28.
JOHANNA’S HAND TREMBLED AS she lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply as she stood at the piano and stared with sore eyes at the photo of Ralf that seemed blurred. She had no recollection of Fabienne leaving her bed, but she desperately wanted to see her. Around Fabienne, she felt protected and understood.
“Guten morgen, Frau Neumann,” Nanny said as she entered the living room. She came to Johanna, her expression filled with remorse. “I am so sorry to hear about Ralf.” She opened her arms and took Johanna into her embrace.
Johanna tensed. These weren’t the arms that comforted her. They might have once, as a young child, but not anymore.
Nanny released her and stepped back, clasped her hands together in front of her body. “No mother should have to experience this,” she said.
Too many mothers were getting the same news every day. It wasn’t just a nightmare that you could wake up from, it was the reality they all had to learn to live with.
“I would rather Astrid didn’t find out just yet. It’s not the right time.”
Johanna took a draw on the cigarette. Astrid and Ralf hadn’t been close, with him leaving home when she was a toddler and having hardly seen him in the years since, but that wasn’t the reason she wanted to keep the news from her daughter. Astrid had started to settle at the house, to be less fearful of being outside, and Johanna didn’t want to resurrect the idea that they might not be safe here.
“Of course.” Nanny studied Johanna with a deepening frown, as if she had more to say but didn’t know how to start.
“Is there anything else, Nanny?” She stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and started through to the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there a reason we are storing so much food in the cellar?”
Johanna felt like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“Are we expecting...trouble, Frau Neumann?”
Johanna took a cup from the cupboard. She couldn’t make out whether Nanny was genuinely concerned or fishing for information. “I didn’t want to run short for when the kommandant has to host the next dinner.”
“Hmm.” Nanny fiddled with the collar of her dress as if it was irritating her. “I have noticed that Astrid is fraternising with the French child from the cottage.”
Johanna had expected a comment like that from Nanny, but she wasn’t going to be bullied into forcing her daughter to hide when she should be playing with friends of her own age. What neither her husband nor the officers around her seemed to care about was that the Frenchwomen – along with many other French citizens, Johanna was sure – were good people. They were just trying their best to survive.
Johanna wouldn’t fault them for that, any more than she would do any less if she were in their position. “She has played with Nancy a few times, yes. They are children, Nanny, and children need to play.” She filled the cup with coffee.
Nanny cleared her throat. “Yes, I do understand.”
Johanna hadn’t expected Nanny to back down without an argument, and turned to look at her.
“May I be honest, Frau Neumann?” Nanny’s flustered appearance made Johanna more than a little nervous.
“Yes.”
“I have taken care of you since you were a baby and during the Great War when you were Astrid’s age, and in one capacity or another with your own children since. I just want you to know that I will always do my best to protect you.”
Johanna wondered if she’d misjudged Nanny’s statement about fraternisation; maybe the grief was making her more irritated and jumpier hearing propaganda from a woman she had once looked up to. She had no tolerance for folly now. She inhaled deeply and tried to release the tension that stiffened her neck. “That’s very kind. Thank—”
“I mean it. I am a teacher and I have been instructed to teach without passing on my opinion. It touched my heart when Ralf enlisted, and it would break my heart if anything happened to you or Astrid. I have noticed how you are with the Frenchwomen. I just want you to know, I will do whatever I can to keep you and Astrid safe.”
Johanna hadn’t expected what sounded like unconditional support coming from Nanny. Had it become so difficult to see the people around her clearly, to trust them at their word? Did she trust Nanny? Not entirely. There was only one person Johanna trusted completely, and that was Fabienne. But Nanny knew about the food in the cellar, and her non-committal response to Johanna’s explanation implied she didn’t believe the food was being stored for a dinner party. Nanny suspected Johanna was up to something, and Nanny had made it clear that she had Johanna’s back. That would be useful.
“If you can keep Astrid occupied for the next few days while I grieve the loss of my son, that would be helpful.”
Nanny bit her lip and nodded. “Of course. I understand.”
Johanna wasn’t sure whether she did or not, but since Nanny agreed without asking more questions, then maybe Johanna could give her the benefit of doubt.
