The sound of the train bearing down on them terrified Marjie. But she carried on working away at attaching the detonators to the explosives they had taped to the bridge.
‘Are you finished, Marjie? We have to blow it now!’
‘Retreat!’
Looking up, Marjie made sure that Sibbie had followed her instruction, then set the detonator and ran for all she was worth into the long, thick brush. The thrust of the blast compelled her body the last few yards to safety. Still the train chugged forward, but as it came abreast to them, Marjie saw the driver lean out of his cab. She saw a look of horror cross his face, which was illuminated by the gas lights along the railway line, then the air was filled with the screeching of brakes as sparks flew from the wheels. Doors opened and soldiers tumbled out of the first and last carriages.
‘Fire!’
On this command, Marjie cocked the machine gun she’d been allocated and fired, as did all her comrades. As some soldiers fell and others screamed in agony, her heart wanted to explode with the horror of it. A sob jolted her throat, but she swallowed hard. I mustn’t think of them as men – I mustn’t. They are beasts who would kill all those I love. With this, she released another round of bullets and knew she’d hit her target, as three soldiers’ bodies were flung into a hideous pose before dropping to the ground, never to move again.
Screams and banging filled the air as those incarcerated in the carriages, sandwiched between those of the guards, cried desperately for release. Marjie realized that these carriages were no more than cattle trucks – no windows, just slits to let in air.
The cries of those trapped inside cut her in two, but she dared not go forward to release them, even though her heart wanted her to.
‘Cover me!’
Arnie’s command shot terror through her. There were still many soldiers and now they were organized, after their initial ambush, which had thrown them into chaotic panic. She wanted to shout, ‘No, not yet’, but Arnie was the commanding officer and she would not disobey him, even though she knew his action was driven by his emotions and not his reason.
Firing her gun sent her body into a tremble, but still she held fast. More soldiers fell, whether by her hand or by that of the many others shooting at the soldiers, Marjie didn’t know.
In the shadows she saw Arnie making for the train. But then he stopped, crouched down and shot down at a row of kneeling soldiers.
Marjie’s head reeled with the nightmare of it all, as bits of warm flesh hit her face from ten feet away. Cries, following a blast of fire from those at the rear of the train, made her aware that one of their number had been hit. She raised her gun and fired for all she was worth, tears streaming down her face. Don’t let it be Papa, Sibbie or Paulo, please. Please don’t let it be any of them.
As her prayer died, she saw a soldier throw a hand-grenade. Ducking, she crouched low. More prayers tumbled from her. A split second’s silence registered, and then she heard an explosion, followed by screams of agony. Lifting her head, she called out, ‘Papa . . . Papa!’
‘Hush, darling girl. I’m all right.’
Crawling on her belly towards the voice, Marjie felt something in front of her and, putting out her hand, her fingers felt the still body of someone she did not know. Skirting around him, she made it to her father’s side. ‘Papa. Oh, Papa.’
His arm came round her, but only for a second and to lower her further to the ground. ‘We’ll be all right, my darling, we outnumber them. When Arnie gets behind them, it will confuse and divide them.’
This didn’t reassure her, but only further fuelled her fear. However, she had no time to think about it, as a blast of firing rang out from her father’s gun.
‘Keep firing, Marjie – we’ve got them now.’
This command from her father brought her starkly back to the task in hand. Kneeling, she unloaded her gun, not letting herself feel for the young lives she was extinguishing. If she did so, she would be lost.
Instead she concentrated on the lives she was saving. And especially those of her dear Aunt Ella and the lovely little Lonia. This spurred her on and, seeing a German soldier make a dash for the carriage he’d alighted from, she gunned him down without a thought.
Another cry from behind reminded her of the grave reality – around her scores of people were injured or dying, and she just wanted it to end. Tears flowed down her face once more. How did this happen? How did I turn into a killer? The enormity of admitting what she was shocked Marjie.
Hearing her name brought her back to the horror of it all. Turning this way and that, she tried to see Sibbie, but couldn’t. ‘Sibbie, are you all right?’
Paulo’s voice came back to her. ‘Yes, we were checking on you.’
‘Papa and I are all right, but I cannot see Arnie.’ As she said this, an explosion ripped through the air, lighting up the figure of Arnie, flying backwards. ‘Arnie. Oh God!’
‘Stay down, Marjie. Please, keep low! I can see Arnie – he’s all right. That’s him firing from the back of the train.’
Another cry followed this: ‘Nicht schießen! Nicht schießen!’
Marjie held her breath. Peering down, she saw a lone soldier, whose arms were in the air. She closed her eyes, then opened them, as her momentary relief at it all being over left her, with the sound of a gun being cocked.
‘No, Papa, no!’
A shot rang out. The soldier crumbled into a heap.
