‘Your way of dealing with Monsieur Passat has worked. That little French boy you bribed to take the groceries up to Monsieur’s apartment is waiting every time I go to deliver now. Costing me a fortune, though, Marjie.’
‘I know, Sibbie – he’s a little devil. One centime isn’t enough for him. I have to give him an apple or something, as well.’
‘Ha! He’s a minx. In the three or so weeks he’s been working for us, he’s done well out of us.’
‘He has, but he’s also saved us from a pervert.’
They were getting ready for a rare evening out, at the insistence of Madame Bachelet. ‘You are young and should enjoy life more. There’s a local dance, and lots of young people will be there. Go. Here, I have tickets for you.’
The girls hadn’t been keen. The only dance they wanted to go to was one with Paulo and Wills, and that couldn’t happen for a long time.
The dance was being held in the municipal buildings attached to the public swimming pool, about a mile from their home. While cycling to it, they were stopped and their papers checked, but as this had happened many times before, they had taken it in their stride, just as they did the banter of the gendarme, who had flirted with them.
The hall was drab and cold, not at all inviting and painted a dull yellow. The lighting was dim, though the music, played by a trio – pianist, cellist and saxophonist – did excite them as they played a lively jazz number, and the joviality of the young people lifted them. ‘Let’s dance, Sibbie. All the girls are dancing together. I’ll be the woman, though. I couldn’t take the man’s part.’
‘That’s fine. Me and Daisy always took the male lead with Florrie and Rosie, so I’m used to that. I wonder how they all are. It’s horrid not having any contact with everyone.’
‘I know, I long to hear from Mama, and Wills, but I’m lucky to have Papa here. Anyway, don’t let’s think about it tonight. Come on.’
They giggled as they shimmied across the room, but then the music changed and a slower number was playing. Sibbie took up the position of the man as they went into a waltz. They’d only done a few steps when Marjie complained, ‘Ouch, you stood on my toe.’
‘Oops, sorry, Marjie. I’m out of practice. Don’t think we’ll win any championships, do you?’
They both laughed and Marjie felt the pressure of her worries lift off her. They’d received a message the night before that there was to be another mission, and were told it would be in three days’ time and they would be contacted by the Maquis. The thought of this didn’t sit easy with her, but neither did the fact that today Madame Bachelet had told them she would be arranging the details of their travel.
Marjie still felt uneasy about Madame, but didn’t know why. It was feasible that her son had given her the message, but nothing formal concerning such an arrangement had been discussed with them. Putting it out of her mind for the moment, she concentrated on the dance, until Sibbie surprised her by saying that she thought they should sit down.
‘We’re being watched.’
‘What? Who by, Sibbie?’
Sibbie indicated two men slouched against the far wall. The feeling of unease that Marjie harboured deepened.
As they sat down on one of the many benches that stood against the walls, Sibbie whispered, ‘I’m not happy here, Marjie.’
‘No, I’m not, either. I hadn’t noticed them, but now that you say . . .’
‘Oh, I don’t know – maybe we’re paranoid and they just fancy us.’
‘I know what you mean, and it would be a relief at this moment if that was the case, but why aren’t they approaching us and asking us to dance?’
‘Let’s dance again, only this time towards the exit. If they are watching us, then they will do something.’
As they reached the door, they stopped dancing and stood for a moment, as if talking. Sibbie was facing the men. ‘They don’t seem bothered and are talking amongst themselves now.’
‘Could be a ploy, as they may have noticed that we spotted them. Shall we slip through the door and see if that alerts them into action?’
Shivering while they waited to see if anything happened – and with the excuse that, if challenged, they would say they had wanted some fresh air – they decided they were being silly, after no one followed them out. ‘The evening’s spoilt now. I’d rather go home, Sibbie. We could tell Madame that we were too tired to enjoy it.’
‘Good idea. We’ll fetch our coats and have one more check, as we do so.’
