Over there, coming in now,” murmured Marcel as he and Adelaide mingled with the crowd who had just got off the train from Amiens. “The one in the black cap.”
Adelaide glanced at the elderly man who had just walked into the station. He paused, as if looking round for someone. She turned back to confirm the identification with Marcel, only to find that he had already disappeared, melted into the press of people the train had disgorged.
Well, Adèle, she thought, this is it.
Crossing to where the old man stood, she called out in a cheerful voice. “Uncle Gerard, Uncle Gerard, here I am!”
The man peered at her and then a smile lit his face. “Little Adèle,” he cried. “It’s been so long. I’d hardly have known you if you hadn’t looked so like your mother.” They embraced, and then the old man held her away from him, studying her face. “So like your dear mother,” he murmured. Then, more businesslike, he took her suitcase from her. “I’ve the horse and cart outside. Do you remember dear old Sunshine? She’s still going strong, thank God. Without her I don’t know what we’d do. There’s almost no fuel for the tractor or my old car. It’s Sunshine and the cart these days.”
Anyone overhearing would have no doubt that the old man was delighted to see his niece… anyone listening. Adelaide fought the urge to look around her to see if anyone was paying them any attention, and joined in the conversation.
“How is Aunt Marie? Is her back any better? Does she still get a lot of pain?”
“She’s not too bad,” replied the old man. “Of course she has pain, but don’t we all when we reach our age? It’ll be a great help to have you there to do some of the heavy work. She’s really looking forward to seeing you again. How long is it? Ten years? Eleven?”
As he chatted on about his wife, he led the way to the station entrance. At the gate was a checkpoint. Police were checking everyone’s papers as they came out of the station and Adelaide felt her pulse quicken as they joined the queue. This would be the first test of the papers that had been prepared for her in London.
When they reached the gate, Gerard handed his papers over first. The policeman gave them a cursory glance before handing them back. Then it was Adelaide’s turn. The papers gave her place of birth as Vire, in Normandy.
“You’re a long way from home, Mademoiselle,” the man said, looking at her quizzically.
“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, keeping her voice even despite her inner tension. “I have come to stay with my uncle.” She indicated Gerard. Never give more than the minimum information, they had taught her in England. Try to avoid statements that can be easily checked.
“How long are you staying?” asked the man. His eyes slid over her, taking in her face, pretty despite the lack of make-up, her trim figure undisguised by the old raincoat she wore; regarding her not with suspicion, but with obvious lust.
“As long as he needs me,” Adelaide said.
“Hmm, lucky man.” The man licked his lips suggestively, but handed back her papers and allowed her to pass on.
“Animal!” muttered Gerard when they were out of hearing, but the innuendo and the lustful glances had not worried Adelaide at all. She was simply relieved that her documents had survived their first scrutiny. From now on she would present them with more confidence.
“Papers change,” London had warned her. “Check them with Marcel when you arrive and if there have been any recent changes made make sure we know about them.” Marcel had looked at them and pronounced them up-to-date but, even so, Adelaide realised there could always be something that might arouse suspicion.
Gerard led the way to where his horse and cart were standing, waiting patiently in the sunshine not far from the station. He heaved Adelaide’s suitcase into the back, then climbed up onto the driver’s seat and with a flick of the reins they set off on the journey back to St Croix.
They spoke little as they drove, and Adelaide had a chance to study the man who, at the risk of his own life and that of his wife, was providing her cover. He was probably in his early fifties, but looked older with grizzled hair and grey stubble on his face. He had the weathered look of someone used to working outdoors, and although he was a tall, spare man, his shoulders seemed to have sagged, and he had, she noticed, walked with a limp.
Adelaide didn’t know quite what Gerard and his wife knew of her mission. She hoped very little. All she needed from them was the cover of somewhere to live and a reason for being there. That would be risky enough for them, without them knowing exactly what she was up to.
