One morning in high summer, Seb Quintana arrived, with a face like thunder. ‘I’m not going, Monsieur Chris!’ He threw his beret onto the table.
‘Going where?’ Kit could see the lad was upset by something.
‘Sandrine told me… there’s new orders coming from Vichy. We have to report for labour duty, for compulsory war service in Germany, and only essential workers and invalids will be exempt. What can I do?’
‘Sit down and let’s think this through. Are you sure? You know what rumours are like.’
‘Sandrine wouldn’t spread lies. It is for boys born between 1920 and 1922.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘It will kill my mother. I’m not going, I’ll hide. If I have to, I’ll disappear deep into the forest. I’ll ask Dr Fournier for a certificate of exemption. The war killed my father. He died of his wounds, after I was born. Who will protect my sister and mother?’
Kit poured him a drink. ‘Calm down, young man. You say essential workers will be exempt? You work for old Maurice Tessier, you work for me, and agricultural work is important. It will be all right, you’ll see. How is Lise?’ They had not seen his mother for months.
‘They do nothing but snap at each other and don’t tell me what it’s about. I’m not a baby.’
Kit guessed just what this was all about, but it was not his place to inform the boy. He was just grateful Seb still came to help with the heavy work. Over the months, Kit had stored up his ration of cigarettes to share out. It was his secret currency. He liked to visit old Maurice Tessier who lived alone on a farm higher up with his flock of sheep. He exchanged ciggies for honey, the liquid gold that provided the children with some sweetness.
Two weeks ago, they had said goodbye to Marisa, Maria and Pia who were being schooled in a convent. Father Xavier had found homes on a farm for Paulo and Jorge. Marisa was not happy to return to Magret, but Kit insisted she was ready for better education among her peers. It was a tearful parting. Now there were just the four refugees, Joseph, Alphonse, Carlotta and Ruth, a new girl who was proving hard to settle in with the others. Then there were the occasional night visitors wanting soup and warmth, before heading into the peaks, to freedom. With the summer heat, Kit felt he could relax. Life had its own routine here. The children ran around half naked and barefoot, growing fast. They were dependent on the additional clothing and extras from the Children’s Aid. Flora had barely visited the village since the fallout with Lise. Kit hoped that the children, being out of sight, were almost forgotten.
He took his bicycle down for supplies and made sure to call on Father Xavier. Gower did catch the train to Béziers. One day a postcard arrived from Magret, thanking them for the safe return of the parcel.
Restrictions were hard to ignore. The atmosphere was changing, with the order that forbade anyone to listen to foreign broadcasts, especially Radio Londres. They got little accurate news of the war but enough to realise it was not going well. There was a census being planned but Jean-Baptiste whispered their own details might get conveniently lost somewhere in the mairie.
He called one evening, bringing a basket of tomatoes and a bottle of wine. ‘Maybe it’s time you took your charges over the mountains. I can’t guarantee your safety. Orders have come to round up aliens in the cities. It is only a matter of time before they come into this district for you.’
Had they outstayed their welcome? Kit thought. It was time to make preparations, to find a reliable guide, or join a party of fellow escapees.
Two days later, Flora received a letter from the Swiss Maternity hospital in Elne, asking her to shelter a mother and baby who needed to be hidden. This refugee had given birth to a girl but she was in a weak state and needed fresh air and the chance to build up her strength for the long journey ahead.
I hope you can receive her and give her the hope she so desperately needs, to make a future for herself and her child. We have given them fresh papers under the name of Juliette and Francine Morrel. Please make sure all her other documents are kept safe, until such time as she can reclaim her true identity.
Kit read the letter with a sigh. ‘A mother and baby are not going to be easy to hide. I don’t feel I can ask any more of Jean-Baptiste, or Sandrine. I think we’re on our own with this. When is she coming?’
‘Who knows?’ Flora replied, realising to take the children across the Pyrenees was one thing but a mother and baby quite another. ‘She’ll need time to build up strength. How can they bring her here, without being spotted?’
‘That’s not our problem. We’ll have to feed and prepare her when she arrives. It means we may have to stay much longer now.’
‘So be it,’ Flora said. ‘We knew this day would come, so we need to find a trustworthy guide. I can see to the mother but you must see to the rest.’
Suddenly the false security built up over the year evaporated. That night they clung to each other as never before. At least together they could face everything, but the thought of leaving all they had built here filled Kit with sadness. They had so many happy memories of the house; taking a ruin and making it into a home; a haven in the darkest days. Even the dusky pink roses had been brought back to life, then there were the goats, chickens and all the harvests of vegetables. To leave it all behind and climb those fierce mountains carrying children, the very idea filled him with alarm. To put their lives into the hands of strangers, to risk accidents in the harsh terrain, was a hard decision. Then he smiled, recalling one of Aunt Jessie’s sayings: ‘The good Lord made yer back for the burden.’