They laughed at themselves as they saw that the two men they’d been afraid of were dancing with other girls. ‘Ha, it’s getting to us, girl. But even though there’s no threat now, I still think I’d like to go. I feel unnerved. Come on, let’s ride back by the river, I love that route. And in this moonlight it’ll be lovely.’
‘No, Sibbie, I just want to go home. I don’t feel safe.’
‘But that is the safest way, Marjie. I know it takes longer, but we miss the checkpoint on the main route. If the feeling we have is right and there is something amiss, the gendarmes may have been alerted.’
‘Yes, you’re right. By the river it is, then. Sibbie, what’s spooking you in particular?’
‘Madame. I haven’t said anything, but I feel there’s something not quite right.’
‘That’s exactly how I feel. Why this dance? She’s never suggested that we go out before, and she was so insistent. She seems to know too much, too.’
As they rode by the river, the sound of the lapping water in the quietness of the evening further enhanced their wariness. They rode their bicycles in silence, cutting behind the cathedral and through a dark, narrow street to reach the shop.
‘That’s odd, Sibbie, there isn’t a light in the place. Madame didn’t say she was going out, did she?’
‘No, let’s pull up a mo.’
They stood on the deserted pavement, looking around them. Nothing seemed untoward, and yet everything felt sinister. Marjie felt the muscles in her stomach contract. ‘I don’t like it, Sibbie.’
‘No, neither do I. I think we should go in the back way.’ Sibbie’s whisper held her fear, and her head bobbed this way and that. Every shadow seemed to hold danger. ‘If we creep up the fire escape and get in through the attic room, then we can get to our room and lock the door. At least then, if anything happens, we can be ready to defend ourselves.’
Marjie’s unease increased as they reached the back gate and saw dim rays of light coming through the broken slats of the attic-window shutters. Leaning their bikes against the wall, they signalled to each other the code for arming themselves.
In the dim light the moon provided, Marjie searched in her bag. Her hand clutched the innocent-looking pen that, on touching the ink-release button, flicked open to reveal a sharp, deadly blade. When she showed it to Sibbie, Sibbie nodded and did the same.
The gate creaked as they opened it, freezing them to the spot for a moment. Without opening it any further, they held it still while they squeezed through it, then Sibbie held the gate while Marjie moved the wooden wedge into place. This done, they crept across the yard and began to ascend the wooden steps, grateful for the sound of the rustling branches of the tree that stood in the yard next door, as it masked the tiny creaks of their progress.
As they neared the top, voices came to them; one was Madame’s distinct tone. Speaking in German, she was giving every detail of the forthcoming mission – details they hadn’t yet been provided with.
Marjie knew what they had to do. Without thinking about the horror of it, she signalled to Sibbie, who gave the thumbs-up sign.
With her heart pounding, Marjie grabbed the door handle. A moment of doubt assailed her. Never before had they killed in close quarters. The horror of shooting the German soldiers came to her, but then so did the thought of her comrades being ambushed and killed.
When she flung the door open, two shadowy figures turned towards her. ‘What? Who?’
Blotting out Madame’s terrified voice, Marjie leapt forward and, in an instant, had stuck her knife deep into the woman’s heart. Looking up, she saw that the German had backed off towards the wall. Sibbie dashed by her, but he had recovered and grabbed Sibbie’s arm, bending it backwards. Her cry of pain, and seeing the German go for his gun, spurred Marjie on. Stepping over Madame’s dead body, she lunged forward. Her knife stabbed into his heart.
‘Quick, Sibbie. We have to get our things and get out of here.’
‘No. That would implicate us and surround us with suspicion. The mission isn’t taking place for another week, so that gives us time to let HQ know that it has been betrayed.’
‘You think we should stay here? But—’
‘Yes. We mustn’t be suspected of carrying out these murders. If we are, our cover is blown. We have to burn our coats in the big incinerator by the shed, then clean ourselves up. Madame has a number of coats – we can take two of them. Then go to the door and scream the place down, as if we have just discovered Madame and this other man dead in the attic.’