For the last mile or so, they drove along the wide track that constituted the towpath beside the river. Beside an old stone barn, a right fork led them onto another, narrower track. Adelaide could see farm buildings ahead, low and squat, crouching behind a stand of sheltering trees. When they finally reached the farm, Gerard pulled into its yard. “Aunt Marie” emerged from the back door into the yard and stood watching as Adelaide climbed down from the cart. She was a small woman, dressed in an overall, her hair tied up in a scarf. Her face looked worn and tired, but her eyes were still bright as she looked at Adelaide.
“Here she is at last, Marie,” Gerard called as he moved to Sunshine’s head. “The train wasn’t too late.”
“Adèle,” Marie said. “How lovely to see you! I’m so glad you’ve come to us.” She reached up and gave her niece a brief hug. “I was so sorry to hear about your poor mother.”
To be safe they had to live the life they had been given, and Adelaide was relieved to see that her “aunt” and “uncle” were intending to do just that. It was impossible to know who might be watching or listening; a collaborator collecting information to use to his own advantage.
“Always assume you are being watched,” Monica had impressed upon her when they had been studying her legend. “Always assume that there is an informer sitting at the next table, or waiting beside you in the queue. Never drop your guard. These people are your aunt and uncle, it is vital that all three of you remember it all the time.”
“It’s lovely to be back, Aunt Marie,” Adelaide said now. “It’s been so long since I was here.” She looked round the farmyard, taking in the cowshed, the half-empty barn, where some chickens were scratching among the hay on the dusty floor. “It hasn’t changed,” she said with a smile. “It’s just as I remember it.”
For the next few days, she learnt her way about and worked extremely hard. Marie taught her to milk, and though it took her a while to get the hang of it, she was soon able to help Gerard with his cows. She carried fodder and mucked out the cowshed. She dug potatoes from the field and heaved them to the house. She collected wood and mended fences. She brought the cattle in and sent them out again. She swept the yard and shovelled dirt. She went with her aunt into the village on market day, to the village bakery to queue for the bread ration, to Mass on Sunday in the parish church. Gradually she became recognised as the Launays’ niece come from Normandy. At the end of each day she almost fell into bed, completely exhausted. But at least she was well fed. There were fresh eggs and milk, and Aunt Marie made cheese and butter. Adelaide’s days were so filled that she began to wonder if she would have any time to do anything else. It was, however, time well employed, as Marie Launay’s neighbours began to say how lucky she was to have her niece staying and helping out.
She found an old bicycle in the barn, its tyres flat, its frame rusty, but with a serviceable saddle, a basket on the front and a child’s seat on the back. Pulling it out into the yard she asked Marie if she could use it to get about.
Marie shrugged. “It’s very old,” she said doubtfully. “It’s the one I used to ride when Victor was little, but if you want to try and mend it.” She shrugged again, considering it a pointless task.
Adelaide worked on the bike, cleaning it, oiling it, trying to mend the punctures. The outer tyres were not too bad, but the inner tubes were in a bad state. Gerard had produced a repair kit, and between them they managed to patch the holes well enough for the tyres to stay up if pumped frequently. It was not long before Adelaide was a regular sight in the neighbourhood, riding the lanes, picking up firewood and carrying it home in the bicycle basket and wedged into the child seat. The errands she ran for her aunt took her to the village and the market as she delivered their surplus butter and eggs. She was often seen at the side of the road, pumping up the slowly leaking tyres, but the bicycle got her about, and no one questioned her exploration of the countryside.
At length Adelaide decided the time had come to make a move. When they were sitting over their evening meal at the end of the day some two weeks after she’d arrived, she made her announcement. “It’s time I went to the convent to see if I can get a job.”
She had had to confide this as her purpose in coming to the area, but she was no longer worried about telling the Launays that much. Over the weeks she had been with them she had come to know them well and knew their history. Gerard had been at Verdun in the last war and had been lucky to escape with only a shattered leg. Most of his unit had been wiped out in the valiant defence of the Bois de Caures, and Gerard had received his crippling wound in the subsequent retreat. When he had returned, wounded, to his father’s farm in 1916 he had almost died; but for the nursing he received from his beloved Marie, he would surely have lost his leg. They had married as soon as he was well enough, and their son, Victor, was born ten months later.
