The Sisters of St. Croix (36 page)

When they returned to the kitchen, it was clear that his men had found nothing. The sergeant threw open the back door and they stalked out into the courtyard to join in the search there.

Adelaide slumped onto a chair, relief flooding through her that the safe room had so far escaped detection. If the Germans left empty-handed they would concentrate their search somewhere else, and perhaps the Auclons would be safe enough for a few days. But it worried her that the Germans were already looking for the little family. Alain Fernand must have told them about the Auclons before he came searching at the Launays’. That meant, before long, they would realise he was missing. Had he mentioned the Launays as well? Would they come searching there? Adelaide shuddered to think what would happen to them if his body was discovered in the well.

When the Germans had finally departed empty-handed, Mother Marie-Pierre went back to the chapel where the entire community was waiting. Father Michel sat in the carved oak chair to one side of the altar, his head in his hands. Soldiers had burst into the chapel, searching the Lady Chapel, disappearing behind the high altar, jabbing at the velvet hangings with rifle butts and banging about in the vestry, peering into the confessional box before slamming out again. Thoroughly shaken by this invasion, Father Michel had hastily muttered the final prayers of the Mass, and, having divested himself of his vestments, simply sat down to wait. The nuns were all in their stalls, some on their knees, others seated reading their office. No one spoke. All looked up, some expectantly, others fearfully, when the door opened again and Reverend Mother came in.

“Thank you, Sisters, for your patience,” she said briskly. “The Germans have now gone, so I suggest we all get back to our normal duties as quickly as we can.” The sisters began to file out of the chapel, each genuflecting as she passed in front of the altar.

Father Michel hurried down the aisle, his face pale. He did not return Reverend Mother’s greeting, but simply nodded to her and hastened away, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the place.

Mother Marie-Pierre waited by the door and as Sister Marie-Marc came past her, she spoke quietly. “Sister, would you be kind enough to ask young Adèle Durant to come to my office, please.”

Sister Marie-Marc bobbed her head, murmuring, “Yes, Mother, of course.”

Reverend Mother waited until all but the sister on watch had left the chapel, and then she slipped into a seat near the back. She needed a few moments of silent peace to draw her thoughts together. She prayed for strength, and she prayed for wisdom, that she might know what to do. The German raid had left her both angry and afraid.

Colonel Hoch had been as cold as always, his chilly eyes completely lacking emotion, but she knew he had expected to find something… or someone.

The search had been thorough. Every room entered and searched, furniture moved, cupboards emptied. The chapel, the kitchens, the cellar, the sisters’ cells, even her own office, each had a detail of soldiers to carry out the search. Hoch had stood in the hallway, waiting for each group to report back to him, and Reverend Mother had returned from the chapel defiantly standing with him, determined to remain unintimidated, but she almost sagged with relief when the final report came in. Nothing to be found.

“Now the hospital,” he barked, and led his men out through the courtyard gate to the hospital beyond the wall. They swept into the wards, leaving Sister Marie-Paul, Sister Jeanne-Marie and Mother Marie-Pierre to watch helplessly, as the colonel and his men searched every cubicle, every cupboard, every storeroom.

“What are they looking for?” murmured Sister Marie-Paul, as one of them upended a basket of dirty linen.

“Some escaped prisoners, I think,” replied Reverend Mother softly. “He seems to think they are in the convent.”

Every name above a bed was checked against the ward list, medical reports scrutinised and papers inspected. At last, satisfied that all the patients were genuine and accounted for, Hoch had got back into his car and his men had disappeared to search elsewhere.

As usual, the incense-scented silence of the chapel worked its cure. Reverend Mother had always laid her problems at the feet of her Lord, and the moments of peace spent with Him now calmed and strengthened her, and when she left the sanctuary of the chapel she returned to her office with renewed resolve.

Within moments someone tapped on the door, and she knew it must be Adèle. Mother Marie-Pierre seated herself behind her desk and rang the bell to summon her into the office.

“Ah, Adèle,” she said coolly as the girl came in. “Come in and shut the door.”

Adelaide closed the door firmly and then turned back to face her aunt.

