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PROVENCE, 1940
In May, when baby Marguerite had begun to take her first steps, what became known as ‘the Phoney War’ came to an end as across the sea, Germany battled the skies to conquer Britain and in June, France, joined the battle.
It seemed strange that the lavender would bloom as it always had when so many people feared for their lives, like it should have bowed its not-yet-purple shoulders and halted in protest.
But it did not, the world continued as it always had.
Mothers and fathers said their goodbyes to their sons, before they went to join the army. When Timothee and Giles, Jacques’ cousins, had left a few weeks before, stopping past the farmhouse in their new uniforms to say their farewells, it all felt so very real.
She hugged each one. Both had worked with her at various times in the restaurant. They were the last males of the Blanchet line. ‘Please keep safe,’ she begged.
‘We will,’ promised Timothee, giving her a last hug goodbye. Giles winked at her. ‘We’ll be back before you know it – before the next harvest.’
Marianne had watched them go helplessly, knowing it was foolish to make such promises.
At Monsieur Blanchet’s grave, she put a castle piece down, and said, ‘Now you are up there, hopefully you’ll be able to protect them.’
When she returned a week later and the castle piece was still standing, she took it as a sign that he would.
A week later, Marguerite turned one and the nuns had a party for them in the rose gardens. Marianne made a chocolate cake with the last of her sugar icing, and Sister Augustine made her rose lemonade.
Marguerite laughed as some of the nuns played a chasing game with her, her little hands clapping in delight as tall Sister Grace, the nun who’d helped guide her into the world, giggled and said, ‘I’m going to catch you, I’m going to catch you,’ and held her hands out in a tickle pose.
Marianne smiled, then turned to give Sister Augustine’s hand a squeeze.
It was hard to imagine, on such a beautiful day, while the sun shone on them, that along the country’s borders, their friends, neighbours, and cousins were trying to fight for this – their freedom. Along France’s borders, other sister countries had already ceded to Germany. The one comfort they had was that France would never surrender.
They were sure of that at least.
Freddie sent her a package with a note.
‘Just in case – Fred.’
Inside was a wad of money as well as a British passport. She didn’t know where he’d got the picture of her. The name was her old one.
Elodie Clairmont.
It made her wonder if there was something he knew that she didn’t and it made her worry, even though she was grateful to him for the gesture.
Days later, the unimaginable happened. After a series of disastrous battles the government ceded to Nazi Germany.
The news sent shock waves around the world. Marianne listened to it on her radio in the farm restaurant, the food she had been making lay only half prepared, and many of her customers crowded around the entrance to the kitchen, not for their lunch, but to listen too, as the broadcaster announced that the government had left Paris.
‘It can’t be true, they wouldn’t do that!’ said an old woman with long grey hair in a chignon and a slight hunch to her back. She wore a long black dress, having taken to wearing mourning as soon as France declared war, despite the fact that all her sons had been killed in the previous one; or probably because of it, thought Marianne, biting her lip.
‘I think it is. Come in,’ she beckoned, and they all crept in, their faces solemn, eyes fixed on the radio.
‘The Germans are marching in on the capital now,’ came the crackling voice over the waves.
Marianne gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Paris? No,’ she breathed, looking back at her customers, her friends, who had all come closer to huddle inside the kitchen, gasping too.
A hubbub followed, fuelled by fear and anger as voices began to rise while men and women shouted at the radio.
An ageing farmer threw his beret on the floor and stood on it. ‘March or die, not this,’ he raged. ‘Never this,’ he repeated, fists balled uselessly at his side. A woman near him tried to comfort him.
‘They must have had no choice.’
He didn’t answer her, he just turned on his heel and left.
