The Telegram

Agnes blushed as she closed the door and rose.

"So, how is it between women?" Agnes wiped her hands on her apron.

"What do you mean?" Now it was Josephine's turn to blush.

"Do I have to say it out loud?" Agnes rolled her eyes, "how is it in the bedroom? You are the first woman I have met who admitted to intimate relations with other women."

"It is," she looked past her, "how much do you want to know?"

"Everything," Agnes replied, "it is not a subject I have discussed in depth with anyone and these days all the talk is of the war, the rations and the weather, so talking about intimate matters between women will be a welcome change but I need a cup of tea though."

"My pleasure," Josephine shrugged.

Over a cup of tea, she did her best to talk about love between women and whilst Agnes did feel highly embarrassed she tried not to show it as she sat drinking tea, occasionally she'd look at the oven as if she could peer through the metal door.

Josephine had not just told her the ways of women, she'd also talked of her upbringing in a household that could best be described as leftist. As a result, she'd never been raised with the fear of God although she had read the bible, the Rig Veda, the Koran along with various texts by free-thinking liberals. Initially she'd been somewhat supportive of the Nazis but that had soured when she went to Berlin for a weekend whilst she was in Paris and saw the way the Nazis treated those who didn't live up to the Aryan mythology. Her introduction to women had been at university where she'd been involved with an older girl who might have broken her heart but she also introduced her to a different kind of love.

"Before that I still believed I would find a man and get married, eventually, but I had this odd desire to put it off as long as possible. After my affair with Jennifer I knew the reason I had been putting men off wasn't the real reason. After that it became a struggle to find a way to live my own life without drawing attention to myself. Isaac was in my French class and he had the same problem, we decided to fake our marriage and live our dreams. My father doesn't like him because he is too ostentatious but he doesn't know the truth behind it, only mother knows and she keeps her own counsel."

It was in one of the silences between bursts of conversation that Josephine nudged her.

"Have I told you too much?"

"No," she glanced down at her hand, "you've made me remember something or someone, a girl I knew when I was working in the sweetie shop. She was a bit like you, we were best friends but it could have become more if Frank hadn't swept me off my feet. After that we parted company and I think I might have broken her heart now I think about it," she fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Funny, I haven't thought of her in years."

Thankfully she didn't have to expand any more because Old John knocked on the door and for the next hour or so she did her best to entertain him and feed him hot scones. In return he helped shift the couch from the back porch to the front room. By butting one end of the couch to the other they could form an L shape around the radio with one couch against the window. Just this radical rearrangement opened up the somewhat cramped front room and gave the illusion of more space.

"I actually feel as if we have more space," Agnes announced once John had gone back home, "I don't know why I didn't do this before."

It was the first time she'd felt as if she could put her head above the trench, as Old John had put it succinctly many times in the past without the fear of something terrible happening, even Christmas wasn't so bad. Frank hadn't been home for the last couple anyway, so his absence didn't cut so deeply and it was on Christmas day when she unwrapped the present that Josephine had placed under the sad little tree that she finally accepted that he was dead and the last thing he would want was for her to sink into a pit of depression.

The present was a copy of Wordsworth poems, she'd been with Josephine in a bookstore a few weeks previously and had mentioned she used to own that same book years ago. The fact that Josephine had actually remembered that conversation and then bought the book out of her meagre savings felt strangely familiar. It was almost as if Frank's spirit had mysteriously melded with Josephine's, she felt secure and almost excited to come home again. Her present was predictably enough, a small tin of tea that she'd bought with coupons she'd saved from the last few weeks.

"It's your tea though, understand?"

"Of course," Josephine sniffed the tea, "but I can share it, can't I?"

"I em," she looked past her, "all right but I dithered over buying it for obvious reasons."

"I'm glad you bought me anything at all," she eyed the tree.

"Didn't your husband buy you anything? Or your parents?"

"They did but they'll either arrive in the next few months, if they're not at the bottom of the ocean," she chuckled.

