19

The Germans raided the convent while the nuns were at early Mass. The thundering on the front door could be heard all over the building, and Father Michel’s reedy voice faded away as the pounding continued. Sister Celestine, the portress, stumbled to her feet, her face ashen with fear, but Mother Marie-Pierre also stood. She murmured to Sister Celestine that she would deal with whoever was at the door, and quietly left the chapel. She was in no doubt as to who was demanding entrance; only the Germans knocked that way, the Germans under Colonel Hoch.

When she reached the door, she flung it wide, so that the soldier hammering with the huge knocker almost fell in. Colonel Hoch was standing on the steps, at the head of a group of men, but Mother Marie-Pierre could see soldiers already trampling the bushes along the drive, and she had no doubt that there would be other men in the courtyard, searching there.

She drew a deep breath. “Good morning, Colonel Hoch. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Reverend Mother,” he looked her up and down, “how unusual that you should open the door yourself.”

“My sisters and I were at Mass,” Mother Marie-Pierre said coolly. “I came, so that they shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“You will all be disturbed,” remarked the colonel, “if I choose to disturb you.” He waved a hand at the men waiting beside him. “Carry on, Sergeant,” he said. “And make it a thorough search.”

The men flooded into the hallway and dispersed throughout the convent building. Mother Marie-Pierre saw several head up the staircase while others made for the kitchens.

“Perhaps you could tell me what you are looking for,” she suggested to Hoch who had followed his men into the hall and now stood, his cold eyes roving in every direction.

His gaze returned to her, but he did not answer her question. “Go and tell your nuns to stay in the chapel until I say they may come out.”

Mother Marie-Pierre nodded and turned to go back to the chapel. As she did so, one of the soldiers came back from the kitchen, pushing Adelaide in front of him.

“Found her in the cellar, sir. Says she’s the maid.”

Mother Marie-Pierre didn’t understand what had been said, but she did recognise the word “keller” and guessed where Adelaide had been found.

Colonel Hoch looked at Adelaide for a moment and then spoke in French. “Name?”

“Please, sir, Adèle Durant, sir.”

“I’ve seen you here before,” Hoch said. “What were you doing in the cellar?”

Adelaide had no need to pretend she was afraid; her voice shook as she answered. “Bringing up the coal for the range, sir. It’s my first job in the mornings.”

Her hands were black with coal dust and the colonel seemed to accept this answer. He directed his next question to the man who had brought her. “Have you searched the cellar, Schultz?”

“Not yet, sir. I was about to when I found the girl. Thought she might be one of the ones we were looking for, sir.”

“Well, go back and search. You, girl, wait in the kitchen.”

Schultz took Adelaide by the arm and pushed her in front of him down the passage to the kitchen. Two men were already searching here, but Schultz ignored them. “You, girl, bring a light.”

“I don’t understand,” Adelaide wailed, wringing her hands in agitation.

Schultz repeated his order, this time in heavily accented and ungrammatical French. “Find light. Come with me.”

Ignoring the searching men, he moved straight towards the cellar door. It was clear to Adelaide that this man knew his way about, that he must have searched the place before.

Would he remember exactly how the cellar had looked last time, she wondered? Would he notice that all the furniture had been moved, that it was now stacked in a different place?

He flung open the cellar door and then turned round. “You,” he shouted at Adelaide again, “bring lamp.”

“It’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Adelaide told him, pointing down the steps. “An oil lamp.”

Again he gestured with the rifle. “Go, make light.”

Adelaide did as she was told, gripping the handrail of the cellar steps tightly as she made her way down. Her heart was pounding as she struck a match to light the lamp, but her mind was racing. You’ve got to stay cool, she told herself. You’ve got to decide what to do if he finds the hidden room.

Nothing, she decided ruefully. There was nothing she could do if he actually found the room, but she might be able to distract him in some way, before he did so.

Schultz followed her down, and, pausing at the bottom of the steps, looked about him. His eye fell on the jars of preserves standing on the shelf. Without comment he reached up and took two jars of honey, stuffing them into his pockets. He ran an eye round the cellar for anything else that he might be able to purloin, but seeing nothing easily portable, he turned his attention to the rest of the cellar.

“Bring light,” he ordered. Obedient to a jerk of his head, Adelaide preceded him through the remaining cellars. He peered into each until he came at last to the pile of furniture. Adelaide found she was holding her breath and forced herself to breathe again as he gave it only a cursory glance.