Mother Marie-Pierre came straight to the point. “You know the Germans were here, searching the convent this morning, Adèle. Was that anything to do with you?” Her eyes were steely as she looked at Adelaide. “Have you hidden your escaping prisoners in the convent in spite of what I said?”

Adelaide, taking in Reverend Mother’s serious tone, addressed her formally. “No, Mother. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean? Not exactly? Have you put the convent at risk?”

Adelaide returned her gaze levelly. “I have, yes, but…”

“How dare you!” The anger in Mother Marie-Pierre’s voice was barely controlled. “After I expressly told you that it was out of the question?” She stared at her niece for a moment and then spoke more calmly. “You may be prepared to put the whole convent at risk, Adèle, but I am not. Where are these prisoners? Where have you hidden them? They should be handed over as prisoners of war. They’ll be locked up, yes, but no harm will come to them.”

“Sarah…”

“Mother,” corrected her aunt, icily. “You will no longer presume on our relationship.”

Adelaide inclined her head, accepting the rebuke, but she spoke firmly. “Mother… look, it’s not what you think. I have hidden people in the convent, yes, but not escaped prisoners of war.”

“Then who?”

“The Auclon family.”

“What?” Mother Marie-Pierre stared at her in disbelief.

“The Auclon family. They’re Jews and…”

“I know who they are,” interrupted Reverend Mother, still disbelieving. “They’re here? In the convent?”

“Well, they’ve been in hiding, hidden by some good people for months, but now that hiding place has become unsafe. They were brought to our farm last night and we were asked to hide them. We had nowhere they could be hidden, so I brought them here. Father, mother and the twin boys.”

“But where did you put them?” asked her aunt faintly. “Where are they now?”

“I hid them in the cellar.”

“But the Germans searched the cellar… “

“And they didn’t find them. I put them into the room where you hid Terry Ham. The one with grating to the outside.”

“But why didn’t the Germans find them?”

“I pulled all the old furniture over in front of the door. You can’t see it unless you move all the furniture away. The sergeant who searched the cellars insisted on searching alone because he wanted to raid your stores. His search was only cursory; he was more interested in stealing food from your store cupboard than looking for Jews he didn’t expect to find.”

“But when?”

“Last night. Gerard and I brought them up. We moved the outside grating and got them in that way.”

“No, not that. When did you move all this furniture?”

“I did it several days ago,” admitted Adelaide with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I had to have a safe place for people to hide in case of emergency. Last night I decided this was an emergency. I was remembering what you told me Sister Eloise had said to you, ‘You have to fight evil wherever you meet it.’ “

“Don’t use poor Sister Eloise to justify what you did,” snapped Reverend Mother.

“Why not?” Adelaide would not give ground. “It’s what she said and it’s what I did.” The two women stared at each other for a moment before Adelaide spoke more gently. “It’s what you’d have done, Mother. What was I to do with those children? They’re only four years old. They’ve been living in a derelict cottage for the last six months and now they’re underground, in a cellar. We couldn’t just let the Germans ship them off to some camp. Don’t worry, Mother, I promise you it’s just a short-term measure. I’m going to get them away.”

“How?” asked Reverend Mother. “There are four of them to move. They will be extremely noticeable, especially Monsieur Auclon. He has typical Jewish features, and he’s well known around here. He’ll be spotted a mile off.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Adelaide said. “I have the beginnings of a plan, but the less you know of it the better. I have to work out the details and it will take a few days to put into action, but I think we should be able to get them safely out of the area.” She looked earnestly at her aunt. “I need to get this family to your friend Father Bernard. No one will be looking for them in Amiens. It’s here they are known, it’s here they were betrayed.”

“Betrayed?” Reverend Mother was shocked. “Who by?”

“A local man. He’s a known collaborator. We guessed he’d discovered their hiding place and he must have tipped off the Germans.”

“He must have seen you bringing the family here, and that’s why they came to search.”