“He was killed on the retreat to Dunkerque,” Marie confided to Adelaide one day when they were working together in the dairy. “Machine-gunned from a dive-bomber.” Her eyes hardened. “A column of men and refugees simply slaughtered from the air, not just soldiers like our Victor, but women and children too.” She turned bleak eyes on Adelaide and now spoke coldly. “Machine-gunned and left dying in the road. Such people are not human. There is not much we can do against them, but what little we can, we will.” Twice the Germans had shattered the Launays’ lives, and now they were prepared to take risks to fight back.
“When Victor died, I thought my life was over,” Marie said. “Now it has another purpose. We’re getting old, but we can still fight in our own way. Just let us know what we can do to help you.”
Understanding their motive for offering her shelter and cover made Adelaide feel a little more secure. Revenge drove them, and their revenge had added strength, because although they knew the risks, they no longer cared for their own safety. They were protecting her cover as their niece, and her arrival in the local community had been greeted with little more than indifference.
“If we’re asked, we will say that we cannot afford to keep you, that you must do something to bring money into the house.” Marie gave a tight smile. “I have a reputation for being careful with my money.”
Since her arrival at the farm, Adelaide had made no attempt to contact Marcel. Indeed she didn’t know where he lived, but assumed it was Albert. She was fairly sure that it wasn’t at the farmhouse he had taken her to originally; that, she thought, was another safe house. It was also unlikely that “Maman” was actually his mother.
All she knew was that if she needed Marcel she had to go to the café, Le Chat Noir, in the place in St Croix, wearing a red scarf round her hair. Whoever it was who saw the signal would alert Marcel and he would meet her in the woodland beyond the Launays’ farm the next evening.
The next time she went to the market with Aunt Marie, her hair was caught up in a red scarf. Having made their few purchases they sat at a table outside the café in the spring sunshine and drank a cup of ersatz coffee. Marie chatted easily to the waitress, and Adelaide let her eyes wander round the square, wondering who would be reporting back to Marcel. On the other side of the place was the town hall, now the German HQ, its façade draped with a huge swastika. German soldiers were coming and going, but none of them paid any attention to the two women taking the weight off their feet after their marketing. Even so, Adelaide was ever conscious of their presence. It was one thing to practise living a clandestine life while safely home in England, it was quite another to do it for real. Every time there was a demand for her papers, or she heard German being spoken, or she had to step aside to make way for a German soldier hurrying about his business, Adelaide felt her heartbeat quicken. Despite truly living her legend, it would be so easy to make a mistake and give herself away… herself and the Launays.
Marcel was waiting in the woods when she arrived the next evening. They sat down on the grass, their backs against a fallen tree trunk, for all the world like a courting couple looking for a little privacy.
“Settled in?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks,” Adelaide replied. “I’ve been gradually finding my way around, and as far as I know there haven’t been any queries as to why I’ve come. The Launays haven’t heard anything either. Have you?”
“Nothing, except that you’ve come from Normandy to help out on the farm.”
“Then I shall make my approach to the convent tomorrow,” Adelaide said. “I’m hoping to find out how they moved our airman out of the area. When I have any more news for you, I’ll signal again.”
“Don’t signal unless you’ve something important to tell me,” Marcel said. “We should meet as little as possible. Every time we do we’re at risk.”
Adelaide made no comment on this, and changed the subject. “Please ask Bertrand to report my progress to London.”
“Will do,” Marcel promised.
“There is one other thing,” Adelaide said, as he was about to get to his feet. “Are you able to get me some inner tubes for my bike? We’ve done our best with the ones we’ve got, but they aren’t going to last much longer.”
