PHRIX RAYON FACTORY‚ APRIL 1945
Joséphine and Margot had been working at adjacent machines for twelve hours. Each time Margot picked up a cake of viscose, she made sure to smudge it against the nearest metal pole. Joséphine’s heart quickened. Who would have thought this timid little sparrow who’d perched on the end of Joséphine’s bed in Fresnes Prison would end up doing her part for a country that had tossed her away?
Joséphine did a few steps of the tango between spins. Margot laughed and whistled.
Commandant Jäger growled at this show of affection. How dare anyone show amusement in this dusty hellhole! ‘No more talking today. Idiots, do you understand?’
Joséphine nodded, her head bowed to hide the slightest smile twitching at the edges of her lips.
‘Yes, Commandant,’ Margot replied with her head also bowed deferentially. Once again Joséphine caught a glimpse of the resigned young maid who’d stepped into Fresnes Prison all those years ago.
This time, though, Joséphine knew it was an act.
Whether at Villa Sanary or Phrix Rayon Factory, Margot had been considered nothing more than a sturdy set of arms and legs, ready to attend to the next task as instructed. Invisible. Dispensable. It had become her greatest strength. Joséphine wondered if she knew how remarkable she was.
Jäger marched across to where a viscose pipe was shuddering beside Margot’s spinning machine. A plume of steam spurted from the top.
The commandant cursed: an airlock.
Joséphine held her breath and tried to look busy. She did not want to be near this machine when it was drained. The commandant would need to run all the acid from the machine into a bucket to unblock the airlock. Someone would need to hold the bucket steady as the acid spurted from the bottom of the machine, otherwise the force would tip the bucket over and acid would spill across the floor, spreading fumes, burning anything it touched. The spinning would need to be stopped while they cleaned it up.
Joséphine did not want to be the one to hold the bucket. What if the acid spewed out too quickly and overflowed?
‘Are you listening to me, lazy cow?’ Jäger only ever addressed the women with insults. Never by name.
‘Yes, Commandant,’ replied Joséphine.
‘Hold the bucket under the pipe.’
With quivering arms, she moved one of the waste buckets under the pipe to collect the viscose and acid as it spurted out.
The bucket filled quickly. Too quickly. It was almost full, and still more acid poured from the machine. She needed to empty it, but one accidental spill and the acid would burn her hands and her feet. It was too risky; she wasn’t strong enough to lift it. ‘Commandant, I need help to lift—’
‘How dare you address me,’ he bellowed, face reddening. ‘Empty the bucket. Now!’
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t.’ It was true: her back, her legs, her arms were so weak she couldn’t lift the pail.
Margot dropped another cake on the stack and approached Joséphine. ‘Commandant, may I assist?’ Margot slunk closer like a cat, nimble and ready to jump to one side at the slightest sign of a fist.
Jäger glanced from one woman to the other with narrow eyes and spat a glob of phlegm onto Joséphine’s clog. ‘What a pair of hässlich twins you are. Get out of my face.’
Joséphine opened her mouth to snap that the commandant was no oil painting either, but thought better of it when she saw Margot’s thin arms straining to pick up the replacement bucket. Any wisecrack would only see her friend punished too.
A shaft of light from a high window fell across Margot’s forehead. There was nothing ugly about her.
Margot put her bucket under the pipe, and helped her friend carry the acid to where they could pour it into a holding tank. Five minutes later, bucket emptied, both women were back at their adjacent stations.
But the airlock on Joséphine’s machine was not fixed, even though it had just been drained. The faulty pipe started to clank and shudder and let out a high-pitched whistle. She pressed her palms over her stinging eyes to protect them from the acrid yellow steam filling the factory. She leaned against the spinning machine and wheezed, and her hand went to her chest, as if pressing her breastbone could steady the weakened heart within.
‘Straighten up,’ Margot warned as the commandant spun on his heel and started to march towards them.
