Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Fitz hated having to wake Yvette. The little girl was obviously exhausted, probably mentally as well as physically. Fitz couldn’t help worrying about the long-term effects of what she had witnessed or experienced. Thank goodness Yvette had had the sense to hide, or someone had hidden her in the well.
When they’d sat down, Yvette had sat between Fitz and Scout, who’d positioned himself on the other side of her. As Yvette had sunk towards Fitz when she nodded off, Scout had moved closer to the little girl, as if offering his protection and body warmth. Fitz had been a bit wary of the dog at first, but with each hour that passed, her confidence in him was increasing. Gradually they were all beginning to trust one another.
‘Yvette,’ said Fitz softly, stroking the child’s hair. ‘Time to wake up. We need to start walking again.’ Yvette gave a sleepy groan and snuggled into her. ‘You really need to wake up,’ encouraged Fitz. ‘Come on.’
Yvette sat up and looked around her and then at Fitz. Her brow furrowed and as realisation of who she was with dawned on her, her small shoulders slumped and she looked down at the ground.
Fitz felt for her but there wasn’t time to dwell on the situation. She was reminded of Cook who was fond of saying things like, ‘Chin up. Worse things happen at sea’ when either Fitz or Michael had been disappointed or feeling sorry for themselves about something.
She spared Yvette the quote but chivvied her along, nonetheless. They needed to keep moving. Fitz held Yvette’s hand as they made their way on through the trees, aware that the forest was spanning out in a northern direction, which was contrary to the way they needed to go in order to reach Josselin. It meant they would have to break cover and risk taking the open road.
Fortunately, the Breton countryside was sparsely populated, and the road was quiet. They passed the occasional house or entrance to a property, but there was no one about. Fitz was hoping to find someone who could take Yvette in but was having no such luck. The road undulated its way across the area – a combination of long straights and then twisty turns.
They had been walking for some time, when in the distance Fitz could see a cluster of buildings and beyond that, poking up from behind a hill, was a church spire.
Maybe this was where she could find a safe place for Yvette. But then a thought struck her. Walking into a village where she was obviously a stranger, with a girl and a dog, would cause a lot of unwanted attention. Someone might take Yvette in, but they might also report Fitz to the Germans and then she could be in deep trouble. The Germans would realise Fitz had escaped last night. Damn. She hadn’t thought this through properly. It meant she was still stuck with Yvette.
They somehow needed to work their way around the village. The countryside was littered with small tracks that wove their way through trees and fields. If Fitz could find one before they reached the village, they might be able to easily work their way around without being seen. Fitz still held out hope that they’d come across a secluded farmhouse where she could deposit Yvette.
They carried on walking and as they rounded a bend in the road, Fitz’s heart plummeted. She had got careless and blasé, for now they were faced with a checkpoint ahead, manned by two soldiers. It was too late to turn back or to hide out of sight, they had been spotted. She forced herself to carry on walking, reminding herself she had been trained for these kinds of situations. She could do this. She had to.
One of the soldiers nudged the other and nodded in Fitz’s direction. The second soldier chucked down the cigarette he was smoking and crushed it underfoot. He lifted his rifle a fraction.
‘Papers,’ he demanded as she, Yvette and Scout came to a halt in front of them.
Fitz handed over both sets of identity papers.
The soldiers took a long time examining the documentation. Fitz fought to keep her breathing even. Now was not the time to panic and give herself away. Yvette slipped her hand into Fitz’s and Fitz looked down and smiled at her.
A car approaching the other side of the barrier, had both soldiers looking up. It was a black Citro?n – the car of choice for the Gestapo and officers.
Fitz’s mouth dried and she swallowed hard. All she had to do was to hold her nerve.
There were two occupants in the car. A driver and a German officer. He looked back at her through small round glasses, before saying something to the soldier.
The car moved through the checkpoint and Fitz was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the car stopped next to her.
The officer got out of the car and gestured for the guards to hand him the documentation, which he proceeded to inspect for what felt like hours. He beckoned Fitz over to him.
‘Mademoiselle Bardot,’ he said, reading from the documentation.
‘Yes, that’s right. Oui, c’est vrai ,’ replied Fitz.
‘And this is Yvette Moreau?’ he continued in French. He looked at Yvette who remained silent.
‘She’s shy. Elle est timide ,’ said Fitz.
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ snapped the officer. He lifted Yvette’s chin up with his leather gloved finger. ‘You are Yvette Moreau? Speak up, child.’
Yvette nodded. Fitz was willing her to speak. She squeezed the little girl’s hand gently. ‘You need to answer the gentleman,’ she said. The last word tasting bitter in her mouth.
There was a tense silence, and just when Fitz thought the officer was going to run out of patience, Yvette finally spoke. ‘ Oui, monsieur .’
‘That wasn’t so difficult,’ muttered the officer. He turned to Fitz. ‘What relation is she to you?’
‘She’s my niece. My sister’s child. Sadly, my sister has passed away. We are going to stay with my cousin in Josselin,’ Fitz said, elaborating on her official cover story.
The officer looked thoughtful. ‘You have come from the village of Saint Pierre?’