‘Papa . . . Why?’
‘We cannot take prisoners, Marjie, and we cannot let a German soldier loose, to inform his unit who ambushed them tonight, and how. Your name was called out. And so was Arnie’s: valuable information for the enemy. Lessons must be learned from tonight.’
Marjie felt shame, and knew, too, that Sibbie had also let the side down. But although this told her that what her papa had done was necessary, she knew that as long as she lived she would never forget that lone soldier.
The sound of screams of joy brought her attention back to the train. Bodies were tumbling out of the now-open carriages and cries of freedom resounded around her. It was a strange sight to see hundreds of people disappearing into the forest. Marjie prayed they would find safety.
Taking her papa’s hand, she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Papa. So very sorry. It was me who killed that surrendering soldier, not you.’
‘No, my darling – it had to be done. Not only because names were compromised, which he may not have heard or remembered, but because what could we do with him?’
‘Could we not have interrogated him and then handed him over to the authorities?’
‘There are no authorities that we can trust, my dear. We cannot expose ourselves, or our operation, to anyone. As it is, they will know it is the work of the Resistance, but which faction and where they come from – they won’t have a clue about that.’
‘What about all these people?’
‘They will make their own way. Hopefully, some of them will reach safety. This is as far as our responsibility towards them goes. Come now, let’s see if Ella and little Lonia have been found.’
As Marjie went down the slope towards the train, Sibbie and Paulo caught up with her. Sibbie didn’t speak, but simply slipped her hand into Marjie’s free one, and together they descended on the carnage of their first mission.
‘They’re here – over here!’ Arnie’s joyous voice rang out.
As she ran towards the call, a feeling of great relief and happiness filled Marjie as she saw the huddle of love in front of her: Arnie, Ella and Lonia were in each others’ arms.
After a moment of greetings, Arnie stood tall. ‘Thank you, each and every one of you. Now hurry and make yourselves scarce. What has happened here will soon reach the ears of German HQ and they will descend on the area in their droves, trying to drive you out into the open. They will show no mercy. I wish you all safety, and I will contact you in the near future. May God bless those who have fallen, that they may rest in peace. Take any identification from their bodies before you leave, and pick up your injured. May God be with you all.’
Men slowly emerged and stood up from their hiding places. They had numbered more than a hundred at the beginning of the mission, but now there were many fewer of them.
Marjie so wanted to hug Ella and Lonia, but Paulo stepped forward first. ‘Mama. Oh, Mama, you’re safe. At last you’re safe.’
Ella hadn’t spoken, but just nodded and cried, and clung to Arnie’s sleeve. Marjie’s heart was breaking, because the person in front of her was a broken woman.
Their journey back was long and arduous, taking them three days in all. Their two stopovers in safe houses had informed them that the area was teeming with Germans, especially in the area of their first stop, where they’d had to sleep in a freezing barn and take it in turns to stay awake and on watch.
In the second house there was more comfort, as the farmer had converted his large cellar, which was virtually undetectable when closed, into a dormitory with cooking facilities, and a lavatory of the traditional stand-over type dug into the ground. This had a wall partitioning it off from the dormitory. Beside it were a sink and soap and a towel, and they were all able to take it in turns to wash in the water supplied by a pump next to the sink and heated on the stove.
Drinking hot cocoa, having filled up on a lovely rabbit stew made by the farmer’s wife, and with Lonia asleep, they all sat on the beds provided and talked. Ella had recovered a little, though her body showed the signs of all she’d been through. She was stick-thin and her cheekbones jutted out, making her hollowed eye sockets appear even darker than usual. Her hair had been matted to her head, though now it hung in wet strands as Sibbie had helped her to wash it, and had washed down Ella’s body too, while Marjie had tended to Lonia.
The farmer’s wife, a little woman, had supplied Ella with a warm woollen frock and cardigan and some knitted stockings. Ella wore black boots on her feet, which Marjie had never seen before, but she didn’t ask where they came from, assuming that they had been a product of the bartering system that Ella had spoken of.
Lonia had fared better, having been fed, Marjie suspected, on her mama’s rations as well as her own, although her body was covered in flea-bites. The only clothes they had for her were those Lonia arrived in, and so they had washed these and they now hung round the fire to dry.
Arnie held Ella, or sat near to her, the whole time, and when travelling had never left Ella and Lonia’s side. But it was plain to see that Ella, though looking to him for support and comfort, had put up a barrier, where Arnie was concerned. This was so sad to witness, and Marjie knew the couple needed some time alone together or the rape ordeal, which her mama had told her about the last time they were together, could drive a wedge between them. She put her hand out and took Ella’s. ‘My lovely Aunt Ella, I feel so much for you. Everything will get better. One day we’ll all be happy again, and this will be behind us.’
