Tony stood on the pavement opposite the station.
“Are you sure you know what to do?”
Theresa nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll be all right.”
Tony smiled reassuringly. “I know you will.” He turned his attention to Claude. “Ready?”
The older man nodded. “Yes. It seems strange to think we attacked the railways six days ago, yet now we’re going to use them for my escape route out of here. Maybe the damage wasn’t as great as we’d thought.”
Tony smiled. “Don’t worry, we did enough. Passenger transport is almost back to normal, but the goods rolling stock is still trapped in its siding with bent axles and broken couplings. The Germans won’t be happy about that. We did enough to leave our mark!”
“And you are sure it is safe for me to leave this way?”
“I don’t see why not. They’re still searching for you, but the heat has gone out of it. They’ve neither seen nor heard anything of you since the attack, so they must assume you are either dead or have already left.” Tony smiled grimly. Little did the enemy know that the man they were searching for was boldly walking into their hands. Only his courage, and that of the twelve-year-old girl who accompanied him, stood between them and the firing squad.
“Right. I see no reason to wait any longer.” Tony looked at his watch. “If you don’t go now you’ll miss your train, and that would be a disaster!”
“I’ll see you when I get back, Albert.”
Tony smiled. “Take care, Theresa. I don’t know what we’d do without you!” He turned to the older man. “And good luck to you, Claude. Just keep your head down and you’ll be all right.” He took the proffered hand. “You’ve worked well, and I look forward to seeing you in more peaceful Times.”
Claude smiled. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Albert. You’ve made me feel like a man again. What is more, a Frenchman!” He gripped the young Englishman’s hand. “Goodbye, Albert, and good luck. I’ll be thinking of you and the others constantly.”
With that he turned away and crossed the square, the diminutive figure of Theresa at his side.
Tony’s heart was beating wildly and his palms were sweaty as he watched them go, but outwardly he gave the appearance of not having a care in the world, other than the cares heaped upon all of the citizens of an occupied country. Looking at him, no one would have imagined that his ears were pricked for the first sound of raised voices or shots coming from the station. Claude had been well aware of the risks he was running when he joined the group, but Theresa was only a young girl. Much as he admired her great courage, presence of mind and determination to drive the Germans from her homeland, Tony knew that if she were taken she would soon break under the brutal interrogation of the SS He had come prepared. I anything went wrong he would be able to buy some time for the young girl to escape. His hand closed around the grenade in one pocket and the butt of the pistol in the other, and he prayed as he waited, prayed that nothing would go wrong and prayed that he would not be searched on his way out of the city. If he was, his life would be forfeit.
Theresa led Claude over to the ticket desk, his arm resting in a sling with no attempt to conceal the fact that he was injured. As they waited, Theresa smiled at the man.
"Come on Grandpa, give me your papers. They’ll need to see them at the desk."
Claude fumbled in his pocket with his good hand and finally handed the papers to Theresa. A German soldier watched with interest as, with each person in front of them buying their tickets, they approached closer to the desk. Then it was their turn.
"Can I have two tickets to Pontchateau, please? One for my Grandfather who will be staying there, and one for me. I shall be coming back on my own." Her voice was loud enough for the soldier to hear, and carried just the right note of pride for a girl of her age who had been entrusted with an important job. The man in the ticket office smiled and gave her the tickets.
"Your train will be leaving soon. You’d better hurry. Platform Four."
"Thank you, Monsieur."
As Theresa turned to leave, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the stern face of the German soldier.
"Papers."
She handed them over. Two sets which had been prepared in England and dropped in the containers. All Tony had had to do was to affix their photographs, fill in their false details and add the correct rubber stamp, also painstakingly prepared in advance in England. The guard studied the papers.
"Robert St. Julien?"
"Yes."
"You live in Pontchateau?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing here?"
"Grandpa came to visit for the summer because Grandma just died,” interrupted Theresa. “Grandpa has to go back now to see Uncle Paul, but he fell down the stairs to our cellar so Papa said I can go back with him to make sure he’s all right."
"You are Bridgit St. Julien?" The soldier looked at the papers as he spoke. You live in Saint Nazaire?"
"Yes. I live with Mamma and Papa. I have got two sisters, and Mamma is going to have a baby." Theresa chatted on gaily. “Papa wants the baby to be a boy. So do I. Do you, Grandpa?" She turned to Claude. "I think a baby boy would be nice. I would call him..."
"That's enough." The soldier roughly pushed the papers into her hand, irritated by the incessant childish chatter. “Hurry, or you will miss your train.”
Claude and Theresa made their way out onto the platform and boarded the train at Platform Four. Five minutes later the train pulled out. Claude let out a sigh of relief. With a broad grin on his face, he turned towards the young girl at his side.
"You were magnificent, granddaughter."
Theresa giggled. "Yes, I know how annoying I can be if I won’t stop talking. I thought it might work."