Christmas dinner was a budget affair but still filling and it was only then that Agnes found out the source for Josephine's extra provisions.

There are some Americans working at the school, they always have too much to eat so they give extra to me and I teach them German in return. The servicemen are only learning French but they always want to learn some German."

"What are they learning German for?"

Josephine looked past her and for a moment Agnes thought she wasn't going to reply.

"It's war work," she finally spoke up, "they're parachuted into Occupied Europe to help run the resistance groups, so they need to be fluent in French of course but knowing German is always good, especially if they're captured."

"Oh," Agnes swallowed, "gosh that sounds exciting and dangerous."

"I'd agree with the second one but not the first," Josephine stirred the remains of her meal.

"Were you ever?" Agnes asked her.

Josephine's eyes narrowed and then she nodded.

"Three weeks but I can't talk about it and no, I can't go back in again, thank God but at least I can put my experience and language skills to good use so it wasn't all wasted."

Even so, it all sounded exciting but Agnes didn't press her for details. That night however she went to bed with her Wordsworth book and a head full of dreams about parachuting into enemy territory and killing Germans. She was just about to read another page when there was a knock on the door and Josephine stepped inside a moment or two later. She looked almost wary as she fiddled with the ties on her dress.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," she looked up suddenly, "I just want you to remember that what I told you must stay secret, even from your most trusted friend."

"Of course it will," she sat up, "I was surprised you even told me that much."

"I didn't mean to say anything at all," she kept fidgeting, "maybe it's because I feel as if I can let myself go here. You know more about me than the people at work and even my family."

"Your secret is safe with me," Agnes reassured her, "and I'm glad you can't go back, I don't know how I'd cope without you."

Josephine's eyes widened slightly.

"Thank you."

She looked as if she was about to say more but then stepped back and bid her good night again and closed the door. Agnes felt as if something had broken loose inside her, a tight ball of hate, frustration and sorrow that had been building ever since Frank went away to war. She had tried valiantly to keep calm and carry on because that's what you were told to do but deep down she'd often screamed and wept. Josephine's sudden vulnerability had lit the fuse and she felt almost drawn to her, knowing full well she couldn't consummate the desire.

However it was a desire that began to grow within her in the absence of the tangled mess she'd been nurturing for so long. They saw in the New Year and as January gave way to February she began to think of Josephine less and less as a boarder and more as a best friend or maybe the sister she'd never had. There were times she felt as if she could almost reach out and touch her but each time she held back, not wanting to open a door that might unleash the tide of emotion and that was what she feared the most.

Losing Frank had been painful, but falling in love yet again with another man was not a thing she wanted to do right now. A few of her friends who'd lost a husband tried to fill the hole with another man only to see that man be sent off to another theatre of war. Why was it that men called it a theatre at all? It wasn't as if the actors could get up from the floor and repeat the scene again.

However it was with that in mind that she actually suggested Josephine find a lover and bring her back here.

"Only if you want to, I'm not going to look for another man. In fact I'm turning celibate until this horrible business is over."

"You'd let me bring a woman back here?" Josephine eyed her from the other couch.

"Yes, of course. We have to be discreet about it of course."

"Of course," Josephine replied, "and thank you for the freedom but right now I'm quite happy just sitting on the fence, I haven't had a lover since I returned from France nine months ago."

"Was she? Is she?"

"She's dead," Josephine replied matter of factly, "it's supposed to be easy when you say it quickly."

Agnes was so stunned she spilled her tea.

"Shit, I am so sorry."

"So am I," Josephine leaned over to right the cup and then rose, "I'll get a damp cloth."

"I'll get it," Agnes also rose, "sit down, you made the tea, and the dinner."

She tried to collect herself as she fetched a damp cloth. The statement had come so easily that it had shocked her. Why had she not spoken of it sooner? Even after admitting her sexual orientation she had kept it hidden.

