Night Sky (37 page)

‘I agree that their methods are – wrong. But they
are
on our side, uncle.’

‘When it suits them! Ha!’ Jean stood up, went to the mantelpiece and picked up his pipe which he tapped angrily against the chimney. ‘They were on the German side at first, remember! Remember? Then, when the Germans did the dirty on Russia – which anyone of any brain could have seen coming – then they changed sides. Very convenient! Ha!’

He filled his pipe with a plug of tobacco and lit it in a cloud of smoke. Julie hoped he wouldn’t regret it: the tobacco was his last until the beginning of the month.

The old man puffed more calmly at his pipe and said quietly, ‘I’m sorry about Michel – but I feel rather strongly about the matter. I told him to his face. I told him he wasn’t welcome here!’

Julie frowned. ‘When?’

The old man stared at her. ‘But … didn’t you know? He’s back.’

‘What!’

‘Yes, he’s here, God rot his soul. I saw him in the village today. I thought your aunt had told you? Anyway, I told him that, with regret, he was not to set foot in this house again. I told him—’

Julie got to her feet. ‘Where is he?’

The old man looked at her sharply and shrugged.

She went to the table and picked up her purse. ‘I’m going down to the village – to see if I can find him.’

The old man said, ‘God in heaven, why?’

‘Because … Well …’ It was difficult to think of a reason. Finally she said, ‘He
is
one of the family … Maybe he needs help.’

And, she thought, because I want to see him anyway, I want to see him very much indeed. She said, ‘I don’t mean any disrespect, uncle, and I understand about not having him in the house, but—’

Jean raised his hand. ‘Stop! Don’t say any more. Talk to him if you must, but if you take my advice you won’t be seen with him. And don’t tell me what he’s up to. I don’t want to know!’ He added automatically, ‘And be careful down the lane. I never trust those soldiers.’

‘I’ll be careful.’ She blew him a kiss and, pulling on her warmest coat, hurried out into the night.

It was very dark. The wind was howling in from the sea, tearing at the hedgerows and whistling through the occasional solitary pine, bent into a tortured shape by a hundred storms.

Julie shivered slightly and walked more quickly, her head bent low, her eyes on the dark road ahead.

Yes, she wanted to see Michel, she wanted to see him very much. She had been thinking about him increasingly in the last few months, hoping he’d come back …

The last two years had been lonely. When Peter was small and needed her so much she hadn’t minded being on her own. But since he’d been at school and often went out to play with his friends the loneliness was awful, like a terrible weight pressing down on her.

Sometimes she felt guilty at being lonely. She’d been so happy here, she’d adored the peace and tranquillity, she’d been so grateful for finding a home: in those early days she’d loved everything about it. She still did! And yet … the thought of staying here for ever, with only Peter and Jean and Tante Marie and her books for company, filled her with dread. She was twenty-five and the years were beginning to slip away. Twenty-five! Her chances of – why couldn’t she say it? –
of finding a husband
were getting slimmer all the time. And she
did
want a husband, she knew that. Often she lay awake at night imagining what it would be like … Having someone to talk to and laugh with, having someone
there
. What she wanted more than anything was to
share
– her life, Peter, everything. When she imagined being married, the lovely feeling of warmth and tenderness, she wanted it very badly.

There was no mistaking the café in the darkness: light was leaking from its blacked-out windows in a dozen places and the sound of voices and laughter floated on the air. Julie approached slowly. If Michel wasn’t here, then someone would probably know where he was.

She waited: there was no question of going in on her own. At last someone came out. It was an old man called Pierre, a cowherd from a nearby farm. He’d had several glasses too many. She gave him her message and directed him gently back into the café.

A few moments later the old man reappeared, nodded to her and went off into the night.

Then the door opened again and Michel was standing there.

Julie started to smile. ‘Michel, how lovely to …’ But he was looking behind him. Then, taking her arm, he pulled her quickly away from the café.

They walked briskly, in silence. Presently they came to a barn at the edge of the village. His voice whispered, ‘In here!’ Inside it was pitch dark. Julie could hear Michel tramping across a bed of straw to the far side. She put out her hands and felt her way forward. She tripped over a bale of straw, recovered, and bumped her shoulder against the side of what was probably a cart.

