Marcel shook his head. “No, now he thinks he knows why we go there, we have the perfect reason to go again.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Be very careful. Adèle,” he said. “Fernand will know you again.”
Next morning, Adelaide pedalled up the hill to the Convent of Our Lady of Mercy, and, leaning her bike against the wall, tugged on the old bell pull. Almost immediately the grille in the door opened and a nun peered out at her.
“Good morning,” she said through the grille, “may I help you?”
Adelaide drew a deep breath. This was it. “I’d like to see Reverend Mother, please,” she said.
“What would that be about?” asked the nun, not opening the door.
“I’m looking for work,” Adelaide began, but the nun cut her off.
“I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but I’m afraid there are no jobs here.” The grille began to close, and Adelaide put her hand up to stop it.
“Wait,” she cried. “I just want to see Reverend Mother.”
“Mother is busy,” replied the nun. “She hasn’t time to see any passing vagrant looking for work. I’ve told you there isn’t any.”
“I am not a passing vagrant,” Adelaide said hotly. “I am the niece of Monsieur and Madame Launay. They know the reverend mother and have sent me to see her.”
The grille opened properly again. “What did you say your name was?”
Adelaide hadn’t given her name, but she did so now. “Adèle Durant,” she said. “Monsieur Launay’s niece.”
There was a rattling of bolts, the heavy door was eased open and the portress peered round it. It was the same Sister Celestine who had greeted Adelaide when she had arrived before. The little nun surveyed the visitor, taking in her working clothes, her scrubbed face and hands, but there was no flicker of recognition in her eyes. “You’d better come in.”
Adelaide stepped inside the door and was left to wait in the hall while Sister Celestine scurried off to find out if Reverend Mother would see this person.
She was back within a few moments. “Mother says she will see you,” she said in a voice indicating that she was surprised by this decision. “Please come this way.”
Adelaide followed her along the passage to Mother Marie-Pierre’s office and waited outside while she was announced.
“Mademoiselle Durant, Mother.”
Adelaide stepped inside the room to be faced by not only her aunt, but another sister, who was standing beside the desk.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” began Adelaide. “You have someone with you. I can wait until you are not busy.”
“It is not a problem, Mademoiselle,” replied the reverend mother. “Sister Marie-Paul and I have finished our discussion.” She turned to the nun at her side. “Thank you, Sister, I’ll leave that to you then.” Sister Marie-Paul inclined her head and, with an uninterested glance at Adelaide as she passed, left the room.
As the door closed behind her Mother Marie-Pierre looked at Adelaide. “Now, Mademoiselle, how can I help you? I understand from Sister Celestine that the Launays sent you.”
It was clear to Adelaide that neither her aunt, nor Sister Marie-Paul, whom she had encountered on several occasions during her last visit, had recognised her, and that was good. Very good. But how long would it be before her aunt did recognise her, she wondered? It would be a good test. She continued to speak as Adèle Durant.
“Yes, Mother,” she answered. “I am their niece. I have come to help them on their farm. It is too much for them these days, but I also need to earn some money to help with my keep.”
Mother Marie-Pierre raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought,” she said, “that your work on the farm would have covered your keep.”
“It does, Mother,” the girl agreed, “but I need some cash, you know, for a few personal things. My uncle and aunt feed me, of course, but there are always things one needs, even in this war.” She smiled, and it was her smile, her father Freddie’s smile, that revealed her to her astonished aunt.
“Adelaide?” she whispered.
Adelaide nodded and laid a finger to her lips. For a moment Mother Marie-Pierre stared at her and then she was round the desk and gathering her into a hug.
“My dear girl,” she said, holding her away from her, much as Gerard Launay had done on the station, to get a better look at her. “My dear girl, is it really you? What on earth are you doing here? What’s this nonsense about being the Launays’ niece?”
Adelaide went to the door and checked to see that it was properly closed before she gave her reply. “I’m here because of you,” she said.
