The Sisters of St. Croix (39 page)

“This is Marcel,” Adelaide told them. “He’s going to help me get you away from here. He has some things for you, too.” Marcel handed the bundle of clothes to Madame Auclon who stared in a mixture of disbelief and gratitude when she saw what they were.

“We have a plan to get you away,” Adelaide continued, “but it has to be done in stages. We have only one set of documents for the boys, so they will have to travel separately.”

“Oh no!” Madame Auclon gave an involuntary cry, but her husband hushed her with a hand on her arm. “Let Antoinette finish.”

“I will take one of them with me this evening,” Adelaide said. “He’ll stay at the farm overnight and then first thing in the morning I will ride into Albert on my bike with him in the child seat on the back. Once in Albert, we shall take the train. There is a priest who will take him in and look after him until I bring his brother, transported in the same way.” She went on to explain about the letter from the doctor.

“I shall only use that if I absolutely have to. They might check. Then, once both the boys are safely with the priest, he will move them on to a place of greater safety.”

“Where?” asked Madame Auclon, unable to remain silent any longer. “Where will he take them?”

“I will tell you in time, Madame,” Adelaide promised. “But for the moment the fewer people who know the better. It is safer for us all.”

“We understand,” Joseph said. “But if these people are risking their lives for us…”

“You will know in time,” repeated Adelaide. “But their risk is greater if you know who or where they are. If you were captured—” She let the sentence hang in the air.

“And us?” asked Janine Auclon quietly. “What are you going to do with us?”

“When the boys are safe, I will come back for you, and try and get you to the same priest. After that it is out of my hands. I don’t know his contacts any more than he knows mine.” She took Janine’s hand in hers. “I’ll come back and I’ll bring disguises for you both. We’ll have an arranged signal for you to open the inner door. Then we’ll get you out through the convent.”

“What disguises?” asked Joseph suspiciously. “How will we be able to travel without papers?”

“You will be disguised as a Catholic priest,” replied Adelaide calmly, “and Janine as a nun. Travelling together, as priest and nun, you may not be troubled for your papers. I might even have some for you by then, I don’t know.”

“Must we really split up?” asked Janine. “The boys are too young to go without us. What will happen to them? How will I bear it?”

“The Germans are still searching for you,” Adelaide told her, “and they’re looking for a family. If we move you all together, we shall fail. You’ll all be caught. This way you all have a chance to escape and survive. Once you reach the priest you will be out of the immediate area and so, probably, out of immediate danger.”

“But must you take the boys tonight?” asked Janine in a querulous voice, hugging them both to her.

“I must take one of them when I leave now,” Adelaide said firmly. “It is the only way. And whichever it is, he must understand that he must be quiet and do exactly what I tell him. I know he’s only four, but it is imperative that he does as he is told.”

“I will talk to him,” Joseph said. “They may only be four years old, but they have learnt that their lives depend on their instant obedience.” He turned to one of the boys and held out his hand. “Julien, come here.”

One of the boys detached himself from his mother and took his father’s hand.

“This is Antoinette, Julien,” Joseph said. “She has brought you some new clothes. In a minute we are going to get you out of those dirty old ones and let you put them on. Then Antoinette is going to take you to her house for the night. You will ride on her bicycle… won’t that be exciting! Tomorrow you’re going on a train and then you are going to stay with a very kind gentleman until Maman and I come and fetch you.”

“Can I go, too?” came a little voice from across the room. “I don’t want Julien to go by himself.”

“You can go the next day, Jacques,” promised his father with a smile. “Mademoiselle Antoinette only has one seat on her bicycle. Julien and the kind gentleman will be waiting for you when you get there. Then you’ll be together until Maman and I can come and find you.” He held out his other hand and the second boy came to him. “You must both be very brave and do exactly what Mademoiselle Antoinette tells you. She will look after you on your journey.”

“We must go,” Marcel said suddenly. “We’ve been here too long. Please get the child changed and ready to come, Madame.” His voice was harsh, but Adelaide was glad he had taken control. It was breaking her heart to take these children from their parents with no guarantee that they would ever be reunited.