‘All right?’ His voice was close by.

‘I think so.’ She sat down carefully and heard him sit beside her.

She asked gently, ‘Are you in trouble? What’s the matter?’

‘Mmmm?’ He laughed softly. ‘No, I’m not in trouble. Well – no more than usual.’

‘Then, why all this?’

‘I just thought it would be better if you weren’t seen with me, that’s all.’

‘Better for who?’ But she knew what he meant.

‘Why, better for you, of course! Your uncle doesn’t want me in his house, half the village think my politics stink, the other half are prepared to argue with me over a glass of wine – but none of them would let his daughter be seen with me. Better for
you
!’

She asked, ‘Where have you been all this time?’

‘Oh, away.’

She could tell that he didn’t want to say any more. But she ventured, ‘You’ve been all right though? Safe, I mean?’

‘Oh, yes. Don’t worry your head about me. I always look after myself.’

‘Michel, I must ask … You haven’t been working with the Germans, have you? I couldn’t bear that.’

‘Good God, no!’

He sounded outraged and Julie said quickly, ‘I mean, you did talk about it … In Morlaix. Don’t you remember?’

‘Ha! That was a long time ago. And I never worked with the Germans then anyway. Now? I can assure you that I kill them, blow them up and destroy them whenever I can. But the less said about that the better.’

‘Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …’

‘Forget it.’

Julie peered through the darkness and said wistfully, ‘I wish I could see your face.’

He laughed. ‘It hasn’t changed. Just older. Here, I’ll have a cigarette. That’ll shed some light. I’ve been longing for a smoke for hours, but I’m too mean to share any of my hard-earned cigarettes with the old fools back there. They think anyone from the town has plenty to spare.’

She heard him fumbling in his pockets, then there was a sudden blaze of light and he was drawing on a cigarette. She looked at his face and was slightly shocked. She’d forgotten how deep his frown was and how narrow his mouth. She’d forgotten, too, how bitter was his expression. She realised she’d forgotten a lot about him …

He was asking, ‘And how have you been?’

‘Oh. All right really. We have just about enough to eat.

There’s no help on the farm any more, so Jean has to keep it going by himself. Tante Marie and I help when we can … And Peter does too, of course.’

‘Peter, he must be quite a young man by now.’

‘Yes. Five and a half.’

‘And he’s well too?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate. His question had been polite but automatic. She had the feeling he wasn’t really interested.

‘Are you still working in that place at Morlaix?’

She nodded in the darkness. ‘Yes, the same old place. Sometimes I think I’ll be there when I’m sixty.’

‘But your papers. They’ve stood up all right?’

‘Oh yes!’ She reached out and found his wrist. ‘I can’t tell you what a difference it’s made. Knowing they’re all right – genuine. It’s given me peace of mind. I can’t thank you enough!’

She fumbled for his hand, but there was no answering squeeze and his hand felt limp in hers. Blushing in the darkness, she withdrew. He asked, ‘Did you ever use that stamp and those papers you pinched?’

She frowned. ‘No. I still don’t really know why I took them. It seemed a sort of safeguard at the time.’

‘Well, hang on to them. You never know when they might come in useful. But for God’s sake don’t tell anyone about them and don’t leave them lying around. Have you got them hidden?’

‘Of course.’ Julie felt a little hurt: did he really think she would leave them lying around? ‘I’ve got them well hidden where no-one can find them. We’ve got two soldiers billeted on us, you know.’

‘What!’

His voice was very sharp and she wondered why he was so surprised. She said quickly, ‘Yes, lots of people have. It’s nothing unusual.’

‘But your uncle – he’s involved with this escape line.’

Julie gulped and stared at the glow of Michel’s cigarette, wondering what on earth she should say. Jean certainly wouldn’t have told Michel about his involvement. How, then, did Michel know?

‘Well?’

‘I … I can’t say. We don’t talk about those sorts of things.’

He sighed impatiently. ‘Come on, Julie, don’t be silly! I know all about it. I heard within five minutes of coming back to the area. My people in Morlaix not only know who works the line, but they know all the operational details.’

