The Sisters of St. Croix (35 page)

Rocking her gently back and forth, Gerard looked over his wife’s head. “Is he dead?”

Adelaide had pulled her knife free and was standing with it in her hand, looking down at the body on the floor. “I think so,” she whispered. She stared at the crumpled heap of humanity lying at her feet and felt cold. She had killed a man. She had been trained to kill with a knife, but she had never imagined that she would actually have to do so.

“If it’s him or you,” Sergeant Grant had impressed upon her as he taught her to handle a knife, “don’t hesitate. If it’s kill or be killed, you do the killing!”

Not him or me, thought Adelaide as she stared down at Fernand, but him or Marie, Gerard and the entire Auclon family.

“Yes,” she said abruptly. “So now we must deal with his body. He probably hasn’t been to the Germans yet, but we can’t rely on that. Come on, Gerard, we have to get him out of here, and fast.”

“But Marie…” Gerard began.

“Marie is fine,” said his wife bravely, pulling away from him. “Adèle is right. We must move the pig out of here and get rid of him.” She got unsteadily to her feet and Gerard stood up beside her.

“Will people be looking for him?” asked Adelaide, as she ran the blade of her knife under the kitchen tap. “Family? Friends?”

Gerard shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said, “I don’t know. He probably won’t have told anyone else about the Auclons yet. He’d want the credit for finding them himself.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Adelaide. “Come on, there’s no time to waste. We must make sure that there is no sign that he was ever anywhere near here. We’ll have to bury him. Where do you suggest? We can’t move him far.” She looked from one to the other. “Where can we bury him?”

Marie, calm now, had a suggestion. “In the old well. It’s very deep and unless someone climbed down to the bottom, they would never find him there.”

“Right.” Adelaide took charge. “Let’s get to it. Gerard, you take his legs.” But now the immediate danger was over, Gerard’s strength seemed to have deserted him, and he shook his head.

“Come
on
, Gerard,” Adelaide urged, “we’ve got to move him now. Where’s the well?”

“In the yard, I’ll show you.” Marie led her out into the yard and pointed to the corner where there was a large, flat stone, with a ring set into it. “When we stopped using it, we had it capped. We’ll have to lift that stone.”

“Then we need the crowbar again,” Adelaide said and went to fetch it from the barn. “Call Gerard to help.”

The ring was stiff to lift, but Adelaide worked on it with the crowbar and at last managed to get it upright so that they could use it to manoeuvre the stone. The stone itself was very heavy, but between them, using the crowbar and a garden fork, they were able to lever it up and slide it clear of the top of the well. Adelaide peered down into the shaft that had opened at her feet. Marie was right, it was unlikely that anyone could see to the bottom of the well even with a powerful torch.

“Let’s do it,” she said tersely, and went back into the kitchen. Fernand was heavy, but they rolled him onto the hearthrug, which was already stained with his blood, and dragged him out into the yard and over to the gaping well shaft.

“Head first,” instructed Adelaide, and they swivelled him round so that his head was over the edge of the shaft, then she lifted his feet and with surprising ease slid him into its darkness. With a slither he was gone, and moments later the faintest splash announced his arrival at the bottom of the well. Adelaide rolled up the bloodstained hearthrug and dropped it in after him.

“Let’s get the stone back.” Adelaide reached for the crowbar and together they edged the capstone back over the shaft. When it was in place, Adelaide knelt on the ground and pushed the ring back into place.

“We need a broom,” she said, and Marie scurried off to find the yard brush. Adelaide took it from her. “You start on the kitchen floor,” she said, “I’ll finish up here.”

Gerard and Marie disappeared indoors and Adelaide swept away the telltale marks left by the dragged hearth rug. She brushed the dust back over the capstone, treading it down into the cracks, pressing it round the ring with her fingers so that there was no sign that the stone had been moved. Once the cattle came into the yard for the morning milking, all traces should be obliterated.

When she returned to the kitchen she found Marie on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Fernand had fallen forward, and though his wound had bled, a little of his blood had pooled on the floor, and she was managing to remove the stains. Gerard was collecting up the glass from the shattered window. The force with which Adelaide had hurled the butter jar had sprayed glass all over the kitchen. Adelaide helped him pick up the larger pieces and then they swept up the remaining shards and carried them outside.