She, too, became businesslike, and while Janine Auclon stripped off Julien’s old clothes and dressed him in Olivier’s, Adelaide spoke urgently to Joseph. “If for any reason I don’t come back tomorrow night at about the same time, don’t panic. It could be for any number of reasons. Just have Jacques ready to go with me at the same time the night after. Once they are safe, I will come back for you.” They agreed the signal for him to unlock the door that led in to the convent cellar, and there was a final failsafe. “If anything happens to me and I don’t come back within a week, Marcel will try and contact you. If you hear from neither of us after ten days, then you are on your own and must do whatever you think is best.”

“If that happens how will we find our children?” demanded Janine, who had been listening to this last exchange.

“Once both are safe and you are out of here and on your way I will give you your next contact.”

“And if something happens to you in the meantime?”

“Madame… Janine.” Adelaide was adamant in her reply. “This is the only way we can do this. If you want your children to stay with you that is your decision, but in that case I can’t help you any more and you will have to leave here.”

“Won’t you even tell me just the town where they are going?” pleaded Janine. “I must know where to begin looking if we lose them.”

“If I don’t return at any time,” Adelaide said reluctantly, “you can ask Reverend Mother. She will set you on the right road. Now, we must go.” She got to her feet and held out her hand to the little boy now dressed in clean and tidy clothes. They were a little on the large side, but Adelaide decided that didn’t really matter. Any prudent mother would buy a size too big to make the clothes last as long as possible, especially as clothes needed coupons.

For a moment the boy held on to his mother, clinging to her waist, his head buried against her, then gently she put him away from her and spoke softly. “Go with Antoinette, Julien. We’ll be with you again very soon, I promise.” She reached down and kissed him and then turned away before he could see the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Joseph took the boy’s hand. “Be a good boy for Antoinette, Julien.”

Marcel already had the grating lifted away and had slithered through to the open air above. He stuck his head back down to give the all-clear. Joseph gave his son one last convulsive hug, handing him up into Marcel’s waiting arms, before turning away to comfort his wife and Jacques, both of whom were sobbing. Adelaide climbed the ladder and hauled herself out onto the grass, then together she and Marcel replaced the grating, checking the marker bush was in place and scattering the loose twigs around it.

The little boy was shivering in the darkness and Marcel scooped him up into his arms. “Now,
mon brave
,” he said encouragingly, and setting the boy on his shoulders he strode off down the hill.

“It must be past curfew,” Adelaide warned as they reached the edge of the copse.

“I know,” Marcel agreed. “You take him now.” He lowered the child to the ground. “As we go along the towpath, I’ll go ahead, in case of trouble. You follow behind. If necessary, I’ll cause a diversion and you get him safely back to the farm. All right?”

“All right.” Adelaide took Julien’s hand and crouched down beside him. “We have to be very quiet now, Julien, OK? If we meet someone just do what I do.” She could just see him nod in the faint light of the moon. “Good boy. Come on then.”

They walked along the river path until they reached the track that led to the Launays’ farm. From there it was only a matter of moments before they were safely in the big kitchen with the door shut and bolted.

Marcel did not come in with them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when you get back.”

“No,” Adelaide said firmly. “Don’t come. I don’t need you and it’s pointless to take the risk. I can go and fetch Jacques. They’ll let him go now.”

“You’ll need help getting the parents out,” he said.

“If all goes well with the boys,” Adelaide said, “I’ll meet you at the café in two days’ time. If something goes wrong, stay clear. There’ll be nothing you can do for me.”

Marcel knew it was true, but he also realised that this girl, so brave and independent, had slipped into his heart without him noticing. He held her briefly in his arms. “All right, two days. Be very careful, Adèle. What you are doing is very dangerous.”

Adelaide smiled up at him. “My just being here is dangerous,” she said.

He kissed her then, a hard possessive kiss, before he let her go, and turning away disappeared into the night.

