Resistance

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘At least Amalie will remember her wedding.’ Liane was wearing a silk scarf, and this she tied over her head. Madeleine used a handkerchief, placing the square on her crown.

  The two sisters took their places. Joanna stood beside James. Incongruously, he thought, she was wearing a dress and court shoes, and a broad-brimmed hat. ‘Will you beat them?’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you care?’

  ‘Temper, temper.’

  ‘I was merely under the impression that the Americans want no part of this. Nor do the Swedes.’

  ‘Some of them,’ she remarked, and fell silent as the service began.

  The service, as promised, was brief; James got the impression that Father Jerome was as anxious to be attending to other duties as anyone. Then Henri said goodbye to his bride, his parents, and his in-laws. Amalie was again weeping. ‘You’d think they’d give them an hour together,’ Joanna said. ‘I mean, is the marriage legal until it’s been consummated?’

  ‘I’m sure this one will stick.’ James left her side and sought Pierre. ‘Where is your regiment?’

  ‘At Conde on the border. Or it was yesterday. Our orders were to move into Belgium the moment the Germans crossed the frontier.’

  ‘Conde isn’t all that far from Lille.’

  Pierre shrugged. ‘Fifty kilometres, maybe.’

  ‘Will you go through Paris?’

  ‘By train, you mean? The war could be over before we get to the border. The trains are going to be absolutely clogged.’

  ‘My own thought. So how do we get there?’

  Pierre looked at Liane, who had joined them. ‘I am going to drive them,’ she said. ‘You can come as well, if you like.’

  James gazed at her in consternation. ‘You are going to drive up to the front line?’

  ‘Who is going to stop me? And it isn’t the front line. Our people are moving forward to meet the enemy. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Well, Lille. That is where our HQ is.’ Or was, he thought. Like the French, the BEF was under orders to move into Belgium the moment that little country was invaded.

  ‘Lille is fine. We leave in five minutes.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I am so glad you’re coming with us,’ she whispered.

  There was so much to be thought about, and no time to think about anything. James ran upstairs, collected his bag, and ran down again, encountering Madeleine at the foot. ‘You are leaving now?’

  ‘I am going with Pierre and Henri. Liane is giving us a lift.’ He didn’t specify to where.

  ‘Well...’ She embraced him. ‘Come back to me when you have won.’

  He kissed her to save replying, and hurried down the hall to where Barbara de Gruchy was saying her goodbyes. ‘I am so sorry,’ he said.

  ‘There is nothing to be sorry for, Captain Barron. You are going to beat the enemy. That is a great and glorious thing. Give Amalie a kiss.’

  Amalie had stopped crying, although there were tear stains on her cheeks. She put her arms round him and held him close. ‘Kill them, kill them, kill them,’ she whispered.

  He kissed her forehead, nodded to Antoine, and went down the outside steps. There were cars everywhere, shunting back and forth, but the one at the foot of the steps was, predictably, a Rolls Royce, into which various footmen were loading a case of champagne and an enormous hamper from which emanated the most delicious smells. ‘The wedding breakfast,’ Joanna explained. ‘Aren’t we the lucky ones.’

  James looked past her to watch Aubrey climbing into the back of the car. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘And you?’

  ‘I am beginning to think you don’t like me,’ she remarked. ‘Of course we’re coming. You don’t think we’d miss the start of a war? Besides, there may be something in it I can use.’ Liane arrived, pulling on a pair of driving gloves. ‘You’re in front with me,’ she said. ‘You too, Joanna. James in the middle.’ She waved at her brother. ‘You three can sit in the back.’ There was no time to argue. And besides, although James had no wish to spend a couple of hours rubbing hips with Joanna, he certainly wanted to stay as close to Liane as possible for as long as possible. Albert de Gruchy joined them. ‘You have a full tank. That should get you to the border and back. But here is the ration book, just in case. Please drive carefully.’

  ‘Don’t I always, Papa?’

  ‘No. And I do not wish any scratches.’

