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He tried to be as quiet as it was possible, moving swiftly and being almost invisible. He opened each cupboard of the kitchen with no sound, checking a small fridge, searching for at least a small sigh of some provision. Everyone was already peacefully sleeping, even though they were all in the basement, outside was a deep night, and only one small lonely candle. It was brightening only a small part of the kitchen, but it was for the man. Francis was understanding of why the owner of this lovely house was so determined to prohibit any bigger source of light, but his eyes were already hurt, trying to read food labels.
‘Bacon, butter, cheese, margarine… Just a few eggs? Milk, sweets… Pretty baldly, even I am not sure that I can do something with it.’
Francis just quietly mumbled under his nose, watching this week’s rationing with pessimism in his mind.
He was here for two months already, in the small house just a little outside of London, saved from the true hell on the earth together with other people like him. He was still terrified of the darkness and silence that lay in it, almost every night he was wakened up by a new branch of the nightmares, shaking up others with whom he was sharing a cold British basement, but at least, he could breathe safely here. The left sleeve of his blouse was painfully loose, reminding the man every day what he had lost, what had he gone through, and how long he would need to wait to heal. He hated everything. He hated the feeling of being helpless, tired, lost in this darkness that filled everything.
But he was still enormously grateful. Enormously grateful to the owner of the house, who found them, lent a hand of help, gave them a place to stay covered from the eyes of those who did not know, and tried to help in every possible way. Not only that, but the one who gave them all of trust was his great enemy, an old friend and a lover, so dear and so close. Surely, it was one of their deepest secrets, the one that no one could have known about even in their own home, only delicate and secret touches reminded them of who they were actually. Thus, it was one of the dearest wishes for Francis to say thank you for all that care, work and dedication, the wish that made him get up from his slumber at 3 AM, quietly going to the kitchen to make a little surprise.
And now he was stuck in the situation where he simply tried to understand what he could do with all that small amount of rationing for this week while saving this food for everyone, and at the same time trying to make any noise that was especially hard with only one arm. Again and again, he was examining available ingredients, strolling through his memories of culinary journeys, and at the end, Francis finally came to a realisation. Apple pie or Charlotte, as he liked to call it. It wasn’t too much or something fancy, but it was most definitely better than anything, especially since everyone was craving something sweet. Moreover, it was just early autumn, and apples in the garden were the best.
Apples, eggs, sugar, flour, milk… First bowl, second bowl, whisk… It shouldn’t be too hard and it was possible to cook quietly, or it was how he thought it would be. He was wrong. Bowls were constantly moving away from him while whisking since he couldn’t hold it, cutting apples was complicated and slow, even cracking eggs gave him difficulties.
He almost moaned from the despair, but then he heard very light distant steps. The person was moving from the higher floor of the house, keeping himself almost invisible to everyone, but Francis would always recognise this manner. Light, but strong. Calm but determined. He just smirked at the thought of the person behind him but did not stop his culinary unsuccessful symphony.
‘Is everything alright? I know that you are quite an early bird, but not that much. Or your ‘antique’ hideous clocks finally stopped working?’
‘No need to mock my wake-up time, I feel that Nazi bombers are approaching Isles. I need to turn on the Air Raid Alarm on the top of this hill so all other brigades will hear and also turn on them. The better question is what you are doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night, destroying the weekly rationing?’
Arthur did get closer to Francis, looking over his shoulder and closely examining the situation before him. Because of the darkness, it was pretty complicated for him to fully understand what exactly was prepared there, but he still had some extent of understanding.
‘I tried to bake Charlotte, but well…’
‘Unsuccessful, I suppose?’
‘Pretty much… After all, two arms are better than one… You know, like people are saying that two heads are better than one? Yes? The same with arms after all… But I am still trying.’
He was too tired to bicker. He was even too tired to not seem to be going insane from everything that was going on near him. He felt like there was a great fire inside of him that he desperately tried to extinguish, but it was almost like it made the situation worse.
Everything would be fine.
He would survive this.
Everything is tolerable.
Or is it?
The cold hand on his shoulder stopped one of his ordinary spacing out. It felt almost like a bottle full of cold water with ice, so unpleasant but maybe it was just exactly what he needed in that moment. He just shivered a little and finally, turned his head around to see the uninvited night guest and it was almost like he saw a ghost. Arthur was as pale as ashes, on his cheek there was still a small stain of unnoticed blood from the previous attack, his eyes were as dark as a dying forest, the bags under his eyes seemed to be even bigger, and his eyebrows furrowed. Francis swore that he could notice some grey hair, but as a tactical guest, he did not comment on it even once.
‘You better go back to the basement. You need to have some sleep and soon it would be too dangerous to stay up here. There is too much glass and cupboards, and I protected only the basement. So please, for your safety, return to everyone. I will better ask Emma in the morning to finish your baking, she is also good at it.’
‘Wait.’