Marcel nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” Adelaide said and made to get up, but as she was about to get to her feet, he suddenly pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her. Adelaide’s body went rigid and she tried to pull away. But Marcel was too strong for her and held her tightly against him, pressing her down on the grass with the full weight of his body. Keeping her pinned beneath him he moved his mouth to her ear and muttered. “Kiss me back! We’re being watched.” Immediately his mouth found hers again, and she felt his hands roving over her body. She no longer struggled to get free, but relaxed beneath him. She could feel her skirt rucked up above her knees, and her blouse pulled free from its waistband. She did not open her mouth to him, but she did put her arms round him so that if they were indeed being watched she would appear to be a willing participant.
After a moment or two Marcel raised his head, and she gave him a slight push so that he rolled away. As she looked past him she saw a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, staring across at them. Adelaide gave a little scream, pulling her skirt down round her legs again and straightening her blouse. Marcel spun round, as if surprised by her scream, to see a man standing at the edge of the clearing, grinning as he watched Adelaide’s obvious discomfort.
“Had a good look, have you?” sneered Marcel, getting to his feet and reaching down a hand to help Adelaide to hers. “That how you get your kicks, then?”
The man walked towards them. “I heard voices,” he said. “In the woods, late at night…”
“Hardly late!” snapped Marcel, but the man went on as if he had not spoken.
“Could have been someone suspicious, up to no good.” His eyes gleamed malevolently. “You never know what people are up to these days.” His lip curled. “But I might have guessed it’d be some couple rutting like rabbits.”
Adelaide felt Marcel tense beside her. The man was setting out to provoke him and she was afraid Marcel would indeed snap and do something they would both regret. She burst into tears, sobbing onto Marcel’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, chérie,” he soothed, putting his arms round her again and stroking her hair. “It’s all right, I’ll take you home now.” He turned his back on the man, who was still standing there, enjoying their discomfort.
“Yes, you do that,” the man mocked. “Don’t want to be out after curfew, do you?”
Marcel kept his arm round Adelaide’s waist. “Don’t worry. We’re going. Just wanted a bit of privacy, that’s all.” Keeping her firmly within the circle of his arm, he led her across the clearing and out onto the track that led back towards the village. Adelaide could feel the man’s eyes on her back as they walked, and she found she was truly grateful for Marcel’s supporting arm.
“I wonder what he was doing, skulking in the woods,” Marcel said thoughtfully when they were well clear.
“Do you know him?” she asked.
“Yes, a piece of scum called Alain Fernand. Petty criminal turned snout. Happy to do the Germans’ dirty work for a few privileges. Thinks he’s on the winning side.”
“Does he know you?” Adelaide asked anxiously.
“Not yet,” Marcel said, “but he will… one day. When this war is over I will skin him alive and then stick his head on a pike in the village square… and even that will be too good for him.”
Adelaide heard the barely controlled hatred in Marcel’s voice and shuddered. She had no doubt that if he were alive at the end of the war Marcel would do exactly what he promised.
“In the meantime,” Marcel said, “keep your eyes open for him and those like him. They’ll sell you to their German masters whether they know anything about you or not. Evidence can be manufactured, and men like him are past masters at it.”
They reached the gate of the Launays’ farm and Marcel turned her to face him.
“You did well back there,” he said. “Kept your head.”
“I was afraid you were going to lose yours,” she retorted.
Marcel smiled ruefully. “Yes, well, if I had we’d have had one less collabo to worry about… but probably a lot of trouble too.”
He reached for her again, and taking her face in his hands spoke with a grin. “Just in case he’s followed us and is still watching!” He kissed Adelaide again, and as he recognised a response in her, took his time over it.
When they finally broke free Adelaide cautioned, a little breathlessly. “We should change our rendezvous.”
Marcel shook his head. “No, now he thinks he knows why we go there, we have the perfect reason to go again.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Be very careful. Adèle,” he said. “Fernand will know you again.”
Next morning, Adelaide pedalled up the hill to the Convent of Our Lady of Mercy, and, leaning her bike against the wall, tugged on the old bell pull. Almost immediately the grille in the door opened and a nun peered out at her.
“Good morning,” she said through the grille, “may I help you?”
Adelaide drew a deep breath. This was it. “I’d like to see Reverend Mother, please,” she said.