The thud of steel-capped boots on concrete blended with the menacing whirr of the machines. The marching drew closer, accompanied by a volley of angry words. ‘Idiot! Bucket!’
Jäger kept screaming instructions at Joséphine, but she couldn’t hear him. The factory walls had started to judder, and the air was filled with the crackle and scream of anti-aircraft fire. She strained to hear the magical buzz of an aircraft over the factory noises and gunfire. Was it possible? Could the Allies really win this war? End it. One of Susie’s civilian patrons had eagerly fed her news as he unzipped his fly under the spinning machine. ‘Jabbered like a schoolboy,’ Susie spat.
This factory could be liberated soon. They all just needed to hold on a little longer.
Then Joséphine thought of Elsie and felt wretched. She resolved to track down Elsie’s family when she was released and tell them the truth.
She looked at Margot through the sulphurous haze and grimaced. Margot’s brown eyes were twinkling, even though she winced at the cacophony of artillery. Joséphine tried to be reassured by Margot’s smile.
‘Concentrate!’ screeched Jäger.
Joséphine was rewarded with a smack to her cheek from the base of his gun. She fell to her knees, clutching at her face.
‘Joséphine!’ Margot dropped her cake and took a step towards her.
‘Halte! Bucket!’ yelled Jäger as the light fittings trembled above him.
Looking up from where she was curled on the floor, Joséphine shook her head slightly, warning Margot to stay where she was.
‘Back to your machine, you troll. Now!’
‘Not until I help Joséphine to her feet.’
‘Now! Do you want to go back to solitary?’ He stepped towards Margot and raised his rifle.
Joséphine pleaded silently with her friend to stay away. To protect herself.
Margot ignored the pleas, and instead tried to help her friend, bending down to replace the bucket with her back to the machine. The pipe on Joséphine’s machine gurgled and started to spurt. Acid and viscose shot out the end and flooded the bucket.
Jäger lunged for the lever, and Joséphine pulled herself up off the floor and leapt across to protect Margot from the torrent of acid spilling out the end of the pipe.
What felt like warm honey smattered across her cheek and nose. She lifted her hand to wipe it off but realised too late her mistake. Her face and hands started to sting as if attacked by ten thousand bees.
Beside her, Margot rocked on the floor with her knees curled up under her chin. She was taking short, shallow breaths, and her uniform had been burned away. Her beautiful face was already starting to blister.
‘Christ. This is not my morning. I need coffee.’ Jäger indicated for the guards to deal with the two howling women crumpled on the floor. ‘Clean up this mess.’ He ordered everyone back to their stations, and his heavy boots stomped away.
A soft hand squeezed her shoulder. Captain Müller.
‘Margot—’ croaked Joséphine. ‘Please help, Klaus.’
‘Of course.’ He gently slipped his arms under Margot, and Joséphine watched as he lifted her onto a steel trolley. When had that arrived?
He knelt to help Joséphine. Her back arched with pain, she clawed at her burning face, her legs stiffened as if cramped. Her breath was louder now, gasping. ‘Margot,’ she pleaded as she flung out a limp hand.
Müller soothed Joséphine. ‘Margot’s here. I’m just going to lift you up beside her, and we’ll get you both to the hospital.’
Joséphine’s head lolled to one side, and her eyes rolled back. Rasping even louder, she grabbed Müller by the lapel with a strength that surprised her and pulled him closer. She licked her burning lips and struggled to speak, her words sticking in her throat like shards of glass. But she persisted, because what she needed from the guard was crucial. ‘I’m dying. This is what I need you to do.’ She gave her instructions.
Müller nodded. His kind face strained, veins standing out from his neck. He was still for what seemed like minutes, face expressionless.
But as Joséphine’s trolley was pushed away, he gently touched her wrist before he quickly removed something from her boilersuit pocket.
The last words Joséphine heard in the Phrix Rayon Factory were, ‘Je promets.’
I promise.