Marjie knew Sibbie was right. Shaking from her reaction, her mind had gone into flight mode, but now she could see the sense in braving this out.
Working in silence, they dismantled the radio and hid its components in their bikes – in the saddle and the hollow handlebars. Their coats they pushed into the ever-burning incinerator. Back in their room, they washed in ice-cold water and, with only the light from the moon shining through the window, as they dared not show any signs of being home, they made their way to Madame’s room, where they each donned a coat: Sibbie a long, plain grey coat that Madame wore on everyday errands, and Marjie her church-going coat, which was long, black and sported a fur collar.
‘Right, our story? Any ideas, Marjie?’
‘Yes, I’ve been mulling it over. We went to the dance and felt hot and stuffy, so as we weren’t expected back, we rode the long way by the river. When we found the house in darkness, we thought Madame had retired early. Not wanting to disturb her, we decided to come in the back way, as then we wouldn’t have to pass her bedroom door.’
‘Brilliant. And we can say that we will go to our great-aunt’s to stay.’
‘What if they want an address?’
Marjie thought for a moment. ‘We could give my old address. I doubt they would ever go and check up, as they would have no reason to. But we must get to Arnie and Papa quickly, to warn them about Madame’s son. He must have given his mother the information, when he was only supposed to have given her the arrangements for our pick-up.’
‘Oh God, Marjie. What if she has passed on information about us and that is why we have been allowed to travel around freely?’
‘It’s a possibility. We may be compromised. Arnie will seek that information from Jacques. We just have to get to them – come on, let the first step of our plan begin.’
Having a plan gave them confidence. Their screams brought neighbours out of their houses and a nearby patrol of gendarmes rushing to them. Acting distraught, the girls were taken to a neighbour’s house and were given hot cocoa to drink.
The gendarmes didn’t ask the questions they expected, but from what Marjie overheard them saying to each other, they seemed more concerned with covering their own backs. This made Marjie think that perhaps the gendarmes should have been watching the property while the German was in there with Madame, but had not been at their post.
Nothing indicated that the gendarmes knew who they really were, or why they were here. The least nervous of the gendarmes told Marjie and Sibbie that they would no longer be needed, and that it was thought the German who had died must have been a friend of Madame’s. That many romantic liaisons between the Germans and French women were conducted in secret. ‘There seems no other cause than that they must have been found out, and that their deaths were probably due to reprisals by criminal factions who are traitors to the government.’
To Sibbie and Marjie, this cover-up story was one they were very grateful for and showed that they weren’t under any suspicion. When the gendarmes told them they were free to go, they were asked if they had any relatives they could go to. They told their story.
Marjie was proud of Sibbie’s composure, and grateful for it, as she felt that if she had to talk, she’d be sick. ‘Our great-aunt lives in Hérault; we can catch the train to Béziers in the morning and then cycle the rest of the way.’
The neighbour helped, by saying the girls could stay on her sofas until morning. ‘We will take care of them.’
The gendarmes seemed pleased with this arrangement and left.
The next morning Sibbie and Marjie were waved on past the checkpoint and had no problem with the gendarmes on the train. It was obvious that word had been passed to let them make their way without hindrance.
They hadn’t discussed anything to do with the incident, or what their next move was, for fear of being overheard, but now, having reached Hérault and walked some way into the forest, they sat on a fallen tree in an open brush area and discussed what to do next. They both agreed they should make contact with the Resistance.
Practised at building their radio, contact was soon made with HQ, using the code they’d been given for an emergency. Telling HQ what had happened and giving their current position, they waited.
Pushing their bikes had exhausted them. ‘Sibbie, we’re not too far away now; once we go through this next clump of trees, we will hit the road, and crossing that will put us into the forest where Paulo and Arnie are hiding. But we’re safe here, so let’s rest while we await instructions.’
They lay down, head-to-head on the smooth tree trunk, with the transmitter between them.
Sibbie shivered. ‘It’s so cold. I wish we could lie closer to each other for warmth.’