“Because of me?” Her aunt looked startled. “Here, come and sit down, so we can talk properly.” As before they sat on the chairs that flanked the tiny fireplace, but this time there was no fire to warm the room. “Now, Adelaide, tell me everything. What is this about being the Launays’ niece?”
“Sarah—” Adelaide began and paused. Now that she was here she wasn’t quite sure where to begin, how much to say.
“Yes?” Mother Marie-Pierre said encouragingly.
If I can’t trust Sarah with at least part of the story, there’s no point in being here, Adelaide thought. “I’ve been sent from England to work undercover,” she said, “and my cover story is that I am the Launays’ niece. I live with them on the farm and help out. I do much of the heavy stuff that they’re finding more difficult.” She gave a laugh. “I’ve even learned to help with the milking. Anyway, I’ve been sent here because of what you’ve been doing.”
“What I’ve been doing?” Mother Marie-Pierre looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“Flight Sergeant Terry Ham made it home,” Adelaide said, “and he told us how you’d helped him.”
Mother Marie-Pierre’s face broke into a smile. “Terry? Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m delighted he made it,” she said. “I heard nothing after I’d left him with Father Bernard.”
“We’ve also heard that you have been helping Jewish refugees,” Adelaide went on quietly.
Mother Marie-Pierre looked at her sharply. “Where did you hear that?”
“We’re in touch with the local resistance,” replied Adelaide. “There was something about it in one of their reports.”
“I see,” sighed her aunt. “Well, I suppose it was bound to get about. The whole village knows what happened to Sister Eloise.”
“Sister Eloise? What did happen to her?”
Reverend Mother told the story of the escaped Jew, Simone, the raid by the Germans and Sister Eloise’s arrest. Adelaide listened in silence.
“She’s been sent to Germany, to a camp somewhere, where according to Colonel Hoch they send the enemies of the Reich.” Sarah looked across at her niece. “I feel so guilty, because it was I who asked Sister Eloise to look after the woman. It’s my fault she’s in some dreadful camp.”
“But surely, Sister Eloise and the other sisters would have nursed the woman whoever she was. Isn’t that what your community does? Nurse the sick?”
“She wasn’t in the hospital. We knew she was a Jew, so we were nursing her in secret.” Mother Marie-Pierre sighed. “The convent is split down the middle,” she explained. “Some of the sisters think it was right to shelter the poor woman, others think that we ought not to involve ourselves with the politics of the war; that we should continue to nurse the sick in our hospital and maintain our life of prayer, not shelter ‘enemies of the Reich’.”
“I see.” Adelaide looked thoughtful. “What did they think about Terry Ham?” she asked. “Wasn’t he an enemy of the Reich?”
Her aunt gave a rueful laugh. “They didn’t know. Only two of us were involved with that.” She reached out and took Adelaide’s hand in hers. “I still don’t understand why you are here, Adelaide.”
“Adèle, Sarah. My name is Adèle, even to you.”
Sarah smiled ruefully. “Adèle, then. So, why are you here?”
“I’ve come to set up a proper escape route for people like Terry Ham,” Adelaide
replied. “So many of our planes are being shot down over enemy territory, the crews bail out and then find themselves stuck behind enemy lines. We are trying to find a way to help as many as possible get back to England. I’m to find safe houses in this area, where they can be hidden until they can be moved on along the line.”
She smiled at her aunt who suddenly realised what she was going to be asked.
“You can’t use the convent,” Mother Marie-Pierre said quietly. “Too many people could suffer if things went wrong. After what happened to Sister Eloise, I can’t put any more of the sisters’ lives at risk.”
“I see that is a danger,” said Adelaide, “but if we can implement the plan I have worked out, none of the other sisters need know anything about it.”
“No, Adelaide, I’m sorry. I don’t even want to hear it.” Mother Marie-Pierre was firm. She told her niece about the threats Colonel Hoch had made. “He will carry them out, you know. He is an evil man. He enjoys what he does.” She reached out and took Adelaide’s hand. “If it were myself alone, there would be no problem, but I am responsible for the safety of everyone in this community.”
