As Gaston, Marcel, and Rachelle went off, Odile and I went to our shelter to make sure what few possessions we had were ready to go.
‘I’m scared,’ admitted Odile once we were inside the shelter. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
‘I’m scared too,’ I said, going over to her and holding her hands. ‘It is the fear of the unknown, but we have to trust Gaston and Marcel. They wouldn’t put us in any danger.’
‘I don’t want to leave Maman or Papa,’ said Odile, looking down at the ground. ‘What if I never see them again?’ Tears tracked their way down my cousin’s face.
I put my arms around Odile. She was so tiny and fragile; I daren’t squeeze too hard in case she broke in two. ‘I will look after you,’ I said. ‘You will always have me. As long as there is a breath in my body, I will never let you down.’
‘Do you promise?’
‘Of course. I promise you, Odile, I’ll be here for you. Always.’ After everything she had been through, I knew Odile’s confidence was shattered and as much as I was fearful of what lay ahead, I knew her fear would be greater than mine. ‘Your parents want you to come with me,’ I continued. ‘They want you to be safe and, in England with me, you will be. Once the war is over and it’s safe to come home, then we will.’
‘But you might be married to Marcel by then and want to stay in England.’
I gave a laugh. ‘I don’t know if we are at that stage yet. And if we ever do get there, then I will insist we come to live back here in France.’
I turned the idea of marriage to Marcel over in my mind, and it was not an unappealing thought at all.
It seemed no time before Rachelle was at the door to the shelter, telling us it was time to go.
As we followed Gaston, Marcel, and other members of the Resistance through the forest towards the temporary airfield, Rachelle held Odile’s hand all the way. They didn’t speak, but the unspoken communication of love passed silently between them. My heart went out to Odile, and I hoped with all my heart that I would be able to fulfil my promises to her.
Marcel fell into step alongside me. ‘She’ll be all right,’ he said, as if reading my thoughts. ‘I’ll look after her as well. We’re both responsible for her once we’re on that plane.’
I reached for his hand and brought it to my lips, kissing his knuckles. ‘You’re a good man, Marcel Reynard. Although I suppose once we’re in England, I will get to meet the real you.’
He smiled. ‘It will be the first thing I tell you.’
We trampled on through the forest for another thirty minutes before coming to the edge of a field, where we crouched down while the group checked around for any signs of a German patrol or, worse, an ambush.
The minutes ticked by and the tension racked up with every second. In the distance, I could hear the small rumble of a plane engine getting louder as it neared us. With a whisper from Gaston, the group moved out into the field and, with well-practised precision and speed, lit the torches that outlined the runway strip.
The plane came into sight and after circling once, didn’t waste any time lining up and coming into land on the bumpy farmer’s field that had been identified as a makeshift runway.
All at once, Marcel was herding us across the field at a pace. We had only a matter of minutes to unload whatever it was on the plane and for us to get on board.
Rachelle gave me a brief hug and a slightly longer hug to her sister. Gaston did the same and shook hands with Marcel.
We were about to climb on board when suddenly the field was illuminated by a bright light. At first I thought the group had lit more torches, but almost instantly there was shouting. German voices. A rapid fire of gunshot.
And then confusion broke out. There was yelling coming from everywhere. French and German voices bellowing above the noise of the plane engine. Odile had one foot on the steps. The co-pilot was holding her hand. He yanked her onto the plane.
‘Get in!’ shouted Marcel at me. He pushed me towards the steps. I scrambled on board, ignoring the pain that shot through my side as I overstretched to haul myself up. I looked over my shoulder as Gaston and the group scattered away from the plane, charging for cover of darkness.
‘MARCEL!’ I yelled at him. The co-pilot pushed me out of the way. The plane was moving.
‘SIR! Get in now!’ shouted the co-pilot, as he began to move the door into place. ‘NOW!’
The plane was gathering speed. I shouted Marcel’s name again and for a moment I lost sight of him. Then he was there, jumping into the gap between the plane and the door.
The co-pilot yanked him inside the aircraft, slamming the door shut. I could still hear gunfire above the noise of the engine, but as the speed of the plane increased, the rumble of the engines drowned out the shots.
It seemed an age before we were in the air. The plane banked to the right before setting its course high above the Breton countryside.
Odile was crying softly, and I sat next to her, my arms around her, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Marcel was speaking to the crew and then came to sit beside me a short time later, his arm around me. We stayed huddled like that for the rest of the flight.
I had no idea what had happened to the group. I knew Odile was experiencing some kind of shock. I had no doubt, like me, she could only think of Gaston and Rachelle. Hoping that, somehow, they and the rest of the group had made it out of the ambush.