Fitz’s heart quickened as she tried to think of an explanation. ‘She came with me to visit relations in Pontivy first. That’s where we’ve been the last few days. We’re now making our way to Josselin.’
‘And she is your niece, you say?’ asked the officer.
‘That’s right,’ replied Fitz.
The officer placed a hand on Yvette’s shoulder and moved her away from Fitz. He whispered something in Yvette’s ear and after a little coaxing, Yvette replied. Fitz couldn’t hear what was being said. The officer turned back around and moved Yvette in front of him, facing Fitz.
He looked Fitz straight in the eye as he spoke and then put his finger to his lips, before taking his pistol from its holster and pointing it at the back of Yvette’s head.
Fitz gasped in horror but then seeing the questioning look on Yvette’s face, she forced herself to smile at her instead.
‘Keep looking at me,’ said Fitz, her voice cracking slightly. ‘That’s it, Yvette. Just at me.’
‘So, a little game,’ said the officer. ‘I have asked your dear niece what her favourite colour is. I’m going to ask you what that colour is, and you have one chance to get it right or you lose a life.’
Fitz’s stomach churned with fear. What sort of man did this? She had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. In fact, he looked to be enjoying himself, delighting in her distress at the situation.
She looked at Yvette who was clasping her teddy, her fingers flicking the little red ribbon around its neck. Fitz wanted to cry. A poor innocent child – how could someone be so cruel? In fact, cruel was too kind a word. This was barbaric.
The small curve of the officer’s mouth repulsed her. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
Fitz wasn’t sure if her legs were going to hold her but she couldn’t show the fear she felt. She didn’t want the last thing Yvette to see was fear. She smiled again at the child. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Good. So, remember, one chance otherwise you lose a life.’ The officer paused dramatically and then posed his question. ‘What is Yvette’s favourite colour? Now think very carefully before answering.’
‘Favourite colour,’ repeated Fitz. She looked at Yvette who was worrying the ribbon between her finger and thumb. She was staring straight at Fitz, her eyes wide as if she was trying to tell her the answer. The poor child, if only she could somehow convey it to Fitz.
‘Hurry up,’ said the officer. ‘I haven’t got long.’
‘Erm … p––’ Fitz went to say pink but something stopped her. Yvette was tugging at the ribbon on the bear. The red ribbon. Was Yvette actually trying to tell her the answer? No, surely not? Fitz glanced up at the officer and back at Yvette.
‘You have five seconds to give me an answer,’ said the officer. ‘Five. Four. Three––’
Fitz took one last look at Yvette. ‘Red!’ she shouted out just before the German had finished counting. ‘Red. Her favourite colour is red.’
The officer raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘I’m also a man of my word.’ He replaced the pistol in its holster and then pushed Yvette towards Fitz. It was then he appeared to notice the dog. ‘Is that your animal?’
‘Yes, he’s with us,’ said Fitz.
‘Strange, one of my men said something about a dog in the village of Saint Pierre last night. Wasn’t very welcoming apparently.’ He took a step towards them and immediately Scout’s hackles went up. The officer once again took the pistol from its holster.
‘He’s very protective,’ said Fitz, quickly. ‘Just not very good with strangers.’
‘But fine with you two because he is, after all, your dog, yes?’
‘Erm, yes.’
‘Maybe you could prove to me he’s not dangerous,’ said the officer. ‘Go on, both of you. Pet the dog.’
Fitz took Yvette’s hand and slowly turned towards Scout. She said a silent prayer that the dog wouldn’t be scared of them. ‘Hello, Scout,’ she said, as she took a few steps closer to him. She purposely placed herself ahead of Yvette. If the dog did try to attack them, which she knew would be out of fear rather than aggression, then she could protect Yvette from harm.
Scout stood his ground. Fitz was in front of him now. She reached out her hand, hoping the officer wouldn’t see she was shaking. Scout sniffed her fingertips. There was no sign of aggression from him at all. ‘Good boy,’ said Fitz. She slowly moved her hand to the dog’s head and stroked him a couple of times before taking her hand away.
She looked around at the officer. ‘He’s a bit nervous, that’s all.’
‘Now the child. I want to see her hug the dog. You move away.’ He indicated with his pistol. Fitz had no choice but to let go of Yvette and move to the side. She watched intently, ready to jump in if anything went wrong.
The assured confidence of a child who didn’t know the danger was apparent as Yvette stepped towards the dog and kneeling, put her arms around Scout’s neck. She ruffled his fur before standing up and looking back at Fitz.
The officer looked surprised. ‘Well, what can I say?’ He gave a shrug. ‘You’re free to carry on your way.’ He handed back their papers.
‘ Merci ,’ said Fitz. Not wasting any time, she took Yvette’s hand and with the dog following on behind, hurried under the raised checkpoint barrier.
‘Oh, Mademoiselle Bardot!’ called the officer.
Fitz paused and closed her eyes for a second before turning around. ‘Yes?’
‘I will see you in Josselin! I’ll be there later today once I’ve attended to some business. We can perhaps meet again, more sociably.’ He gave a salute and got back into his car.