Chapter 15
Nathalie
It was a couple of days before a new chalk mark appeared on the wall. I rubbed it off to show that I had spotted it and the excitement at the prospect of seeing Marcel again sent my stomach into a whirl.
‘Someone is looking very happy with themselves,’ said Rachelle as I came back into the kitchen. ‘What are you up to?’
I assumed what I hoped was a look of innocence. ‘Nothing.’
‘Liar,’ said Rachelle good-humouredly. ‘You’re up to something.’
‘I am not.’
‘It wouldn’t involve a certain Englishman going by the name of Marcel, would it?’
‘Shh,’ I hissed, looking around to make sure Clarice wasn’t about.
‘Oh, don’t worry. Papa has taken both Maman and Odile into the village,’ said Rachelle. ‘So, am I right?’
‘You’re not supposed to ask me anything like that,’ I said. ‘Remember, we must only know the bare minimum so we can’t accidentally pass on any information.’
Rachelle rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose I could come with you and then I’d see for myself.’
‘Rachelle! Stop.’ I hugged my cousin. ‘Don’t ask and don’t follow. I promise you I’m being careful.’
Rachelle eyed me sceptically. ‘I will have to trust you, but if anything happens to you, my mother will murder me. And if she doesn’t, your mother will.’
We shared a smile. ‘I will do everything in my powers not to get you murdered,’ I said, looking at the kitchen clock. ‘I should go.’
Knowing my uncle had taken Clarice and Odile into town on the horse and cart, I felt far more at ease crossing the farmyard and weaving through the maize field. Still, I was cautious when I got to the edge, just in case there was anyone who might spot me. It was a sad fact of the war that neighbours had taken to reporting on each other to curry favour with the Germans in the hope they would be rewarded with extra rations or a travel pass or something to make their lives easier. