We'll Meet Again (25 page)

He scrambled ashore on the other side and hurried to the farm. They were waiting for him: Madame, Jean, Anton, Gustave and Philippe, sitting round the kitchen table discussing the implications.

‘The prison in Ville Sainte Jeanne is not big enough, nor secure enough, to keep her there for long,’ Jean said. ‘As soon as they suspect she is working for the resistance, they will send her to Paris and the Avenue Foche. We can’t wait for that to happen.’

‘But perhaps they don’t know who she really is,’ Madame Duport said. ‘They might be holding her for some minor infringement of regulations. If that is the case and she keeps her head, she might not be detained for long. Trying to rescue her will only draw attention to the fact that she is important.’

‘Oh, she will keep her head,’ Gilbert said. ‘Have no fear of that.’

Paul arrived at that point, having come over the bridge, using his
ausweiss
. He greeted everyone and shook hands all round before accepting a glass of rough red wine from Madame. ‘Arlene is being held on suspicion of having a forged identity card,’ he said. ‘It has been taken away from her to be checked. I expect they will take it to the Gestapo headquarters in Auxerre.’ He turned to Gilbert. ‘Will it stand close scrutiny?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t think we should wait to find out.’

‘I’ll go to the prison,’ Madame said. ‘Madeleine is supposed to be my cousin’s daughter. I shall want to know why they are holding an innocent girl who has done no wrong. If the identity card is a forgery, they should blame the people in Algiers who issued it to her when her parents died.’

‘It’s too risky,’ Gilbert said. ‘You could be arrested yourself. Then we will have two of you to rescue.’

‘Me? What have I done, except supply our occupiers with milk and cheese and eggs?’ She gave a cracked laugh. ‘They are forbidden to drink the local milk on the grounds it is a hazard to their health, but I take it to them every day. I shall remind them of that. They won’t like it if they can’t have it any more.’

Gilbert looked round at Jean and Anton. ‘What do you say? Shall we let your mother try her way first?’

Jean, the elder of the two, shrugged. ‘She will do as she wants, she always does, but I think we should stand by to go in if it all
goes wrong.’ He looked meaningfully at Gilbert. ‘You, Boris, will stay out of it. This is a family affair.’

‘No way.’

‘You may be our leader when it comes to the
resistants
, Boris, but I say how we look after Maman.’ He laughed. ‘You will go and sell your insurance, Monsieur Lebonier, and leave this to us.’

Knowing they were quite capable of tying him up and locking him in the house, he did not argue but that didn’t mean he was going to stand by and do nothing. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But once she is free, I am sending her straight home. I’ll get onto Dominic to have someone standing by.’ Dominic was one of the
passeurs
, who organised an escape line as far as Lyon.

‘Talking of Dominic,’ Paul said. ‘I’ve got two British airmen hidden in the loft of the bicycle shop. Pierre brought them this afternoon. He says they check out. Might be an idea for you to check them yourself, Boris, and arrange for their onward passage with Dominic.’

Gilbert groaned. He knew Dominic and his helpers were good at the job they did and had ferried numerous downed airmen and escaped prisoners of war down the length of France to safety in Spain, but he didn’t want the complication of two airmen at this juncture. Esme’s French was perfect and she could, if necessary, talk her way out of trouble en route, but hampered by two fliers who probably didn’t understand a word of French or German, and would be liable to give themselves away, she would be in double jeopardy. He wished there were a way of contacting London but Madame Duport had thrown the radio in the duck pond. Even if they had it, he was not sure it was safe to use it.

‘I’ll sort it out tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I had better stay here tonight. The last thing I want is to be caught out after curfew.’

It was daylight next morning when the owner of the bicycle shop replaced the ladder and climbed up to lift the trapdoor. ‘Good morning,’ he said cheerfully to the two men who peered out at him. ‘You may come down now. Do not make a noise. There are Germans everywhere.’

They clambered down the ladder into the back of the shop and then Tim had the surprise of his life, for facing him was Prue’s brother, Gilbert.

He was about to greet him by name but he saw Gilbert shaking his head. He remained silent while Paul introduced them. They shook hands like strangers.

‘How did you get here?’ Gilbert asked.

Tim outlined their journey. ‘We thought we were well on the way,’ he said. ‘Then the Gestapo boarded the train and we had to make a quick getaway in a couple of crates. Our courier took us on what she called a detour. We were passed from hand to hand and here we are.’

