Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
MARGOT
The Germans at Petit’s bar were still laughing loudly in the street as Daniel went up to sleep in Theo’s bedroom.
He took Isabelle up with him, and Margot knew that, if the baby woke in the night, Theo would be there to help too.
It was a wrench not having Isabelle near her as she slept, but Daniel needed to be with his little girl.
Music blared and glass smashed. Lauterborn and Goring were encouraging their men to behave like louts, and Margot apologised to Madame Cassin and her eight-year-old son Jacob, who she made welcome in her own flat. She didn’t want to tell them it was Goring across the road; they’d be terrified.
Margot tried to settle down to sleep on her sofa.
She’d given up her bed to her guests, and she wondered when they’d last had a comfortable night’s sleep.
She looked up at the ceiling through the darkness and thought about Isabelle up there, with the father she’d never met.
She’d grown so used to only sleeping lightly, listening for Isabelle’s soft breaths and knowing instinctively when the little girl was about to cry.
The racket outside had gone on until she’d heard the soft purr of what sounded like Lauterborn’s Mercedes.
It must’ve carried him and Goring back to the hotel at Clarenville; the party died down soon afterwards and the sound of a lullaby on the piano came into the late-night silence.
But it wasn’t just Theo playing; Daniel must have joined him at the piano.
The notes entwined and sent Margot to sleep, although her dreams were haunted by storms and shipwrecks.
The next morning, Margot left Madame Cassin and Jacob in her flat.
They knew not to go near the windows, and Margot shared her food with them for breakfast. There was very little, but she had a whole shop full of books downstairs, so she went down to find them something to read, to help pass the time as they waited.
Then she went upstairs to see Theo, and find out how Daniel and Isabelle were getting on.
She anxiously whispered to Theo, ‘Did Isabelle sleep all right? Is Daniel managing with her bottle?’
Theo nodded and cast a glance to the closed bedroom door. ‘She slept through the night,’ he whispered in reply. ‘I worry about them. About crossing the Channel… I don’t think I’d forgive myself if anything happened.’
Margot bit her lip. She couldn’t tell Theo about her nightmares, where towering waves had smashed through helpless ships. She took his hand and held it tightly.
‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘I’m worried too.
I wish they could stay, but it’s just not safe here for them.
That poor baby can’t even go outside. I wish they didn’t have to go on such a dangerous journey though, Isabelle’s so little.
’ A sob rose up inside her and she couldn’t hold it back.
‘I’ll miss her so much. It’s like a piece of my heart’s being taken away. ’
Theo reached out and took Margot’s hand. He drew her gently to the piano, where a piece of music stood on the music stand. The notes had been filled in by a hand that Margot now recognised as Theo’s, and, at the bottom, he had signed the sheet.
‘Isabelle’s lullaby,’ Theo explained. Then he turned the sheet over to show a collection of notes written in a different hand. ‘With a few added extra flourishes from her father. I asked him to sign too, but he wouldn’t. Even that carries too much risk if we’re found with it.’
Outside, Margot could hear someone sweeping up in the street. The Germans had left such a mess behind them.
‘They’ll be safe once they’re in England,’ she said, trying her hardest to convince herself it was the best thing to do.
But in her mind she kept seeing Isabelle’s smile, and hearing her little coos and giggles.
She thought of the reassuring warmth and weight of her in her arms. She would miss her with all her heart and soul.
The bedroom door opened and Daniel emerged with Isabelle in his arms. She was beaming and chuckling, clutching on to her father’s shirt as though she would never let him go.
‘I’d like to take Isabelle home, one last time,’ Daniel told Theo and Margot. ‘Just for a few minutes. I want us to pay our respects to Esther.’ Then he swallowed and asked, ‘Until we can lay flowers on her grave in daylight one day.’
Margot thought of Esther’s grave in the village churchyard, just a bare rectangle of earth.
She deserved far better than that; so too did the resistance fighters who Lauterborn had shot in the square.
But it just wasn’t safe for anyone to leave a plaque there with Esther’s name, or draw attention to it with flowers or a stone.
‘It’s not safe to go anywhere until we get word—’ Theo began, but Daniel shook his head.
‘I want to see my home with my daughter,’ he said. ‘It may be the last chance I ever get.’
Margot glanced at Theo. It was so dangerous that she was amazed that Daniel was even contemplating it.
But then, this was a man who had lived with risk every minute of every day ever since he’d joined the resistance.
And this was just one more risk to take so that he could lay his murdered wife to rest.
‘All right,’ Margot said. ‘But Theo and I will come with you. We’ll keep an eye on Isabelle, and—’ We’ll keep an eye on you too.
Margot opened the shop and pretended it was just another day.
But her heart was thudding and she was constantly on the alert.
Each time she saw a German patrol pass by, she had to grip the nearest shelf to stop her hands from shaking.
Beatrice came over at one point to see how everyone was, and Margot asked her if her mum could come over and mind the shop for a while.
Joséphine was happy to, and looked entirely at home settled behind the counter.
She left Beatrice with Madame Cassin and her son, reassuring them that she’d be back to see them soon. Then she added some oil to her lamp and went down to the cellar, where Theo and Daniel were waiting for her with Isabelle.
She hoped the Germans wouldn’t bother with the tunnels in the middle of the day, and, although she primed herself to listen out for other footsteps or strange voices, the tunnels were quiet, apart from the insistent sound of waves breaking against the coast. As they crept along the winding route, Margot thought about the times she’d come this way to see Esther.
And that one last, terrible time when— no, she had to put it from her mind.
She needed to remember Esther as she was when she was alive. Her brave, clever friend.
Finally, they pushed up the hatch that opened into the cottage where Daniel and Esther had once lived.
There was no sign of what had happened to Esther; despite the danger, someone from the resistance must’ve knelt down and scrubbed the stone flags of the floor to remove any trace of blood.
Margot and Theo stood back, letting Daniel find his feet again in the home he’d had to leave.
With Isabelle cradled in his arms he walked from room to room, whispering gently to his daughter as he told her the story of the life he and Esther had shared in their little cottage.
Sometimes he chuckled, sometimes he was solemn, but all the time he was talking, sharing the tale of Isabelle’s family with her.
Margot tried not to listen, but she couldn’t help but hear him whisper of the parents he and Esther had both lost too young, leaving them together to face the world.
And how they had faced it, first with love, then with strength, standing up in protest against the Nazis who had come to terrorise France.
He didn’t ask where Esther had died, but instead sang songs with gentle, lilting melodies, or lifted his daughter high above his head as she laughed before sweeping her back into his arms.
Daniel settled Isabelle in the crook of one elbow and opened a drawer in the sitting room dresser beside the piano.
From inside he took a little photograph album.
Then he gently passed Isabelle into Margot’s arms and selected a few photos from the album.
He kissed them each in turn, before tucking them into his pocket.
‘Take the others,’ he told Margot and Theo. ‘Look after them.’
Theo nodded and accepted the album from Daniel with a murmur of thanks. As Isabelle cooed happily and snuggled against Margot, Daniel looked around the room one more time. Then he drew a penknife from his pocket and edged the piano an inch or so from the wall.
On its back he etched out two shapes. One was a heart, containing the initials of Daniel, Esther and Isabelle. The second was the Cross of Lorraine, the symbol of the French resistance.
‘Now we can go,’ Daniel said, pushing the piano back into place. Then he wiped his hand over his eyes and blinked back the tears that clouded them. ‘We’ve said our goodbye.’