Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
MARGOT
Of course there’d be an air raid – the middle of Cordeval was lit up with a beacon as the books helplessly burned on the bonfire.
Margot fully intended to get back to her shop and down to the cellar to wait out the raid, but she and Theo were caught in a crowd of people who were being guided by the SS towards the tall double doors of the town hall.
There was a public shelter in the old cellars.
She wondered if Lauterborn and Goring would shelter here too, but no, she was sure they wouldn’t want to rough it with the ordinary people of Cordeval.
She wished they could somehow slip away – she noticed some figures creeping out of the square, and she was fairly sure she’d recognised Sylvie and Colette with Claudine. But Margot and Theo were caught in a river of people and couldn’t get out.
She tried to subdue her panic as the air-raid sirens went on. The urge to run away as fast as she could, coupled with absolute caution. Don’t trip, don’t fall, just get to shelter.
Isabelle started to cry again as the crowd was shepherded through the double doors.
She must’ve picked up on all the fear and horror of the bystanders as the books were incinerated right in front of them, and now they were caught in the terror of the air raid.
Margot and Theo tried to shush her, but she kept crying, and heads turned.
‘Just my little niece,’ Margot explained. ‘From Rouen.’
She hoped that would be enough. The entire village knew that she had lived there with her husband, so it should have stalled their curiosity. She just had to hope that no one looked close enough to recognise Isabelle.
Once inside the town hall’s grand reception, they passed the swastika flag that hung incongruously beside the tricolour. A bust of Marianne, the idealised woman who represented France, gazed down impassively at them.
They were sent down the stone stairs that wound into the large, cavernous cellars, which were ancient, older than the building that stood on top of it.
They were made from solid stone with a vaulted ceiling and Norman arches.
There were nooks and crannies, and it was lit with lanterns; the entire space was a patchwork of light and shadow.
Margot had been to dances with Serge in the cellars, and she wondered if she would ever go to a dance down there with Theo.
An assortment of chairs and benches were arranged in the cellar, and Margot and Theo managed to find somewhere to sit in the shadows, shielded by a stone pillar.
But so many people kept pouring in that newcomers were forced to huddle on the floor.
There was no way for Margot and Theo to creep out unnoticed, and two SS soldiers had come into the shelter as well and were standing by the door.
Everyone brought the smell of burning with them on their clothes and it made Margot cough.
The sound of the sirens was muted down here, and Margot wondered how long it’d be before the sound was replaced by the throb of aeroplanes.
Through the crowds of people, she could see Beatrice with Joséphine.
Brigitte was trying to help an elderly lady struggling with a hacking cough, no doubt from the bonfire’s smoke.
But they were too far down the other end of the room for Margot to speak to them.
While some of the people taking shelter were content to close their eyes and try to get what passed for rest, others smoked, read a thin newspaper, played cards, sang songs, or argued about fishing nets and apple harvests.
A few seats away, a little girl sat on her mother’s lap, playing a clapping game, and Margot felt a sharp pang of sadness for Isabelle and Esther.
She leaned close to Theo, holding Isabelle’s basket across their knees as they tried to soothe her. One of the SS guards was watching them, and she tried to still her panic as she willed him to look away.
She just hoped the air raid wouldn’t last all night and they could get back to Daniel and the twenty souls in her cellar in time.
Theo hummed a gentle lullaby to Isabelle as he snuggled the little goose and bear to her. As Isabelle settled, he whispered, ‘I wonder how it will go in Berlin, my brother lighting all of us and Hermann Goring up like a Christmas tree for the Allies?’
‘Not very well, I expect,’ Margot replied.
Perhaps that meant Berlin would recall Lauterborn, and Cordeval would no longer be in his tyrannical grasp.
But it wouldn’t be soon enough for Daniel and the escapees to get to England.
She looked over at the two SS soldiers, who were leaning back against the door.
‘Does that mean he’ll have to leave our village? ’
‘There’ll be more even then.’ Theo sighed. Across the buzz of conversation in the cellar, Margot heard the sound of whistling; ‘Clair de Lune’.
What was on that piece of paper that Elodie had hidden inside Isabelle’s basket?
Margot glanced across the cellar. No one was paying them any attention.
The SS soldier had lost interest in them and was talking to the German next to him.
As though he had read her mind, Theo slipped the piece of paper out of the basket and unfolded it.
He laid it on top of the blanket and Margot saw a sheet of music.
There was a message hidden in the notes and staves, and Margot tried not to stare at Theo as he decoded it. It was such an impressive skill – he could hear the music inside his head at the same time as he deciphered the message. She risked a glance at his face, trying to read his reaction.