“What would that be about?” asked the nun, not opening the door.
“I’m looking for work,” Adelaide began, but the nun cut her off.
“I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but I’m afraid there are no jobs here.” The grille began to close, and Adelaide put her hand up to stop it.
“Wait,” she cried. “I just want to see Reverend Mother.”
“Mother is busy,” replied the nun. “She hasn’t time to see any passing vagrant looking for work. I’ve told you there isn’t any.”
“I am not a passing vagrant,” Adelaide said hotly. “I am the niece of Monsieur and Madame Launay. They know the reverend mother and have sent me to see her.”
The grille opened properly again. “What did you say your name was?”
Adelaide hadn’t given her name, but she did so now. “Adèle Durant,” she said. “Monsieur Launay’s niece.”
There was a rattling of bolts, the heavy door was eased open and the portress peered round it. It was the same Sister Celestine who had greeted Adelaide when she had arrived before. The little nun surveyed the visitor, taking in her working clothes, her scrubbed face and hands, but there was no flicker of recognition in her eyes. “You’d better come in.”
Adelaide stepped inside the door and was left to wait in the hall while Sister Celestine scurried off to find out if Reverend Mother would see this person.
She was back within a few moments. “Mother says she will see you,” she said in a voice indicating that she was surprised by this decision. “Please come this way.”
Adelaide followed her along the passage to Mother Marie-Pierre’s office and waited outside while she was announced.
“Mademoiselle Durant, Mother.”
Adelaide stepped inside the room to be faced by not only her aunt, but another sister, who was standing beside the desk.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” began Adelaide. “You have someone with you. I can wait until you are not busy.”
“It is not a problem, Mademoiselle,” replied the reverend mother. “Sister Marie-Paul and I have finished our discussion.” She turned to the nun at her side. “Thank you, Sister, I’ll leave that to you then.” Sister Marie-Paul inclined her head and, with an uninterested glance at Adelaide as she passed, left the room.
As the door closed behind her Mother Marie-Pierre looked at Adelaide. “Now, Mademoiselle, how can I help you? I understand from Sister Celestine that the Launays sent you.”
It was clear to Adelaide that neither her aunt, nor Sister Marie-Paul, whom she had encountered on several occasions during her last visit, had recognised her, and that was good. Very good. But how long would it be before her aunt did recognise her, she wondered? It would be a good test. She continued to speak as Adèle Durant.
“Yes, Mother,” she answered. “I am their niece. I have come to help them on their farm. It is too much for them these days, but I also need to earn some money to help with my keep.”
Mother Marie-Pierre raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought,” she said, “that your work on the farm would have covered your keep.”
“It does, Mother,” the girl agreed, “but I need some cash, you know, for a few personal things. My uncle and aunt feed me, of course, but there are always things one needs, even in this war.” She smiled, and it was her smile, her father Freddie’s smile, that revealed her to her astonished aunt.
“Adelaide?” she whispered.
Adelaide nodded and laid a finger to her lips. For a moment Mother Marie-Pierre stared at her and then she was round the desk and gathering her into a hug.
“My dear girl,” she said, holding her away from her, much as Gerard Launay had done on the station, to get a better look at her. “My dear girl, is it really you? What on earth are you doing here? What’s this nonsense about being the Launays’ niece?”
Adelaide went to the door and checked to see that it was properly closed before she gave her reply. “I’m here because of you,” she said.
“Because of me?” Her aunt looked startled. “Here, come and sit down, so we can talk properly.” As before they sat on the chairs that flanked the tiny fireplace, but this time there was no fire to warm the room. “Now, Adelaide, tell me everything. What is this about being the Launays’ niece?”
“Sarah—” Adelaide began and paused. Now that she was here she wasn’t quite sure where to begin, how much to say.
“Yes?” Mother Marie-Pierre said encouragingly.
If I can’t trust Sarah with at least part of the story, there’s no point in being here, Adelaide thought. “I’ve been sent from England to work undercover,” she said, “and my cover story is that I am the Launays’ niece. I live with them on the farm and help out. I do much of the heavy stuff that they’re finding more difficult.” She gave a laugh. “I’ve even learned to help with the milking. Anyway, I’ve been sent here because of what you’ve been doing.”