‘Oh no—’

‘It’s common knowledge. Among my comrades, anyway.’

Julie felt her heart turn to ice. ‘The Germans …’ she whispered. ‘Do they know?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised. And what bothers me is that, when the trouble breaks as it surely will, the finger of blame will probably be pointed at me and my friends when in fact it’s that lunatic who’s running your line who should be shot. He’s obviously never heard of the word “security”. Where did they find him, eh?’

‘London.’

‘Ah, a Free French hero then?’

‘Yes.’

Michel exclaimed, ‘The sooner you’re rid of him the better.’

‘I know, I know. I hate the horrid little man. He’s so conceited, you have no idea. Everyone – well, they go along with him because he’s the only link with London.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I wish they could see what madness it is.’

‘My only advice is to keep well out of it. Don’t get involved! The work is best left to men and old ones at that, then it doesn’t matter so much when they get shot.’

So practical – or callous, depending on how you looked at it. Julie stared into the darkness, trying to understand how one came to think like that.

She heard Michel stand up and saw the glow of the cigarette disappear as he stubbed it against the side of the cart. A couple of sparks floated down and Julie automatically reached out to catch them before they touched the straw.

He said, ‘Come on! It’s time we got back. We don’t want Jean to think that I’m filling your head with revolution, do we?’

Julie thought: But we haven’t even begun to talk … Then she remembered what she’d wanted to talk about. Suddenly it didn’t seem very important any more.

She heard him move off towards the crack of grey light which marked the door. Julie got hurriedly to her feet and followed him, stumbling across the bundles of straw. When she reached the door he had opened it and was waiting. In the faint grey illumination of the night she could just make out his features. They were severe and hard. Julie looked at him curiously, wondering how she could have forgotten how very serious he was and how very – unyielding.

He said, ‘By the way, do they tell you when a boat’s coming?’

‘No. I never ask – and they never tell me. Why?’

‘Well, just keep out of the way tomorrow night. According to my information, there’s going to be an operation then. I’m sure the information’s good. No moon, you see, and the country crawling with hidden airmen longing to get home. If it isn’t tomorrow night then it must be soon after. But my friends say it’ll be tomorrow – and they don’t usually get these things wrong.’

Julie closed her eyes. Was there anything he didn’t know? She said slowly, ‘I’ll … take Peter away for the night … Thanks for telling me.’

He took her arm and guided her out into the road. They walked in silence until they reached the crossroads at the centre of the village. People were coming out of the café. Instinctively they drew into the darkness at the side of the road and followed the wall round until they were in the lane and heading up the hill towards the house.

Julie didn’t want him to come any further. She turned and whispered, ‘Goodbye, Michel.’ On an impulse she added passionately, ‘Don’t kill Germans if you can avoid it. They’ll only take hostages again. Children … They take children, Michel.’

‘Same soft-hearted Julie.’ There was a trace of scorn in his voice and she felt hurt. How could he be so hard? And why did he have to make her feel foolish? He went on, ‘Of course we do try to avoid killing Germans. But when it comes to blowing up something important, we have to do it, and that’s all there is to it. Children suffer anyway, from bombing raids, starvation, lots of things. The destruction of a factory is more important than – many things. But it’s nothing to how the Russian peasants are suffering … They’re dying in their thousands!’

Julie could think of nothing to say. He added, ‘Anyway, you’d do best not to think about such things. They’ll happen whether you worry about them or not.’

Julie suddenly felt sad and tired. She said softly, ‘Goodbye, Michel,’ and walked away. He hurried after her and took her arm. ‘Julie, remember one thing – don’t get involved!’

‘Yes, you told me.’

‘But you might get into trouble without realising it. You … don’t know how they can drag you into these things.’

Anyone would think she was a seventeen-year-old straight out of school. She pulled in her breath and said tightly, ‘I’ll remember that.’

She walked away and this time he did not follow her. Despite the steepness of the hill she walked rapidly, hitting the road with her feet, pumping her legs in steady rhythm, climbing faster and faster until she realised she was almost home. But she didn’t want to go into the house yet and she walked on towards the open cliffs and the low roar of the distant surf.