PARIS, JULY 1941
A WARNING
Pacing up and down, Gertrude felt certain that something had gone wrong. And yet she dared not go out to the cafe to try and find out. Please let Madeline and Juste be all right, please!
Three days had passed and she hadn’t heard anything from the Resistance group. No word. No sign of the factory having been interfered with, or of any change in Kristof that might have told her the mission had been successful. She would go mad if she didn’t find out soon what had happened. A sound alerted her to a key being turned. Standing still, she jumped as he called her name.
‘Kristof? I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘I know, my darling, but I had a sudden need of your company. I am very pleased about something, and I need to share it.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. We have foiled an attack by those bloody dissidents. Here, I have brought champagne.’
The muscles that had been dancing in her stomach these last few days clamped painfully at this news. She’d nearly called out ‘No!’ but stopped herself and instead told him, ‘You know I will not celebrate such an event, if it means you have hurt my countrymen. Even though I do not agree with their tactics, I understand their cause.’
‘Of course you do, my dear. I know that. But we haven’t killed or caught any of the bastard French. Our prize is much bigger. So you can join me in a toast.’
Bigger? He must mean Madeline! There is no other explanation – oh God!
‘What prize? Have you found arms, or captured someone of importance?’ She didn’t expect an answer to this and was surprised when she got one.
‘No. Two British agents.’ His eyes held hers. Scrutinized hers in fact.
Turning what she knew had been an instant look of horror into one of bewilderment, she took the glass he offered. ‘British agents! Are there such things here?’
For a moment he did not answer. His eyes still bore into hers, searching, watching. ‘You did not know?’
‘No. I don’t know anything about such things. I am very sheltered here. I don’t get to read the papers or listen to the news. You know that. You banned me from doing so.’
‘I did, and for your own good, but . . . Well, for a moment there I thought my news had affected you.’
‘Of course it did! For one thing, I was shocked that such things are happening; and for another, I – I . . . Well, look, I have to be honest. I had a moment of thinking that there might be people still trying to liberate us. I mean . . . well, I can’t explain.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you can. I thought you had come to the conclusion that you didn’t need liberating from us? I thought you had taken the sensible route of knowing that we Germans are working towards a superior world, and that France is part of that plan. Are you saying you no longer believe this?’
His voice held a coldness. It chilled her blood, but she didn’t care to deny her sister and the effort she had made for France and for world peace. She couldn’t be sure it was Madeline they had captured, but ‘two British agents’ fitted – as Madeline was expecting a male agent to join her. No . . . no! I can’t think of it! Once more she chose the path of truth. ‘If there was a hope of France going back to how it was, I would choose that path. But I am realistic and know that won’t happen.’ To temper this she told him, ‘I also think it can be even better, as I have said before, under German rule, but many things will have to change. The killings, the strict regime and the curfews.’
‘We go round in circles, and still I wonder about you. Still something gives me a niggling worry as to whether you are deceiving me.’
‘I don’t know how to allay those fears. I am what I am. A French citizen. I know you have values and beliefs about your country, and I respect them. Maybe you will one day come to respect mine?’
‘Maybe. And, yet, I do in a way. Come here. I didn’t visit you to pick a fight. Far from it. This capture we have made should supply us with valuable information that will help us in many ways. I am pleased. And, when I am, I want to share it with you.’
Uncomfortable and not feeling like loving him at this moment, Gertrude wriggled in his arms. ‘I am not feeling well . . .’
‘It is my news – it has upset you. Forget it. These British pigs are not worth it. Besides they’ll be dead by now, I shouldn’t wonder. Please, darling. Sip your champagne; it will make you feel better.’
Pushing him away, she ran to the bathroom. Bending over the lavatory bowl, she vomited. Madeline, Madeline . . . Oh God, I don’t even know my own sister’s real name!
‘You really are ailing, my dear. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.’ Holding her from behind, Kristof rubbed her back gently. The motion soothed her. In moments of anguish she’d want no one but him to help her, but in this instance he’d been the one to cause her pain.
‘What is it, darling? You’re crying. What’s wrong? Don’t cry, I can’t bear it.’
Taking the towel he offered her, she wiped her lips. Straightening, she went to the sink and swilled out her mouth. The water caught in her throat, making her cough. The coughing turned to huge sobs that racked her body, weakening her, till her legs bent underneath her.
His strong arms held her. ‘Darling, please. What is it? Why should you be so upset? Has my news anything to do with you? Tell me.’
Swallowing hard, she lifted her body until she stood in a strong stance. She did have something to tell him. How he would take it she did not know, but at this moment she was happier about it than she had been since she realized her condition, for now it had given her an excuse for her reaction, ‘No. I – I think I am pregnant.’
‘What! My God, that is wonderful. How long – when did you know? Have you seen a doctor?’
