The waiter arrived and placed a cup of coffee and a small dish in front of her. Claire dropped a couple of coins into the dish and lifted the cup without taking her eyes off the door. She looked at the clock again. Ten minutes past twelve. Alain was late, but then he was going to find out where Édith and the family had moved to. Speculating on where they might be, Claire sipped her coffee. Thérèse’s parents lived north of the town; they would know. Alain had probably gone to see them, or to one of the Resistance men’s homes. Suddenly several customers jumped up, left their seats, and ran to the window. Claire took her basket and joined them. Half a dozen German soldiers had surrounded someone, a man, demanding to know who he was. Although his back was to her, Claire recognised the soldier who had followed her. ‘Damn bully,’ she said under her breath. A staff car screeched to a halt in front of the café, blocking the view.
Several men cursed and a couple went outside to see more clearly what was going on. Claire followed. She looked up at each one as he spoke, pretending she was with them. A soldier ran to the car and opened the back door. A tall hard-faced captain with skeletal features and small piercing eyes, wearing the dark field green uniform of the Waffen SS – the death mask on his peaked hat highly polished – stepped from it and strode across to the pack of grey uniforms. A corporal broke the circle to let the SS officer in, and Claire gasped. The recipient of the German soldier’s victimization was Alain.
‘Halt!’ the SS officer shouted.
The soldiers did as ordered and moved away. With a sardonic lopsided smirk, the SS officer ordered Alain to produce his identity papers. Alain put his hand inside his jacket and the officer drew his gun. Alain put the offending hand in the air and held his jacket open with the other. The officer nodded sharply to one of the soldiers, who snatched Alain’s papers roughly. The soldier handed the folded document to his superior.
‘I’m afraid,’ Alain said, ‘there has been a mistake. I’m--’
‘Silence!’ the captain shouted. Alain stopped speaking immediately and bowed his head. The SS officer circled him, hitting the palm of his black leather-gloved hand with his truncheon. ‘English pig!’
‘No.’ Alain straightened. ‘I’m--’
‘I said silence!’ Snarling, the officer raised the truncheon and brought it down on Alain’s left shoulder. The force of the blow sent Alain sprawling to his knees. ‘Get up!’ the German shouted. Alain stumbled to his feet and the officer brought the truncheon down again, this time sideways across his face. Alain’s cheek split open on impact and Claire saw him wince as he fell to the ground. Blood gushed from the wound, but the brave Canadian said nothing.
The officer flicked his hand at two soldiers. ‘Take him to headquarters.’
Both clicked their heels. ‘Hauptsturmführer!’ they said as one, and hauled Alain to his feet.
The commotion had brought people out of their houses and shops. Inquisitive at first, they stayed to watch the sport. Elbowing her way to the front of the crowd, Claire caught Alain’s eye. The lines on his forehead deepened when he saw her and he shook his head. Tears filled her eyes as she pushed her way towards him.
‘No!’ he shouted. Struggling, he continued, ‘Leave me! Go!’
Claire stopped in her tracks. Alain was shouting to her, telling her to leave. But because he was being dragged away by German soldiers they assumed he was shouting at them and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, but remained on his feet. Claire screamed. She had caused her brave lover to be hurt again.
Carried along by a crowd that had grown from a few dozen to what looked like a hundred people, Claire had no choice but to keep moving forward. Suddenly a huge man pushed her out of the way and she found herself with room to turn and look back. Standing on tiptoe, she could see the SS officer’s black Mercedes. If she could only get to him, explain. She pushed through the oncoming tide of people and there he was, getting into his car. She needed to move quickly. She broke through the crowd and raised her arm. But before she had time to attract his attention, someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her back into the throng. She struggled to free herself, twisting and kicking. ‘Now now, my little tiger of a wife!’ she heard a familiar voice say. ‘Why so passionate about a stranger? Save your passion for me in our bed.’
Several men, having heard the dialogue, burst into laughter. But the SS officer, unaware or uninterested, got into his car and a second later was driven away. Claire glared at them, but they continued to joke crudely. ‘Ouch! Very well, husband,’ she shouted. ‘Not so tight, you’re hurting me.’