“What a load of junk,” he said, reaching out for an old three-legged stool. There was a scuffling sound and he leapt back, jerking his hand away, as a large brown rat emerged from the heap and scuttled away across the floor. Adelaide gave a loud shriek, clutching her skirt about her.

His attention diverted from the furniture, the man gave a harsh laugh. “Stupid woman!” He pushed her ahead of him to light his way back to the stairs. As he passed the apple store he helped himself to a couple of apples, pushing them down into his pockets, his eyes daring Adelaide to comment on the theft. She lowered her own, as if afraid to meet his challenge, exulting inside that his greed should have blinded him to anything in the cellar that he could not steal.

When they returned to the kitchen, it was clear that his men had found nothing. The sergeant threw open the back door and they stalked out into the courtyard to join in the search there.

Adelaide slumped onto a chair, relief flooding through her that the safe room had so far escaped detection. If the Germans left empty-handed they would concentrate their search somewhere else, and perhaps the Auclons would be safe enough for a few days. But it worried her that the Germans were already looking for the little family. Alain Fernand must have told them about the Auclons before he came searching at the Launays’. That meant, before long, they would realise he was missing. Had he mentioned the Launays as well? Would they come searching there? Adelaide shuddered to think what would happen to them if his body was discovered in the well.

When the Germans had finally departed empty-handed, Mother Marie-Pierre went back to the chapel where the entire community was waiting. Father Michel sat in the carved oak chair to one side of the altar, his head in his hands. Soldiers had burst into the chapel, searching the Lady Chapel, disappearing behind the high altar, jabbing at the velvet hangings with rifle butts and banging about in the vestry, peering into the confessional box before slamming out again. Thoroughly shaken by this invasion, Father Michel had hastily muttered the final prayers of the Mass, and, having divested himself of his vestments, simply sat down to wait. The nuns were all in their stalls, some on their knees, others seated reading their office. No one spoke. All looked up, some expectantly, others fearfully, when the door opened again and Reverend Mother came in.

“Thank you, Sisters, for your patience,” she said briskly. “The Germans have now gone, so I suggest we all get back to our normal duties as quickly as we can.” The sisters began to file out of the chapel, each genuflecting as she passed in front of the altar.

Father Michel hurried down the aisle, his face pale. He did not return Reverend Mother’s greeting, but simply nodded to her and hastened away, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the place.

Mother Marie-Pierre waited by the door and as Sister Marie-Marc came past her, she spoke quietly. “Sister, would you be kind enough to ask young Adèle Durant to come to my office, please.”

Sister Marie-Marc bobbed her head, murmuring, “Yes, Mother, of course.”

Reverend Mother waited until all but the sister on watch had left the chapel, and then she slipped into a seat near the back. She needed a few moments of silent peace to draw her thoughts together. She prayed for strength, and she prayed for wisdom, that she might know what to do. The German raid had left her both angry and afraid.

Colonel Hoch had been as cold as always, his chilly eyes completely lacking emotion, but she knew he had expected to find something… or someone.

The search had been thorough. Every room entered and searched, furniture moved, cupboards emptied. The chapel, the kitchens, the cellar, the sisters’ cells, even her own office, each had a detail of soldiers to carry out the search. Hoch had stood in the hallway, waiting for each group to report back to him, and Reverend Mother had returned from the chapel defiantly standing with him, determined to remain unintimidated, but she almost sagged with relief when the final report came in. Nothing to be found.

“Now the hospital,” he barked, and led his men out through the courtyard gate to the hospital beyond the wall. They swept into the wards, leaving Sister Marie-Paul, Sister Jeanne-Marie and Mother Marie-Pierre to watch helplessly, as the colonel and his men searched every cubicle, every cupboard, every storeroom.

“What are they looking for?” murmured Sister Marie-Paul, as one of them upended a basket of dirty linen.

“Some escaped prisoners, I think,” replied Reverend Mother softly. “He seems to think they are in the convent.”

Every name above a bed was checked against the ward list, medical reports scrutinised and papers inspected. At last, satisfied that all the patients were genuine and accounted for, Hoch had got back into his car and his men had disappeared to search elsewhere.

