The Sisters of St. Croix (30 page)

“Nothing, except that you’ve come from Normandy to help out on the farm.”

“Then I shall make my approach to the convent tomorrow,” Adelaide said. “I’m hoping to find out how they moved our airman out of the area. When I have any more news for you, I’ll signal again.”

“Don’t signal unless you’ve something important to tell me,” Marcel said. “We should meet as little as possible. Every time we do we’re at risk.”

Adelaide made no comment on this, and changed the subject. “Please ask Bertrand to report my progress to London.”

“Will do,” Marcel promised.

“There is one other thing,” Adelaide said, as he was about to get to his feet. “Are you able to get me some inner tubes for my bike? We’ve done our best with the ones we’ve got, but they aren’t going to last much longer.”

Marcel nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Adelaide said and made to get up, but as she was about to get to her feet, he suddenly pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her. Adelaide’s body went rigid and she tried to pull away. But Marcel was too strong for her and held her tightly against him, pressing her down on the grass with the full weight of his body. Keeping her pinned beneath him he moved his mouth to her ear and muttered. “Kiss me back! We’re being watched.” Immediately his mouth found hers again, and she felt his hands roving over her body. She no longer struggled to get free, but relaxed beneath him. She could feel her skirt rucked up above her knees, and her blouse pulled free from its waistband. She did not open her mouth to him, but she did put her arms round him so that if they were indeed being watched she would appear to be a willing participant.

After a moment or two Marcel raised his head, and she gave him a slight push so that he rolled away. As she looked past him she saw a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, staring across at them. Adelaide gave a little scream, pulling her skirt down round her legs again and straightening her blouse. Marcel spun round, as if surprised by her scream, to see a man standing at the edge of the clearing, grinning as he watched Adelaide’s obvious discomfort.

“Had a good look, have you?” sneered Marcel, getting to his feet and reaching down a hand to help Adelaide to hers. “That how you get your kicks, then?”

The man walked towards them. “I heard voices,” he said. “In the woods, late at night…”

“Hardly late!” snapped Marcel, but the man went on as if he had not spoken.

“Could have been someone suspicious, up to no good.” His eyes gleamed malevolently. “You never know what people are up to these days.” His lip curled. “But I might have guessed it’d be some couple rutting like rabbits.”

Adelaide felt Marcel tense beside her. The man was setting out to provoke him and she was afraid Marcel would indeed snap and do something they would both regret. She burst into tears, sobbing onto Marcel’s shoulder.

“It’s all right,
chérie
,” he soothed, putting his arms round her again and stroking her hair. “It’s all right, I’ll take you home now.” He turned his back on the man, who was still standing there, enjoying their discomfort.

“Yes, you do that,” the man mocked. “Don’t want to be out after curfew, do you?”

Marcel kept his arm round Adelaide’s waist. “Don’t worry. We’re going. Just wanted a bit of privacy, that’s all.” Keeping her firmly within the circle of his arm, he led her across the clearing and out onto the track that led back towards the village. Adelaide could feel the man’s eyes on her back as they walked, and she found she was truly grateful for Marcel’s supporting arm.

“I wonder what
he
was doing, skulking in the woods,” Marcel said thoughtfully when they were well clear.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Yes, a piece of scum called Alain Fernand. Petty criminal turned snout. Happy to do the Germans’ dirty work for a few privileges. Thinks he’s on the winning side.”

“Does he know you?” Adelaide asked anxiously.

“Not yet,” Marcel said, “but he will… one day. When this war is over I will skin him alive and then stick his head on a pike in the village square… and even that will be too good for him.”

Adelaide heard the barely controlled hatred in Marcel’s voice and shuddered. She had no doubt that if he were alive at the end of the war Marcel would do exactly what he promised.

“In the meantime,” Marcel said, “keep your eyes open for him and those like him. They’ll sell you to their German masters whether they know anything about you or not. Evidence can be manufactured, and men like him are past masters at it.”

They reached the gate of the Launays’ farm and Marcel turned her to face him.

“You did well back there,” he said. “Kept your head.”

“I was afraid you were going to lose yours,” she retorted.

Marcel smiled ruefully. “Yes, well, if I had we’d have had one less
collabo
to worry about… but probably a lot of trouble too.”

He reached for her again, and taking her face in his hands spoke with a grin. “Just in case he’s followed us and is still watching!” He kissed Adelaide again, and as he recognised a response in her, took his time over it.

When they finally broke free Adelaide cautioned, a little breathlessly. “We should change our rendezvous.”

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.”