Love in the Shadows

29.

THE FIRST TWO CHILDREN had made it through the tunnels to the cottage kitchen.

Fabienne handed the boy a bottle of warm milk laced with a shot of brandy. “Can you get your brother to drink some? It will help. He will sleep.” It was a bottle Fabienne had used for calves in the past. The teat was way too big for the baby’s tiny mouth, and it wouldn’t be easy to get the milk down him, but all he needed was a few sips.

The boy sat at the table and tried to encourage his brother to drink. The baby wriggled in his arms as he tipped the bottle and squeezed the teat and squirted milk over them both.

“Shall I try?”

The baby was small and fragile, though he looked at her with such intensity that she imagined him to be curious and intelligent. He radiated hope through his innocence and calmness. She smiled and cooed as she rocked him. Then she sat down and slowly tipped the bottle to his mouth, pressing on the teat so that a little milk dripped onto his lips. Each time, he took a little more milk.

His older brother watched closely. “He likes it.”

“It’s a special recipe my mamie gave us when we were sick. Would you like some?”

He puffed out his chest and lifted his chin. “But I’m not sick.”

Fabienne rocked the baby until his eyes closed and his breathing softened with drowsiness. “It will help with nerves, when you are in the van.” She held out the bottle. “I have to go to the dairy to pick up the milk. There will be a lot of noise while they’re loading the van, but don’t be afraid. From there, we will go to the German barracks so I can drop off the milk. Again, there will be more noise. After that, we will go to the church where I will leave you with Father Michel. It will be an hour and a half, maybe two hours inside the van. If you were to sleep, you would be more comfortable.”

The boy took the bottle, removed the teat and gulped down the milk, smacked his lips. “It tastes good.”

She carried the baby outside, checked that there wasn’t any movement at the house, and opened the trap door inside the back of the van. The boy stared at the small space with wide eyes.

She put her hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “You will both be fine. Get in. If you feel scared, just close your eyes and imagine you are playing a game of hide and seek with your friends.” She handed his brother to him once he’d settled himself. “Hold him close so he feels safe. Then he will sleep all the way. Whatever happens, you must not make a sound.”

The boy held his brother in the crook of his arm and closed his eyes.

She closed the trap door, repositioned the pallets, and drove to the dairy.

Two hours and a quarter later, she pulled up outside the church. There had been a surprising absence of German troops on the streets, and the trip had gone more smoothly than she could have wished for. When she opened the trap door, the boy blinked, rubbed his eyes and yawned. Fabienne lifted the sleeping baby from his arms, and he climbed out of the van and stretched.

They entered the church and Father Michel greeted them. She handed the baby back to his brother. If every trip went as easily as this one, it would be too good to be true.

The boy held out his hand to her, and she shook it. “Thank you for saving us. I will always remember your special drink.”

Fabienne would have taken care of all of them if she could have – all the children. They deserved more than she could provide for them. The best she could hope for was that they would both live a happy and full life. “Your brother is lucky to have you.”

Father Michel handed Fabienne a small bottle of pills. “Father Paul said you were in need of these.”

Fabienne pocketed the antibiotics. “Linette is getting stronger. These will help greatly, thank you.”

“I’ll see if I can get some more in a couple of weeks.” He put his hand on the older boy’s head. “Someone will collect you and your brother in an hour. In the meantime, come with me. I have bread and cheese and milk, if you’re hungry.”

The boy’s cheeks were still flushed from having been in a deep sleep. He smiled. It was then that Fabienne realised he must have only been about Nancy’s age, or younger. He had been so brave, aged beyond his years by what he’d been through and the need to care for his brother. Still, it wouldn’t be long now before he had someone to take care of him.

On the journey back to the cottage, she pulled the van over to allow a long convoy of tanks to pass, heading west through town, the direction to the northern front line in France, leaving a trail of dust in their wake and a feeling of ice that snaked down her spine. The thunderous roar continued, and what looked like a large flock of buzzards approached in the distance. More than a hundred Messerschmitt aircraft passed overhead. Any hope she had of the allies advancing quickly shattered. The Germans didn’t look like they were planning to retreat.

***

Johanna was feeling a bit lighter for playing Beethoven’s “Piano Concerto No. 5” when Fabienne arrived back at the house.

She jumped to her feet and ran into the kitchen, desperate to know that the children had been delivered safely, and eager to see Fabienne. She had been itching to go into the cellar, to check they were all okay, but Fabienne had said not to. She had refilled the jugs of water as Fabienne had instructed and otherwise tried to get on with her day, which hadn’t amounted to much really. The stress of doing nothing was worse than the anxiety of waiting for her husband to arrive home. She had played the piano more in the last few hours than she had in the past four years. It had been a welcome distraction, with only a few moments of reflection while playing and looking at Ralf’s photo that had brought her closer to her son. She hoped the children found the music comforting.