As usual, the incense-scented silence of the chapel worked its cure. Reverend Mother had always laid her problems at the feet of her Lord, and the moments of peace spent with Him now calmed and strengthened her, and when she left the sanctuary of the chapel she returned to her office with renewed resolve.

Within moments someone tapped on the door, and she knew it must be Adèle. Mother Marie-Pierre seated herself behind her desk and rang the bell to summon her into the office.

“Ah, Adèle,” she said coolly as the girl came in. “Come in and shut the door.”

Adelaide closed the door firmly and then turned back to face her aunt.

Mother Marie-Pierre came straight to the point. “You know the Germans were here, searching the convent this morning, Adèle. Was that anything to do with you?” Her eyes were steely as she looked at Adelaide. “Have you hidden your escaping prisoners in the convent in spite of what I said?”

Adelaide, taking in Reverend Mother’s serious tone, addressed her formally. “No, Mother. Not exactly.”

“What do you mean? Not exactly? Have you put the convent at risk?”

Adelaide returned her gaze levelly. “I have, yes, but…”

“How dare you!” The anger in Mother Marie-Pierre’s voice was barely controlled. “After I expressly told you that it was out of the question?” She stared at her niece for a moment and then spoke more calmly. “You may be prepared to put the whole convent at risk, Adèle, but I am not. Where are these prisoners? Where have you hidden them? They should be handed over as prisoners of war. They’ll be locked up, yes, but no harm will come to them.”

“Sarah…”

“Mother,” corrected her aunt, icily. “You will no longer presume on our relationship.”

Adelaide inclined her head, accepting the rebuke, but she spoke firmly. “Mother… look, it’s not what you think. I have hidden people in the convent, yes, but not escaped prisoners of war.”

“Then who?”

“The Auclon family.”

“What?” Mother Marie-Pierre stared at her in disbelief.

“The Auclon family. They’re Jews and…”

“I know who they are,” interrupted Reverend Mother, still disbelieving. “They’re here? In the convent?”

“Well, they’ve been in hiding, hidden by some good people for months, but now that hiding place has become unsafe. They were brought to our farm last night and we were asked to hide them. We had nowhere they could be hidden, so I brought them here. Father, mother and the twin boys.”

“But where did you put them?” asked her aunt faintly. “Where are they now?”

“I hid them in the cellar.”

“But the Germans searched the cellar… “

“And they didn’t find them. I put them into the room where you hid Terry Ham. The one with grating to the outside.”

“But why didn’t the Germans find them?”

“I pulled all the old furniture over in front of the door. You can’t see it unless you move all the furniture away. The sergeant who searched the cellars insisted on searching alone because he wanted to raid your stores. His search was only cursory; he was more interested in stealing food from your store cupboard than looking for Jews he didn’t expect to find.”

“But when?”

“Last night. Gerard and I brought them up. We moved the outside grating and got them in that way.”

“No, not that. When did you move all this furniture?”

“I did it several days ago,” admitted Adelaide with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I had to have a safe place for people to hide in case of emergency. Last night I decided this was an emergency. I was remembering what you told me Sister Eloise had said to you, ‘You have to fight evil wherever you meet it.’ “

“Don’t use poor Sister Eloise to justify what you did,” snapped Reverend Mother.

“Why not?” Adelaide would not give ground. “It’s what she said and it’s what I did.” The two women stared at each other for a moment before Adelaide spoke more gently. “It’s what you’d have done, Mother. What was I to do with those children? They’re only four years old. They’ve been living in a derelict cottage for the last six months and now they’re underground, in a cellar. We couldn’t just let the Germans ship them off to some camp. Don’t worry, Mother, I promise you it’s just a short-term measure. I’m going to get them away.”

“How?” asked Reverend Mother. “There are four of them to move. They will be extremely noticeable, especially Monsieur Auclon. He has typical Jewish features, and he’s well known around here. He’ll be spotted a mile off.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Adelaide said. “I have the beginnings of a plan, but the less you know of it the better. I have to work out the details and it will take a few days to put into action, but I think we should be able to get them safely out of the area.” She looked earnestly at her aunt. “I need to get this family to your friend Father Bernard. No one will be looking for them in Amiens. It’s here they are known, it’s here they were betrayed.”

“Betrayed?” Reverend Mother was shocked. “Who by?”

“A local man. He’s a known collaborator. We guessed he’d discovered their hiding place and he must have tipped off the Germans.”

“He must have seen you bringing the family here, and that’s why they came to search.”

