The Sisters of St. Croix (40 page)

“I know how it is,” the man agreed. “I have a son of my own about the same age, Kurt. When you want him to be quiet he never stops, prattling on about anything and everything, but when you want him to speak up he goes all shy.”

Adelaide tried to hand back the rest of the chocolate bar, but the soldier shook his head. “No, keep it. Give him some more later… or have some yourself.”

Adelaide smiled. “Thank you. I’ll keep it for him. It’ll be a special treat.” She settled Julien more comfortably on her lap, and turned her head again to the window.

“Are you going to Amiens?” asked the German.

“Yes.” Adelaide was extremely unwilling to be drawn into conversation with the man, but neither did she want to arouse his suspicions. “Yes, we are.”

“To visit family?”

Adelaide hesitated, better not to invent family and come unstuck somehow, better to stick with the cover story. After all it was perfectly feasible, and she need not show him the letter.

“No,” she replied. “I am taking my nephew to the hospital. He has something wrong with his eyes.”

“Oh, poor child, he does look very pale. My son Kurt is very strong, and big for his age.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a creased photograph showing a woman smiling into the camera, a young boy held in her arms, reaching out towards the photographer with one hand, the other firmly round his mother’s neck. “He will have a brother or sister very soon.”

It was clear to Adelaide that the German was homesick for his family and she encouraged him to talk about them, thus directing the conversation away from her and Julien. When at last the train steamed into Amiens Station she felt she knew almost all there was to know about the man’s family and was very relieved that they had arrived.

She got to her feet, keeping firm hold on Julien’s hand. “OK, Olivier?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

The officer got up as well. “I have a car waiting for me here,” he said. “I will drive you to the hospital.”

“Oh, no, really, please don’t trouble,” Adelaide began, “we’ll be fine…”

“It’s no trouble, Madame,” he insisted, and getting down from the train ahead of her turned back to lift Julien down. The boy clung to Adelaide, his face buried in her skirt, and she could feel that he was rigid with fear. Very gently she reassured him. “It’s all right, Olivier. It’s all right.” She glanced up at the captain who still stood with his arms extended to take the boy.

“Thank you, Monsieur, but I can manage.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, the German reached up and pulled Julien out of her grasp and then set him down on the platform, before extending his hand to help her down as well.

“My car will be waiting outside,” he said. “Come along.”

Adelaide was about to protest again when she saw that there was a documents check at the barrier, so she simply gathered Julien up into her arms. “You’re very kind.” They followed the officer to the barrier and, when it was obvious that she was with him, followed in his wake when he was waved through. As they came out into the open she saw a sleek black car, similar to the one Colonel Hoch drove around in, and a chill ran through her. The waiting driver was leaning on the bonnet, but the moment he saw the captain he leapt to attention with a smart “Heil Hitler!” and opened the door.

The captain ushered them in ahead of him, and, unable to do anything else, Adelaide slid into the back seat and drew Julien safely into her arms. She broke off another piece of the precious chocolate and put it into his mouth, the wondrous taste silencing him. Adelaide could only pray that he stayed silent until they were set down. The captain gave some instructions to the driver and then got in beside them. As they drove through the streets, people averted their eyes from the car flying swastika flags. No one wanted to see who had been picked up this time.

“You really have been most kind,” Adelaide said when they reached the hospital and the car came to a halt. She opened the door and put Julien out onto the pavement. Slipping out herself, she turned back and smiled at the captain, still sitting, she thanked God, in the back of the car. “Thank you very much, Monsieur.”

It was with profound relief that she shut the door and saw the car slide away to disappear round the corner. Taking Julien’s hand she moved quickly away from the hospital doorway, and turned into a side street, for fear that the car could simply be turning round and might come back the same way.

“Not far, Olivier,” she said brightly as they set off along the narrow street. “OK?”

“Yes, Auntie,” came the dutiful reply.

And he’s only four, thought Adelaide despondently.

Father Bernard greeted them warmly, and Julien was soon ensconced in Madame Papritz’s kitchen.

“Any problems?” asked the priest quietly as they watched the little boy tuck into yet more food.

Adelaide told him about the German who had been so kind to Julien.

“They’re not all monsters,” Father Bernard said with a sigh. “Many of them are perfectly decent men who’d rather be at home with their families.”