“What I’ve been doing?” Mother Marie-Pierre looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“Flight Sergeant Terry Ham made it home,” Adelaide said, “and he told us how you’d helped him.”
Mother Marie-Pierre’s face broke into a smile. “Terry? Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m delighted he made it,” she said. “I heard nothing after I’d left him with Father Bernard.”
“We’ve also heard that you have been helping Jewish refugees,” Adelaide went on quietly.
Mother Marie-Pierre looked at her sharply. “Where did you hear that?”
“We’re in touch with the local resistance,” replied Adelaide. “There was something about it in one of their reports.”
“I see,” sighed her aunt. “Well, I suppose it was bound to get about. The whole village knows what happened to Sister Eloise.”
“Sister Eloise? What did happen to her?”
Reverend Mother told the story of the escaped Jew, Simone, the raid by the Germans and Sister Eloise’s arrest. Adelaide listened in silence.
“She’s been sent to Germany, to a camp somewhere, where according to Colonel Hoch they send the enemies of the Reich.” Sarah looked across at her niece. “I feel so guilty, because it was I who asked Sister Eloise to look after the woman. It’s my fault she’s in some dreadful camp.”
“But surely, Sister Eloise and the other sisters would have nursed the woman whoever she was. Isn’t that what your community does? Nurse the sick?”
“She wasn’t in the hospital. We knew she was a Jew, so we were nursing her in secret.” Mother Marie-Pierre sighed. “The convent is split down the middle,” she explained. “Some of the sisters think it was right to shelter the poor woman, others think that we ought not to involve ourselves with the politics of the war; that we should continue to nurse the sick in our hospital and maintain our life of prayer, not shelter ‘enemies of the Reich’.”
“I see.” Adelaide looked thoughtful. “What did they think about Terry Ham?” she asked. “Wasn’t he an enemy of the Reich?”
Her aunt gave a rueful laugh. “They didn’t know. Only two of us were involved with that.” She reached out and took Adelaide’s hand in hers. “I still don’t understand why you are here, Adelaide.”
“Adèle, Sarah. My name is Adèle, even to you.”
Sarah smiled ruefully. “Adèle, then. So, why are you here?”
“I’ve come to set up a proper escape route for people like Terry Ham,” Adelaide replied. “So many of our planes are being shot down over enemy territory, the crews bail out and then find themselves stuck behind enemy lines. We are trying to find a way to help as many as possible get back to England. I’m to find safe houses in this area, where they can be hidden until they can be moved on along the line.”
She smiled at her aunt who suddenly realised what she was going to be asked.
“You can’t use the convent,” Mother Marie-Pierre said quietly. “Too many people could suffer if things went wrong. After what happened to Sister Eloise, I can’t put any more of the sisters’ lives at risk.”
“I see that is a danger,” said Adelaide, “but if we can implement the plan I have worked out, none of the other sisters need know anything about it.”
“No, Adelaide, I’m sorry. I don’t even want to hear it.” Mother Marie-Pierre was firm. She told her niece about the threats Colonel Hoch had made. “He will carry them out, you know. He is an evil man. He enjoys what he does.” She reached out and took Adelaide’s hand. “If it were myself alone, there would be no problem, but I am responsible for the safety of everyone in this community.”
“I understand, Sarah. It is a heavy responsibility. I’ll try looking elsewhere. It’s just that it seemed to London that a convent would be the last place the Germans would suspect of resistance work.”
“Well, they’re wrong. Since they found Simone here, they treat us with great suspicion, me in particular. Colonel Hoch organises spot checks. Searches the place without warning. We were lucky he didn’t do so when Terry Ham was here. There have been three raids since then. I am sorry, my dear, but I really don’t think I can help you.”
“Terry mentioned the convent cellars.” Adelaide wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. “He said there was an outside entrance to them, a metal grille or grating somewhere.”