“No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Adelaide said firmly, knowing for certain that he hadn’t. For an instant she saw Fernand’s body on the kitchen floor, her knife protruding from his back, and her stomach turned somersaults but, forcing the image from her mind, she dragged her thoughts back to the present. “We were very careful. We did see two German soldiers come and raid poor Sister Marie-Marc’s henhouse, but they didn’t see us. They were too interested in taking the hens.”

“And what about the people who gave them shelter?” asked Mother Marie-Pierre quietly. “What’s happened to them?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Adelaide. “The Germans may have been there already. We’ll try and find out later, but if they haven’t, we don’t want any attention drawn to them.”

“It makes no sense,” replied her aunt. “The Germans would have gone straight there. Why did they come here?”

“When they found the family weren’t where he’d told them, I imagine they’ll be searching everywhere,” Adelaide said, and heard again the splash as Fernand reached the bottom of the well. She could only pray that when there was the inevitable search of the Launays’ farm, he would not be found. “You sheltered Jews in the convent before, it was the obvious place to start.”

Mother Marie-Pierre nodded, accepting this. “So, how will we get them away?”

Adelaide noticed the use of the word “we”, and smiled. “I will arrange everything,” she promised. “Do you think your mother house in Paris would give the children a home if necessary?”

“I think so, but not the parents.”

“Never mind about them for the time being. Let’s start with the children. I may need your help when the time comes.”

“What sort of help?”

“I’ll explain nearer the time. The less you know, the safer you are, really. All I need from you now is where to find Father Bernard.”

“He’s the parish priest at Holy Cross in Amiens. His house is opposite the church.” She described how to find Father Bernard’s church, and Adelaide memorised the directions carefully. “You can tell him you come from me.”

Adelaide smiled. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure that will reassure him.”

“What about the Auclons in the meantime?” asked Reverend Mother. “Have they got food and water? How will you let them know what is going to happen?”

“Leave it all to me; they’ll be fine.” Adelaide tried to sound reassuring. “But I will have to be away for a couple of days. I’ll send a message to say my Aunt Marie is sick and I can’t come to work.” She got to her feet. “I’d better go back to the kitchen now though,” she said.

Reverend Mother stood as well. “Just one thing, Adèle, I am assuming that you, I and the Launays are the only people who know about this hidden room. Yes?”

Adelaide smiled ruefully. “And Sister Marie-Marc,” she admitted. “She followed me into the cellar and found out what I was doing.”

“Sister Marie-Marc,” repeated her aunt. “I might have guessed. She is incorrigible. Does she know the family are in the room?”

“No,” replied Adelaide. “We may need her help when the time comes, but in the meantime it would be better if she knew nothing of what’s happening.”

Reverend Mother could only agree. Coming round the desk she held out her hands to Adelaide and her eyes softened. “I know you felt you had to do this, Adelaide,” she said, “but you have put the convent and its community in grave danger. Please get them away from here as soon as you can.”

When she had finished her work at the convent, Adelaide went straight to Le Chat Noir, wearing the blue headscarf, the sign that she needed immediate help. She had no idea who would respond to the signal, all Marcel had said was that if there was an emergency she should sit in the café, wearing the blue scarf.

“Someone will come and speak to you. They will say, ‘You should wear that colour more often, it suits you,’ and you may trust that person implicitly.”

The café was almost empty when she arrived, and she took a table outside so that she could easily be seen. The waitress came out and she ordered a cup of coffee, then she sat in the afternoon sun, reading a newspaper and sipping the bitter brew. How long would she have to wait, she wondered? After a quarter of an hour, anxious not to make herself conspicuous, she got up to leave. She would come back later and hope the contact would be made. There was little else she could do. She had no idea who Marcel really was, or where he lived. She had never seen him in the village, and so assumed he must live elsewhere. She went inside to pay for her coffee. Two old men were playing dominoes at one of the tables, and two German officers were sharing a bottle of wine at a table by the window, but none of them even glanced at her as she went up to the bar to pay. There was no sign of the girl who had brought the coffee, but an elderly woman sat at the till. She looked up and smiled. “You’re Marie Launay’s niece, aren’t you?” she said as she took the money. Adelaide said she was and the woman went on. “You should wear that colour more often, it suits you.”

Relief flooded through Adelaide. “Thank you, it’s one of my favourites.”