Frédéric Belland relaxed his grip. ‘Be quiet, Claire,’ he whispered. ‘Do not attract attention. It is too late. You can do nothing to help Alain now.’ Emotionally drained, with tears streaming down her face, Claire let Frédéric lead her away. At the end of the road she looked back. Alain and the Germans were gone. The crowd had dispersed. The square was empty.
‘Is there something between you and Alain, Claire? Something perhaps that has developed since you were last in France?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. Mitch – Alain – is my partner. I look on him as a brother.’
‘In the square you looked on him as a lover. You cannot fool me. I know love.’ Claire tutted and ran on ahead. Frédéric caught up with her. ‘Since you were last here I too have found love. The way you looked at Alain is the way my beautiful Monique looks at me.’
‘I’m pleased you’ve found love, Frédéric, and I’m sure Monique is beautiful, but stop this nonsense about Alain and me and tell me what happened at the farm.’
Walking through the cobbled streets of the old town, Frédéric told Claire that the first farmhouse to be burned was Thérèse’s parents’ home. ‘Thérèse was visiting them when German soldiers arrived. They beat up her father and turned Thérèse and her mother out of the house. Then they set fire to it.’
‘What about the animals?’
‘They loaded them into trucks and took them away. They didn’t set fire to the barn, but they took the machinery. Theirs was the first farm, but it was not the last.’
Claire put her hand on Frédéric’s arm. ‘When did you lose your farm?’
‘One week later. We had moved Mother out by then. She did not want to leave, but André is very persuasive. Being the oldest son, she does what he says. She doesn’t even ask me. A know-it-all, that is André. But,’ Frédéric admitted, ‘on this occasion he was right.’
Ever since Claire had known the Belland brothers there had been friction between them. Their relationship reminded her of hers with her sister Ena. When they were children they argued about anything and everything; it almost became a game. She thought of her younger sister now with love, pleased that she had chosen a safe way to help the war effort by working in a factory, instead of joining the armed forces. She brought her focus back to Frédéric. ‘Your brother is just looking after you.’
‘Huh!’ Frédéric grunted.
‘I don’t know how your mother puts up with you two,’ Claire said, smiling up at Frédéric. When she and Alain first stayed with Édith and her sons, Claire was sure Frédéric had a crush on her. He would blush when she spoke to him and look shyly at her from under long black eyelashes. She looked at him now. He didn’t blush. ‘So tell me about your new sweetheart. Are you serious about each other?’
‘Yes. We are engaged. I haven’t bought her a ring yet, but I asked her to marry me and she has said yes.’
‘The ring isn’t important. It’s the commitment that matters,’ Claire said. Why hadn’t she told Mitch how she felt about him in London, or even last night, when she had the chance?
‘Are you thinking about Alain?’ Frédéric asked.
‘Alain? No! Well yes, of course, but at that moment I was thinking about your mother,’ she lied. ‘Wondering how she is managing away from the farm.’
‘You will find out in one minute. We are almost there.’
Leaving the wide road behind them, they turned into a narrow avenue and
Claire saw Édith Belland waving from a door in a wall at the back of a terraced house. She ran to her. ‘Édith!’ she cried, falling into her friend’s arms.
‘What is it, my dear? Why the tears?’ Édith Belland wrapped her arms around Claire tightly. Then she held her at arm’s length and searched her face. ‘Come,’ she said, looking left and right before leading Claire through the door and across a small yard with outhouses on the right. ‘Where is Alain?’ she asked, once they were in the house.
‘The Germans stopped and questioned him and--’
‘They’ve taken him to headquarters, Mama.’
‘When? How? What time was this? Did he see Jacques, before…?’
‘Yes,’ Claire said. ‘We arranged to meet in the café on the square after he’d been to Jacques. We were going to look for you when we’d had lunch. Alain said if Jacques didn’t know where you were, he was going to ask around.’