Josephine was sitting with a cigarette in her hand as Agnes came back through with the cloth and proceeded to wipe up the spilled tea. Josephine watched her calmly as she smoked and then she suddenly exhaled and butted the cigarette out.

"What the fuck," she muttered, "you may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, this can never be repeated to anyone, do you understand?"

"I do, absolutely," Agnes swallowed, "you can interrogate me afterwards if you doubt me, I suppose they must do that at this school."

"Not at the school," she replied, "but I think not. The interrogations are terrifying, I was pulled out of bed at two in the morning and marched to a room with no windows and left there for hours while two guys spoke German and then they interrogated me to try and break me. I passed with flying colours because I already knew German and they'd just learned some German words, not enough to make a complete sentence but enough to make the poor recruit think they'd been captured by Germans," she picked up the teapot and poured some into Agnes's cup.

"Simone was working with the resistance group in Quincampoix, a few miles northeast of Rouen. She was not my initial contact but I met her the next morning when she came with news of some arrests that had taken place the previous night. One of the men was the man I was supposed to be training in radio assembly and maintenance, so Simone took over his job and I trained her," she poured the remainder of the tea into her cup.

"We were a good team, not just because we both spoke French, although mine is Canadian, but we were also lesbians. It is not such a thing in France as other places but in the end it was our affair that led to the Germans taking a closer interest in the two women who lived above the butcher's shop in the main street. We thought nothing of it because I was only going to be there for three weeks at the most, but because of the weather and cancelled flights it turned into five weeks," she stared at the radio as if reliving it all over again.

"Simone was arrested by the gendarmes that fourth week. We had been seen behind a hedge, doing what all lovers do, kissing but the gendarme who arrested her was also in love with her and maybe he thought that taking her to the police station would," she stopped.

"I don't know what he was thinking, maybe it was revenge but as fate would have it, the Gestapo paid the gendarmes a visit and one of the Germans became curious about her because she had become friendly with a woman who wasn't a local. When someone drew a picture of me they put two and two together. We must have had a leak in our group because the Gestapo don't come into a farming village for nothing. Fortunately I was able to get out of the village with the radio and they missed me."

There was more to tell of course. She'd hidden in a barn for three days before getting a message sending her to the coast and then she waited another two days before a plane landed at a prearranged spot to extricate her. What did come out most plainly however was her guilt at Simone's capture. She knew Simone had been executed, they called it shot while escaping lawful custody and it had haunted her ever since.

"Maybe it is true that we are cursed by our affliction. Had we not been involved the police would not have taken her to the police station."

"You are being silly," Agnes flushed, "you said yourself the Gestapo don't just visit small villages. They were looking for you and it was just ill fortune that they found Simone, you did something I could never do and here you are, teaching others to do the same thing. Don't let the weight of the past hold you down. It has held me down these last few months but life is for the living, the dead remain in our memories and we treasure them but this is war and we can drive ourselves mad with the thought of what we might have done."

For a few moments she thought she'd lost her and then Josephine reached out and grabbed her hand tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for listening," she held onto her hand for a few seconds longer and then let go, "you are the first person I have told," she finished.

Josephine swallowed as she fought the urge to go further and there was a look in the other woman's eyes that hinted she might be willing to take things further and yet that would only complicate matters and so she let it slide by her.

However that was not the end of the matter as far as Agnes was concerned. The vulnerability her boarder had shown was working its way slowly through her, sometimes encountering an obstacle but rather than trying to push it aside the urge simply enveloped it and kept moving. It was as relentless as the Soviet advance against the German army as winter turned to spring and the Soviet juggernaut began pushing the Germans out of Russian territory.

That May, Agnes finally started her long delayed spring clean and this time she took it a step further and took old clothes to a jumble sale at a local church hall and found a few bargain blouses and a couple of skirts. These were added to her newly scrubbed wardrobe.

"All I need is some white paint for the dressing table," she eyed it from her position on the bed. Josephine stepped over to the window to get a better look and nodded.

"We can always go to Barrowland," she mused.