“I’ve got some wool for your aunt,” the woman went on conversationally. “I know she’s a great knitter and I can’t knit anymore.” She displayed fingers twisted with arthritis. “Come through to the back and I’ll find it for you.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Adelaide followed the old lady through a door behind the counter and found herself in a small parlour. The old lady closed the door behind them and turned to face her.

“You’ve got a problem,” she stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Yes, I have to speak to Marcel as soon as possible.”

“The red scarf would have done for that,” snapped the woman. “Blue is for emergency only.”

“This is an emergency,” Adelaide retorted. “I have to see Marcel at once.” She paused, wondering how much to reveal to this old lady, but remembering Marcel saying that she could trust the contact implicitly, she went on. “I have the Auclon family in a safe house, but they can’t stay there. We have to move them on and soon. I must see Marcel. If he can’t come to me, I must go to him.”

“He’ll come.” The woman relaxed a little. “They’re safe, you say? The Auclons?”

“For the moment,” Adelaide replied. “But there are other complications. It’s vital I speak to Marcel today.”

“I understand. I will get a message to him straight away. Will you meet him at the usual place?”

“No, too dangerous. The Germans are everywhere, looking for the Auclons. They’ve already searched the convent. Better to meet somewhere out of sight.”

“Come back this evening,” said the woman. “Come to the side door in the alley at eight. Marcel will be here.” She picked some balls of wool out of a basket by the stove and handed them to Adelaide. “Go back through the café now,” she said, and opening the door led the way.

“It really is most kind of you,” Adelaide was saying as she emerged into the café. “Aunt Marie will be delighted to get her hands on some more wool. Thank you so much.”

Adelaide headed straight home, anxious to pass on the good news that the Auclons had not been found when the convent was searched, but the moment she rode into the farmyard she knew there was something wrong. Gerard should have been bringing the cows in for milking, but the yard was empty. Her eyes immediately flicked to the stone that covered the well, but it was still in place, and there were no signs that it had been moved. She parked her bike against the wall and went into the kitchen.

Marie and Gerard were at the table, talking, both looking pale and anxious. The cut on Marie’s face had been stitched, the sutures a dark cobbled seam against the pallor of her skin. The window behind them was boarded up, leaving the kitchen in a gloomy half-light, despite the sunshine outside.

Marie jumped to her feet. “Adèle, thank God you’re back safe.”

“What’s happened?” Adelaide asked as she joined them. “Trouble?”

“We don’t know,” replied Marie. “Gerard went over to see Étienne and Albertine this afternoon, to let them know the Auclons were safe for now and… well, you tell her, Gerard.”

Gerard took up the story. “When I reached the farm, there was no one about. I looked round the yard, but no sign of anyone. Then I noticed the back door was open so I went in, calling to them, you know. No one there either, the place was empty; but there was a meal on the table, bread and cheese and a bottle of wine. One chair was tipped over, the other pushed back as if someone had just got up. I called again and then I searched the whole house, but there was no one there. Then, when I went back out to search the yard properly, I noticed heavy tyre tracks in the mud.” He sighed. “Only the Boche have trucks heavy enough to make those, so I think we have to accept that Étienne and Albertine have been arrested.” His voice was tight with hatred. “That scum Fernand must have told the Germans before he came here.”

“He may have,” Adelaide agreed, “but that doesn’t really make sense. If he’d already told the Germans where to find the Auclons, why did he turn up here?”

“Because he’d lost them again.” Gerard got to his feet and began to pace the room. “Don’t you see? He finds out where the Auclons are hiding, and goes back to tell his masters. In the meantime, Étienne’s got suspicious of him hanging about the place, so he moves the family here. Fernand goes back to watch the arrest, only to find that the birds have flown. When his friends the Germans arrive they aren’t going to be pleased with him, are they? So he sets out to find them again, and, knowing Étienne’s Marie’s cousin, he comes here.”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Adelaide said doubtfully.

“It’s the only thing that fits what we know,” Gerard said warming to his idea.

“But why didn’t the Germans act at once?”

“Dawn raids,” Marie said. “They tend to raid at dawn to catch people before they’re properly awake.”

“That’s right,” Gerard agreed. “They would have crept up to the ruined cottage in the dark and surrounded it, but they wouldn’t go in until it was daylight… to make sure no one got away under cover of darkness.”