‘We haven’t told Jacques. We haven’t told anyone. We thought if no one knew no one could be forced to tell. Oh Claire…’ Édith Belland put her head in her hands. ‘The silly boy should have known we would have found you.’ She looked up at Frédéric. ‘Go to your brother. Tell him Claire is here and she is safe. Then tell him what has happened to Alain. And be careful!’ she shouted as Frédéric left.
‘I am so sorry you’ve lost the farm, Édith,’ Claire said when they were alone.
‘The farm? It was the dream of my late husband. Once he had gone and the children were grown…’ She threw her hands in the air and shrugged. ‘Besides, it is still there. The Germans had no intention of destroying it. They could have burned it to the ground, but no!’ she said, shaking her head vehemently. ‘The pathetic incendiary device they threw through the kitchen window was a warning. When they realised we had already left, they put the fire out immediately.’
‘How do you know?’
‘André and Frédéric were watching from the woods. They went back after moving me here, to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind that would lead the Germans to suspect we were part of the Resistance. They have burnt out other farmers, and always put the fires out as soon as they’ve left. It is bully-boy tactics only. They want to keep the farms intact to farm the land themselves when they have brought France to its knees. Ha!’ Édith guffawed and pretended to spit. ‘They have no intention of destroying our property. It is our morale they wish to destroy, but that will never happen. You must be hungry, child,’ she said, pulling Claire’s coat from her back and hanging it up on a hook on the back of the kitchen door. ‘I shall make something to eat.’
Claire handed her the shopping basket. ‘There isn’t much, I’m afraid – just bread and cheese, a little fruit and a couple of buns. But there is this,’ she said, taking the false bottom out of her shopping basket.
Édith’s mouth fell open. ‘How much is here?’
Claire handed Édith 100,000 francs. ‘And there is 25,000 in each of my shoes,’ she said taking them off.
‘Good God, child, how did you manage to walk on all this?’
‘It wasn’t easy. It was very uncomfortable,’ Claire said, rubbing her feet, ‘but Alain wanted me to carry it in case he--’ Tears fell from her eyes.
‘Come now, child, don’t upset yourself. The Gestapo stop people all the time, keep them overnight for questioning, and release them the following day.’ Édith looked at the money again and shook her head. ‘We must hide this,’ she said, taking a brick from the side of the hearth. She rolled up the cash and put it into the hole, replacing the brick and brushing dust up against it. She stood back and looked at the hiding place, then put her arms around Claire. ‘Thank you, child. Money buys many things, including information. If Alain has not been released by this time tomorrow, we will use some of it to find out why. But now you must eat. And when the boys get here, after they have eaten, they will fetch the drop.’
Claire couldn’t get the girl in the well out of her mind. She looked across the room at Édith, already busy boiling pans of water and chopping vegetables. Claire had no idea where André was, or how long it would take Frédéric to find him. What she did know was that she needed to speak to Édith now, because her sons could be back any minute. ‘Édith, will you sit down? I need to tell you something.’ Édith carried on chopping carrots, smiled and looked up questioningly. ‘Please,’ Claire said, ‘it is important.’ Claire waited for the older woman to sit.
‘What is it, child? Out with it. You’re worrying me.’
Claire cleared her throat. ‘There’s a young woman at the farm--’
‘What? Living there?’
‘No. She was dead.’
‘But why would a young woman be at a deserted farm? Where did she come from? How did she--’ Suddenly a look of horror crossed Édith’s face.
‘What is it, Édith?’
She closed her eyes and put her hands together in prayer. ‘No, no, no. Please God,’ she howled, ‘do not let it be Monique.’
‘Monique? Frédéric’s fiancée?’ Claire put her arms round her friend. ‘Hush now. I’m sure the girl isn’t local. When we arrived we heard Germans soldiers bragging that they pick up girls from the town and bring them to the farm. It is more likely to be one of them. A local girl would be missed. Monique would be missed.’
Shaking her head, Édith lifted the skirt of her pinafore and wiped her tear-stained face. ‘The day after we left the farm Monique was going to visit her grandmother in--’ She waved her hand in the air as if to say the name of the place didn’t matter. It didn’t. ‘She promised to call to say goodbye on the way to the station. Frédéric went to the farm, but Monique wasn’t there. He went to her house and her mother said she had left, that they must have missed each other. Frédéric was disappointed that he didn’t get to see her, but with transport unreliable these days we assumed she had caught an earlier or an unscheduled train, and didn’t have time to stop by.’
