The Sisters of St. Croix (43 page)

The back door, left open for her earlier by Sister Marie-Marc, was still unlocked, and now she flung it wide, before darting down the cellar steps, closing that door softly behind her. She raced to the secret room, closing and bolting its door before climbing the old ladder once again. She listened intently through the grating. She heard the two soldiers storm out into the yard, heard them shout to the guards at the gate and heard an answering call. She risked raising the grille enough to peer out.

The guards outside had run towards the convent gate, calling back to the men who had chased after her and were now searching the courtyard.

It was now or never. Adelaide eased the grille aside and hoisted herself up through the hole, sliding as quietly as she could on her belly away from the gate into the sheltering darkness of the bushes beyond. She knew she had to get away quickly; it wouldn’t be long before they found the hidden room; the locked doors wouldn’t hold them; they would realise she was away and the search would be on.

Once round the corner of the wall she was out of immediate view, and she risked coming to her feet, running at the crouch away from the convent, and to begin with away from the village. Half a mile further on she circled back, crossed the footbridge over the river, and taking the towpath hurried to the end of the twisting lane that led to the back of Juliette’s café. In the distance she heard shouting and guessed they had found her escape route. There was little moon as she crept up the lane and one knock on the door had it open. Seeing Adelaide, white-faced and alone, the old lady hauled her inside.

“It’s all gone wrong,” Adelaide said breathlessly. “German raid on the convent. Don’t know if they’ve caught the Auclons, but they’re certainly looking for me.”

“Into the cellar,” Juliette said, and together they rolled back the rug to open the trapdoor. “I’ll watch to see what happens,” the old lady promised as Adelaide slipped down into the space below. “Remember, no light!” hissed Juliette as she looked down. “There is a small window, and the light would show. I’ll be back.”

Adelaide nodded, and ducked down as Juliette lowered the trapdoor over her head. The darkness in the cellar seemed complete, but as her eyes grew accustomed, she realised she could make out the slightly paler rectangle of a window high up in the wall. Hands outstretched, she edged across the small room, feeling her way around some furniture she encountered on the way. She reached the window, but it was too high. She felt for a chair and, dragging it under the window, stood up on its seat and tried to see out. The window, at ground-level outside, was coated in grime, and, she realised, faced out into the alley at the side of the house, giving her a view of absolutely nothing. Frustrated, Adelaide sat down on the chair and waited. It was all she could do. As she sat alone in the darkness wondering what was going on at the convent, whether the Auclons had been found, whether Sarah was safe, she realised a fraction of the living hell that must have been the Auclons’ life for the past year, and more extremely, for the past few days. Not knowing what was happening. Not knowing if loved ones were safe. The silence was deep and unbroken. She could hear nothing from the outside world, and had no clue as to what was going on.

How could they have lived weeks and months in this sort of limbo, she wondered? Not knowing. Did they get used to it? Would
I
get used to it?

She felt exhausted, and she tried to relax back into the chair, but she was too strung-up to sleep. The events of the night played over and over in her mind. Could they have got the Auclons clean away if they had been able to take them straight from the cellar? Should they have brought them here before trying to get them cleaned up? Why had the Germans come? Had she been followed to the convent? Was it she who had triggered the raid? The more she thought about the evening, the more she was sure that she had not been followed. So what had made Hoch raid the convent on that particular night? Had he found the Auclons? She was sure that he must have done, and if he had, what had happened to Sarah and the other nuns? She thought of Sister Eloise and shuddered. Surely Hoch wouldn’t take a reverend mother from her convent? But she knew, of course, that he would if he wanted to; and he
would
want to, to make an example, to keep people in line. If the local populace defied him in any way, Hoch would make reprisals, and the local populace knew it. It was what made them, despite their grumbling, tolerate the German occupation with comparatively little resistance.

Adelaide gave some thought then to her own position. What was she going to do next? She couldn’t stay here, that would put Madame Juliette at risk. Did Sarah need her help? Could she, in fact, help Sarah, or would she simply put her in yet more danger? Should she go back to the farm? Would any of the soldiers who had chased her be able to recognise her again? If so, not only would her cover be blown, but it would bring the Launays into more danger, too. Could Marcel get her away, out of the area?