His brow furrowed in concentration for a moment before his eyes widened almost imperceptibly and he murmured to Isabelle, ‘We won’t be here for long, little one.
’ Then he gave her a smile before whispering urgently to Margot, ‘It’s from a British agent named Corbeau.
The time’s changed. There are storms expected in the early hours; they’re coming for us at eleven o’clock instead of midnight. ’
Even in the depths of the cellar, Margot could hear the beating of aeroplane engines passing overhead.
She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s gone seven o’clock now and these raids can last for hours. How are we going to get there in time?’ she whispered, her voice taut and anxious.
Even though the town hall’s cellar was connected to the tunnel network under Cordeval, she didn’t know where the entrance was, or even if the door in front of it could be opened.
It might be locked, or could’ve been boarded up years ago, and, if it led off the main room, then everyone packed into the shelter would see them trying to leave.
There was nothing they could do; they just had to wait.
Margot leaned her head against Theo’s shoulder and fell in and out of sleep as the other people in the shelter whispered, coughed, snored.
She woke for a moment when there was a pause in the planes flying over the village.
Then the deep, thudding sound of the planes began again, and she sighed.
Isabelle was asleep and Margot thought of Daniel, waiting for her.
It seemed as if the air raid would never end. More lulls came, then more planes. There were occasional deep booms – the dreaded sound of a bomb hitting somewhere.
The time was ticking closer to eleven o’clock, when Daniel would be met on the beach and taken safely away across the sea.
Margot lifted her head from Theo’s shoulder. He was awake, and she whispered to him, ‘We have to leave. We have to take the risk.’
As if she sensed the unease, Isabelle began to grizzle in her basket. Theo swallowed, then said, ‘She’ll wake people if she cries; shall we just take her out into the hallway to settle her?’
Margot nodded. They had to hope that the SS guards would believe them and let them go.
They got to their feet, Margot holding Isabelle in her basket, and moved through the cellar’s patches of light and shadow, carefully picking their way between the people sleeping uncomfortably across the flagstoned floor. ‘Excuse us… sorry…’ Margot whispered.
The two SS soldiers by the door were chatting quietly to each other in German, the red tips of their cigarettes glowing in the shadows.
Margot saw Brigitte dozing with her doctor’s bag on her knees. They paused as they reached Beatrice, asleep across Joséphine’s lap. And Joséphine was awake.
Margot didn’t have to explain to Joséphine why they were trying to leave the shelter. Bea yawned and rubbed her eyes as she blinked awake, watching them go. She lifted her head slightly and inclined it towards the right, where the glow from the lamps barely illuminated the depths of the cellar.
Intuitively, Margot knew what Beatrice was telling her. The girl knew the tunnels under Cordeval perhaps better than anyone. She was pointing out the entrance to the tunnels from the town hall’s cellar.
Margot turned to Theo. Tunnel, she mouthed to him.
They turned as one and headed in the direction Beatrice had pointed them to. At every step, Margot expected to hear a sharp reprimand in German from the SS soldiers, and she tensed, looking back over her shoulder. But the soldiers were just two red dots of light in the darkness.
As they slipped through the shadows, a little figure darted past them.
Suddenly Beatrice was leading the way, her finger pressed to her lips.
The Germans were talking in low whispers, occasionally sharing a laugh.
A few people were playing cards in the dim lamplight, others watching their children slumber.
Nobody was watching the little party as they snuck away from the crowd.
They reached an alcove at the far end of the cellars, with empty cider crates stacked up, and what looked like scenery and props from a play that had been staged at the town hall long ago.
Dust burned Margot’s nose, but she held back a sneeze, and hoped that Isabelle wouldn’t be affected by the dust, even though she’d scrunched up her tiny button nose.
A tiny gap ran alongside the clutter, and Margot realised it must take them to the door into the tunnels.
As Theo reached for the door handle, he touched Beatrice’s shoulder and gestured for her to return to her mother. She shook her head, pointing towards the door to signal that she would be coming along as a guide.
Margot didn’t want Beatrice to leave the safety of the shelter during an air raid, but she daren’t say a word. With a last glance back, Theo turned the handle and opened the door into the musty, cold tunnels.
A blast suddenly shook the cellar. Dust and a shower of plaster pattered down, and Margot heard the SS soldiers shout. Frightened voices called to one another in the cellar.
But they couldn’t stop now.
Hoping that Isabelle wouldn’t cry, Margot followed Theo into the darkness of the tunnels, into whatever fate had laid in store for them on the other side.