‘There is nowhere – it’s rough, rocky terrain in these clearings in the forest. But if we go into the trees, where we might find a softer bed, our radio won’t work.’
Hugging herself, to combat the cold and the desolation she felt, Marjie willed the radio to signal a message coming through. When it did, sometime later, she jumped and nearly screamed with fright, because with the sun coming out at last, both girls had been warmed enough to be lulled into a light sleep.
Sibbie giggled as she turned the radio towards her and put on the headphones. The sound set Marjie off giggling, too. ‘The blooming thing always catches me unawares.’
‘Shush, Marjie.’
After a moment Sibbie said, ‘They’ve made contact with the Maquis!’ Then relief and something akin to joy lit her face. ‘We’re going to be picked up; we’ve to make our way to the road, keeping in a northerly direction. Once on the road, we’re to head east until we meet up with a farm truck. The driver will wave to us, and when we wave back, he will turn round and pick us up.’
Seeing Sibbie go into Paulo’s arms, once they arrived, gave Marjie a feeling of gladness, and yet longing swept over her that was never far away, as she wished with all her heart that she could feel her Wills’s arms around her. Papa’s arms didn’t compensate, though it was good to see him, and she soaked up the comfort he gave.
‘You did an excellent job, Sibbie and Marjella. A traitor taken out and an ambush thwarted. And all without being compromised.’
‘What about Jacques?’
‘It has been taken care of. Don’t worry yourself about it. Now, I have news, darling. I’ll be seeing Mama very soon.’
‘When, Papa? Oh, that’s wonderful.’
Marjie listened to details of how her father was going to be air-lifted out, smiling with happiness as she did so. ‘Oh, Papa, I’m so glad. I will miss you, but Mama needs you by her side; and to know that you will be working in HQ, and will have our backs, is very comforting.’
‘Marjella, I received other news, too.’
As Randie’s situation was explained to her, Marjie felt a mixture of feelings. Fear for her brother vied with relief that he was alive, and had escaped the prisoner-of-war camp that he must have been held in, but where was he now? Her father’s words didn’t bring much comfort, as everything Randie did would be fraught with danger.
‘We are sure he will make his way here. He knew of the Maquis before he left, and his regiment doesn’t exist any more, having been taken over by the Vichy government. So Randie would seek to join the Resistance or re-join the Allies. We’re playing a waiting game until HQ, or Randolph, contacts us.’
Paulo then offered, ‘In the meantime we have our next mission to plan. But first of all, you two need to eat and rest. Gisele has brought us some milk and eggs, so that we can make you an omelette.’
‘Who is Gisele, Paulo?’
‘You remember her, Marjie? She lives in Laurens village – a cheeky youngster, always up to something or other. We used to tease her.’
‘But she can’t be more than sixteen, and yet she risks her life to help you?’
‘She does, and most days, though she is rarely checked by the gendarmes. She’s still small and rides around on her bike in her old school uniform, so she is of no interest to them. On one occasion she was stopped by a German patrol. She had some meat in her basket. They laughed and said, “Ach, black market!” Gisele was terrified they would lift up the meat, as under it she had two handguns, which she’d stolen for us.’
‘She is very brave. But when I think of her previous nature, she lived on her wits and didn’t seem afraid of anything.’
‘Yes, Marjie, Gisele is brave and is a valued and very useful Resistance worker. She types our pamphlets and is responsible for finding our provisions and getting us our papers. As you know, everything is bought with supply coupons. Gisele organizes others to carry out raids on the town hall to get to these golden tickets. She steals everything she can: tickets, stamps and identity cards. The most insignificant documents that she comes across, when on these raids, she will bring, and a lot of them prove useful to our organization. Villagers support us through her, too. They give Gisele supplies to bring to us – all kinds of forbidden treasures, which she hides in the panniers of her bike: foods such as eggs and meat, but also weapons, incendiary fuses and dynamite.’
‘Oh, Paulo, she is in so much danger. I can’t wait to see Gisele, to thank her.’