“No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Adelaide said firmly, knowing for certain that he hadn’t. For an instant she saw Fernand’s body on the kitchen floor, her knife protruding from his back, and her stomach turned somersaults but, forcing the image from her mind, she dragged her thoughts back to the present. “We were very careful. We did see two German soldiers come and raid poor Sister Marie-Marc’s henhouse, but they didn’t see us. They were too interested in taking the hens.”

“And what about the people who gave them shelter?” asked Mother Marie-Pierre quietly. “What’s happened to them?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Adelaide. “The Germans may have been there already. We’ll try and find out later, but if they haven’t, we don’t want any attention drawn to them.”

“It makes no sense,” replied her aunt. “The Germans would have gone straight there. Why did they come here?”

“When they found the family weren’t where he’d told them, I imagine they’ll be searching everywhere,” Adelaide said, and heard again the splash as Fernand reached the bottom of the well. She could only pray that when there was the inevitable search of the Launays’ farm, he would not be found. “You sheltered Jews in the convent before, it was the obvious place to start.”

Mother Marie-Pierre nodded, accepting this. “So, how will we get them away?”

Adelaide noticed the use of the word “we”, and smiled. “I will arrange everything,” she promised. “Do you think your mother house in Paris would give the children a home if necessary?”

“I think so, but not the parents.”

“Never mind about them for the time being. Let’s start with the children. I may need your help when the time comes.”

“What sort of help?”

“I’ll explain nearer the time. The less you know, the safer you are, really. All I need from you now is where to find Father Bernard.”

“He’s the parish priest at Holy Cross in Amiens. His house is opposite the church.” She described how to find Father Bernard’s church, and Adelaide memorised the directions carefully. “You can tell him you come from me.”

Adelaide smiled. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure that will reassure him.”

“What about the Auclons in the meantime?” asked Reverend Mother. “Have they got food and water? How will you let them know what is going to happen?”

“Leave it all to me; they’ll be fine.” Adelaide tried to sound reassuring. “But I will have to be away for a couple of days. I’ll send a message to say my Aunt Marie is sick and I can’t come to work.” She got to her feet. “I’d better go back to the kitchen now though,” she said.

Reverend Mother stood as well. “Just one thing, Adèle, I am assuming that you, I and the Launays are the only people who know about this hidden room. Yes?”

Adelaide smiled ruefully. “And Sister Marie-Marc,” she admitted. “She followed me into the cellar and found out what I was doing.”

“Sister Marie-Marc,” repeated her aunt. “I might have guessed. She is incorrigible. Does she know the family are in the room?”

“No,” replied Adelaide. “We may need her help when the time comes, but in the meantime it would be better if she knew nothing of what’s happening.”

Reverend Mother could only agree. Coming round the desk she held out her hands to Adelaide and her eyes softened. “I know you felt you had to do this, Adelaide,” she said, “but you have put the convent and its community in grave danger. Please get them away from here as soon as you can.”

When she had finished her work at the convent, Adelaide went straight to Le Chat Noir, wearing the blue headscarf, the sign that she needed immediate help. She had no idea who would respond to the signal, all Marcel had said was that if there was an emergency she should sit in the café, wearing the blue scarf.

“Someone will come and speak to you. They will say, ‘You should wear that colour more often, it suits you,’ and you may trust that person implicitly.”

The café was almost empty when she arrived, and she took a table outside so that she could easily be seen. The waitress came out and she ordered a cup of coffee, then she sat in the afternoon sun, reading a newspaper and sipping the bitter brew. How long would she have to wait, she wondered? After a quarter of an hour, anxious not to make herself conspicuous, she got up to leave. She would come back later and hope the contact would be made. There was little else she could do. She had no idea who Marcel really was, or where he lived. She had never seen him in the village, and so assumed he must live elsewhere. She went inside to pay for her coffee. Two old men were playing dominoes at one of the tables, and two German officers were sharing a bottle of wine at a table by the window, but none of them even glanced at her as she went up to the bar to pay. There was no sign of the girl who had brought the coffee, but an elderly woman sat at the till. She looked up and smiled. “You’re Marie Launay’s niece, aren’t you?” she said as she took the money. Adelaide said she was and the woman went on. “You should wear that colour more often, it suits you.”