‘I’m afraid we can’t help you on your way just yet,’ Gilbert said. ‘We have a little problem of our own to tackle first. It might take a day or two.’

‘You mean we’ve got to spend another two days in that loft?’ Pat grumbled. ‘It’s the most uncomfortable place I’ve ever stayed in.’

‘The trouble is,’ Gilbert explained, ‘For the moment, we are not sure how safe our safe houses are. We have had to stop people going to them. Until we know for certain or can find new places, I’m afraid it is back in the loft for you. Perhaps Paul can find some pillows to make it a little more comfortable. But you must keep silent. Paul has German customers coming and going all the time.’

Paul looked at his watch. ‘It’s time I opened the shop, Boris. You could take the gentlemen to my house …’

‘No,’ Gilbert said. ‘You are Arlene’s cousin, distant it is true, but the Boche probably know that. It’s too risky.’ He turned to Tim and Pat. ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to return to the loft and stay there until I come and fetch you.’

Reluctantly they moved towards the ladder. ‘When can we talk?’ Tim asked Gilbert in an undertone. Seeing Gilbert and noting his quiet confidence had cheered him up and the pessimism brought on by their narrow squeak at Orleans and their uncomfortable night lifted. He began to think that perhaps, after all, they might make it back home.

‘Later. Please go.’

They returned to their hiding place. ‘I’m not sure I trust those Frenchies,’ Pat said when they were once again stretched out in the loft. ‘They don’t seem to know what to do with us.’

‘They’re not all French.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I know the one called Boris. He’s in disguise, of course, and we mustn’t say anything, but I reckon we’re in good hands.’

‘How well do you know him?’

‘He’s my girlfriend’s brother.’

Pat whistled and Tim clapped his hand over his mouth. ‘Keep quiet, you idiot, there’s someone in the shop.’

That was how they spent their day, alternately talking in whispers and keeping silent, hardly daring to breathe when they heard voices below them. They knew daylight had faded when the cracks between the tiles darkened and disappeared.

Tim was dozing when Pat nudged him awake. Someone was replacing the ladder. The trapdoor was opened and Paul’s head appeared outlined in the light from below. ‘You can come down and stretch your legs and have something to eat and drink,’ he said.

They followed him down and hobbled round the workshop until the feeling returned to their legs. Paul swept aside the tools, chains, pumps and brake shoes that littered his work bench and put a plate of cheese-filled bread rolls, a couple of apples, a bottle of wine and some glasses in their place. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Eat and drink. There’s a privy out the back and a tap. You can use those before you go back up the ladder.’

‘Oh, no, not back there again,’ Pat said.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Have you solved the problem that G … Boris mentioned?’ Tim asked.

‘No, not yet. Now, if you please, back in the loft. I am going to shut up shop and go home. It is important not to deviate from my normal routine. I will return in the morning. Perhaps Boris will have good news.’

Reluctantly they returned to their hiding place.

Gilbert had been thoroughly taken aback to see Tim. He was hardly recognisable with his hair dyed and spectacles that made him look owlish. The disguise had made him smile, but it was not a smiling matter, not any of it. Now, besides freeing Esme and sending her safely on her way, he felt responsible for Tim and his friend.

‘There will be three of them to go,’ Gilbert told Dominic when he visited him in his surgery on the pretence of needing a medical examination. ‘Arlene and two RAF escapees.’

‘What about you?’ Dominic put his stethoscope to Gilbert’s chest and appeared to be listening to that.

‘I stay. I am needed here.’

‘And if Arlene has talked, or you can’t get her out, you will be compromised and so will the whole circuit.’

‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’

‘Very well. I can probably arrange an ambulance to take a very sick patient to Lyon. Can your two men carry a stretcher?’

Gilbert smiled. ‘I think so.’

‘Then I will arrange their new identities. They will need photos. Bring Arlene here to me when you have her safely in your hands.’

‘Pierre can bring her in his van. I’ll get the photos done.’

‘Good. Let’s hope she is successfully sprung. If not, it will be you on that stretcher.’ He removed the stethoscope. ‘By the way, you are as sound as a bell.’

