Madeleine's War by Peter Watson Page B

bacon breakfast.
    â€œThere she is!” shouted someone, as Madeleine entered the dining room, her wild hair still wet from the bath.
    Everyone clapped. A few whistled.
    â€œWell done!”
    â€œYou can rescue me any time, miss.”
    â€œLet her through. Come on, miss. You first. Craigie’s done us proud.”
    Madeleine smiled and worked her way through the gap in the line that had opened up.
    She took some bacon and what looked like artificial scrambled egg, and went to sit at a table near the fire. I didn’t wait in line but went and sat with her. I was hungry but she needed company after the night she’d had.
    As I was sitting down, however, Erich entered the room. He looked spick and span, in a clean white shirt and slacks, as though he’d had a good night’s sleep in his bed. You would never guess what he’d been through. He came directly across to Madeleine and me at the table and sat down next to Madeleine.
    He held a packet in one hand. With the other, he reached for Madeleine’s fingers and raised them to his lips.
    As everyone in the room watched, he kissed the skin on her wrist.
    â€œYou saved my life,” he said softly. “This is for you. None of us is allowed much, in the way of personal possessions, but it
is
silver.”
    He placed the packet he was holding on the table in front of Madeleine.
    â€œNo, Erich—” she began but he interrupted her.
    â€œTake it,” he said, softly but urgently. “Take it, please. A few hours ago I thought I was going to die. You must let me thank you—it’s only right. In the next few weeks either of us, or both of us, could be killed. I have to thank you now.
    â€œI can’t tell you what went through my mind in that truck. I once got locked in the crypt of the cathedral where I worked in Belgium. It was an accident, when some workmen cleared up for the day. Later that nightit poured with rain and the cellar where I was filled with several feet of water, rising all the time. Until I was rescued, I didn’t know what was going to happen—the cellar was underground and the whole crypt could have filled with water. I was rescued after more than twenty-four hours but…small, underground, enclosed prisons are not…They are not my favourite places.”
    He gestured to the packet.
    â€œPlease open it.”
    Madeleine took back her hand and opened the package.
    Inside was Erich’s cigarette case, a small, elegant silver box that caught the sun shining in through the high windows.
    â€œErich,” breathed Madeleine. “I can’t—”
    â€œYes, you can,” he said quickly. “I want you to have it. It’s Belgian, so you can take it to France—it won’t give you away. We’ll all need cigarettes when we are in the field, and this will give you confidence, remind you of what you did here in Scotland, how you…Well, you know what you did. Whose life you saved.”
    All the others were watching.
    I could sense that Madeleine thought the gift too much, the cigarette case too valuable for what she had done. But she also knew that to refuse it would not…would not suit the mood of the moment with everyone watching.
    So she smiled, raised it to her lips, kissed it, and then kissed Erich on the cheek.
    â€œThank you,” she said. “I shall treasure it, always.”

· 6 ·
    WE WERE BACK IN THE STABLES on the far side of the manse yard. Once again, Duncan was leading the show that morning, while I looked on. The four recruits sat on wooden benches or leaned against the stall walls. The smell of horse was as strong as ever.
    Between Duncan and the recruits was a metal frame with clothing on hangers, all the clothing the same shade of grey.
    â€œNo prizes for guessing what these are,” Duncan began. He took one hanger off the rail and held it up for everyone to see. “Wehrmacht uniforms, the genuine article captured by our