“Well,” replied Adelaide, “I was thinking how ironic it would be, if we’d been caught because of a German officer’s kindness.” She thought of the dark, ruthless face of Colonel Hoch and shuddered. They were two very different men. “But he’d have changed his tune if he’d realised that he had an escaping Jew in his car.”

Though she had not eaten all day, Adelaide refused food from Madame Papritz. “I’ll eat when I get home again,” she said, loath to take any more of the household’s precious rations. “Here, you’d better have these,” and she handed over the two apples and half the remaining chocolate for Julien. The rest of it she kept to give Jacques, the next day.

“I should be back again tomorrow, if all goes well,” she promised the priest as she took her leave. “I can’t leave you the papers I have for Julien as I need them for Jacques tomorrow, but once he is safely here you can keep them.”

Father Bernard blessed her and wished her God’s speed, and she set off back to the station.

She reached the Launays’ farm without any problem and sat in the kitchen to eat the bean stew that Marie had made. She wished that she’d been going to see Marcel; to tell him how the journey had gone, about the captain and the chocolate. She had told the Launays nothing except that Julien was safe.

They, however, had plenty to tell her. As they’d thought, Étienne and Albertine had been arrested by the Germans, but had since been released. Gerard had met Étienne in the village and heard what had happened to them.

“The Germans came and searched the farm,” Étienne had said, “and then they dragged us up to the cottage. Virtually taken that apart they had, but we’d been back and cleared the loft, so there was no sign it had been used lately. They took us to their headquarters and that Major Thielen asked us some questions, whether we’d seen anyone near there, that kind of thing. We said we hadn’t seen anything, and eventually he let us go.”

“You can thank God it was Major Thielen who asked the questions,” Gerard said. “Different matter if it had been Hoch!”

“Have they been to you?” asked Étienne.

“Not yet,” replied Gerard glumly. “But no doubt they will.”

When he got home Gerard found German soldiers in the process of searching his farm and outbuildings. Marie was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, watched over by a young soldier holding a rifle. She leapt to her feet as Gerard came in and the young man shouted at her to sit down again.

“It is my husband,” Marie explained. The soldier motioned with the rifle to the other chair at the table, and Gerard sat down.

“How long have they been here?” Gerard asked softly.

“Not talk!” shouted the soldier, waving his rifle at them. “Not talk!”

The search of the farm revealed nothing, and with a warning that they should report any strangers they saw in the area, the soldiers departed to look elsewhere.

“But they’ll be back,” sighed Gerard. “And next time they’ll be looking for Fernand. It won’t be long before they realise he’s gone missing.”

As darkness fell, Adelaide was again crouched above the grating. She dropped the signal twigs through the grille and it was raised at once from below.

“He’s safe,” she said as Joseph Auclon’s head appeared. “Is Jacques ready?”

“Yes, he’s ready,” replied Joseph with a sigh. He ducked down into the cellar and moments later lifted his tearful second son out of the hole. With the admonition, “Remember, do what Mademoiselle Antoinette tells you,” he lowered his head again and Adelaide was able to slide the grating into place. The little boy stood beside her, shaking, as she hid the entrance again. Then she took his hand and led him quickly away. As they hurried past the convent, a pale face looked down from a window. Intent upon reaching the shelter of the trees, Adelaide didn’t look up, didn’t see the eyes watching her from its shadows.

“We must be very quiet, Jacques,” Adelaide whispered once they were hidden among the trees. She crouched down so her face was at his level and murmured to him. “Don’t be scared, Jacques. Just be a good boy and hold my hand.”

“I want Maman,” wailed the child, his voice reedy and thin, but oh so loud in the darkness.

Adelaide put her arms round him and hugged him tightly. “I know you do,
chéri
, and you’ll see her very soon, I promise. But now you have to come with me so we can go and find Julien.” She reached into her pocket and found a small piece of the chocolate she had saved for him. “Here, try this.” She slipped the square into his mouth and at once his crying ceased as he tasted the sweetness. “Come on, now,” she whispered.

They reached the farm without meeting anyone and it was with relief that Adelaide handed the little boy over to Marie who gave him hot food, something he hadn’t had for months, before they bathed him and put him to bed, where, like his twin the previous night, he fell asleep at once.

