Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
MARGOT
Margot had taken the lantern from her cellar and it cast a trembling circle of light in the tunnel to show them their way.
She tried to hold her hand still, but she was shaking with panic.
At least Esther didn’t live in the middle of the village.
All they had to do was get her and Isabelle down into the tunnels and they’d be safe.
She just had to hope they’d get there first.
They had Beatrice with them, a secret weapon who knew the tunnels and guided them when they reached a fork in the path. Steps had been carved into the tunnel’s floor as it rose up to follow the line of the cliffs. Margot stumbled but didn’t fall.
No one spoke, as if they were worried they’d be heard. Anyway, if she allowed herself to speak she’d only manage a terrified jumble of words.
‘Come on,’ Beatrice urged, reaching out towards a door in the rock. It was still dusted with cobwebs but they hung in dusty ropes, torn away by the door being opened so recently. ‘This is Esther’s.’
Margot’s hand slipped on the handle as she hastily turned it. She tried again, and this time the heavy, old door creaked open on its hinges. It must’ve still been unlocked from when Esther had returned from the book club meeting not long before.
She went inside Esther’s cellar, pausing as Beatrice and Joséphine followed, and listened for any sounds. She could hear footsteps passing to and fro overhead; Esther’s, she was certain.
The cellar was a jumble, as before. Boxes, some old curtains, a broken chair, a— a radio. A headphone set was lying on the small table beside it.
She went up the steps to the hatch and pushed it up with all her might.
‘Esther!’ Margot whispered, as she clambered out into a corner of Esther’s sitting room. She held the hatch up and Beatrice and Joséphine followed. ‘The Nazis are rounding people up!’
‘Who’s there?’ Esther’s voice was panicked and Margot heard a click. In the darkened doorway she saw Esther’s silhouette, a gun held out in front of her. ‘Oh, Margot!’
Margot swallowed. Seeing Beatrice playing with the Professor’s gun had been one thing, but seeing Esther pointing one at her, with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing with it, unnerved her. Esther had kept so many secrets.
‘We’ve come to fetch you and Isabelle,’ Margot explained, stepping round from behind the heavy sofa.
‘They’re rounding up the Jewish people all through the region,’ Esther said. ‘I’ve got our things, we need to— Margot, tell Theo they’re taking people. Give him this.’ She pressed a folded piece of paper into Margot’s hand.
The only Theo she knew, from writing down his name when he placed orders at the shop, was the Professor. Margot put the piece of paper in her pocket.
Before she could ask why she had to give it to Theo, there was a sudden, heavy knock at the front door and a voice bellowed, ‘Open up, Jew!’
The air thrummed with terror. Margot didn’t know what to do. There was so much hatred in that command. If Esther didn’t open the door, then it’d be smashed down. But that would at least give them time to get away.
Over the sound of her beating heart, Margot heard heavy boots outside and the snarl of engines as vehicles pulled up. The labyrinth of tunnels was their only hope.
‘Quick!’ she whispered. She gestured urgently to the hatch down to the cellar.
‘Juden!’ barked the Nazi. But the next voice was unctuous and dripping with malice.
‘Madame.’ Margot recognised the voice as that of Felix Lauterborn, Joséphine’s lover and tormentor. Not even Joséphine could help them now. She was already bruised and bleeding from that man. And maybe he’d do something even worse if he found her here.
Esther spun and dashed from the room. The sound of Isabelle crying could be heard from the kitchen.
‘We’re here to take you and your child to a safe place among your people,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it better you and the little one keep to your own kind? Open the door now, before we break it down.’
There was a heavy thud against the front door and the picture frames on the walls rattled.
Isabelle squealed in fear and Felix Lauterborn called, ‘Open the door, Juden!’ The door shook again under the onslaught of the men outside.
‘Your child gives you away, madame! But I have a knack for silencing Jewish babes!’
‘Take her!’ Esther picked up the Moses basket and held it out to Margot as the door began to splinter beneath the assault. ‘Take her and find my husband.’
Margot grasped the handles tightly. Esther scooped Isabelle up and cradled her close, her voice breaking as she whispered, ‘I love you, Isabelle. I love you and you will do great things, my angel. We’ll meet again one day, and I want to hear what a life you lived.
’ She kissed the baby’s forehead and, as Isabelle’s wails subsided, breathed in the scent of the baby. ‘I love you so, so much.’
Esther’s words went straight to Margot’s heart like an arrow. With tears suddenly pooling in her eyes, it hit her: Esther wasn’t coming with them.
With one last kiss, Esther placed the little girl back among her blankets as another thud sounded against the door. Then she pulled off her ring and pressed it into Joséphine’s hand, and Joséphine closed her fist round the gold band and whispered, ‘Oh, Esther.’
‘Give her this,’ she whispered as the door jamb splintered. ‘From her mother. Now all of you, go!’ Then she threw herself towards the door as though that might be enough to hold it closed and shouted, ‘I’m just a widow, leave me be!’
Beatrice flung her arms round Esther for a second, no more, as the door jamb splintered again, then she let go and dashed back towards the trapdoor as the door gave way.