“I’ll take Astrid a berry cordial if I might. Would you object if I talked to her about famous poets today? I think she’s quite bored of politics and religion. I know I am.”
Johanna smiled. “I’d be delighted. Frau Tussaud will make some biscuits later. I’ll get Schmidt to bring them up.”
Nanny didn’t smile, but it was as close to an expression of satisfaction as Johanna had seen from her. “Very good. We like Frau Tussaud’s biscuits.” She took the jug of berry cordial and cups and headed to the classroom.
Johanna was drinking her second coffee when Fabienne entered the kitchen. She looked bright-eyed and bubbly, which was surprising since she couldn’t have got much sleep.
“Bonjour, Madame,” Fabienne whispered.
Johanna closed the space between them. She put her hand on Fabienne’s waist and moved her to the side so she could get to the worksurface. It was just an excuse to touch her and left her craving the contact, the comfort. She let Fabienne go and reached into the cupboard for a cup. “Would you like a coffee?”
“There’s something we need to do first.” Fabienne opened the door to the cellar, switched on the light and went down the stairs.
Johanna followed her to the far corner of the room where the sour smell was most evident.
“Help me move this unit further down the wall.”
Fabienne pushed and Johanna pulled until the secret panel behind it was revealed. There was a hole for a handle, just big enough to poke an index finger through. Fabienne tugged it open and entered the cave on the other side. Johanna glanced around the dark space. The cool air smelled sour.
Fabienne gathered up three small rounds of cheese, brought them into the cellar and put them on a shelf with the other rations.
Johanna pinched her nose. “Is that what the smell is?”
Fabienne nodded. “This is the best Munster cheese in the region. I have to leave some in the cave as I use it as trading currency. The ones on the shelf are for the children to eat.”
Johanna wandered around the small dark space, noting the tunnel entrances. “It’s impressive,” she said.
“I suspect the tunnels were originally constructed in the sixteenth century, before the house was built.” Fabienne shrugged. “We need to lock the door upstairs now, and you keep hold of the key. Tonight, I’ll come here via the tunnel and settle the children in. You must not come down, not tonight.”
Johanna opened her mouth to object, and Fabienne kissed her.
“Promise me? You must play the piano from nine-thirty to ten-thirty. The music will be used as a guide. After ten-thirty, they will have to be as quiet as possible. Whenever you play the piano, it will give them a little breathing space, so at mealtimes it would be good to have the music as a distraction in case there is more noise.”
Johanna wanted to hold her, just to feel her close, to be comforted by her strength and warmed by her tenderness, and to sweep away the distressing images of Ralf that haunted her. She couldn’t imagine a time when she wouldn’t want Fabienne with every fibre of her being; the desire was almost painful. “I promise,” she said, her voice affected by the mix of emotions that had turned her world upside down.
Fabienne seemed to assess her. “Are you sure you are okay?”
Johanna caressed Fabienne’s cheek, to feel the softness of her that somehow made everything right. “I’m better for you being here. Thank you for last night.”
Fabienne blushed, though she was still frowning and assessing, as if trying to find confirmation that Johanna wasn’t going to break down. Johanna had questioned whether she could hold it together. She needed the distraction and she wanted to do something positive. It was the only way to counter the horror.
“I wanted to be there for you,” Fabienne said and averted her gaze. “I’m sorry there isn’t more time to grieve properly.”
Johanna wondered if Fabienne wished she hadn’t said that she loved Johanna last night. Maybe Gerhard had been guarded with Johanna for the same reasons. An admission of love made the pain of loss harder to take. Johanna knew that well enough with Ralf. But surely there was a place for hopes and dreams too. If not, the emptiness and loneliness would be too suffocating to bear. Everything felt so messed up, so confusing, but there was one thing she was certain of.
She put her arms around Fabienne’s waist and leant her forehead against Fabienne’s. “I chose you, Fabienne, and us, no matter what…” Johanna stopped, because Fabienne tensed against her and eased away.
“Let’s get that coffee,” Fabienne said.
Johanna watched her walk up the stairs, and the void that had opened inside her filled with her thoughts of Ralf. Would she cope?