  ‘How about bullet holes?’ Joanna asked, and received a glare. ‘Sorry. Just a joke.’

  ‘I promise to take good care of it,’ Liane said, and kissed him. ‘We’ll be back tomorrow.’ She started the engine, waved out of her window, and drove away. Everyone cheered and clapped. James presumed that Madeleine was there, but he didn’t see her.

  ‘Did you say tomorrow?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘We’ll never get back tonight.’

  ‘But we have no things. No toothbrushes!’

  ‘We’ll spend the night at my flat. You’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘You don’t have a gun,’ Joanna exclaimed.

  ‘We don’t usually wear them to weddings,’ James explained. ‘They have guns.’

  James looked over his shoulder and Pierre winked. ‘Who did you want to shoot?’

  ‘Well... we could run into a Nazi.’

  The roads outside Chartres were reasonably clear, but the traffic was steadily building. ‘Are we going through Paris?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘Good God, no,’ Liane said. ‘If we got into Paris we’d probably never get back out. I’m making for Beauvais.’ The traffic continued to increase, until their speed was down to twenty miles an hour, bumper to bumper, with frequent halts. James looked at his watch; it was just coming up to ten. ‘We’ll make it,’ Liane said. ‘Will your people wait for you?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Where are they going, anyway?’ Joanna asked.

  James didn’t suppose it mattered now. ‘Our orders are to advance into Belgium and then wheel to our right and take up a position along the line of the River Dyle.’

  ‘You mean if the Germans don’t get there first.’

  ‘They won’t. The Belgian army is going to hold the line of the Albert Canal — that’s further to the east — until we’re in position.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it have made more sense,’ Aubrey asked, ‘to have occupied the line of this river before the Germans started something?’

  ‘It would,’ Pierre agreed. ‘But the Belgians wouldn’t let us in until Hitler fired first, just in case that encouraged him to fire first.’

  ‘That seems a bit short-sighted.’

  ‘They were afraid,’ Henri said. ‘Everybody is afraid.’

  ‘Is that the right mood in which to fight a war?’

  ‘Now we have to stop being afraid,’ Pierre said. ‘Is anybody hungry?’

  ‘Yes,’ everyone said at the same time; no one had had the opportunity to eat any breakfast. The hamper was opened, and two of the bottles of champagne; there were even glasses. ‘Some way to go to war,’ Aubrey commented.

  *

  As noon approached, with everyone sated, the car grew silent. Liane, who had had only a single glass to go with her chicken leg, drove with relentless concentration, revealing a side to her character James had not suspected... but which made her still more attractive.

  He was having difficulty staying awake himself, and every time he nodded off his head drooped towards Joanna’s shoulder. She was also half-asleep, her skirt disconcertingly pulled up above her knees; her hat had come off, and as the windows were open for coolness, her yellow hair kept drifting across his face. He sat up. ‘What happens after you drop us?’

  ‘I will go back to Chartres. Via Paris.’

  ‘With Joanna and Aubrey?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘I am always all right.’

  ‘I shall dream of you.’

  She glanced at him. ‘There are some cards in my purse in my handbag with my Paris address. Look me up when next you are in town.�
��

  ‘You will let me open your handbag?’

  ‘It’s the only way to get inside.’

  He opened the bag, found the red leather purse, with the name Liane de Gruchy in gold, took one of the cards. ‘Won’t you be going down to Paulliac with your family?’

  ‘I prefer Paris. Shit!’ The civilian traffic had largely ceased as they drove north, but now they saw in front of them a military convoy, a good twenty trucks, proceeding very slowly and occupying the entire road. Liane drove up to the back of the last truck, both car and driver arousing considerable interest amongst the poilus. She put her head out of the window and shouted, ‘Will you let us through?’

  ‘We are going to fight the war,’ someone replied. ‘You should not be here.’

  ‘You’re an officer,’ Aubrey pointed out. ‘Why don’t you order them to get over?’

