At first light they set off from Maurice’s farm in high spirits, each with a little sack on their back, following the stream until they reached stony boulders. Paul pointed upward to a sloping terrace and a rocky path. It was a slow climb and Flora stopped to admire the view, but Paul chivvied them onwards, towards a forest of old pines and the stream that became a waterfall.
It was Joseph who noticed an iron cross fixed into a rock. ‘Come, look! Why is that there?’
Paul laughed. ‘Two imbeciles tried to cross the torrent and were swept away in an avalanche in 1870.’
‘How terrible,’ Juliette said, clutching her baby tighter. ‘Monsieur, can we rest now? Baby needs to feed.’
‘Later,’ Paul snapped. ‘There are rocks to climb and you can rest then. It’s going to rain, but we’ll find a grotto to shelter in. Just keep moving.’
Flora recognised that Ruth and Carlotta were flagging. ‘My shoes hurt,’ Carlotta cried. Paul ignored her.
The skies were darkening and the slope was getting even steeper. Thank goodness they were not attempting the escape in wintertime. The wind was whipping up into a storm and the rain came pelting down. They made to shelter under a few trees, but their guide was having none of it.
‘Do you want to cross the border, or not?’ he snapped again. ‘There’s a shepherd’s hut further up… keep going and you can dry out.’
Ruth was dragging behind where the path was narrow. One careless slip and a child could fall over the edge, onto the rocks that bordered the river Rotja. Flora coaxed her back, holding out her hand. The last thing she wanted was one of Ruth’s tantrums.
It felt as if they’d been walking for hours. The boys were game, but Juliette was so very tired with her little case strapped on her back and Francine began to cry.
‘Shut that thing up!’ Paul shouted. ‘Do you want the field gendarmerie to hear us? Their trucks are patrolling up to Mantet, just looking for any Jews and escapees.’
‘But she is hungry,’ Flora pleaded. ‘Shouting doesn’t help. We are doing our best.’
‘I should never have taken you on. At this rate it will be nightfall before you cross over and that was not my plan.’ Paul was in no mood for excuses, striding ahead, muttering to himself.
At long last they came to a ruined hut, hardly big enough to give shelter. Juliette began to feed the baby and Paul’s eyes never left her breasts. Flora brought out their meal, sharing it out equally. It did not go far because the children were ravenous. ‘We must rest before the next bit. How long will that be?’ she asked.
‘It’s up to you. This is where I leave,’ Paul replied. ‘I’m not sticking around waiting for you lot to get a move on. Stay here and try again in the morning. Just follow the path towards Mantet. The trail is well used, but keep out of the town. It’s guarded.’
‘What do you mean, you’re leaving us here?’ Flora stood up, to argue with him.
‘Just what I said, but I won’t go without my dues. I charge for each parcel, you understand, and you have one extra.’
The two women looked at each other in horror at this news. But we were told you passeurs did this for the love of France, not for money.’
‘Whoever told you that was a fool. I have mouths to feed and food to buy. France can go to the devil, for all I care. This is my work and people must pay for it, or else…’ There was no mistaking the threat in his voice. Suddenly the atmosphere was charged with menace.
‘We don’t have much money.’ Flora’s throat tightened, knowing this was true.
He was staring at Juliette. ‘Jews always have gold in their hems,’ he replied. ‘Come on, sister, deliver.’
‘Search me then. I have nothing of value. Everything was stolen in the camp.’ Paul snatched her hand. ‘You have a ring, and you, too. Give me what you have got or I’ll throw your identities down into the river and the baby too… just shut up.’
Flora pulled off Ivo’s wedding ring. ‘Here, take it, and my watch. You’re a disgrace to your country. May you go to hell for this.’
Juliette was tugging at her finger. ‘Take mine, too. We can find our way to freedom without his help.’ Flora threw the few francs she had on the floor.
Paul grabbed the notes with a sickening grin. ‘Safe journey, ladies.’ Picking up his knapsack, he raised his hat in a mock gesture of respect and disappeared. Afterwards Flora looked at Juliette, both close to tears. The children were fast asleep, unaware of the danger they were now in.
‘What can we do now?’ Flora croaked, knowing that if she had not come with Juliette, she might have left the girl to a worse fate. ‘We have nothing to barter with.’
To her amazement Juliette smiled. ‘Oh yes we have, the thief is right. Our race has learnt to survive searches. Few men will look into a dirty nappy, will they?’ She pulled out the soggy towel wrapped around Francine and brought out a leather pouch. ‘With this, we buy freedom.’ Flora saw gold coins wrapped inside. ‘How did you…?’
‘Never you mind. I can buy a new ring, but freedom is beyond price.’ Juliette winked at her friend.
‘That doesn’t solve how we get through to Mantet,’ Flora sighed. ‘I suppose we’d better rest here until morning comes and just follow the path. I just hope to God he’s told us the truth. Wait until I see old Maurice again… We’ve come so far together, there’s no going back for us now.’
*
Maurice sent news that the ‘parcels’ had departed with a new guide. By now they would either be over the border, or arrested and on their way back in France. This gave Kit little comfort. He cursed his bad luck and his ankle which was now encased in plaster. He was trapped indoors and out of sight, with only Lise and Sandrine for company.
They were worrying about young Sebastien being caught, but so far there had been no alarms or arrests in the district. Kit received briefings from Jean-Baptiste to the effect that there were few troop movements in the area. There were, however, mountain-fit soldiers from the Austrian region who could scale the Pyrenees with ease when the time came. Only last week Maurice had a visit from the field soldiers. They had searched his barn thoroughly and he feared they knew the likely mountain passes that hapless refugees might attempt to cross.
‘Don’t worry,’ he assured them. ‘We sent Flora’s group on a little-known trail – difficult, but not impossible. Paul came back the next day to say all was well.’
Kit was feeling helpless, trying to make himself both useful and invisible. There was a space in the cave with a trapdoor, through which he must escape. How was this possible, when he could only hobble?
A few times, Xavier came to play cards until curfew. Over a bottle of Banyuls Kit confided his whole life story, their decision to stay on in France, when common sense told them to leave. The priest took it all in his stride.
‘I’ve never sat down with a Protestant minister before.’ Xavier reminded Kit of his old friend, Father Antoine, in Collioure.
One evening he borrowed a pencil and began to sketch the priest’s features, having not picked up a pen for months. It helped to pass the time. Lise and Sandrine giggled as he tried to capture their sharp features and dark eyes.
‘When can I leave?’ he begged, but Dr Fournier shook his head.
‘Patience. You want it to heal? Don’t force your weight on it. When the plaster is off, we’ll test with a little exercise… then and only then.’
Montze was changing, with the arrival of foreign soldiers, the clatter of boots on cobbles and the constant drone of lorries and motorbikes uphill. Kit hoped his secret presence was long forgotten by villagers, but one night Xavier arrived, his cheeks flushed with anxiety.
‘Jean-Baptiste has warned me. You have been denounced to the authorities. A letter, anonymous of course, saying there was an anglais hiding in the hills, whose children were not his own, but refugees. A search party has been sent to your farmhouse. Whoever it is, still thinks you are there.’
‘I bet I know who that will be,’ Lise said. ‘The blessed Berthe Bernat, but at least she doesn’t know you’re here. When they search, they are thorough. It’s no good, Christophe.’
He could see the anxiety on Lise’s face. ‘I can’t put you in any more danger. I must leave now,’ he replied, trying to stand.
‘Don’t be a fool. You’re not fit to go anywhere. No one will search here,’ Sandrine said. ‘I have an idea – leave this with me.’
‘No, you can’t get involved again,’ Lise shouted. ‘Father, tell her not to be so silly.’
Sandrine was having none of her mother’s caution. ‘He can’t stay here, Maman. I know people who can help us.’
‘Who?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘Tell her, Father. She puts herself in mortal danger. Do I have to lose everyone I love?’ Lise pleaded. How Kit hated to be the cause of such arguments.
‘It’s madness to break cover now, or draw attention to your house. Let Sandrine make her enquiries. There has to be a plan, a safe one. If Kit can be spirited away quietly, then no one will be any the wiser,’ said Xavier.
‘But I can’t walk,’ Kit added, his heart sinking at this news.
‘Who said anything about walking?’ the priest replied. ‘There will be a way. I shall pray for guidance: “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills…” The answer must surely be up there, Sandrine?’
Later, Kit lay on his bed unable to close his eyes, listening for any car drawing up in the street. Only the enemy could afford petrol. How could he be spirited into the hills? To break curfew was asking for trouble. To be seen in broad daylight, unthinkable. He was trapped and to be sent miles away from Flora was the worst of outcomes. Where was she now? Waiting in Spain for him? Or putting herself in danger trying to get back home? Fear was nestling, not in his mind but deep in his gut. It was all going so very wrong. His stomach was churning with the knowledge that it was all his fault.