***
Fabienne heard the music start up and glanced at her watch. Johanna was bang on time, and Mozart’s “Rondo Alla Turca” was one of Fabienne’s favourite pieces. She had been worried about her earlier, but now she could relax and hope that Johanna could lose herself in the mission over the next few days.
She closed her eyes and listened, saw her playing. The way her fingers moved to create such a beautiful sound was magical. Fabienne would make the piano scream for her to stop, she was such a bad pianist. Her thoughts drifted, unhelpfully, to a time when they would be able to lay together and explore each other’s bodies, with all the time in the world and without the grief. She didn’t bother to change the image in her mind, though she should do to keep focused on the task.
Rustling sounds in the tunnel jolted her from her reverie and she glanced at her watch. Nine fifty-two. A white habit appeared in the darkness, and Fabienne ushered the nun into the cellar, urging her to be quiet. Behind her, child after child filed into the room. Their faces were muddied, and their eyes were wide with confusion and fear. There was a baby being carried by a tall boy, and a girl on crutches who looked no older than Nancy. She thought she had counted eighteen children before a second nun appeared. Fabienne glanced down the tunnel.
“I’m the last one,” the nun said.
The children had each found a space and were sitting down. Some were coughing and others fidgeted, increasing the noise considerably more than Fabienne had anticipated. She could barely hear the music, and that wasn’t a good sign. Schmidt would investigate like a shot if he heard something. She hoped he was in his room in the annex already, at the far end of the house.
She put her finger to her lips. “Shh. You must be as quiet as a mouse and try not to move too much.” She indicated to the nuns and explained about the piano music, the locked door into the house, and the plan to extricate the children daily. “I was expecting sixteen children,” Fabienne said.
“There are nineteen. We took in three new children a week ago. It was impossible to get a message through. Sister Marie will return to the convent. I will stay with the children until they are safe, then return. My name is Sister Jeanne.”
They would have to find additional families to host the extra children. Fabienne scratched her head. “Does everyone have appropriate papers?”
Sister Jeanne held the crucifix that hung from a chain around her neck. “Some do, the ones who came to us earlier. Most do not. Their parents have either been taken to work camps or they were shot in the street. Some arrived without any identification at all. It has become impossible to get any new Ausweis in the last few months. And now it is too dangerous to keep the children at the convent.”
Getting papers would take time, and the children would have to stay out of sight, even after they had their new identities. If they all showed up in the town at the same time, as relations, distant or otherwise, the Germans would get suspicious. “Are there any siblings who need to stay together?” Fabienne asked.
The sister indicated to the boy with the baby, and a group of three who were sitting close together, two girls and a boy. The boy looked like he was in his teens; the girls were closer to five or six years old.
Fabienne glanced around the rest of the group. All the children were staring at her, expectantly. A child coughed. Fabienne ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t factored in that they might be sick, which added to the difficulty of moving them, but she could hardly turn them back either. “Okay. We will find a way. There is food on the shelves. It will need to last for five days, for the children who are here the longest. There are buckets in the corner. I will replace them with clean ones in the morning and afternoon, as I collect the children. When the jugs of water are empty, place them at the top of the stairs. Someone will refill them three times a day. When the door is opened, everyone must remain silent.”
Sister Jeanne nodded. Another boy coughed.
“I suggest we move the noisiest and the sickest children first.”
Sister Jeanne tugged Fabienne into her arms and squeezed her. “May God be with you,” she said.
“You will sleep here tonight, and tomorrow morning at four-thirty a.m. I will come for the first two children. Everyone must be silent after the music stops at ten-thirty tonight. When the music plays, you eat. If they hear noise upstairs, there will be problems for us all.”
Sister Jeanne addressed the group. “Did everyone hear that. We must all be silent. We will eat and then sleep, and when the morning comes some of you will leave. In a few days, you will all be out of here, and safe.”
Fabienne hoped the sister had God on her side. “I suggest the boy with the baby should be the first to go. And then the children who are coughing. You can decide the priority.”
Sister Jeanne took Fabienne’s hand and said something that Fabienne didn’t understand. She hoped it was a blessing, because they were going to need all the help they could get.
Fabienne closed the secret door and headed down the tunnel towards home, wondering how she was going to keep a baby and coughing children quiet in the small compartment under the van.