“I understand, Sarah. It is a heavy responsibility. I’ll try looking elsewhere. It’s just that it seemed to London that a convent would be the last place the Germans would suspect of resistance work.”
“Well, they’re wrong. Since they found Simone here, they treat us with great suspicion, me in particular. Colonel Hoch organises spot checks. Searches the place without warning. We were lucky he didn’t do so when Terry Ham was here. There have been three raids since then. I am sorry, my dear, but I really don’t think I can help you.”
“Terry mentioned the convent cellars.” Adelaide wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. “He said there was an outside entrance to them, a metal grille or grating somewhere.”
“Yes, we saw the grille from the inside and Sister Marie-Marc has since found it from the outside.”
“Sister Marie-Marc?”
“She was the sister who found Terry Ham hiding in the shed. When he’d gone she went looking for the grating.”
“Why did she do that?” asked Adelaide. “Where was it?”
“I think she had much the same idea as you,” replied Mother Marie-Pierre. “I think she thought we might hide people from the Germans in our cellars, but I’m afraid it is out of the question… and so I’ve told her.” She looked across at Adelaide, her face serious. “Every time the Germans have come the cellars have been thoroughly searched. Anyone hiding in them would be found.”
“Suppose we managed to wall off that section of the cellar?” suggested Adelaide. “The room with the grating.”
“Wall it off?” Mother Marie-Pierre gave a brief laugh. “Adelaide, how on earth would we do that without anyone knowing? The whole convent would know, and the Germans soon after. It would be discovered at once.”
Realising that for the present she would have to concede defeat here, Adelaide changed tack.
“Tell me about this Father Bernard,” she said. “Where does he fit into the picture?”
“He’s the priest at the Church of the Holy Cross in Amiens,” replied Sarah. “I found him quite by accident when I was taking the children to our mother house in Paris.” She explained how Father Bernard had helped with the children. “He was the only one I could think of to turn to when we were trying to get Terry Ham away.” Sarah paused. “There is one other person who might be prepared to help you with what you are trying to do. Madame Juliette, who runs the café in the square. At least she did… in the last war. Her daughter has it now, I believe. Anyway, when I rescued Margot, one of the Jewish children, she hid us both for a while. I don’t know if she is involved with your resistance group, but I do know she is a good-hearted woman who was prepared to risk her life to save a little girl. You might find her ready to—”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. They looked at each other in alarm for a moment before Mother Marie-Pierre crossed the room and sat behind her desk. Adelaide stood in front of her, and then the reverend mother rang her bell. The door opened and Sister Marie-Paul came into the room. Entirely ignoring Adelaide, she spoke to her superior.
“Colonel Hoch’s car is at the door, Mother. I thought I should let you know.”
Mother Marie-Pierre rose to her feet. “Thank you, Sister, I’ll come at once.” She turned to Adelaide and addressed her in a tired voice. “It’s time you went, Mademoiselle. As I said, I’m afraid there are no jobs in the convent at present. Should the position change I will contact you at your aunt’s.”
Adelaide lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Mother,” she muttered. She followed the two nuns out of the office and back into the hall. Colonel Hoch was already standing in the hallway, admitted by a clearly terrified Sister Celestine.
“Ah, Reverend Mother,” he began, and then caught sight of Adelaide. “Who is this?”
Reverend Mother shrugged. “A girl from the village looking for work.”
“You, girl.” Hoch looked Adelaide up and down as if she were a horse he might buy. “What’s your name?”
“Adèle Durant, sir.”
“What are you doing here? Papers!” He held out his hand and Adelaide took her papers from her coat pocket and passed them to him. He glanced at them. “Why are you here?”
“I came to ask Reverend Mother for work,” Adelaide answered. She kept her eyes lowered, not challenging him in anyway. She knew that this might be the end of her mission before it had really started.
“I might find you work in the Kommandatur,” he said, his eyes resting appreciatively on her neat figure, incompletely hidden by the old grey raincoat.