Gilbert buttoned his shirt and went home to borrow Paul’s camera, then he went to the bicycle shop, carrying it in his briefcase along with his insurance forms and brochures. It was late in the afternoon, Paul was busy putting a new wheel on a bicycle but there were no customers in the shop. They went through to the back room.

‘Is it safe to fetch them down?’ Gilbert asked, nodding towards the loft.

‘I think so.’ He went to the shop and locked the door, turning the sign from open to closed. Then he fetched the ladder and released the two men. They climbed down and hobbled round the small room. ‘I’m stiff as a board,’ Tim said. ‘Have you come to send us on our way?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Damn and blast it, man, we’ve been cooped up long enough. If you aren’t prepared to help us, we’ll go on our own.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. You know my name and who I am. If you are caught …’ He let the sentence hang in the air.

‘We’ll kill you, if we have to,’ Paul said quietly.

Tim gasped. ‘You never would.’

‘If you are patient it won’t come to that,’ Gilbert said, smiling
at Tim’s furious expression. ‘I have not been idle today. Everything is being arranged. You need new disguises, new photographs and a new story.’ He opened his case and took out the camera.

‘Everywhere we go we have to do that all over again,’ Pat said. ‘Can’t we just be ourselves? After all, we are in France, not Germany.’

‘Not everyone in France is friendly,’ Gilbert went on, positioning a chair against a plain brick wall. ‘Many are pro-German and many others would betray you if they thought that would save their own skins or prevent their young men from being sent to forced labour. That will no doubt change the nearer we are to victory. For now, you do as you are told.’

‘You are a hard nut.’

‘I have to be. Tim, take off your jacket and sit here please.’

Tim did as he was told. Paul brought soap and water, a razor and a towel. ‘Wash the colour out of your hair and get rid of that scar, it’s looking the worse for wear anyway and then shave.’ That done, Paul gave him a very short haircut.

‘That’s more like it,’ Gilbert said, as Pat took his turn with a fresh bowl of water. ‘Put this on.’ He handed him a white linen coat. ‘You are an ambulance attendant, name of Tomas Pinet. Your friend Pat will be Oscar Frank, also an ambulance man. You are going to escort a patient to Lyon in an ambulance.’

Pat had been shorn of his untidy locks and beard but he was left with a moustache which he lovingly stroked. ‘When do we go?’

‘As soon as the patient is ready.’

‘The mysterious Arlene, I suppose.’

‘Yes. Her safety will be in your hands, remember that will you?’

‘I see,’ Tim said. He paused while Gilbert set the camera up. ‘When did you last see Prue?’

‘Eighteen months ago, something like that. We had leave together. You’ve probably seen her more recently than I have.’

‘Does she know where you are?’

‘I think she might have an idea. When you get home you can tell her I’m OK. Don’t say anything to my mother though. Now we will not speak of this again, it’s too dangerous. Please sit on the chair and face the camera.’

Tim obeyed and was followed by Pat. Then they removed the coats and gave them to Paul who folded them and put them in a drawer. ‘I will be back in due course,’ he said. ‘Stay in the loft.’

They sighed and gave themselves up to more waiting.

Esme was expecting a medical examination and if that happened she would be in trouble. All the childlike clothes and the hair in plaits would not disguise the fact that she was not a sixteen-year-old girl called Madeleine Tillon, but a mature woman. That would lead to more questions, more investigation and then the Boche would discover it was not the first time she had been in their hands. She prepared herself mentally to withstand the torture. So far, apart from constant questioning about her passport, all she had had to endure had been slaps and twisted arms. It was nothing to what could happen.

She wondered what Gillie and the Duport men were doing. She prayed desperately that they might devise some way of rescuing her before she was sent to Paris and the Avenue Foche, headquarters of the Gestapo. Once there, she was as good as dead and would probably welcome death as a release. She would never see Gilbert again, never tell him that the loving letters she had written to him were an indication of her true feelings. From what he had said, she thought he loved her too, but would that make him reckless?

The cell in which she was confined was an ordinary prison cell, bleak and smelly, with a lock on its heavy door, but it was in the corridor of the police station and not isolated. She could hear some of what was going on in the office where the public came and went with their problems. She spent much of her time with her ear to the keyhole. If the
Brigade Speciale
were going to hand her over to the Gestapo, she needed to know. She was immediately alert when she heard Madame Duport’s voice loudly insisting they had detained her cousin’s daughter for no good reason and demanding her immediate release.