‘No. I think it happened that first time or maybe the second, I don’t know, but I have missed a period. Though that is the first time I have been sick.’
‘I will get my doctor to attend to you. Oh, darling, this makes me so happy. We will be married.’
‘No. I cannot. Not yet, and that is what is upsetting me. It cannot happen until the war is over. Not until my people accept you and yours. My life would be in danger. Already people cross the street from me and spit on the pavement. They call me a collaborator. No. If I am pregnant, I dare not even go out of the house. I will have to stay here!’
‘How dare they? I will not stand for it. You will go down the street and one of my officers will follow you and protect you. They will shoot anyone who insults you!’
‘No! Oh, Kristof. I would rather just stay in and exercise in the garden. Especially when it shows, but maybe later today, if I feel better, I will walk to the end of the street to the cafe, just for some air and to collect a magazine.’
‘Very well. Now, my darling, lie with me. Like in the early days, I will not touch you, other than having my body curled around yours. I want to hold my woman and feel the roundness of her stomach, where I am convinced our child is nestled.’
The holding did not last long. Soon she could feel Kristof’s need and it awakened her own. Their naked bodies could not just entwine as they once had, for now they had tasted the pleasure they gave each other, and they both craved it.
He took her gently. A slow, loving act that filled her with joy and took away her pain and fear for a little while. Losing herself in the ecstasy of his skilful stroking and thrusting, just where she needed him to, brought her to a state of completeness that overshadowed everything else. This only lasted until she came back to earth with his last, almost painful thrust. As he uncurled from her, Madeline’s difficult plight ahead hit her afresh, along with the guilt that she could forget about it, even for a moment, and make love to Kristof as if nothing had changed.
‘Please don’t cry. Talk to me. Are you unhappy about our baby? I can get the doctor to—’
‘No! No, I would never cast our baby away. Besides, we cannot be sure until I miss another period. Then the doctor will be able to tell us. It is just that we cannot behave like a normal couple, and I hate the destruction of life that is all around us in this bloody war. I hate it. Oh, I know you and your men have to obey orders – it is your duty to do so – but every time you do, it is against my people or those trying to help us.’
‘My sweet, sensitive darling. It will all be all right, just as you hope. I promise. And I will be happy if the doctor confirms our child exists, not only for the obvious reasons, but because you say you will not go out. Then no one can hurt you, and I can protect you fully. Rest now. I will send someone to the cafe to pick up a magazine for you. You should not go out today.’
‘Thank you, Kristof. Will you tell whoever goes to say that the magazine is for me? The cafe owner knows which magazine I like, and often keeps one in the back specially for me. Oh, and can they call in on me first, in case I think of anything else I might need that they can pick up for me?’
‘I will, my dear. Now I will run a bath for you and you can relax in it. I will have a wash while the tub fills.’
When he’d gone, Gertrude stepped into the tub and allowed the hot water to relax her. In doing so, she could not stop the flood of tears. Her grief punctured her, making her feel that life as she’d known it had drained from her. Oh, Madeline . . . Madeline . . .
An hour passed before a knock came on her door. ‘I am going for your magazine and have been asked to see if there is anything else you need.’
The maid looked afraid. Gertrude didn’t blame her; none of the staff had approached her or interacted with her since the time when that other poor maid had attempted to deliver her a message. Trying to sound friendly, she said, ‘Yes, thank you. Here, I have written them down. You can get them from the cafe.’
In times of emergency there were several codes she could use. One would tell Juste that her movements were restricted; another that she was being watched – that kind of thing. They’d made them up after the Antoine incident. They had never again wanted to use a direct note in a magazine as their means of communication.
Madeline had helped and, besides her and Juste, Paulo was the only other one who understood the codes, in case there was a time when Juste couldn’t be contacted, and then he could make sure someone knew her message.
Apart from these simple codes there was another special code for when she had information to give. She would do this by using a greeting to Paulo, which could be deciphered by using something similar to Madeline’s code method – a short piece that she and Juste had composed, and from which words could be taken to form a sentence. Madeline had taught them a way in which the letters of the alphabet could be represented. It had taken them many practice runs to get it right, and many times they had giggled about how wrong the message had been. It was this kind of message that Gertrude had written into her note.
‘There, please give the note to the cafe owner, as he will know then that the things are for me. You see, some of the things he gets for me from other traders, and keeps them until I need them. It saves me from having to go too far afield.’ She knew the maid would understand this. All those who worked here knew the perils of leaving the vicinity, as they risked possible reprisals.
In her message she’d told of the capture of the British agents and had asked Juste to find out if one of them was Madeline.
Pacing the floor while she waited for the maid to return wasn’t helping her anxiety; neither was going to the window to see if she was coming back, for her guilt added to her fear, making it impossible to settle. How could she abandon herself to her bodily needs at such a time?