“Yes, we saw the grille from the inside and Sister Marie-Marc has since found it from the outside.”
“Sister Marie-Marc?”
“She was the sister who found Terry Ham hiding in the shed. When he’d gone she went looking for the grating.”
“Why did she do that?” asked Adelaide. “Where was it?”
“I think she had much the same idea as you,” replied Mother Marie-Pierre. “I think she thought we might hide people from the Germans in our cellars, but I’m afraid it is out of the question… and so I’ve told her.” She looked across at Adelaide, her face serious. “Every time the Germans have come the cellars have been thoroughly searched. Anyone hiding in them would be found.”
“Suppose we managed to wall off that section of the cellar?” suggested Adelaide. “The room with the grating.”
“Wall it off?” Mother Marie-Pierre gave a brief laugh. “Adelaide, how on earth would we do that without anyone knowing? The whole convent would know, and the Germans soon after. It would be discovered at once.”
Realising that for the present she would have to concede defeat here, Adelaide changed tack.
“Tell me about this Father Bernard,” she said. “Where does he fit into the picture?”
“He’s the priest at the Church of the Holy Cross in Amiens,” replied Sarah. “I found him quite by accident when I was taking the children to our mother house in Paris.” She explained how Father Bernard had helped with the children. “He was the only one I could think of to turn to when we were trying to get Terry Ham away.” Sarah paused. “There is one other person who might be prepared to help you with what you are trying to do. Madame Juliette, who runs the café in the square. At least she did… in the last war. Her daughter has it now, I believe. Anyway, when I rescued Margot, one of the Jewish children, she hid us both for a while. I don’t know if she is involved with your resistance group, but I do know she is a good-hearted woman who was prepared to risk her life to save a little girl. You might find her ready to—”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. They looked at each other in alarm for a moment before Mother Marie-Pierre crossed the room and sat behind her desk. Adelaide stood in front of her, and then the reverend mother rang her bell. The door opened and Sister Marie-Paul came into the room. Entirely ignoring Adelaide, she spoke to her superior.
“Colonel Hoch’s car is at the door, Mother. I thought I should let you know.”
Mother Marie-Pierre rose to her feet. “Thank you, Sister, I’ll come at once.” She turned to Adelaide and addressed her in a tired voice. “It’s time you went, Mademoiselle. As I said, I’m afraid there are no jobs in the convent at present. Should the position change I will contact you at your aunt’s.”
Adelaide lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Mother,” she muttered. She followed the two nuns out of the office and back into the hall. Colonel Hoch was already standing in the hallway, admitted by a clearly terrified Sister Celestine.
“Ah, Reverend Mother,” he began, and then caught sight of Adelaide. “Who is this?”
Reverend Mother shrugged. “A girl from the village looking for work.”
“You, girl.” Hoch looked Adelaide up and down as if she were a horse he might buy. “What’s your name?”
“Adèle Durant, sir.”
“What are you doing here? Papers!” He held out his hand and Adelaide took her papers from her coat pocket and passed them to him. He glanced at them. “Why are you here?”
“I came to ask Reverend Mother for work,” Adelaide answered. She kept her eyes lowered, not challenging him in anyway. She knew that this might be the end of her mission before it had really started.
“I might find you work in the Kommandatur,” he said, his eyes resting appreciatively on her neat figure, incompletely hidden by the old grey raincoat.
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” interjected Mother Marie-Pierre, before Adelaide had time to speak, “but I have just given Mademoiselle Durant a job in our kitchens.” Quelling Sister Marie-Paul, who had overheard her refuse the girl any work, with a frown, she went on. “There is too much for Sister Elisabeth to do on her own and Sister Marie-Marc is getting too old to be of much help.” She smiled at Adelaide. “Another pair of hands for a few hours each day will be most welcome. Please present yourself to Sister Elisabeth on Monday morning at 7.30, Adèle, and she will tell you what you are to do. Off you go now.”
It was a definite dismissal and Adelaide gave a little bob and spoke demurely. “Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother.”