I had just the clothes I was wearing, a satchel slung across my body with a few essential items in it and a small brown suitcase where I had also put the dress and my sketchbook. The dress took up precious space, but I was prepared to forego some of my everyday clothes.
There had been hardly any time to say goodbye to my parents, and that lay heavy on my heart. I had rushed into the apartment, grabbing my belongings while Maman and Papa followed me around, listening as I tried to tell them with as little information as possible what was happening.
I prayed with all my heart that they wouldn’t come to any harm because of my recklessness, because that is now how I was viewing it. The satisfaction of revenge had been fleeting. I had hoped to feel some sort of elation at the death of Kranz, but I just felt fear for my parents and my family in Brittany.
We had only been walking for about fifteen minutes when the lookouts for the Resistance appeared from nowhere in front of us.
‘It’s me, Marcel Reynard. I have Gaston Grandis’ cousin with me,’ said Marcel.
‘Ah, Marcel. We were not expecting you,’ said one of the men, emerging from the shadow of the tree.
‘Change of plan,’ said Marcel.
We walked on until we reached the camp.
Gaston was sitting around the campfire with several other men. He jumped to his feet when he saw us, shaking hands with Marcel and then embracing me.
‘Alors, it is our little Parisian warrior,’ he said, standing back and inspecting me. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine,’ I replied, not wanting to tell him about my stab wound.
Before I had a chance to say anything else, there was a squeal of delight from behind Gaston. I looked around him and there was Rachelle, rushing towards me.
‘Nathalie! Is it really you?’ She hugged me tightly. ‘They never said you were coming.’
‘We didn’t know,’ said Gaston. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I’ll explain,’ said Marcel, before turning to me. ‘Why don’t you and Rachelle go inside?’ He leaned over and kissed my temple. ‘Please, rest now.’
‘You need to rest too,’ I said, eyeing his wounded shoulder.
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll come and see you later.’
Before I could protest any further, Rachelle was dragging me over to the shelter she’d emerged from moments earlier. After a cup of coffee, made from roasted acorns, a hunk of bread and some dried apple rings, I explained to my cousin what had happened.
‘I’ve been so worried about you and Odile,’ I finished. ‘Kranz said he had arrested you both.’
‘Oh, Nathalie, we’ve been fine,’ said Rachelle. ‘Nothing happened to us. We were arrested and then just left in the police station for twenty-four hours. They released us without even asking us anything.’
‘Is Odile all right?’
‘A little shaken, but she is fine,’ said Rachelle. I suspected that there was more to it than that, and a wave of guilt swamped me again.
‘What is going to happen to you now?’ asked Rachelle.
‘Marcel is going to get me to England. And you and Odile too.’ I gripped her hand. ‘You will both be safe.’
Rachelle looked at me for a long moment before finally speaking. ‘I can’t go,’ she said softly.
‘But you have to. You can’t stay here.’
‘I don’t want to go,’ said Rachelle firmly. ‘I’ve already discussed this with Gaston that I’m going to become more involved with the Resistance. I can’t leave now.’
‘Rachelle, please,’ I begged.
‘My mind is made up, Nathalie. You won’t be able to change it,’ said Rachelle.
‘But you’ll be in danger.’