Ella shook her head. ‘Too much has happened. My life has been dogged by evil men, and yet all I ever wanted to do was help people.’
Marjie didn’t know what she meant by this – had there been other times when her dear Aunt Ella had been violated? Maybe in the last war? Not knowing what to say, she wiped Ella’s tears with her thumb. ‘I promise you: everything can get better, and we’ll fight to make it so. Don’t give up, Aunt Ella. You and Mama and Aunt Mags were heroines in the last war. Dig into the spirit that fuelled you then. You can do it. For Lonia and Paulo and Arnie, you can.’
‘My dear Marjella. I fear for you. Arnie tells me that he will arrange for me and Lonia to be air-lifted out and taken to England. Come with me, you and Sibbie. Come to where it is safe, with Mags and your mama . . . Are they safe? Is the North of England missing all the bombing?’
‘Yes, you will be safe there. They have had bombing attacks, but they aren’t a major target. And the attacks are few and far between. But I can’t come. I am a serving officer in the British army and I have to do my duty. But don’t worry about me. And don’t tell Mama too much about the activities I’m engaged in. I don’t want her to worry.’
Ella smiled, a weak, pitiful smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Lifting her hand, she stroked a stray piece of hair from Marjella’s forehead. ‘My darling girl, so brave. I pray the evil of this world doesn’t touch you as it has done me.’
Marjie couldn’t stop the tears running down her face. A sob brought the rest of the room into focus. Her papa was holding Arnie, his best friend, as Arnie’s body convulsed in agonizing cries. Aunt Ella looked round, but seemed unable to move. ‘Go to him, Aunt Ella. Go to your Arnie. Don’t punish him for what others have done to you.’
‘Arnie. Arnie, my love.’ He broke away from Papa’s hold and went to Ella. To see them hold each other, really hold each other, with no resistance from Ella, had them all in tears. After a moment Paulo joined them. ‘Mama, you’re back now. When this is over, we will all help you to forget.’
Ella turned to her son. ‘Paulo, my darling son, what happened to me is something you can never forget. You learn to live with it. It becomes something that happened to a former you. I will strive to do that, I promise.’
‘We’ll help you, my darling.’ With this, Arnie held Ella close. And later, when they allocated the beds, and Ella said she wanted to sleep in Arnie’s bed, Marjie felt like cheering. She caught Sibbie’s eye, and Sibbie winked at her and gave her a smile that said, ‘You did that.’ Marjie’s heart beat a little warmer, as she knew that she had.
Snuggled up to Sibbie in the bed they shared brought Marjie a little comfort. Sibbie lifting the blanket told her that her cousin wanted to chat, so together they pulled the thick woollen blanket over their heads.
‘Marjie, are you all right?’
‘Not really, Sibbie. Today shocked me.’
‘It did me, too. I still feel shaky inside. But I’ve no regrets. You don’t have any, do you?’
‘Yes. The last soldier to die – he was surrendering, Sibbie.’
‘Your papa did the only thing he could do. You have to think of that – and that alone.’
‘I will try.’
‘I was terrified, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, but it was as if all the training had prepared us for that moment, and I was a different person. Not the Marjella who grew up sheltered from harm and responsibility, but a hard murderer, to whom life meant nothing.’
‘I understand, because I didn’t think of the Germans as people – not at the time. Now I can’t stop thinking about them, and about their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters or wives and children. They are going to get the brown envelope that our own families dread – or whatever the Germans deliver to bereaved families.’
‘Don’t. Oh, Sibbie.’
‘I’m glad I feel this way, though, as it proves that I am still a caring person. I haven’t changed, and I’m only doing my duty.’
‘Yes, and we wouldn’t be doing any of this if the Germans hadn’t invaded my country and were looking to invade yours.’
‘I feel better now, do you, Marjie?’
‘Yes. Try to get some sleep, Sibbie.’
They settled down again, Marjie with her arm around Sibbie. She didn’t really feel better about it all, just better that Sibbie had found a way to deal with it. For herself, she wondered if she ever would deal with it; but no matter, for she would do it all again if the need arose.
They reached the Resistance camp the next day, and plans were made for Sibbie and Marjie to return to Madame Bachelet’s shop. When the time arrived, Ella clung to Marjie, but Lonia was still distant, as if she couldn’t let herself feel anything.
‘Lonia, come and give me a hug.’
Little dark eyes, sunk into even darker sockets, stared back at Marjie, expressionless and yet telling of the girl’s fear. Slowly Marjie persuaded Lonia to come into her arms and held her close. ‘One day soon we’ll run around the fields at home, pinching the grapes and being told off by your papa. And we’ll hide behind the larger vines, so that he thinks we have left.’