“And now they’ve got Étienne and Albertine,” said Marie bleakly.

“And they’ll be looking for Fernand,” pointed out Adelaide.

“I suppose so,” said Gerard.

“Of course they will,” Adelaide said. “They have to find him. If there’s no Fernand, and Albertine did manage to clear the cottage in time, they’ve no proof the Auclons were ever there.”

“Since when do the Germans need proof?” asked Gerard bitterly.

“Adèle’s right, Gerard,” said his wife. “They may have no evidence. They may have just taken them in for questioning.”

“And we all know how the Germans question people!” muttered Gerard.

“Which means they may come looking here,” said Marie.

“They’re already looking for the Auclons, or for somebody,” Adelaide told them. “They searched the convent this morning.”

“They didn’t find them?” whispered Marie.

“No. The secret room held. But we do have to get them out as soon as we can. I’m seeing someone this evening to make plans.” Adelaide got up. “We may need to go to the market in Albert tomorrow,” she said. “Can Sunshine take us in the cart? We could all have a day out.”

At exactly eight o’clock Adelaide knocked on the side door of the café, and it was opened immediately by the old lady.

“Come in,” she said, glancing quickly up and down the alley to see if anyone had noticed Adelaide’s arrival. It was not yet dark, but a damp drizzle had drifted in with the evening and there was no one about.

Marcel was sitting at the kitchen table and he got to his feet as Adelaide came in. “Antoinette, what on earth has happened?” His eyes glowed with suppressed anger. “It puts us all at risk for me to come here.”

“I know,” responded Adelaide as she sat down opposite him, “but we would be at even more risk if I hadn’t been able to speak to you straight away.” She glanced across at the old lady who had seated herself in a chair by the stove.

Marcel followed her glance. “You can talk in front of Juliette, she’s with us.” He picked up a bottle of wine from the table and filling a glass passed it over to her. “Here, have a drink, and then for God’s sake tell us what has happened.”

Adelaide took a sip of the wine and then putting down her glass began. “Well, firstly,” she said, “Alain Fernand is dead.”

“Dead! Christ, what happened to him?”

“I killed him,” Adelaide said. “He was threatening to kill Marie to get some information out of Gerard. He didn’t know I was there. I stabbed him.”

“Stabbed him?” echoed Marcel.

“In the back,” said Adelaide. “He had a knife to Marie’s face and was threatening to blind her.” Her eyes held Marcel’s. “He was trying to make Gerard tell him where a Jewish family were hidden.”

“The Auclons,” put in Juliette.

“Yes, the Auclons. They had been brought to us in the hope we could hide them. Gerard and I managed to get them to a safe place, but when we got back Fernand had Marie tied to a chair in the kitchen.” She explained what had happened when they’d come back and found Fernand in the kitchen.

Marcel listened until she had finished and then, with a look of new respect on his face, he addressed her quietly. “I wouldn’t have thought you had that in you.”

Adelaide gave a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought so either,” she admitted. “I was sick afterwards. But it wasn’t just him or me, was it? It was to save a family with small children, as well as the three of us.”

“You don’t have to justify your actions to me,” Marcel said cheerfully, “I applaud them. But it has left us with a problem. What have you done with his body?”

Adelaide explained how they had tipped it down the well. “It was the only place we could think of in a hurry.”

“Well, he’ll be safe enough there I should think,” Marcel said, tasting his wine and pulling a face. “It’s most unlikely they’ll find him, unless they have some idea where to look. Do you think anyone else knows he was coming to the Launays’ farm?”

Adelaide shrugged. “He may have told someone, but we doubt it, or they’d have been round already.” She then explained Gerard’s theory. “He could be right,” she added. “The trouble is Étienne and Albertine have disappeared, so we have to assume that they’ve been arrested. That means we could get a visit from the Gestapo as well.”

“Yes, probably,” Marcel agreed. He lit a cigarette, looking thoughtful.

“But there’s nothing to find,” Adelaide continued with more confidence than she felt. “In the meantime, I want to get that family moved out of the area. Apart from their own safety they’re endangering too many other people.”

Marcel shook his head. “Almost impossible with the activity there’ll be in the next few days. You’ll have to wait until the heat dies down.”

“To make the move, maybe, but I want to set the plans in motion, so I’m ready when the time comes.”