Everything churned round in her mind as she sat entombed in the silent cellar, and she came to no conclusions. “If you’re in a tight spot, stay calm and think” had been drummed into her during her training. Well, she was in a tight spot now… so, stay calm and think. It all depended, she decided, on what Juliette had discovered. When she knew exactly what had happened, she could begin to make plans.

It was more than an hour before she heard the trapdoor opening and light seeped into the little underground room.

“Adèle, you can come up now,” whispered Madame Juliette, and Adelaide gratefully climbed the steps out of the darkness. Blinking in the dim light Juliette had on in the kitchen, Adelaide rubbed her eyes.

“They’ve taken prisoners to the German HQ,” Madame Juliette told her. “Four of them. Almost certainly the two Auclons, and two sisters. I think it was Reverend Mother with another sister. I watched from the upstairs window with the binoculars, but it was very dark and I’m not sure. Poor Joseph, he was stripped naked from the waist down. Janine was wearing a nun’s habit, but her head was bare.”

“You’re sure it was Reverend Mother?”

“Almost,” replied Madame Juliette. “But the other sister… well, I don’t know. Poor Reverend Mother, once they discover she is English, it will be even worse!”

Adelaide stared at the old lady. “How did you know she was English?” she asked.

Madame Juliette shrugged. “I have always known. She came here during the war… the last war… to nurse with her maid. They came to my café for cakes and tea.”

“But who’d tell the Germans that she is English?” demanded Adelaide.

Madame Juliette smiled sadly. “Almost anyone in St Croix,” she replied, “if they think it is worth their while. People here want a quiet life. They know there will be reprisals if the Germans are attacked in any way. Few will resist, because they want no bloodshed.”

“It doesn’t mean that they will inform.”

“That is naïve, Adèle. In war everyone looks out for number one. It is human nature. If someone thinks Reverend Mother will cause more trouble, they will tell. The Germans take her away and pouf! The problem has gone.”

The two women discussed what Adelaide should do next.

“You must stay here for the rest of the night,” asserted Madame Juliette. “They will still be searching for you out there. Did they get a good look at you?”

“I don’t know,” answered Adelaide. “The corridor isn’t well lit and I was running.”

Madame Juliette ran her eye over Adelaide’s black slacks and jersey. “A change of clothes would help, something bright, and a scarf to cover your hair.” She disappeared for a moment or two and then reappeared with a cotton dress, pale blue spattered with daisies, a white cardigan and a white cotton headscarf.

“My daughter’s,” she said briefly. “In the morning, you will look nothing like the girl in black trousers who ran away. But now,” she said firmly, “you must go to bed and sleep. If they come here before morning, we will say you were helping me, were too late for curfew and stayed over. Give me your clothes and I will deal with them. Get up in Rose’s dress in the morning.”

To her surprise, Adelaide did fall asleep in the little room above the café. Its one tiny window looked out onto the square, and before she slept, Adelaide turned off the light, pulled back the blackout curtains and looked out. Across the square she could see the dark shape of the town hall, but there was no activity there now. Where had they put the prisoners, she wondered? Were they still in the German HQ, or had they been locked up in the police cells for the night, like Sister Eloise had been?

She woke early as the rising sun forced a ray between her curtains to dance on her pillow and finger her face. Once again she peeped between the curtains and looked across the square. The town hall stood silent, its once proud façade draped with two swastika flags, and beneath these, one either side of the door, stood two sentries, rifles in hand, on guard.

Adelaide and Madame Juliette had decided that the first thing to do was to get her safely back to the farm, where she could tell the Launays what had happened. If questioned they had to be telling the same story. Once there, she could change again and go back to the convent, turning up for work as if she knew nothing of the night’s events. It would be a risk, but as far as she knew, apart from the three soldiers of course, no one but Sarah and Sister Marie-Marc had seen her the night before. No one there would know she had been involved, and she could find out exactly what had happened. So, half an hour later, dressed in the cotton frock and with the scarf tied over her hair, Adelaide slipped out of Madame Juliette’s back door, walked down the alley and headed for the Launays’ farm.