  ‘I am not their officer,’ Pierre said. ‘They would ignore me. Our best bet would be to go round them. Down there.’ He pointed at a lane leading away from the highway.

  ‘It is too narrow,’ Liane objected. ‘It will scratch the car.’

  ‘Fuck that. We also have a war to fight.’

  ‘You will have to explain it to Papa.’ She swung the car off the road and a moment later they were driving between high banks from which vegetation drooped, as she had feared, constantly scraping along the sides of the big car.

  Joanna had woken up. ‘You reckon this is a one-way street?’ she asked. ‘Holy shit! What’s that noise?’

  ‘Aircraft,’ Pierre said. James squinted through the windshield.

  ‘Are they ours?’ Henri asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Joanna muttered.

  ‘They’re not interested in us,’ James assured her. ‘But those poor buggers...’

  They were now nearly a mile distant from the column, although from time to time they saw the trucks where the hedges thinned; the highway was raised above the surrounding countryside. Now they watched the Stukas peeling off to go plunging down, and saw the plumes of earth and flame rising to meet them. ‘Those guys don’t stand a chance,’ Aubrey said. ‘Don’t you guys have any planes?’ Nobody answered him.

  The sense of adventure disappeared with the Stukas’ attack. They drove through the lanes for about an hour, and then reached a village where there was a crossroads and a main highway. People came out of their houses to shout at them. ‘We’ll get some directions,’ Liane decided and braked.

  ‘We have directions. Lille!’ James pointed at the signpost.

  ‘Hallelujah!’ She waved at the villagers and gunned the engine. But within half an hour they were again in heavy military traffic, although this was British.

  A redcap on a motorcycle pulled up beside them. ‘You can’t go up there, miss. That’s a restricted area.’ Then he looked further into the car. ‘With respect, sir.’

  ‘This young lady is trying to get me to HQ,’ James told him. ‘I’m on the staff.’

  ‘You’ll never make it in this wagon. Tell you what, sir. Jump on behind me and I’ll run you up. It’s only another twenty-odd miles.’

  ‘You must go,’ Liane said. ‘I’ll see you in Paris.’ She kissed him, long and deep, which left him embarrassed.

  ‘Have a good war,’ Joanna suggested, and got out to make room for him.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you all.’ James saluted, and the redcap stopped the traffic to allow Liane to make a five-point turn.

  ‘Friend of the lady, are you, sir?’ he inquired as the Rolls disappeared.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Some car. Some brass, I’d say.’

  ‘And you’d probably be right. Shall we get on?’ He wondered if he’d ever discover why she had been expelled from finishing school. With Joanna.

  ‘You and him got something going?’ Joanna asked.

  ‘We could,’ Liane said.

  ‘Bit young for you, isn’t he?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’

  ‘I thought he was Madeleine’s guest,’ Henri commented.

  ‘The same goes for you,’ Liane told him.

  ‘Sounds like you do have something on,’ Joanna muttered. ‘You slept with him?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘You’ll have to tell me about it.’

  Liane concentrated on the road, which was no less encumbered going the other way, although they made better time. She didn’t want to discuss James, not even with her oldest and most intimate friend. Because she was ashamed of what she had done? She had never been ashamed of having sex before. But those had always been people in her own social circle, artists and poets and would-be novelists who thronged the Left Bank cafes, and to whom sex was as casual as ordering a fresh cup of coffee. With her wealth and her beauty she had always dominated every gathering; with her intelligence she had always known that none of those people were her friends, merely hangers-on intent on cadging whatever they could from either her purse or her body. So what the hell, she had always thought. It beats masturbation.

  But she had never indulged herself under any of her parents’ roofs before. Apart from not wishing to upset them, it had simply not been feasible. To have seduced one of Pierre’s friends would have created an impossible situation even had she been able to find any pleasure in it, and Mama had apparently accepted that her eldest daughter had no interest in marriage and had ceased seeking eligible men to entertain. And she seldom saw Joanna more than once a year nowadays. But last night she had allowed herself to become over-excited at the idea of the wedding. Little Amalie, the complete virgin, who so looked up to her big sister. Neither Amalie nor Mama and Papa had the slightest idea of the life she lived. Heaven forbid! Madeleine did, but Madeleine had never betrayed her. And now she had betrayed Madeleine!