‘I don’t think that’s wise just yet. I need to prepare her and brief her on your cover names, and so on. We shouldn’t take her by surprise without arming her with the information she will need to maintain your cover. She always gives a low whistle to alert us that it is her approaching, and I think it best that you hide then. We will gauge when the time is right for you to meet, as we are always mindful of Gisele’s young age and of how frightened she is sometimes. She tells us that a soldier only has to be walking down her street for her to have a fit of nerves, thinking they are coming for her.’
The idea that the lovely imp of a girl that Marjie remembered should live her life in fear saddened her. And yet she felt such admiration for Gisele.
Paulo brought her out of these thoughts. ‘Mmm, I can smell your meal cooking, and you look all in. Let’s get you two rested. You can sleep in my sleeping bag, Sibbie. I have made a soft under-cushion for myself by piling up bracken into a bed shape; it is all dried out now and makes a good mattress.’
‘And you can sleep in mine, darling.’
‘Thanks, Papa. If we are to stay here, then I will commandeer that, the moment you leave.’
‘Ah, glad to get rid of me, are you?’
‘Yes. I want you safe, and I want you to be with Mama. I won’t worry so much about her then.’
Her papa squeezed Marjie to him. ‘But we will worry about you, my darling girl. We will also be very proud of you.’
When they woke it was late afternoon and the still atmosphere had a chill to it that made Sibbie not want to get out of the cosy sleeping bag. Opening her eyes, she saw Paulo sitting on a log just inside his tent, gazing down at her.
‘That’s a lovely smile to wake up to.’ Her hand crept out of the bag and reached for his. ‘I love you.’
‘Thank you. I am honoured to have your love.’ His rakish smile matched his looks, as his black hair fell untidily over his forehead. Running his fingers through it, as he did now, was a gesture that she’d seen him do so often. His dark eyes twinkled as he whispered, ‘I wish I could get in there with you.’
‘There’s no room – you would squash me.’
‘Ha, wouldn’t you like that?’
Sibbie felt herself blush as she yearned for that to happen. Paulo’s expression showed that he’d read her thoughts. He leaned forward. ‘One day, my darling Sibbie.’ His lips pressed on hers and his tongue gently prised open her mouth. Sibbie melted into the sensation and longed for that ‘one day’ to be now.
As they came out of the kiss, Paulo’s sigh was heavy with feelings that matched her own. Holding her eyes with his for a moment, he whispered, ‘I love you, my Sibbie.’ Then abruptly he stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed, before someone comes looking to see if I’m up to no good.’
His laughter lightened the atmosphere and she giggled at him. When he left, Sibbie wondered what it would be like to make love to Paulo. Unable to control her feelings, she made herself scramble out of the sleeping bag and dress.
As she emerged from the tent she met Marjie. ‘You slept well, sleepyhead.’ They hugged one another.
‘I’m glad to be here, Marjie. I know there’s more danger for us, but I sometimes felt a bit of a phoney agent, working in a shop and waiting for orders.’
‘Me too. Now that we are, where we are more in the thick of things, we can be useful in so many ways.’
‘Shush!’
The urgent whisper tightened Sibbie’s stomach muscles. She saw the same streak of fear attack Marjie, as her head shot round and her eyes widened.
André stood a few feet from them, his finger on his lips. Pointing, he mouthed that someone was coming.
Standing as still as statues, they registered that everyone else was lying down, holding guns that were pointed in the same direction. Sibbie felt useless, as she wasn’t ready for such an event and hadn’t thought, or been told, they would need to be. The sound of footsteps crunching the undergrowth further enhanced her anxiety.
But then there was a low whistle, and everyone relaxed. André laughed. ‘That minx, Gisele. She left it late to signal. Hurry, get out of sight.’
Sibbie and Marjie darted into Cyrus’s tent, but came out again at the sound of Cyrus’s astonished voice. ‘Randolph! Randie, my boy. Oh, my boy, let me help you.’