AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He’s not making us move out. If we are unable to endure living under the same roof as him, yes, we will have to find a new place to live.”
“You’re choosing to stay there?” Her voice hitches slightly, her volume still a near whisper, but it’s enough to release the hounds of hell thundering through my chest.
I glance at the nearby soldiers to ensure none are paying attention to us. “For now, yes. I don’t know about Jacques. The idea of a German living with him is not sitting well. But he has nowhere else to go. The memory of his wife and daughter lives within those vineyard walls. And even though he hasn’t said it out loud, I know he wants to be there for when his son returns home one day.”
“Has he heard from Yvon since his capture?”
“No. He’s just holding on to hope that Yvon is alive.”
Désirée reaches forwards, her hand still trailing in the water, as if she’s trying to touch a lily pad. “Can you still locate new safe houses? With him underfoot?”
I know which him she’s referring to without needing her to clarify.
“I don’t know.” And that’s the honest truth. “He didn’t mention what exactly he does for the Wehrmacht Army or if he’ll be away a lot.” I’m not sure I want to know what he does. Just knowing he was in the same house as me last night kept me from falling asleep. And those few times I did drift off to sleep ended with me waking from a terrifying nightmare of him leaning over my bed ready to butcher me.
“Perhaps, for now, we must assume you can no longer search for safe houses and attend parachute receptions. Does he know you’re fluent in German?”
“No. As far as I am aware, he thinks the only language I know is French.” Very few people in France know I speak German, and that includes within the resistance network. I thought it would be safer that way. Désirée only found out by accident.
“He might feel more at ease talking to his comrades in your presence if he believes you don’t understand him.” A sly smile curls on her lips, and her eyes flick briefly to the soldiers standing like cold stone statues. “Perhaps he might even unwittingly reveal something the network will benefit from.” She giggles brightly, throwing her head back in delight.
The laughter is unexpected and jarring and means only one thing.
We aren’t alone.
My muscles tense for a fraction of a second, and then I follow her lead, laughing as though she’s just shared the funniest joke. We’ve learned the Germans believe you aren’t doing anything suspicious when you’re having a good time. When you’re sullen, it means you’re about to cause trouble.
“I should return to work.” Désirée stands. I do the same. We air kiss goodbye as a soldier marches past us, and I walk away, not daring to look back at either of them.
I meander through the village, pausing every so often to look over my shoulder and ensure I am not being followed.
I head to the bookshop. Monsieur Joubert is talking to a customer at the counter when I enter. Fortunately, it’s not Madame Lavigne this time.
I walk down the aisle I need. After checking no one is watching me, I remove the book I’m looking for from the shelf, slip the coded message out of the hem of my skirt, and place it inside the false book.
I return the book to the shelf and make my way to the mythology section. I select a book on Greek mythologies from the lower shelf, and a twinge of pain tugs at my heart. When Hazel and I were growing up, she loved mythology and would tell me all kinds of wonderful tales.
I carry the book to the front of the shop.
“Bonjour, Madame D’Aboville,” Madame Bassett says, taking a moment from talking to Monsieur Joubert to exchange greetings with me. “Are you having a pleasant day so far?” There’s a tinge of malice in the older woman’s tone, and the chill of it is felt in my bones.
“Not exactly. As you may have heard, Monsieur Gauthier’s house now has vermin.”
She nods, her expression softening. “I did hear that this morning. What are you planning to do about the problem?”
Madame Bassett does not know about my connection to Baker Street and the local resistance circuit. The majority of the resistance group is oblivious to my connections to London. We all subscribe to the philosophy of only knowing what you need to know. Anything more could be deadly to the local circuit.
“There’s not much we can do about it,” I say. “All we can hope for is the vermin soon moves on to another town. I doubt a barn cat can rid us of the problem.” Mars and Venus didn’t seem too obliged to rid us of Captain Schmidt last night. And if what happened with Esprit is any indication, the cats will be purring in Schmidt’s presence before I know it.
Madame Bassett flattens her lips as though the German presence in the village is my doing. Jacques’s house isn’t the only one in the area with unwanted guests. “How is it you and Jacques can stay in his house with that—that piece of evil now living there? The German soldiers have forced everyone else from the houses the Wehrmacht confiscated.”
“They have?”
She nods, the movement hard and swift. “Why is it that you don’t have to leave?”
“I don’t know. Captain Schmidt gave us the choice. Jacques has nowhere else to go. His family is linked to that vineyard. He won’t surrender his home and his land to the Germans if he can avoid it.”
Madame Bassett’s gaze scans the bookshop and rests on the window. Her eyes flick back to me. “What will happen when the Germans find out you are lying? Everyone here knows you aren’t Jacques’s daughter.” She leans in closer to me. “You are new to these parts and the Gauthiers have lived here for three generations.” Her tone is free of malice or accusations. Genuine concern lowers her voice.