Trying to appease herself, she thought about the possibility of a baby growing inside her. And although this did bring happiness, now she knew that Kristof was happy about it, it also brought loneliness. There was no one she could share the news with. Her family would be repulsed. Madeline would be cross that she had made herself so vulnerable. But then how can I even share this news with Madeline, if she has been caught? Please don’t let her be one of those captured.
There was a tap on the door and it made her jump, even though she had been expecting it. The maid stood there with a tray of coffee and cakes. On the tray, lodged between the coffee pot and the jug of milk, lay a rolled-up magazine.
‘Paulo said he has some of the things, but will get you the others later. I will fetch them for you, if you like.’
‘Thank you, yes, I would. Please put the tray on my table. Thank you, that is very kind of you.’
She didn’t take much interest in the magazine, as she didn’t want to appear too eager to look inside it. She left it where the maid put it on the side of the table and took the coffee that was poured for her over to the sofa, refusing the offer of a cake.
Sipping the hot liquid and savouring the delicious aroma, she stared at the magazine, almost afraid of it, knowing it held information for her. Paulo’s verbal message had told her that. But it also told her there was more information to come later.
The maid left some five minutes afterwards. Unable to hold off any longer, Gertrude scoured the pages. They were there: small dots alongside several letters on many pages. Writing them down, it shocked her as she read: Do not leave the house. Madeline captured. The group believe you betrayed them. I will prove them wrong, dear sister. But stay safe. I have to disappear.
Her gasps for breath panicked her. A heat crept over her and yet inside she felt cold. Every fibre of her trembled. ‘It cannot be! How can they suspect me?’
Looking around, it seemed as though they were hunting her already and that they were here. Oh God! How had this come about? And what should she do with the magazine! What if Kristof browsed through it and noticed the dots! Previously she’d always been able to walk out and dump it in a bin, or leave it on a bench somewhere.
She pulled firmly on the bell cord. The maid appeared at the door once more. With agitation in her voice she said, ‘That stupid man. He has sent the wrong magazine! I am halfway through reading a serial – I must have the other one. Please take it back immediately and tell the cafe owner to send the correct one or I will have the order stopped!’
‘Of course. I won’t be a minute.’
Leaning on the closed door, Gertrude tried to settle her racing heart. All would be well. Paulo would understand. He knew she could not leave the house. He would destroy the magazine and send her a different one. The fact that he had delivered Juste’s message told her that he trusted her and cared about her. Yes, Paulo would play his part. He would apologize, send another magazine for her and always send her the new one in future. She’d said it to herself many times, but this time she thanked God aloud for Paulo. A true friend.
The shreds of the decoded message dropped like confetti into the lavatory, and flushing them away gave her the sensation that she was leaving the past and facing an even more uncertain future. Into those thoughts about her future came her possible pregnancy. Now more than ever she needed it to be real, for the path was already laid for her to be able to remain around the house without arising suspicion in Kristof. But soon her prayers changed and she forgot her own plight as she begged for Madeline’s life and for some way to be found for her to escape.
Going to the window to get some air, she found that the street below looked no different, for life carried on as usual. The only difference was the presence of armed guards. And that now she could see so much more of the street than she used to be able to. This was due to her begging of Kristof to fell the tree from which the maid had been hanged, telling him that it gave her nightmares. This didn’t mean she ever forgot the girl, or her own part in her death, but at least there wasn’t that constant reminder when she looked out of the window. The felling had opened up more of the street to her, giving her a view of much more of the central garden and a vista of beautiful tall buildings. The apartments in these buildings had pretty windowboxes and coloured shutters. People milled around, some of them walking with purpose, some walking dogs or children leisurely and others sitting on benches. A warmth entered her as she gazed down on them. Taking a deep breath, the thought came to her that at least she had this view. She could come out onto this balcony whenever she wanted to.
It would make her feel as if she had some sort of normality in her life, as would the birds tweeting, the sounds of cars occasionally disturbing the peace, and the sight of life around her. This thought had barely lifted her spirits when something caught her eye. A shadow moved from behind a tree. A man, moving in a furtive way and holding something. Oh God, it’s a gun!
Dashing back inside, she moved away from the open door. Everything around her lost its familiarity and took on rounded, wobbly shapes. Her vision clouded and her body crumpled in a heap, as it all disappeared into a zinging noise in her head and a blackness descended over her.
Coming round brought a confusion she couldn’t untangle for a moment. Why was she on the floor? Memory caused her blood to run cold through her veins, as the realization hit her of the danger she was in. Already they were trying to kill her. And, knowing those men, she knew they would never give up, never . . . They would go to any lengths – facing their own certain deaths, because once the shot had been fired at her, the guards would be alerted and there would be no escape for them. They would know that, and yet they were prepared to risk their own lives just to dispose of her. Panic gripped her afresh. My God, they really believe I have betrayed them . . .