“Will you contact Marcel? Get him to come to the farm?” Adelaide asked as she paused inside the kitchen door. “I need to see him soon, so we can decide what to do next.”

“I will,” agreed Madame Juliette. “Now go… and good luck.”

The Launays greeted Adelaide with relief, but listened with horror as she related the events of the night.

“You must get away from here,” Gerard said. “We will say that you found the country too quiet and have gone to live with relatives in Paris.”

“No,” Adelaide shook her head, “I must go to the convent as if I know nothing. It’d be more suspicious if I didn’t turn up, and anyway, I have to find out what happened there.”

“They were arrested,” Gerard said. “You know that from Madame Juliette.”

But Adelaide was adamant. “I don’t know for sure that it was Reverend Mother and I must find out.”

They didn’t agree; they knew nothing of the close bond between their “niece”, Adèle, and the reverend mother, but they accepted her decision and once she had changed into her normal working clothes, Adelaide set off to the convent.

She found Sister Elisabeth in the kitchen. The nun looked relieved to see her. “Where’s Sister Marie-Marc?” Adelaide asked innocently.

Sister Elisabeth shook her head. “Not here today. Sister Marie-Joseph is helping me this morning. Now, Adèle, please bring up some coal. The range is nearly out.”

“Of course, Sister,” Adelaide replied and picked up the buckets. Once down the cellar steps, she hurried through to the hidden room. The door, which had been battered open, now hung drunkenly from one hinge, and the old ladder lay on the floor.

The grille had been pulled down into place and was covered with something on the outside, so that there was no daylight. It was obvious that they had discovered how she had escaped… but did they know who she was?

When she carried the bucket of coal up to the kitchen, Sister Elisabeth was nowhere to be seen, but Adelaide found the novice, Sister Marie-Joseph, washing up the breakfast plates in the scullery. She picked up a tea towel and started on the drying.

“Is Sister Marie-Marc ill?” she asked innocently.

The novice shook her head. “She went with Mother,” she whispered.

“With Mother? Where?” Adelaide tried to keep her tone light.

“The Germans took them.” The girl’s voice shook and Adelaide saw that there were tears running down her face. “And Sister St Bruno, she’s dead!”

“Dead!” Adelaide didn’t try to hide the horror in her voice. “How did she die? Did she have a heart attack?”

“No,” whispered Sister Marie-Joseph. “That German colonel, the one with skulls on his uniform”—her eyes were wide with remembered horror— “he kicked her in the head and she died.”

Disbelief and rage hit Adelaide with equal force. She stared at Sister Marie-Joseph incredulously. “What did you say?”

“She was praying… out loud… the Twenty-third Psalm. He kicked her in the head and then he just walked out. The soldiers took Mother and Sister Marie-Marc and they all left.”

“And then what?” demanded Adelaide. “What happened then? Nobody said anything? Nobody did anything?”

“Sister Marie-Paul told us to say and do nothing. She said we didn’t want any more trouble from the Germans. She said that from now on we must keep ourselves to ourselves.”

“And Sister St Bruno?”

“She’s in the chapel. Her funeral Mass is tomorrow.”

“Sister!” Sister Elisabeth’s voice was sharp as she addressed them from the kitchen doorway. “You’re not gossiping, I hope! You know what Mother said.” She glowered at Sister Marie-Joseph. “You will remain silent for the rest of the morning,” she ordered. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sister.” Colour flooded the novice’s face and she busied herself with the washing-up, plunging her arms into the sink to her elbows and scrubbing the plates as if they were coated in grime.

“Mother would like to see you, Adèle,” Sister Elisabeth continued, “in her office.”

Stunned by the news of Sister St Bruno’s violent death, Adelaide turned, pale-faced, to look at the nun. “Mother…” she began.

“Is waiting for you in her office, Adèle. Make haste!”

Knowing that Mother Marie-Pierre was being held in the village, Adelaide approached what had been her office with great unease. When the bell summoned her inside and she opened the door, she was still half-expecting to see Sarah, but her worst fears were realised when she saw that it was Sister Marie-Paul who now sat, grim-faced, behind the desk.