She outlined her plan for getting the Auclon family away from the area. Marcel listened carefully and when she’d finished he pinched out his cigarette, putting the remains into a small tin to save for another time. “Well, it is the basis of a plan, but it leaves an awful lot to chance.”

“I know, but provided this priest”—she was careful not to name him even to Marcel—”will take the children, I think they can be got to safety. The parents are another matter. We shall do our best, but they will find it more difficult to get through.”

“The Boche will be looking for a family,” pointed out Juliette, speaking for the first time. “Moving the children separately will cut down the risk for them, but double the risk for you.”

“I can’t move them together for two reasons,” Adelaide reminded her. “One, they are identical twins and that makes them too noticeable, and two, I have only room for one on my bicycle at a time.”

They continued chewing over the plan, discussing possibilities, trying to foresee the problems that might arise. But there were few preparations they could make until Adelaide had been to see Father Bernard.

“It’d be safer if I had some sort of papers for them,” Adelaide said. “Difficult to get identity cards, we can’t get photos, but perhaps if I had ration cards for them…? They’d still be J1s. Can you help there? I’d only need one if I’m moving them separately.”

Marcel shrugged. “I’ll try,” he promised. “Give me a day or two. Anything else? What about the parents?”

“Ration cards would help there too,” Adelaide said, “but we’d have the same problem with identity cards. Just do the best you can. And Marcel, I really need those inner tubes or the whole plan could fail because of a puncture!”

“I’ll get them,” he promised. He looked at his watch and got to his feet. “I’d better get moving,” he said. “Don’t want to be caught out after curfew. I’ll be in the café two nights from now. You come to the side door and if it’s safe Juliette will come and fetch me.” He shook hands with Juliette and then coming round the table embraced Adelaide, kissing her on both cheeks. “You’re a brave girl,” he said. “We’ll get them away.”

“And Fernand?”

“They’ll be looking for him,” Marcel said, “that’s certain, but they won’t find him, will they? Oh, they’ll guess what’s happened to him, but they won’t know where to look.”

“They might make reprisals,” Adelaide said in a small voice.

“If he was a missing German they might, but not for a Frenchman, even if he was a collaborator.”

Marcel had slipped out of the side door and disappeared into the darkness, and Adelaide waited another ten minutes before she followed him into the night.

Next morning Gerard put old Sunshine between the shafts of the cart and they were on the road for Albert before most of the village had opened its eyes. It was a glorious summer morning, the sun sparkling in the dew and teasing out the hidden colours of the hedgerows. Birdsong filled the air, and Adelaide was struck by the beauty around her as if seeing it for the first time. How could there be a war going on in such a stunningly beautiful world? The countryside spread away on either side of her; meadows with cattle grazing peacefully, a meandering river, way-marked with willows; fields showing the tender green of new crops.

She thought of the Auclon family, confined to the hidden cellar, as much in prison as if they had been in a dungeon. She wondered how they were coping with so little space and only the daylight filtering through the grating to see by. How long could they keep two four-year-old boys quiet? Children their age should be out playing in this glorious early summer sunshine, not entombed underground, fearful for their lives. Anger rose like bile in her throat at the evil that forced them to remain there, and the day lost its brilliance.

During the previous afternoon, she had returned to the convent kitchen to tell Sister Elizabeth that her aunt was ill and that she would not be able to come to work for the next few days. The nun had been sympathetic and had accepted her story. Sister Marie-Marc had looked at her speculatively, but Adelaide greeted the query in her eyes with a bland smile. “I hope to be back in a few days.”

As she left the courtyard through the back gate, she had paused by the grating, and with the pretence of removing a pebble from her shoe she had stuffed a note down between the bars of the grille. It had told the prisoners below little more than that she would return soon, and her plans were underway, but at least they knew they were not forgotten.

Her thoughts were jolted back to the present by the sound of an engine coming up behind them. Gerard pulled Sunshine into a gateway, to allow a black Citroën, flying the swastika on its front wings, to sweep past them, and disappear in a cloud of dust. It had been impossible to see who was travelling in the car, but Adelaide recognised it as one she’d seen outside the German headquarters in St Croix. “Colonel Hoch?” she suggested.

“Maybe,” Gerard said, as he shook up the reins and Sunshine lumbered out into the lane once more.

At least whoever was in the speeding car wasn’t interested in a country cart on its way to market, Adelaide thought. She could only hope that no one would be interested in a woman on a bicycle with a child in the seat behind her.

