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He rakes his hand through his hair. I can’t see his face clearly, but I can hear the pain and uncertainty simmer and burn in his tone.
“We know.” Oskar keeps his voice low so not to disturb his daughter who is sleeping on the bed in the hiding place. He replies in German, then switches to French. “We will be fine while you are away. Angelique is a charming host.”
I don’t have to see his expression to know Oskar just grinned at me. In the short time he, Margrit, and Sonja have been here, I’ve gotten to know them. Oskar and Margrit have shared amusing stories about Johann from when they grew up together. I’ve witnessed the love the four of them have for each other.
None of them view Johann as the enemy. The same cannot be said about Oskar and Margrit’s view of the Wehrmacht and Nazis. Their fear for the enemy echoes what I feel every time I see one. My nightmares are plagued with the monsters in their grey-green military uniforms and sneering faces.
“Thank you,” I tell Oskar. “You are a charming guest.”
A charming guest who will be in England soon if everything goes according to plan.
“God, I wish I didn’t have to leave.” Johann pivots and paces in the direction he came from. “I can’t protect you if I’m not here.”
“You don’t have a choice. If you don’t go, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill you like they killed Dieter.” Determination and pain flare in Oskar’s tone, breaking through cracks in his otherwise steady voice. “And if they come here looking for you, they’ll find us and kill us. Sonja, Margrit, me, Angelique—we’re all at risk if you don’t go.”
“I’ll keep them safe,” I say, relieved Johann cannot see the truth on my face in the dim light. The truth he doesn’t know about. The truth I will share with Oskar and Margrit once Johann leaves for his mission. “You have my word.”
Johann stops pacing, and I can just make out the hunched lines of his shoulders. “You’re right. I have to go.” He releases a hard breath that hints he still isn’t convinced but doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
Oskar and Margrit return to their daughter, and Johann closes the trapdoor.
He and I return to the house without a word. He stops at the front door. “There is something I need to ask you,” he says.
“What is that?”
“There is to be a grand ball on the twenty-fourth of this month. I would like it if you could come with me. As my dinner date. It will take place in Paris.”
Ah, the ball Müller had mentioned and Johann had said he would bring me as his guest. This is the first time he has brought it up with me. I thought he had perhaps changed his mind.
“Are you certain you want me as your date?” I ask, even though it would be the perfect opportunity to gain intelligence for Baker Street.
“I am.” The smile he flashes me is sweet and charming. It’s one any woman would have a hard time turning down.
I return the smile, mine more on the demure side. “I…I would like that. To get to see Paris. Thank you.”
His smile widens, and we enter the house. He goes upstairs. I go into the kitchen and turn on the tap. Dirty breakfast dishes sit in the sink.
I am scrubbing the cast-iron frying pan when Johann enters the kitchen. I pause a moment to take in his drawn yet handsome features. He’s nothing like I expected when he first arrived at the farmhouse with the documentation that stated he was moving in. The kind and compassionate man before me is a juxtaposition to what his uniform stands for.
“Thank you.” Johann’s voice is a whisper, the words meant only for me. I am not completely sure of what he is referring to. Does he mean how I have not betrayed his friends’ presence to the Germans? How I am treating them like guests? Surely he does not know about my plans to get them out of the country and to safety. Does he suspect something?
“They’ll be safe,” I say, praying what I’m telling him is true. Their journey will be no easy feat, especially with little Sonja. But their daughter is the reason they risked everything to escape Austria, the country that embraced Hitler.
Johann steps towards me, and something about the way he looks at me makes me think he’s going to wrap his arms around me, to make me feel protected and safe—something I haven’t felt since parachuting into this country. I doubt I’ll ever feel safe again. This bloody war has robbed me of that.
“I got word that your brother, Yvon, is in a prisoner of war camp, but he is alive and well. Could you perhaps relay that message to your father?”
His words touch my heart. I cannot believe he did that. For Jacques. Neither of us had asked him to find out about Yvon. I only wish I could give Johann the same reassurance about his mother and sister.
I smile at him, pretending it is my own sister he is talking about instead of the man who I have never met but who is supposed to be my blood relation. My smile is heavy with relief and gratitude. “I can. He will be relieved to hear that. Thank you.”
The crunch of tyres on gravel outside the kitchen window interrupts the moment between us. Johann retreats and turns to leave. “Au revoir, Angelique.” His tone is tender. It’s the same one he uses with Sonja and Margrit.
He’s out the door before I can echo the goodbye. He’s unwilling to give the driver a reason to get out of the Jeep. The fewer Germans on this property, the lower the risk of Oskar and his family being discovered.
I wait ten minutes to be certain Johann is gone, then hurry upstairs to my bedroom. I remove the short strand of white thread strategically placed on the edge of the rug and lift the rug and the broken floorboard beneath it, revealing the hiding space. It’s too small for a wireless set but perfect for hiding documents, large amounts of money, and the gold compact Major Maurice Buckmaster gave me the day I departed from England.
I take out the three recently forged identity papers and some money. I replace the floorboard and the rug and return the white thread to its usual location. Half of it lies on the wooden floor, letting me know if someone else disturbs the hiding spot. I rush downstairs.