‘Has no one been back to the farm since?’
‘Yes. The boys went over a day, maybe two, before the drop and it was clear then that German soldiers were using the house as a brothel. They wanted to send a message to London, to arrange another field for the drop, but as you know Jacques’ wireless wasn’t working, which is why Alain brought the crystals...’ Édith Belland’s face was suddenly as white as flour. She put her hands to the crucifix that hung from her neck. ‘You don’t think the Germans…?’
‘I don’t know… No. Alain said it looked like an accident.’
‘An accident? Where was she? If you saw her, why didn’t the boys see her? You must tell me, Claire. If it is Monique, I need to prepare Frédéric.’
‘The girl we found – and I’m sure it is not Monique – was in the well.’
Édith Belland began to tremble. ‘We will say nothing, Claire. We must not speak of this to Frédéric, or André, not until we know whether or not the girl is Monique. Yes?’
‘Yes,’ Claire agreed. ‘But how will we--?’ Édith pulled her coat from a hook on the back of the kitchen door. ‘You’re going to the farm, aren’t you?’ Édith looked at Claire. She didn’t need to speak. ‘I’m coming with you.’ Claire grabbed her coat and followed Édith out of the house.
Édith opened the door of a small shed next to the toilet in the cobbled back yard. ‘Thérèse’s bicycle,’ she said, hauling her daughter-in-law’s bike towards Claire. ‘Mine is here, against the wall. Come, we have little time. We must be back before curfew.’
Ten minutes later they had left Gisoir behind and were cycling along the road to the farm. There was no traffic. Claire was sick with worry about Mitch, but there was nothing she could do to find out why he had been taken to Gestapo headquarters, or how long they intended to keep him, until tomorrow. Her legs were tired and she felt lightheaded with hunger. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she had eaten, but that wasn’t important. It was important to find out if the girl in the well was Frédéric’s fiancée, so she pushed down on the bike's pedals and followed Édith. When the
farm came into view, Édith slowed down and, taking her feet off the pedals, coasted until she was able to put them on the ground. Claire pulled on the brakes and stopped beside her. ‘We must hide the bicycles and go the rest of the way on foot,’ Édith whispered. She wheeled her bike down a slope and into a small wood. ‘Here,’ she hissed, beckoning Claire, ‘behind these trees.’ Claire followed and once the bikes were hidden, she and Édith weaved their way through the trees to the farm.
From the edge of the wood the two women waited and watched. It was eerily quiet. Not even a rustle of leaves as the wind blew. The sun, a fading orange ball in a darkening sky, had begun to slip down behind the hills in the west. ‘It will soon be dusk, Édith. We should hurry,’ Claire said.
‘Yes, if we are going to get back before dark we must move.’ Quickly and quietly Édith made her way across the farmyard to the well, looked in, and fell to her knees. ‘Monique,’ she cried, making the sign of the cross. She leaned forward and took the girl’s hand.
‘Édith,’ Claire said softly, ‘we must go if we’re going to get home before curfew.’ Claire put her arm on Édith’s shoulder; the woman was praying. Claire didn’t want to be disrespectful but to be found here by the Germans would mean capture at the very least. And if they suspected that either she or Édith knew the dead girl, they would probably be killed too. ‘Édith?’
‘Yes, I am coming. But first we must take Monique from the well. Frédéric must not find her here. We will lay her by the river. We’ll make it look as if she was taking a short cut to the station and fell from the bridge.’
There was no arguing with her. Édith took one of Monique’s arms and motioned Claire to take the other. As they pulled the girl’s white marbled body from the well there was a sickening crack, as if her body was breaking, and a foul smell. Claire thought she would be sick and held her breath. Monique’s legs came free of the bucket easily and between them Claire and Édith carried her to the river and laid her at the water’s edge.
China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) Page 14
