something really bad has happened, and you know what? I don’t have a single plan for tomorrow.’
Félicité sat opposite me, behind the tatty desk.
‘Céleste,’ she said, cupping a hand over my fisted ones. ‘Besides the problem of Maman and Patrick, and most certainly the other boys, the family in L’Auberge attic is in great danger. We’ll have to move them immediately, even if their papers are not finalised. Now I’m going to have to trust you with certain information; to depend on you to keep it to yourself.’
‘What information? Of course you can trust me.’
Félicité drew her hands from mine. ‘I know that, and I’m sure, with this business with the German officer, you’re learning to think with your head, not your heart. Now,’ she said. ‘You should know there are more of Lucie’s villagers involved in our brother’s group –– people the other boys, besides Olivier and Patrick, don’t know about for … for safety reasons. They have the contacts, do the organising, rather than go out on missions, like the boys. They might be able to help us with these terrible arrests.’
Even after my sister confided the “trusted information” to me and I began to grasp it all; to understand the people and the stakes involved, I was still stunned.
‘I never imagined people like priests and doctors would be involved in such illegal activity,’ I said. ‘But I suppose it’s no more surprising than nuns harbouring children in their convent.’
‘We all want to help, Céleste. People from every walk of life are keen to do their bit.’
‘I might’ve guessed,’ I said. ‘Only the other week I saw Père Emmanuel stand by doing nothing as his Sunday school group giggled at a scarecrow wearing a German helmet. And I suppose they did grow up in Lucie together, he and Dr. Laforge.’
‘Childhood bonds certainly are strong,’ Félicité said, ‘and of course, both of them having the Ausweis makes it easier. Doctors and priests are among the few allowed to circulate freely these days.’
I slid my chair back and stood. ‘I need to get back to the farm. I don’t like leaving the Wolfs alone for too long.’
My sister laid a hand on my arm. ‘Before you rush off, any progress with the officer?’
‘After the Gestapo left this morning, he was the first person I thought of. I saw him only yesterday, at the Harvest Festival –– he had another present for me. But I didn’t give him a single scrap of information about Patrick’s group, nothing, but ––’
‘Of course you didn’t, Céleste.’
‘I don’t see how it could’ve been Martin who told the Gestapo,’ I said. ‘Really.’
Félicité patted my arm. ‘Just a coincidence, I’m certain.’
‘But he does play his role to perfection,’ I went on. ‘His French is good and he’s smooth, and at ease with this pleasant, cunning kind of coolness. He’s asked a bit about Patrick and Olivier, but nothing direct concerning any sort of activity. I still don’t know if he’s truly interested in me, or if he’s hankering after information.’
‘Probably too early to tell,’ Félicité said, as she ushered me back into the shadowy hallway. ‘Just keep up the good work and take great care.’
She swung open the creaky front door.
‘You don’t have to worry for me,’ I said, kissing my sister’s pale cheek. ‘I know how to be careful.’
12
When I got back to L’Auberge, a bicycle was leaning crookedly against Papa’s woodworking shed, as if flung there in a hurry.
Père Emmanuel strode across the cobbled courtyard, his cassock rippling about him like a single dark wing.
‘Your sister called me, Céleste. Are you all right?’
‘As all right as I can be, after what’s happened.’ I picked up the pail of goat’s milk and the basket of eggs I’d left at the bottom of the steps in my rush to get to the convent. ‘Félicité said you could help us, Father.’ I gestured to the priest to follow me inside.
Père
Félicité sat opposite me, behind the tatty desk.
‘Céleste,’ she said, cupping a hand over my fisted ones. ‘Besides the problem of Maman and Patrick, and most certainly the other boys, the family in L’Auberge attic is in great danger. We’ll have to move them immediately, even if their papers are not finalised. Now I’m going to have to trust you with certain information; to depend on you to keep it to yourself.’
‘What information? Of course you can trust me.’
Félicité drew her hands from mine. ‘I know that, and I’m sure, with this business with the German officer, you’re learning to think with your head, not your heart. Now,’ she said. ‘You should know there are more of Lucie’s villagers involved in our brother’s group –– people the other boys, besides Olivier and Patrick, don’t know about for … for safety reasons. They have the contacts, do the organising, rather than go out on missions, like the boys. They might be able to help us with these terrible arrests.’
Even after my sister confided the “trusted information” to me and I began to grasp it all; to understand the people and the stakes involved, I was still stunned.
‘I never imagined people like priests and doctors would be involved in such illegal activity,’ I said. ‘But I suppose it’s no more surprising than nuns harbouring children in their convent.’
‘We all want to help, Céleste. People from every walk of life are keen to do their bit.’
‘I might’ve guessed,’ I said. ‘Only the other week I saw Père Emmanuel stand by doing nothing as his Sunday school group giggled at a scarecrow wearing a German helmet. And I suppose they did grow up in Lucie together, he and Dr. Laforge.’
‘Childhood bonds certainly are strong,’ Félicité said, ‘and of course, both of them having the Ausweis makes it easier. Doctors and priests are among the few allowed to circulate freely these days.’
I slid my chair back and stood. ‘I need to get back to the farm. I don’t like leaving the Wolfs alone for too long.’
My sister laid a hand on my arm. ‘Before you rush off, any progress with the officer?’
‘After the Gestapo left this morning, he was the first person I thought of. I saw him only yesterday, at the Harvest Festival –– he had another present for me. But I didn’t give him a single scrap of information about Patrick’s group, nothing, but ––’
‘Of course you didn’t, Céleste.’
‘I don’t see how it could’ve been Martin who told the Gestapo,’ I said. ‘Really.’
Félicité patted my arm. ‘Just a coincidence, I’m certain.’
‘But he does play his role to perfection,’ I went on. ‘His French is good and he’s smooth, and at ease with this pleasant, cunning kind of coolness. He’s asked a bit about Patrick and Olivier, but nothing direct concerning any sort of activity. I still don’t know if he’s truly interested in me, or if he’s hankering after information.’
‘Probably too early to tell,’ Félicité said, as she ushered me back into the shadowy hallway. ‘Just keep up the good work and take great care.’
She swung open the creaky front door.
‘You don’t have to worry for me,’ I said, kissing my sister’s pale cheek. ‘I know how to be careful.’
12
When I got back to L’Auberge, a bicycle was leaning crookedly against Papa’s woodworking shed, as if flung there in a hurry.
Père Emmanuel strode across the cobbled courtyard, his cassock rippling about him like a single dark wing.
‘Your sister called me, Céleste. Are you all right?’
‘As all right as I can be, after what’s happened.’ I picked up the pail of goat’s milk and the basket of eggs I’d left at the bottom of the steps in my rush to get to the convent. ‘Félicité said you could help us, Father.’ I gestured to the priest to follow me inside.
Père
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