‘Not at all. There’s far more going on that we know nothing about.’
I sighed and fell silent for a moment as I contemplated the vastness of the support networks in Britain and Europe. ‘What will happen after we’ve been to the safe house?’
‘I hope we get some downtime. I get my shoulder fixed properly, and you and Odile get to stay with my mother. That’s if you want to.’
I pressed my lips together. ‘I suppose so.’ I wasn’t quite sure how Thomas’s mother would react to Odile and me turning up. ‘Will she not mind?’
‘Not at all,’ declared Thomas. ‘She’ll love it. Especially if she thinks she is harbouring two spies. She loves that sort of thing.’
I had to remind myself of Thomas’s sense of humour– I was still getting used to it. The British didn’t seem to take the war as seriously as the French. But, then again, England wasn’t occupied, so maybe they didn’t have the same sense of desperation as my fellow countrymen and women.
We did indeed go to Bignor Manor that day and were there for a total of five days while we were debriefed, or questioned, as I thought of it. They were all very polite, but they asked the same questions many times.
Odile answered a few questions, but it soon became apparent to them she had suffered at the hands of the Germans and I was relieved when, on the second day, they sent a female member of staff to talk to her. Gradually, over the five days, Odile opened up and was able to answer the questions more freely. It was encouraging to see some of my cousin’s confidence return, albeit a much-diluted version.
I was surprised to find two other Frenchmen were also staying at Bignor Manor, courtesy of the Bertram family– Anthony and Barbara, together with their two young children.
The guests had been instructed not to talk about their reasons for being there in front of the children, but to stick to the cover story that they were French airmen recovering from injuries.
‘We tell the children and the other people in the village that we are looking after injured French servicemen,’ explained Barbara. She nodded across the table to the Frenchman who had his arm in a sling.
The injured man waved and said,bonjour, and winked at me, before placing his arm back in the sling. He tapped the side of his nose.
Odile laughed, which pleased me. I had felt a little of the Odile I knew and loved coming back with each passing day.
‘We are going to the pub tonight,’ said the Frenchman. ‘Would you like to join us?’
‘That would be perfect,’ replied Thomas with enthusiasm. He too was sporting a sling, but his was genuine. Thomas had been assured his arm would heal as long as he rested it and used the sling, which he agreed to, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. He held out his hand to the Frenchman. ‘Thomas Colvin.’
The Frenchman reached out and shook hands. ‘Jacques Daniel and this is Martin Tremblay.’
Thomas introduced me and then Odile. Although everyone was curious about each other, no one asked any probing questions.
‘We’re here just until the next moon,’ said Jacques.
Everyone knew that was code for being flown over the Channel to France and I could only assume they were going on some kind of sabotage mission.
The White Horse was in Sutton– the next village along from Bignor– and the locals were all clearly used to military personnel from both England and France in the pub. They greeted Jacques and Martin like old friends.
It was quite a surreal evening, and I found it hard to think that just a week ago I had been in Paris and planning how I was going to kill Kranz. Now I was in an English village pub in West Sussex, sipping a glass of wine as if there wasn’t even a war going on just across the Channel.
The following morning, Odile and I were helping Barbara in the garden when Thomas came out to find us. He was waving an envelope in his hand.
‘I’ve got our train tickets,’ he said. ‘Fourteen hundred hours … I mean two o’clock this afternoon.’
‘Oh, so soon,’ said Odile.
I knew Odile had begun to feel comfortable at Bignor Manor. Barbara had really taken to her and spent extra time talking to Odile and showing her how to press flowers and, in return, Odile had darned some socks and mended a patch on the elbow of a jumper. It made my heart expand, and I hoped Odile could find some sort of contentment or happiness in her life one day.
‘Do I have to go?’ asked Odile, her gaze skipping from me to Thomas and back to Barbara. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Nathalie, but I like it here.’
There was a long pause as we all contemplated the possible scenario.
‘Well, I don’t see why not,’ said Barbara at last. ‘I’m happy for you to be here. Lord knows I could do with an extra pair of hands, especially when I have a lot of guests. But it’s not up to me.’
Thomas spoke before I did. ‘I don’t have an issue with it. I’m sure there won’t be a problem with it back at Tangmere Cottage. But like you, Barbara, it’s not up to me.’
I realised all eyes were on me. I spoke in French to Odile, just so I could be sure there was no misunderstanding. ‘Is this what you really want to do, Odile? Stay here in Bignor?’