  Did Madeleine really have designs on a man so much her social inferior? She realized she actually did not know enough about her sister. They saw very little of each other. Madeleine liked life in the country; she found it unutterably boring. But did Madeleine also like to dominate men? That was her principal pleasure in life. And James Barron had been the perfect target. He was so innocent, had been so completely out of his depth, at once eager and uncertain. And yet... Her instincts told her that there had been something else, hidden in that so pedantically bred exterior, some coil of steel kept carefully under control. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Or even hear of him.

  *

  It was three o’clock before they made contact with the French forces, and Pierre and Henri were able to secure official transport to take them up to their regiment, several miles away.

  The officers they met were in a state of high excitement. ‘They are saying that the Belgian army is in full retreat, that Eben-Emael has fallen.’

  ‘That is not possible,’ Pierre declared.

  ‘What is Eben-Emael?’ Joanna asked.

  ‘It is the strongest fortress in Belgium. It is impregnable. If it has fallen on the first day...’

  ‘I suggest you go and get it back.’ Liane kissed him and then Henri.

  ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘We shall be back in Paris tonight, Chartres tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, tell Amalie that I love her.’

  ‘I will do that.’ She turned the car.

  ‘Do you think it is as serious as that man said?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘There are always people who panic. What the shit...’ They had returned to the highway to see a solid mass of people on the road. They had earlier encountered several heavily laden cars and trucks heading south, but this was like an entire nation on the move. There were cars with mattresses strapped to their roofs, laden carts — some drawn by mules, others being pushed by hand — people walking, people riding bicycles, even one or two in wheelchairs, some driving cows or horses, others dragging wailing children beside them, barking dogs...

  ‘Where are you going?’ Liane asked one man.

  ‘To the south. It will be safe in the south.
’

  ‘But why are you going?’

  ‘It is the Boche. They will be here tomorrow.’

  ‘That is not possible. The whole French army is between you and them.’ The man pushed his bicycle away.

  ‘How do we get through this lot?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ his sister told him.

  ‘We have to find another way. Back to the lanes,’ Liane decided. She reversed and turned down the first available opening into another maze of tiny, uneven tracks. There were people on these as well, but few vehicles, and most were willing to get out of the way of Liane’s blaring horn.

  The sun was now over their right shoulders as it sank towards the west. ‘We’re going east,’ Joanna realized aloud. ‘So?’

  ‘Paris is south, isn’t it?’

  ‘Paris is south-east. We’ll turn off as soon as we find a clear road. Listen, Aubrey, open a bottle of champagne. I need a drink. We all need a drink.’

  ‘It’s not going to be cold,’ Aubrey warned, wrestling with the cork.

  ‘It’s liquid, and it’s alcohol.’

  Joanna was studying her map. ‘According to this, we must be just about past Maubeuge. If you’re not careful we’ll be in Belgium.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone is going to worry about that today.’

  ‘Yes, but isn’t that where the Germans are?’

  Liane glanced at her, as if realizing for the first time how close the fighting might be.

  ‘Thunder,’ Aubrey said. ‘That’s all we need, a rainstorm.’

  ‘Those are guns, stupid,’ Joanna snapped.

  ‘Shit!’ Liane muttered, and then shouted, ‘A road!’

  They emerged at a crossroads, and found themselves looking at a regiment of poilus, tramping by. An officer came up to them. ‘Mademoiselles? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Trying to get away from here.’

  ‘We want to get to Paris,’ Joanna said.

  ‘That is a good idea. I will clear a space for you to cross the road, then drive south. There is a highway only a few kilometres away.’

  ‘You are very sweet,’ Liane said. ‘Will the highway be crowded?’