In the morning Adelaide dressed him and did his hair. She taught him the “OK Olivier?” game, and although he still had a tendency to be tearful, she put him onto the back of the bicycle and set off. When they reached the station in Albert, they found there was a check being made on all papers. Adelaide bought their tickets and then waited well clear of the barrier in the hope that the checkpoint would be closed before she needed to go through. She was out of luck. The man in the ticket office had said that a train was due very soon, and she couldn’t risk missing it. Heaven only knew when there’d be another.

She knelt down and spoke to Jacques. “We’re going onto the platform now, Olivier,” she said gently, and when the child didn’t react she paused. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Jacques,” he replied.

“No,
chéri
, not today. Your name is Olivier, remember? Olivier.”

“Olivier,” the child repeated obediently. Then he looked across at the gendarmes who were checking the papers. “I don’t like those men.”

Adelaide felt her heart beat faster, but she soothed as calmly as she could. “They’re nice men. They won’t hurt you… but if they ask you your name what will you say?”

“Jacques,” replied the boy, a note of surprise in his voice.

Adelaide was at her wits’ end. They had to pass the barrier and the checkpoint, she could only hope they wouldn’t speak to Jacques at all. She gave him another piece of chocolate.

She joined the queue and when at last her turn came she was faced with a bespectacled, elderly man who looked at her and addressed her gruffly. “Well, who have we got here?” He took her proffered papers and glanced at them.

“Hold my hand, Olivier,” she said sharply, as she felt the little boy move behind her. “We don’t want you to get lost.”

The man looked up, still holding their papers. “Where are you going, Mademoiselle?”

“To Amiens, Monsieur,” Adelaide answered, and when he appeared to be waiting for more knew she must explain. “Olivier has to go to the hospital there.”

“Why the hospital there? Why not the one here?” The man peered at her through his thick spectacles.

“He has something wrong with his eyes,” she replied. “He has to see the eye specialist there.” She waited. The man still held their papers, but she could hear the train chuffing into the station behind her. When he didn’t hand them back she pressed him. “Please, Monsieur, we shall miss the train.”

The man grunted and handed the papers back. “Go on,” he said, and removing his glasses rubbed his own red-rimmed eyes. “Get him to his eye doctor, or he’ll end up with eyes like mine.”

Almost weak with relief, Adelaide dragged Jacques across the platform and bundled him into a carriage already full.

“There’s no room for two,” someone grumbled, but Adelaide responded immediately. “That’s all right, Olivier can sit on my knee.”

The journey to Amiens was uneventful. Adelaide sat crammed in between an old woman with a huge basket on her lap and a young thin man, whose elbow dug into her for much of the time. People got on and off at various stations, and by the time they reached Amiens, Adelaide had managed to secure a window seat and was able to amuse Jacques as she had Julien, pointing out things through the window. When the train pulled into the station, she clambered down with Jacques in her arms and moved towards the exit. There was no checkpoint there today and she was just breathing a sigh of relief that she was on the last step of her journey when a hand touched her arm. “Good morning, Mademoiselle. Here again?”

Adelaide spun round to find herself facing the German captain she’d met the day before. She felt the colour drain from her face, but the captain was bending down to speak to Jacques. “Hello, young man. And how are you today?”

Jacques simply stared at him, and the German went on. “Still too shy to talk, I see.” He turned his attention back to Adelaide, who was struggling to regain control of her features. “What did the doctor say yesterday?”

“He… he...er… had a look and then he put some drops into Olivier’s eyes. We have to go back again today so that he can look again.”

“I see, well let’s hope he can discover something this time, it’s a long way for you come each day.” He broke off, his attention diverted to someone or something behind Adelaide’s back. “Excuse me,” he murmured and strode off across the platform. Adelaide took Jacques by the hand and hurried him out of the station, only glancing back as they turned into the street. The captain was greeting another SS officer who had just got off the train. It was Colonel Hoch. He didn’t appear to have seen Adelaide, would probably not have recognised her at this distance anyway, but it was all she could do not to gather Jacques up into her arms and make a run for it. The same sleek black car was outside the station, the same driver leaning against it. Adelaide, walking as unhurriedly as she could, turned down the first side street she came to, fighting the urge for a backward glance, a glance that might have revealed her face to Hoch as he emerged from the station.