Having to refrain from hugging Fabienne was testing. She kept her arms tight to the side of her body and clung to her dress with both hands. “Did everything go well?”

Fabienne removed her coat and hung it on the back of the door. “Did you see the planes?”

Johanna had seen and heard them. She’d worried that the children would be frightened by the noise, and played the piano as loudly as she could to compensate. “Do you think it has to do with Operation Dijon?”

Fabienne rolled up her sleeves, took a bag of flour out of the cupboard, and started to make biscuits as though it was a day like all the others. “It is possible. There were at least thirty tanks moving through town.”

Johanna touched Fabienne’s arm and released her when she didn’t look up. Her coolness and detachment when Johanna craved affection was hard to take. “But you didn’t get stopped?”

Fabienne added water to the flour and kneaded it. “No, everything went well. The morning run is the easiest time. Later in the day will be trickier.”

Johanna wanted to do more: feel more included in the execution of the plan rather than just filling water bottles. “Can I not help you?”

Fabienne patted the dough. “No.”

The rejection hurt.

“Have they been quiet?” Fabienne asked.

She was so intense, and Johanna knew it was undoubtedly how she coped with getting the job done. But Johanna was grieving, and the distance between them grated against the loss, leaving her raw. “Not a sound.”

“And Schmidt?”

“He is guarding Nanny and Astrid. They went foraging.”

Fabienne glanced out the kitchen window. “Not too far, I hope?”

Johanna touched Fabienne’s back. Fabienne flinched, though she didn’t move away. “No. They’ll stay close to the edge of the woods, and they won’t be very long.”

Fabienne cut the dough into pieces and set the biscuits out on a baking tray. “I need to get some wood for the stove.”

“I think it’s time for Mozart’s ‘The Marriage of Figaro’,” Johanna said. The comedy based on two servants falling in love and getting married to foil the philandering count, thus giving him a lesson in fidelity, would occupy her for long enough to get her head around Fabienne’s distance.

Fabienne smiled, and it made everything seem lighter again. “You play beautifully.” She took the basket outside and gathered up the logs.

Fabienne lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, thinking through the plan for the second pair of children. The run to the church had been clear, but on the journey back to the cottage there had been new patrols on the streets. As she smoked, she spotted Schmidt across the yard, heading towards the back door of the cottage.

She strode towards him. “Hauptmann Schmidt. Can I help you?”

Linette was sitting by the woodshed, looking out over the fields, nursing Bénédicte. Fabienne stalled, and her heart hit the back of her throat.

“Ah, Fraulein Brun. I was just introducing myself to your cousin, Frau Moreau. What a beautiful baby.” He stared from one woman to the other. “I cannot see the resemblance between you two though.”

Fabienne drew down on the cigarette and blew the smoke skywards, acting calm while her heart pounded to escape her chest. “I wonder, do you look like every cousin in your family, Herr Schmidt?”

He laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have a large number of cousins to compare against.” He studied them both again. “Maybe the shape of your eyebrows and the colour of your eyes. Hmm.”

“Where are Astrid and Nanny?”

“They went back to the classroom to make a piece of art, I believe.” He shrugged. “It’s such a glorious day, I thought I’d do a little exploring myself.”

“I believe you will enjoy the summer, Herr Schmidt,” Fabienne said, because conversations about the weather and scenery were usually common and safe territory. “The changing colours transform the view from season to season. Mother Nature is the perfect muse, if one is an artist.”

He smiled. “I’d like to see Frau Moreau’s and the baby’s papers, since I’m here.”

The tension became palpable in Linette’s expression. Fabienne smiled at her, trying to convey to her not to panic. Linette turned her attention to Bénédicte, and coughed.

“Did my cousin tell you she has been very ill? It was one of the reasons she came here, to be in the countryside, and why you haven’t seen her before. Tuberculosis, we believe. We are very lucky not to have caught it. I hear many soldiers have suffered from it too, isn’t that so, Herr Hauptmann?”

Fabienne smiled inside as his eyes widened and he took two long strides back from Linette. “I’ll go and get the documents.” She returned quickly and handed them over.

He scanned them and handed them back. “Good day to you both,” he said and marched across the yard like a scalded chicken.

Fabienne turned her attention to Linette. “Are you okay?”

Linette sighed. “I am now.”

“We have more antibiotics. I put them in your room. Hopefully, now he has seen your documents, he won’t come back again.”

She watched the baby suckling, her cheeks rosy, oblivious to what was going on around her. She was healthy, and Linette would be fine with the medication. She could at least get out of the cottage more often now, and the warm summer sun would help her to recover. By the time the routes south were accessible again, she would be fit to leave and set up her new life. The thought squeezed at Fabienne’s heart a little unexpectedly. She stared at the two of them. Linette and Bénédicte had become a part of her family, and she would be sorry to see them go.