It was full daylight before they had cleared away all signs of their night’s work, and when they had finally finished, they all three of them slumped into chairs round the kitchen table.

Gerard buried his head in his hands, the last vestiges of his strength ebbing away. Marie, surprisingly the stronger of the two, looked across at Adelaide and gave a weak smile.

“Adèle,” she said, “you saved our lives. If that pig had got what he wanted, he would have turned us into the Gestapo, and if he hadn’t, he would have killed us both. Thank you. You’re very brave.”

Adelaide smiled back at her. “You too,” she said. She knew that she had been running on adrenaline and now she too felt exhausted. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was not long after you’d gone. Fool that I was, I hadn’t locked the back door. I heard someone in the scullery and I thought one of you must have come back for some reason.” Marie grimaced. “I went to see what you wanted and”—she drew a deep breath as the fear struck her again—”and there he was, with his knife at my throat.

“I tried to scream, but he hit me across the face. I staggered against the wall and he grabbed at me, threatening to stab me if I made any more noise. Then he tied me up to the chair. He asked about the Auclons, and when I said I didn’t know anything about them, he said we’d wait for Gerard.” She looked across at Adelaide. “I don’t think he knew you lived here too, and thank God for it.”

Adelaide squeezed her hand. “We should bathe your face, Marie,” she said, looking at the long gash across Marie’s cheek. The bleeding had stopped, but it was a nasty cut. “It really needs stitches—you should go to the doctor.”

“And how will she explain it?” demanded Gerard, suddenly looking up.

“The broken glass from the window,” suggested Adelaide. “We are going to have to account for the broken window somehow. You’ll have to try and get some glass to mend it.”

“What will we say?” Gerard said wearily.

Adelaide thought for a moment. “If you’re asked, you say you were using the axe to chop wood in the yard and the head flew off and smashed the window.”

Gerard looked at her blankly as she went on. “Come on, Gerard, it could have happened like that. We have to have a story ready in case we are asked. If we aren’t, fine, but if we are, we must all say the same thing.” She reached across the table and took the hand of each of the Launays in hers. “You’ve both been so brave tonight, sheltering the Auclons and then standing up to Fernand. You were amazing, but we have to see it through. If Marie doesn’t go to the doctor to have that gash stitched, it will look more suspicious than if she does. If you’d had an accident with the axe, you’d have taken her straight over.” She squeezed their hands gently. “You’ve kept the Auclons safe, and we’ll find a way to help them escape.”

Marie nodded. “Adèle is right, Gerard, we must look as normal as possible. I will go to Dr Monceau in a little while. You must do the milking, and Adèle must go to the convent. All must be as normal.”

All must be as normal, Adelaide thought as she pedalled her way up the hill to the convent. What is normal in these dreadful times? A family hiding in a cellar, a man threatening torture and ending up at the bottom of a well? Me killing someone, plunging a knife into his back?

The memory of the knife jarring into the man’s body flooded through her and Adelaide tumbled off her bicycle and was sick in the hedge. But although her body had reacted against her action, her mind did not. Him or us, she reminded herself as she re-mounted the bike. Him or us.

The Germans raided the convent while the nuns were at early Mass. The thundering on the front door could be heard all over the building, and Father Michel’s reedy voice faded away as the pounding continued. Sister Celestine, the portress, stumbled to her feet, her face ashen with fear, but Mother Marie-Pierre also stood. She murmured to Sister Celestine that she would deal with whoever was at the door, and quietly left the chapel. She was in no doubt as to who was demanding entrance; only the Germans knocked that way, the Germans under Colonel Hoch.

When she reached the door, she flung it wide, so that the soldier hammering with the huge knocker almost fell in. Colonel Hoch was standing on the steps, at the head of a group of men, but Mother Marie-Pierre could see soldiers already trampling the bushes along the drive, and she had no doubt that there would be other men in the courtyard, searching there.

She drew a deep breath. “Good morning, Colonel Hoch. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Reverend Mother,” he looked her up and down, “how unusual that you should open the door yourself.”