Margot hurried down the cellar steps after Beatrice.
Holding the hatch up with one hand, she gripped the handles of Isabelle’s basket with the other.
For a split second, just as she lowered the hatch, she saw them: SS soldiers, their faces twisted with hatred, as they forced their way into Esther’s home.
As soon as Margot’s feet met the cellar floor, a feeling of guilt took over her, a dark, shiny thing that entered her bones. She couldn’t abandon her friend.
‘Hurry, both of you,’ she urged, shaking as she passed Isabelle in her basket to Joséphine.
‘We’ll wait at the bookshop,’ Joséphine replied. Beatrice opened her mouth to protest, but Joséphine shook her head at her.
Bea wiped away her tears, only for more to fall, and looked at baby Isabelle. ‘I’ll look after her.’
Margot was trembling with fear. She could hear shouting and footsteps in the cottage.
‘Quick!’ she urged, then crawled up the stairs as stealthily as she could. At the top, she glanced back to see the cellar door close behind Joséphine and Beatrice.
Then, commanding every ounce of strength she had left, she lifted the hatch again by the tiniest crack. The furniture almost blocked her view, but at least it cast shadows that kept her hiding place hidden.
Esther was standing before Lauterborn, straight-backed, her chin high. On either side of her stood the SS troops who had knocked down the door, their weapons held ready.
Her heart filled with love and pride. Margot had never seen such bravery before. As much as she wished she could, there was no way she could confront Lauterborn; it would only draw attention to where the others had escaped. But she could not leave Esther alone.
‘I heard a child cry,’ Lauterborn said conversationally. ‘Where is it?’
Esther shook her head. ‘My daughter is with family tonight,’ she replied. ‘What you heard was not from this house.’
Lauterborn sniffed. ‘It’s no matter,’ he said.
‘I have always thought that Jews were the pinnacle of unnütze Esser – useless eaters. We have wasted our resources on those who are a drain on the Reich; the cripples, the imbeciles. But no longer. The useless eaters have sucked enough good German blood.’ Then he smiled politely, as if they were discussing the weather.
‘But really, it is the Jew baby who is the most verminous of them all. The Jew baby grows into the Juden and the Juden pollutes every place it treads.’
Margot battled with herself to bite back her rage.
‘You asked me to open the door so that I might be taken to safety,’ Esther murmured. ‘There was safety here, until you arrived.’
He answered that with a long, indulgent sigh, then said, ‘There is no safety for a Jewish bitch. Not any more.’ Then he told the soldiers, ‘Take her to the van.’
Didn’t that mean they’d take her to the horrific camp at Bergères-sur-Seine? One of the soldiers took hold of Esther’s elbow and pushed her roughly towards the door, and Margot nearly cried out.
As she went, Lauterborn drew a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth.
He lit it before calling, ‘One moment, madame. Where does the family who is caring for your baby live?’ He blew out a ring of smoke.
‘If it’s within twenty miles, then your little Itzig may already be in our wagons and on her way. ’
Esther turned back towards Lauterborn and looked him in the eye. She lowered her voice and whispered, ‘Yimakh shemo ve-zikhro.’ Then she turned towards the door and began to walk. She was at the threshold when Lauterborn lazily drew his pistol and pulled the trigger.
Esther collapsed on the flagstones like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Margot clamped her hand over her mouth, her vision blurring. There was blood… so much blood…
Her dear friend was dead. Shot in the back of the head by a man who was so full of hate that cruelty was like a game to him.
‘Dirty-mouthed whore,’ Lauterborn muttered.
He holstered his pistol and strode across the room, gesturing to the soldiers to follow.
As he stepped over Esther’s body he paused and glanced down.
Then, as Margot watched, he spat on her.
The thick glob landed on Esther’s unmoving shoulder.
Then the three men left the little cottage and, seconds later, the engine started outside.
Margot stayed exactly where she was, her arm cramping from the weight of the hatch. She waited and waited until she could no longer hear any sound from outside. No footsteps, no engines.
When she was sure they’d gone, she lifted the hatch and climbed out, then went over to the crumpled body of her friend. She drew Esther towards her and held her. Her body was still warm. All the tension and fear inside her poured out in racking sobs and Margot’s tears blended with Esther’s blood.
‘Oh, Esther…’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry…’
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there on the hard, stone floor, but eventually she laid Esther down and drew her eyelids shut.
Fighting back her tears, Margot quickly rounded up Esther’s things – the bag she’d been packing for herself and Isabelle.
A few clothes, some milk and bread, Isabelle’s bottle.
She folded the nappies that had been drying on a frame by the kitchen range and put them in the bag.
In the sitting room, she grabbed a photo of Esther’s parents, and another of Esther and Daniel on their wedding day.
All the while, she kept listening out for the sound of engines, footsteps, voices.
Once she’d gathered everything up, she came back to the hallway where Esther was lying. She knelt down and stroked her cold cheek.
‘I’ll look after Isabelle,’ Margot whispered. ‘I promise, Esther. And one day, I’ll tell her all about you, and I know she’ll be as proud of you as I am. I love you, Esther… goodbye.’