"The Barras," Agnes smiled, "it's a Catholic area, it's funny, Frank used to hate the area, he was a Protestant. He would go to Old Firm matches at Celtic Park but when I suggested we go to the Barras to get a few pots and pans and other things he point blank refused, which I thought was," she paused, "hypocritical."

"It is hypocritical," Josephine nodded and looked askance at her, "but he cannot argue now, so maybe we should today?"

"Today?" Agnes glanced at her.

"It is Saturday," she replied, "I will buy the tea or maybe we can find some coffee."

"I've only had coffee a couple of times," Agnes admitted.

"So, what do you think, shall we do it?"

"All right, just let me change out of these old clothes."

Her outfit that afternoon consisted of a knee-length skirt and one of the blouses she'd bought from the charity shop. It had ruffled pleats down the front and a Peter Pan collar and despite the fact it was spring, she buttoned it to the top and put on a cardigan and coat. Josephine's outfit was far nicer she thought. The other woman had opted for a white tie blouse and the French black trousers she'd worn the first time they'd met.

"You look nice," she commented as Josephine buttoned a jacket.

"Thank you," Josephine ran an eye over her, "you look pretty as well."

"Don't," she smoothed out the skirt, "this is just an old skirt and the blouse must be even older."

"Even so, you wear it well," she took a step closer, "I have a blouse like that in America, I left a lot of clothes in the wardrobe."

Agnes swallowed as she fixed her eyes on the elegant blouse Josephine was wearing, the tie was tied into an elegant bow and almost without thinking she fingered a tie end. Josephine didn't even flinch as she did so and somewhat disorientated, Agnes released the tie.

"We should get going."

"After you," Josephine indicated.

***

The Barras was a hive of activity as people took advantage of the warm April day to pour into the market streets. There were dozens of bargains but Agnes only bought two items, a jacket that looked in reasonable condition and a rug.

Afterwards they retired to a café where Josephine ordered coffee whilst Agnes read a newspaper. The front page declared the end of the North African campaign when General Von Liebenstein formally surrendered to the Allies. She read the article twice as she recalled letters and postcards Frank had sent home from Egypt and Palestine. It was a bittersweet moment because although he had given his life for this moment he obviously wasn't there to savour it.

"What do you think they will do now?" Agnes glanced at Josephine who always seemed to know more than others about the conduct and possible outcomes of the war.

"They will have to decide on where to strike next," she stared at the small map that showed the Mediterranean, "Greece, Italy or Southern France."

"France would be better I should think."

"It is too well defended," she replied, "it will be Italy, the Italians have no stomach for war, unless it is a gastronomic war and then they will fight to the last cook."

Agnes smiled at that as she took a sip of coffee. It tasted quite strong and almost heady, she closed her eyes and let the warmth spread downwards.

"Hmm, mm, I could use more coffee," her eyes opened, "it is always so expensive."

Josephine didn't reply to that but she didn't need to, Agnes sensed it would be on her next shopping list when she was teaching German to her students. The talk moved from the war to other matters, food, clothes and what to eat that night. She felt a slight pull towards the other woman and yet in this place she felt quite restrained and yet relaxed.

However when they got off the bus and headed towards the house some of that wariness began to shift. She almost felt like a giddy teenager again as she fumbled with her front door key and dropped it.

"And I haven't even been drinking," she grinned.

"Allow me," Josephine bent down at the same time and when she looked across she was inches from her face. Agnes swallowed and then rose as Josephine handed her the keys.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled as she turned the key, "a moment of weakness."

It was an admission that followed her inside as Josephine closed the front door and as Agnes stepped into the front room she felt as if she was being mentally disrobed and strangely that felt almost exhilarating.

"A moment of weakness," Josephine spoke up, "are you saying what I think?"

"Would it displease you if I was?" Agnes turned to look at her as she placed her bags on one of the couches, "I have been thinking about this for longer than you think."

"Intimate moments," Josephine also put her purchases on the couch, "it has risks."