Arthur was able just to quickly make himself some tea in a thermos and already taking his raincoat near the exit of the house when he stopped to listen.
‘I prefer to go with you. It is not like a long night stroll but I believe it could be beneficial for both of us. After all, we all need some company for so rare short walks. And to be honest, we haven’t seen each other without anyone for… I don’t remember how long.’
Francis hesitated, offering this. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous at that moment, why he felt so small, so useless, almost like interrupting the elder from his much more important tasks. He tried to save his face, while Arthur was thinking. He didn’t have the privilege of having a lot of time for thinking, so just after a small pause of silence, he simply nodded. Francis was already cleaning the kitchen., not expecting any answer at all, but suddenly felt like someone threw a coat at him. He understood immediately and caught up with Arthur, leaving such a lovely a little overcrowded house.
At first, there was a complete silence between them. They were quietly going up and up the hill covered in still green grass with dots of late autumn flowers everywhere, not stopping even to look at the bright covered with stars night sky. There was not even a cloud and when a long time ago, they could just idly lie down in the grass, smelling the scent of nature, looking at strange constellations, giving new absurd names, now it was more like a curse.
They could see them.
They weren’t protected from the sight of Nazis.
The weather had betrayed them.
Francis was climbing higher and higher, going right after Arthur and looking down at the city beneath them. London, the city of lights, was as dark as night. Not a single light was ween, everyone was hiding, blackout. It reminded him of times when they couldn’t even dream of such a strange thing as electricity or gas, but instead of falling into the pit of soft and sweet nostalgia, he was only once again reminded of the times that they were living in.
‘Was it just a pie? Pie in the middle of the night seems like a strange idea even for you.’
‘As per usual, pretty good thinking. I couldn’t fall asleep and to be honest, you took quite a lot on your shoulders, so I decided to ease it a little bit and say thank you.’
‘It was just my duty. And it is even more uncommon to hear that you wanted to thank me. Anyway, you shouldn’t overwork yourself, you need to rest and heal, you already went through a lot. I prefer to finally help you instead.’
‘Arthur, I couldn’t heal my whole life. Especially when my people need me, and since I cannot perform at my best, I can help you help them.’
‘Listen, it is much more difficult this time. Look at your arm, it is not regenerating, I have never seen something like that among us. Most of your injuries are almost fresh and new, so please, at least now, focus on yourself. Not on France, but on Francis.’
Arthur was irritated, clenching his fists in his pockets but tried to relax a little. Francis did not say anything, just lowering his eyes to the grass under his steps. He felt like he was drowning in this new world of guilt and frustration, his body betrayed his soul, and he couldn’t even do anything with that. His whole country and life were crumbling mercilessly, and he only had to witness it like the only audience in an empty theatre. Every reminder of his state was painful, he couldn’t even look at himself without sharp shame.
‘You know, you are also not in the best shape, Arthur. Don’t think that I am that stupid or bling to not see how you are shivering every attack. Or how you also couldn’t sleep at night. Or how you always try to catch any signal, or…’
‘Or this is just my job. And I had to do my job.’
This was a clear end to the dialogue and Francis decided not to entertain it either, especially since they reached the top of the hill where the air raid alarm was installed. Arthur went straight to it to turn on this monstrosity while Francis went a little further, to the end of the field, closer to the sight of the city. He sat on the grass, looking at their new reality keeping his knees closer to bodies and resting his head on the arm. He thought of the past. Past with so much bloodshed, but it felt so easy and so good. Present with all those uncertainties. Future where he didn’t even think he would be alive. About risks and opportunities. Life and death. So many questions and worries, and he couldn’t escape them.
The air raid alarm started screaming about the upcoming danger, but it was strangely quiet. Probably, one of Arthur’s tricks to save their ears, Francis lazily thought. However, instead of giving notice of leaving, he saw how his old friend sat near him, leaning his head on Francis’s shoulder. He was sure that Arthur’s head was just as messy as his own, full of thoughts and concerns, so he didn’t even move. They needed that moment.
A huge flock of bombers were heading straight to give even more destruction, cause as much pain, deaths and suffering as possible, and again everyone would mourn… But they looked so uniquely peaceful, he relaxed, eyes softened. Francis felt so much warmth at that moment, looking at his face, growing some hope inside of his chest. He didn’t feel anything like that in years and now, he couldn’t stop a small, but sincere smile. Unbelievable, what a time.
‘Everything will be fine. Every single war has its start and finish, even the longest ended. Even when everything seemed dark, light always found its way to lighten the place. And look at us, we are still standing. And we will stand. Just wait.’
Arthur sounded so sudden but so genuine. He believed any his own words. He had hope. And Francis just smiled at his words, returning his relaxed gaze to the city.
‘Je t’aime.’
‘I love you too.’
They heard the sirens, they heard the approaching sound of aircraft. They knew it would be a hard night/ But they remained still, sitting with each other on their side.
Everything will get better.