Marie Launay sat Julien at the table and gave him a bowl of warm soup. The little boy took the bowl in his hands and, tilting it to his lips, didn’t put it down again until it was empty. Then he took the piece of bread she had put beside him and wiped the bowl round and round until it was spotless. Adelaide, watching, realised just how hungry the family must have become shut away for days in the cellar. No wonder the child was so small for his age, small and filthy. Marie filled a tin bath with warm water and sitting him in it she scrubbed his skinny body from head to toe, and when he was clean Adelaide took him into the bed beside her. To her surprise he fell instantly asleep and as she lay next to him, listening to his quiet breathing, she thought about the coming day.

Soon after dawn the next morning, Adelaide slipped Julien into the child seat of the bicycle and they set off. As Julien had devoured the egg and milk Marie gave him for breakfast, Gerard had replaced the two worn inner tubes on the bike with two slightly less patched ones Marcel had managed to find, and Adelaide had studied Olivier Costeau’s papers, memorising his address and date of birth. She had parted Julien’s hair on the right and combed it forward into the quiff shown in the photograph.

“There’s some similarity,” she said, showing the picture to Marie, “if you don’t look too hard!”

She had impressed upon Julien that today he was going to be called Olivier. “I shall call you Olivier,” she told him, “and if anyone asks you your name, you must tell them it’s Olivier. We’ll make a game of it. Every time I say, ‘OK, Olivier’ you must say ‘Yes, Auntie’. OK, Olivier?”

He looked at her for a moment and then responded hesitantly. “Yes, Auntie.”

Adelaide beamed at him. “Bravo, Olivier.”

“Take something for later,” Marie said, and Adelaide took two apples from the Launays’ meagre store and put them in her shoulder bag.

Adelaide pedalled along the track that skirted the village. Even though he was small, Julien’s weight made it hard going along the bumpy track. Adelaide was soon puffing, but she dare not stop. The further away they were before anyone saw them, the better. Once they were clear of the village and on the road to Albert the going got easier, and they began to make better time. The country was comparatively flat, and though on occasion she had to get off and walk, pushing the bike up a slope, the hills were not steep. There was no traffic at first, but as they began to get closer to Albert, they met farm carts, other bicycles and even an occasional car.

On reaching the railway station, Adelaide dismounted and lifted Julien out of his seat. She bent down to him and spoke softly. “OK, Olivier?” He looked at her for a moment, his big eyes solemn in his pale face, and then whispered back, “Yes, Auntie.”

“Good boy,” she said. “Come on, let’s find the train.” She chained her old bike to a railing and headed to the ticket office.

A train came steaming in just as they reached the platform, and Adelaide was able to lift Julien into a compartment, clambering aboard behind him. She sat in a corner and put the small boy on her lap. With her arm protectively round him, she whispered, “OK, Olivier?” and the child snuggled against her, murmuring, “Yes, Auntie.”

Today the train was nothing like as full as it had been last time Adelaide had travelled to Amiens. To her dismay a German officer also got into the compartment, who, from his insignia, Adelaide knew to be a captain in the SS. It was enough to deter others from joining them and when the train finally pulled out of the station they were the only people in the compartment.

For a while they all sat in silence, and then, trying to sound natural, Adelaide began to talk to Julien, pointing out things from the window as they chugged along.

“Look, Olivier,” she said, “there’s a market down there. Can you see all the people? Olivier, look at the man fishing! Look, Olivier, there’s a dog chasing some sheep. What a bad dog he is!”

“Would your little boy like some chocolate?”

The question jerked Adelaide’s attention from the world beyond the railway carriage, back to the officer, sitting opposite.

“I’m sorry, Monsieur?” Adelaide kept her voice even and polite.

“I said, would your little boy like some chocolate? I have some here.” He held out a bar of chocolate, still in its wrapping.

“You’re very kind,” Adelaide began, “but…”

“Please, Madame, take it for him.” The captain smiled, still holding out the chocolate.

“Thank you,” Adelaide said. “You’re very generous.” She took the chocolate and broke a piece off. As she handed it to the child she reminded him to be polite. “Say thank you, Olivier.”

“Yes, Auntie,” Julien replied dutifully, but he didn’t say thank you. Adelaide popped the piece of chocolate into his mouth so that he wouldn’t say anything else, before speaking herself. “I’m sorry, he’s very shy.”