Out in the street, Tony heard the sound of the train pulling away and felt some of the tension in his body draining away. The first part of the escape plan had been carried out, apparently without a hitch. He only hoped that the rest of the plan would work as well. Unfortunately that was out of his hands now. As he turned his back on the station and began to make his way out of Saint Nazaire he sent up a silent prayer that there would be no problems.
The remainder of that day and night was spent in a state of nervous tension. No one in the Boues’ household mentioned Theresa and her absence, yet it dominated all their thoughts. Ten-year-old Jeanne was not really sure where her sister had gone. She just knew that she was expected home the following day, and so asked no more questions. Tony marvelled at the quiet fortitude of Jean-Paul and Marie. They acted as though nothing was wrong so as not to worry their youngest daughter, yet Tony knew that their hearts and minds must be filled with conflicting emotions about Theresa; pride, fear for her safety, love. He wondered if he would have been able to stand up to it so well, if it had been his child who had gone off to play a deadly game of hide and seek with an enemy - an enemy who thought nothing of beating, raping, torturing and finally murdering young girls who dared so much for the country they loved.
Jean-Paul left just before midday the following morning, to go to the station to meet Theresa’s train. Tony tried to bury himself in work on the estate, but no matter how hard he pushed himself he could not get Theresa out of his mind. What would he do if she did not come back? How would he be able to live with Jean-Paul and Marie, face them each day knowing he was responsible for the loss of their child? Finally he threw down the spade he had been using and made his way over the fields to his Grandmother’s house. As he sat concealed in a clump of trees and watched the swastika hanging limp in the still summer air above the old house, his mind wandered back to the days he had spent there as a child. Those days seemed so long ago now, as though they were a part of another life lived by a very different Tony Kemshall from the one who sat there now. He closed his eyes, remembering. Those memories could never come to life again, but they would stay forever in his heart, a precious memory of a time when boyhood seemed to stretch ahead to infinity, an
d adulthood seemed so far away. Now he sometimes wished himself back in those days, days without fear or death, days spent with David as a constant companion by his side. He still missed his brother deeply; it was a wound in his heart which would never completely heal. But the pain of David’s death had mellowed a little in the growing love he felt for Sarah. He saw in her a kindred spirit, someone who knew what he was thinking and feeling, and could help to bear his pain. He wondered what she was doing now. He envied the soldiers whose wounds had taken them to Heronfield and her gentle ministrations. He hoped that none of them were becoming too close to Sarah, or she to them. He felt a moment’s anger at the S.O.E. for sending him out here to France, where he was unable to contact her. Just a letter was all he wanted, to know that she cared for him and to tell her that he loved her deeply, passionately, more than life itself. Missing her was like a physical pain in the centre of his being, as though a part of him was missing which could only be replaced when he held her in his arms once again. Slowly the anger at his superiors faded. It was not their fault that he was in France, unable to keep in touch with his loved ones. He had volunteered for the job and knew that, given the choice, he would do the same thing again. Opening his eyes, he gazed down at the house where he had spent so much of his childhood. One day he would bring Sarah here, tell her all about his work and how he had helped to push the Germans from a land he loved almost as much as he loved Heronfield, almost as much as he loved her.
There was the sound of movement in the trees behind him. Tony leapt up and spun round to see who was there.
"Jean-Paul! Theresa!" He took the young girl in his arms and hugged her tightly before kissing her on both cheeks. "I'm so glad to see you safely home!"
"Papa said you would probably be here so we came up to let you know that everything is all right." She grinned impishly. "You grownups make such a fuss about everything. It all went so easily."
Tony laughed in relief. "Tell me all about it."
"Well," Theresa’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, “we were stopped by a soldier in the station, I think he was suspicious of Monsieur Claude’s arm, but I chattered so much that he got fed up and let us through! The train to Pontchateau was slow, but we got there without any trouble. Then we changed trains and took the one south to Pornic. When we got there we got a lift in a hay cart to Monsieur Claude’s sister’s farm." Theresa giggled. "You should have seen her face when she saw us! She was so surprised I thought her eyes would pop out of her head!"
Tony laughed. "I can imagine! Did she let you stay the night?"
"Yes. I left early this morning. I caught the train to Nantes, then changed to the one for Saint Nazaire. It was easy"
Tony shook his head, a broad grin on his face. "You are amazing. Your father must be very proud of you."
"I certainly am." Jean-Paul hugged his daughter. “Now let’s get home to your mother."
Theresa wriggled free from her father’s arms. "Before we go, you had better have these, Albert." She handed him her false papers. "Monsieur Claude kept his papers, he’s going to be Robert St. Julien for the rest of the war. I thought that if you hide these I might be able to use them again, if you need my help."
"Thank you." Tony took the papers back, marvelling at the girl’s resilience. With French people like her around, the Germans did not stand the slightest chance of winning this war.
92
One week after the attack on the railyard, Tony found himself at the cave where the arms for the group were stashed. Around him were seated the remaining members of the group. They had arrived early, and were waiting impatiently for him to speak. Charles settled down when he saw Jean-Paul’s relaxed demeanor, but Madeleine’s face was pale and she looked anxious.
"How is Claude? Is he alive?"
