Page 82

After the outdoors, the room was smotheringly hot, the air shimmering with steam coming off an iron range, a pot bubbling on the top. Some seven or eight French poilus were sitting around a table in their shirtsleeves and braces, being served bowls of soup and thick slices of black bread by a woman who seemed to have forgotten to do up all the ties of her blouse. Another woman sat on the lap of a soldier, removing herself, none too speedily, as they came inside.

Behind them, the door slammed shut. Kate turned, frowning, and the guard made little swooshing gestures, urging them forward. He was grinning in a way she didn’t at all like, showing teeth stained by cigarettes.

“Goodness, it’s lovely and warm in here!” exclaimed Emmie, happily oblivious, as the woman at the stove surreptitiously did up a button. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are to have found you.”

Seven men stared at her. One of them, with black hair slicked back and his sleeves rolled to the elbows, pushed back his chair and stood. “But who are you?” He looked to the guard. “Pierre?”

Pierre shrugged. “They just drove up. In a truck.”

One of the men gave a guttural chuckle. “One doesn’t look at the bridle of a gift horse.”

“No, just the legs,” retorted another, and they stared at Kate and Emmie in a way that made Kate put her hands on her collar, even though it was already buttoned as high as it would go. Emmie, whose French wasn’t nearly as colloquial, smiled uncertainly at them, aware that there was a joke, but not sure what it was.

Kate didn’t at all like the way the men were smiling. “We,” she said crisply, “are with the American Red Cross.”

These men might not have heard of the Smith Unit, but everyone knew the Red Cross. And Americans.

“Red Cross, eh?” The men all exchanged glances. The leader, the one with the black hair, smiled back at them, showing too many teeth. “We love the Red Cross.”

“We do what we can,” said Emmie, pleased. “We’re so happy to be here to help.”

“Oh, I have some ideas for how you can help,” called out one of the men.

“Really? We’re always looking for ways to improve our services,” said Emmie gamely, and looked confused when that raised a great laugh.

Kate edged closer to her. “Emmie, I don’t think—”

But Emmie was resolved to be pleasant. “We can’t tell you how much we appreciate your hospitality.” Kate could see her determinedly ignoring their discarded jackets and the fact that they made no effort to put them back on. “What regiment are you with?”

There was a sudden, charged silence. The woman at the stove concentrated hard on her soup pot.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have heard,” said the black-haired man smoothly.

“I told them,” said the guard standing behind Kate, “that we can take them as far as Ham. After we have our supper.”

“Ah, yes. After supper.” The black-haired man banged the table. “Two more bowls of soup! Come, sit, eat.”

“No, thank you,” said Kate, grabbing Emmie’s sleeve to keep her from going to the table. There was something about the way the man had said “after supper” that raised her hackles. She thought, without being sure why, of Julia, and the man who just wanted to share his notes. Until he didn’t. “We just need someone to show us where we are on the map. And then we’ll be on our way.”

“But Kate . . . there’s soup.” Emmie had eyes only for the tureen. “Besides, it would be so rude to say no now that they’ve invited us. And I’ve only just started to feel my toes. It’s already so late, surely another hour won’t make any difference.”

The serving woman slammed two bowls down on the table, slopping soup over the sides.

Kate didn’t like the way the men were looking at them; she didn’t like the way the guard was standing between them and the door. “I don’t think we should stay, Emmie.”

“Why are you standing there?” The black-haired man came around the table. Sizing them up, he slung an arm companionably around Emmie’s shoulders. “Come, sit, take off your coat.”

“Er, um, thank you,” Emmie said breathlessly as the man’s hands went to the buttons of her coat. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Oh, we are all very kind,” said the man, showing too many teeth, as he propelled Emmie toward the table.

Emmie grimaced at Kate over her shoulder, more bemused than alarmed. Kate felt frozen, terrified and helpless.

Pausing, one hand on Emmie’s shoulder, the black-haired man said quietly to the serving woman, “The room upstairs, it is free, yes?”

Kate’s paralysis broke. She grabbed Emmie’s hand, pulling hard. “Emmie, we’re going now.”

The man grabbed Emmie’s shoulder, equally hard. “Oh, no,” he said, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. “I think she stays.”