When they reached the edge of town Adelaide slipped down from the cart and made her way to the station, while the Launays trundled on into the centre, with the few items of produce they had brought to sell, or exchange, at the market.

Adelaide went to the station and found that there was a train for Amiens due within the hour, so she got herself a ticket, bought a newspaper from a stand and sat down to wait. Surprisingly the train was almost on time, and along with a crowd of others she scrambled gratefully into a carriage. As the train pulled out of the station some minutes later, she found herself crammed into a compartment with seven other people. Opening her paper she hid behind it, only emerging to show her ticket to the ticket inspector. There were no spot checks of identity cards, and when they reached Amiens Adelaide was able to get off and leave the station unchallenged. Following Sarah’s directions, she had little trouble in finding the Church of the Holy Cross.

The notice board outside proclaimed the parish priest to be Father Bernard Dupré. Mass was at eight o’clock every morning, and confession daily between two and four o’clock.

Adelaide had been going to knock on the door of the priest’s house and ask to see Father Bernard, but now a better idea came to her. She looked at her watch. It was half-past two. He would already be in the church ready to hear confessions. How much better it would be if she approached him in the confessional. She could speak to him privately without giving rise to comment or suspicion.

She pushed the church door open and slipped inside. She could see the confessional box in one of the transepts. There was an old lady kneeling in a pew outside, but the door of the box was open to show that the priest was ready to receive his next penitent. Adelaide knelt for a moment or two, her head bowed, then she rose and went inside, pulling the door closed behind her. It was so long since she had been to confession that she had almost forgotten the words.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

She heard the murmur of a voice from the other side of the curtain and spoke softly. “Father Bernard, is that you? Mother Marie-Pierre sent me.”

For a moment there was silence and then the curtain twitched aside and the priest looked through at her.

“I’m sorry, my child,” he said, “but I think you must be mistaken. I don’t think I know a Mother Marie-Pierre.”

“I understand, Father… but even so she sends you this message. Sergeant Terry Ham reached home in safety. That’s what she asked me to say.”

The priest looked at her from under hooded brows. “I am always glad to hear that people are safe,” he said cautiously.

Adelaide held his gaze, and then took the plunge. “There is a family who need your help, Father. May I bring them to you?”

“What could I do for them?” he asked.

“They need to get away to somewhere they aren’t known,” replied Adelaide. “You have contacts.” When the priest didn’t answer she went on. “There are two little boys, twins, only four years old. Jacques and Julien. If I don’t get them away soon, they will surely be found.”

“Where are their parents?” asked Father Bernard. He seemed to have come to some decision.

“With them at present, but they will be safer not moving as a family. They will travel separately.”

“How would you bring the children?”

“One at a time, on the train. They’re identical. They would be too conspicuous if we moved them together.”

“It doubles the risk for you,” pointed out the priest.

“Yes,” agreed Adelaide, “but it’s the only way.”

“And the parents?” Father Bernard asked again.

“They will travel in disguise. Mother Marie-Pierre will provide a nun’s habit for the mother, I was hoping you could give me a cassock to take back for the father. With luck, dressed like that they won’t be challenged.”

“And if you are stopped while bringing the boys to me, what will you say?”

“I’ll have a letter from a doctor saying that the child needs to see an eye specialist at the hospital here in Amiens. I hope that will be explanation enough.”

“We’ve talked long enough here,” said the priest. “When you leave the confessional, stay kneeling in the church for a while as if doing penance, then go over to the house and tell Madame Papritz that I said you were to wait for me there. I’ll come across as soon as I’ve finished here.”

It was some time later that Father Bernard was able to join Adelaide in the priest’s house. In the meantime she had been left in the parlour by Madame Papritz, who, on hearing she had had nothing to eat, brought her some bread and a teaspoonful of jam.

“I am sorry there is not more to offer you,” she apologised, “but you know how things are.”

Adelaide certainly did; food was scarce everywhere, but in the cities it was far worse than in the rural areas, where people could supplement their diet with home-grown produce. She thanked the housekeeper, and having eaten the bread and jam she settled back to wait for Father Bernard.

When the priest came in he took Adelaide into his study and closed the door.

“Now then, Mademoiselle.”

“Antoinette.”

“Antoinette. You’d better tell me the whole story, and then we’ll see what I can do to help.”