She had been waiting a week to ask that question. Tony’s awareness of the pressure that the members of the group were under increased. He nodded at her.
"Yes, he’s alive. He lost quite a lot of blood, but the shoulder will heal eventually, although he will have some permanent damage."
"Is he still in Saint Nazaire?"
Tony grinned across at Charles. "No, we’ve got him to a safe place. We won’t tell you where, in case either of you is ever captured and questioned, but it was a wonderful piece of bluff. I'll let Jean-Paul tell you all about it."
So Jean-Paul explained to his two companions how his daughter had managed to get Claude out of the area right under the noses of the Germans. Charles frowned.
"It’s a great story. You must be proud of your daughter, Jean-Paul, but getting him out by train just proves our attack was a failure."
“No it wasn’t!" Madeleine was vehement. "We didn’t set out to disrupt the civilian transport, just the transport of war supplies and I think we succeeded in that. I’ve not seen a freight train come in all week."
"Madeleine’s right." Tony explained. "Civilian trains are moving, which means that troops can be moved too of course. But there are no spare freight wagons in the area, so the Germans can't supply their ships, submarines and soldiers. If I could be a fly on Major Steinhauser’s wall, I bet I would hear him saying the raid was a success."
"You can be a fly on his wall. Or, at least, plant one there."
Tony frowned. “Sorry, Charles. I don’t know what you mean.”
Charles grinned. He had a surprise for the group. He hoped it would make them all very happy, and increase their chances of more successful raids in the future.
"Whenever people have been out of sight or sound of the Germans this week, they’ve been talking about the two attacks our group have made." The others nodded, already aware of this. “Well, I was talking with two friends who are really impressed by what we have achieved so far. They both want to join the Resistance and fight the Germans."
Tony frowned. "Do you mean you've told them about us?"
“Oh, no!" Charles shook his head vigorously. "We just talked about the attacks and how they were upsetting the Germans. Georges said it must be wonderful to be able to be a part of it, and Alain and I agreed. As far as they are concerned I am just like them, a young man who would like to join the Resistance if only I knew how!"
"What are these two men like?"
"They’re much like me, Albert. We are all twenty-two years old. We were friends as children and went to school together. Alain lost his father in the first few days of the war, and is determined to avenge his death." Tony nodded. It was a familiar story. "Georges works as a cleaner at the German H.Q. in Saint Nazaire."
Tony’s eyes widened and he leant forward eagerly. "Can he help us there?"
Charles nodded. "Yes. When we were talking, he said he’s sometimes able to see papers which should have been locked away but which are left unsupervised on the desk for a moment."
Tony bit his lower lip, deep in thought, then he came to a decision.
"Right. I’ll meet these friends, and see if they can be of help to us. We’ll meet again when I have details of our next attack. Jean-Paul will get a message to you all to meet here." He turned to Charles. “How soon can you arrange a meeting?"
93
Tony sauntered down the street, his seemingly aimless gaze paying careful attention to the small group of tables on the pavement outside the cafe opposite. Two tables were occupied, one by a young lady and someone who looked as though she might be her grandmother, the other by Charles and his two friends. Tony continued down the road. There were two German soldiers talking further along the street, and a Gendarme standing outside the bakers. None of them seemed to be paying attention to the people in the cafe. When he reached the corner, Tony crossed the road to the opposite side, spent a moment looking into the almost empty windows of the butchers shop, then made his way back towards the cafe. As far as he could see, no one seemed to be acting suspiciously. He glanced at his watch. Three thirty-seven. Exactly on time. He approached the table occupied by the three young Frenchmen and sat down.
"Ah, Albert!" Charles reached across and sho
ok his hand. "Please let me introduce my old school friends, Georges Monet and Alain Blanc. Georges, Alain, this is Albert Fouquet." The three men shook hands and the introductions were complete.
Charles' two companions perused Tony for a moment, obviously surprised that he appeared to be no older than them. The waiter brought another glass and left.
"Charles said we should speak to you if we want to join the Resistance.” said Alain. “Do you know how to get in touch with them?"
Tony leant back in his chair and smiled. "It’s wise to speak quietly, Alain, but don’t lean over the table like that. Such a position looks very suspicious and can be seen from a great distance. Sit as though we are discussing nothing more important than the weather."
"Sorry." Alain sat back and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
"First of all," Tony took a sip of the red wine which Charles poured for him before he continued, "are you really serious about helping?" The two men nodded. "Do you have any skills which the people in question might be able to use?"
Alain shrugged. "I’m a carpenter. I don’t know if that would be of any use."
Tony smiled. "It might. What about you Georges?"
"I’m a cleaner for the Germans. I should be able to get my hands on some useful information."
"Good."
Georges seemed about to say more, but then frowned and shook his head slightly as though thinking better of it. Tony felt uneasy. There was obviously more to Georges than he seemed willing to admit, and that could be a threat to them all. His voice was stern when he spoke.
“Please don’t hide anything from me Georges. I’ll not be able to pass on your name to the Resistance if I feel that you are hiding something.”
Heronfield Page 49