The scene must have played out in Lonia’s mind, as she joined in. ‘Yes, and we’ll move the baskets full of grapes that the workers have piled up, and see their astonished faces when they come to add more and the baskets aren’t there.’
They both giggled at this. Lonia’s giggles turned to tears. Ella grabbed her and enfolded her in a mother’s love. She nodded at Marjie and whispered, ‘Thank you for making her feel once more. Tears are good; they are a release, and are much better than the closing down that happened earlier. Go safely, my darling girl. I promise that Lonia and I will only tell your mama things that won’t worry her too much.’
Kissing her aunt and Lonia, Marjie turned away as Paulo took his mama and his sister in his arms. Goodbyes were always painful, but now they ripped at her heart.
After hugging her own papa and Uncle Arnie, she and Sibbie set off. Paulo walked with them to the edge of the forest. There he took Sibbie in his arms while Marjie walked ahead, leaving them some privacy. She longed to be held by Wills, just as Paulo was holding Sibbie, but at the same time she was glad for them.
Turning around on her finger the lovely silver ring that Wills had bought her, she looked up towards the sky. Clouds drifted past, revealing and then covering blue patches here and there. The wind that rustled the trees chilled Marjie, but couldn’t touch her inside, where she held Wills close to her heart. Oh, Wills, my husband.
When Sibbie joined her, she had tears in her eyes. Marjie didn’t say anything, but held her hand. This gesture had become one they both knew communicated their feelings to the other. They walked to the main road in silence. Wearing the clothes in which they’d gone into the camp, they looked like two ordinary French girls out for a country walk.
Within hours they were back at Madame Bachelet’s shop, having been picked up by the same taxi and delivered to town, as if they’d truly gone to a great-aunt’s house.
‘Welcome back, mes chères. It has been reported to me that you have done a good job and that all is well with your great-aunt, non?’
Marjie was shocked at this. Madame really must be quite a big cog in the organization. She made a note to ask Arnie the next time they saw him, as it was disconcerting to have someone who hadn’t been introduced as a Resistance member clearly knowing vital information.
Within a few days, life settled down to a normal pace and the routine of the shop took precedence over everything else. With a few hours off, the girls were taking a walk by the riverside when Sibbie finally gave voice to the concerns that Marjie had been harbouring. ‘I keep thinking that all is not well at home. And I wonder if my mother is getting letters from me, just as Aunt Flors was promised she would get ones from you.’
‘Yes, they told us, didn’t they, when we were training, that we mustn’t worry about not being able to communicate with our families, because our families will think that we are writing to them?’
‘I know. Yes, of course they did, but I think my mother will see through those fake letters and worry all the more.’
‘Try not to think about it, Sibbie. Though why I’m saying that, I don’t know. I understand how you feel, as I so wanted to send a letter with Ella. I did give her a verbal message to take my love to my mama.’
‘I did, too. But I had to ask Ella to tell Aunt Mags, and not to let my mum know that she’d heard from me. That would have been disastrous. Aunt Betsy would have marched to the War Office, waving a banner or something, and demanding that I be brought home immediately.’
They both laughed.
‘Come on. I’ll race you to that post there. The last one there has to wash the potatoes and bag them tonight.’
‘Ha! It’s your turn, Sibbie. You’re just trying to duck out of it, knowing you’re a faster runner than me.’
Sibbie took off all the same, laughing as she went as if she hadn’t a care in the world. This lifted Marjie’s spirits, and even though she hadn’t a hope of winning, her giggles joined those of Sibbie.
Back at the shop, they tackled the potatoes together. Their mood had settled. ‘Well, if you won’t race me over who should do which chore, how about we see who fills the most bags of potatoes then?’
‘And what’s the prize this time?’
‘Not a prize; the loser gets to take Monsieur Passat’s grocery order.’
‘Sibbie, you can’t get out of every turn you have at the rotten jobs by challenging me.’
‘He is horrible, though, isn’t he? He seems to leer at you and has a way of taking the bags off you as if he is . . . Ugh! I hate going near him.’
Marjie knew what Sibbie meant. ‘He’s a dirty old man, but probably harmless. All the same, let’s ask Madame if we can do his deliveries together.’
Strangely, this wasn’t granted by Madame. ‘Non, you are to go alone. Decide amongst yourselves which one. We must do nothing that draws attention to you. Delivering together will be looked upon as odd. But, if you have cause to, use one of your methods on him, so that it will look as if he died of natural causes.’
This alarmed Marjie. ‘Why, Madame? And just who are you? You know so much, it is frightening. We should be told, if you are an agent.’
‘I am someone to whom you have been entrusted by your government. I am informed of what they, and the Resistance, want me to know. And you should know better than to question me.’
Marjie apologized, but all the same, she decided to be very careful around Madame Bachelet.