“My sisters and I were at Mass,” Mother Marie-Pierre said coolly. “I came, so that they shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“You will all be disturbed,” remarked the colonel, “if I choose to disturb you.” He waved a hand at the men waiting beside him. “Carry on, Sergeant,” he said. “And make it a thorough search.”

The men flooded into the hallway and dispersed throughout the convent building. Mother Marie-Pierre saw several head up the staircase while others made for the kitchens.

“Perhaps you could tell me what you are looking for,” she suggested to Hoch who had followed his men into the hall and now stood, his cold eyes roving in every direction.

His gaze returned to her, but he did not answer her question. “Go and tell your nuns to stay in the chapel until I say they may come out.”

Mother Marie-Pierre nodded and turned to go back to the chapel. As she did so, one of the soldiers came back from the kitchen, pushing Adelaide in front of him.

“Found her in the cellar, sir. Says she’s the maid.”

Mother Marie-Pierre didn’t understand what had been said, but she did recognise the word “keller” and guessed where Adelaide had been found.

Colonel Hoch looked at Adelaide for a moment and then spoke in French. “Name?”

“Please, sir, Adèle Durant, sir.”

“I’ve seen you here before,” Hoch said. “What were you doing in the cellar?”

Adelaide had no need to pretend she was afraid; her voice shook as she answered. “Bringing up the coal for the range, sir. It’s my first job in the mornings.”

Her hands were black with coal dust and the colonel seemed to accept this answer. He directed his next question to the man who had brought her. “Have you searched the cellar, Schultz?”

“Not yet, sir. I was about to when I found the girl. Thought she might be one of the ones we were looking for, sir.”

“Well, go back and search. You, girl, wait in the kitchen.”

Schultz took Adelaide by the arm and pushed her in front of him down the passage to the kitchen. Two men were already searching here, but Schultz ignored them. “You, girl, bring a light.”

“I don’t understand,” Adelaide wailed, wringing her hands in agitation.

Schultz repeated his order, this time in heavily accented and ungrammatical French. “Find light. Come with me.”

Ignoring the searching men, he moved straight towards the cellar door. It was clear to Adelaide that this man knew his way about, that he must have searched the place before.

Would he remember exactly how the cellar had looked last time, she wondered? Would he notice that all the furniture had been moved, that it was now stacked in a different place?

He flung open the cellar door and then turned round. “You,” he shouted at Adelaide again, “bring lamp.”

“It’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Adelaide told him, pointing down the steps. “An oil lamp.”

Again he gestured with the rifle. “Go, make light.”

Adelaide did as she was told, gripping the handrail of the cellar steps tightly as she made her way down. Her heart was pounding as she struck a match to light the lamp, but her mind was racing. You’ve got to stay cool, she told herself. You’ve got to decide what to do if he finds the hidden room.

Nothing, she decided ruefully. There was nothing she could do if he actually found the room, but she might be able to distract him in some way, before he did so.

Schultz followed her down, and, pausing at the bottom of the steps, looked about him. His eye fell on the jars of preserves standing on the shelf. Without comment he reached up and took two jars of honey, stuffing them into his pockets. He ran an eye round the cellar for anything else that he might be able to purloin, but seeing nothing easily portable, he turned his attention to the rest of the cellar.

“Bring light,” he ordered. Obedient to a jerk of his head, Adelaide preceded him through the remaining cellars. He peered into each until he came at last to the pile of furniture. Adelaide found she was holding her breath and forced herself to breathe again as he gave it only a cursory glance.

“What a load of junk,” he said, reaching out for an old three-legged stool. There was a scuffling sound and he leapt back, jerking his hand away, as a large brown rat emerged from the heap and scuttled away across the floor. Adelaide gave a loud shriek, clutching her skirt about her.

His attention diverted from the furniture, the man gave a harsh laugh. “Stupid woman!” He pushed her ahead of him to light his way back to the stairs. As he passed the apple store he helped himself to a couple of apples, pushing them down into his pockets, his eyes daring Adelaide to comment on the theft. She lowered her own, as if afraid to meet his challenge, exulting inside that his greed should have blinded him to anything in the cellar that he could not steal.