama, no one does me like you do. The things you do to me!"

Our connection had reset itself, as strong as ever. Kissing her breasts, my hand worked her pussy slow but hard, my fingers teasing her rough patch. Not being able to move as she wanted, somehow added to the eroticism of the moment, so much so that we did not even notice the water cooling; we certainly were not.

It was only when she could hold back no longer, that the water began to slosh again, like a tide unleashed by her orgasm. She screamed her pleasure as my fingers felt her grip hard.