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” interjected Mother Marie-Pierre, before Adelaide had time to speak, “but I have just given Mademoiselle Durant a job in our kitchens.” Quelling Sister Marie-Paul, who had overheard her refuse the girl any work, with a frown, she went on. “There is too much for Sister Elisabeth to do on her own and Sister Marie-Marc is getting too old to be of much help.” She smiled at Adelaide. “Another pair of hands for a few hours each day will be most welcome. Please present yourself to Sister Elisabeth on Monday morning at 7.30, Adèle, and she will tell you what you are to do. Off you go now.”
It was a definite dismissal and Adelaide gave a little bob and spoke demurely. “Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother.”
17
When Alain Fernand discovered where the Auclon family was hiding, he was elated. There had been a big search for them when the other Jews from the village were rounded up, but they’d never been found. Finally it had been assumed that they had somehow managed to get out of the area.
Fernand found them by accident. One evening he was collecting firewood in a stand of woodland beyond the village, when he thought he’d heard voices. Always alert for anything unusual, he put down his sack of sticks and made his way stealthily between the trees, trying to follow the sound. Before he found anyone, the voices had died away, but he had found the cottage. It was deserted and derelict, its doors locked and barred. When he pressed his nose against its dirty windowpanes Fernand could see no sign of life. Disappointed for the moment, he collected his firewood and went home, but his curiosity was not satisfied.
He’d heard voices again a few days later and crept forward to spy. He found a courting couple lying on the ground, the girl with her skirt hiked up about her hips, the man almost on top of her as they kissed. Fernand watched them for several moments before they noticed him. It excited him to watch; he’d like a girl like that. Suddenly the couple realised he was there and they broke apart. The girl burst into tears, and the man looked about to explode, but after a sharp exchange, they had gone off, leaving Fernand alone in the twilight to wonder if they had been the people whose voices he had heard before.
It was the third time he heard voices that he struck gold. He stole silently between the trees and there they were, a man and a woman, with two little boys, sitting outside the cottage. They were very thin and pal
e, their clothes almost rags, but they sat on an old bench, their faces held up to the last rays of the sun. The two little boys were playing with some sticks in the dust at their feet. Even as he watched, the parents gathered up the children and disappeared round behind the house. Fernand waited for several minutes and then crept stealthily from his hiding place and darted across to the cottage. There were no voices now; and the eerie silence of dusk enveloped the place. He edged to a window, and peering in found himself looking into a gloomy kitchen. It seemed empty, except for a large old kitchen table, a stove and a stone sink. He moved quietly round the corner of the house to look in through the next window. This showed him a bedroom, but there was still no sign of the family. He went on to the back of the house where there was a lean-to shed.
They must be in here, he thought, but when he pushed the door, it opened easily and revealed only a few logs stacked against one wall, some sacks in a heap in the corner and an old canvas bag hanging on the back of the door. His eyes rested greedily on the logs. Fuel was at a premium and he could sell these for a tidy amount. Leaving them for the moment, he returned to the cottage. He circled it again, trying each door, and peering in through all the windows, but with no luck. The family seemed to have vanished.
Fernand knew well who they were. He had immediately recognised Joseph Auclon, the barber, and his wife Janine. Jews. He remembered the round-up of Jews last summer. These must have escaped somehow. Well, they wouldn’t escape this time. Fernand hated Jews. Everyone knew that they always ganged up together against real Frenchmen. Everyone said so. Fernand had, himself, been thrown out of Joseph’s little shop off the village square because he had complained that Joseph had cheated him. Everyone knew that Jews charged more to their non-Jewish customers, and when Fernand had accused Joseph of this, the barber had told him to get out and not to come back. Fernand left the shop, angry. But he’d had the last laugh, he realised. He hadn’t paid at all! Let the money-grubbing Jew put that in his pipe and smoke it.
He went back into the shed, filled a sack with some of the logs and set off home with his loot. He’d come back for more logs, he promised himself, and when he did, he’d bring a crowbar to break into the cottage and see what he could find.
The Sisters of St. Croix Page 24
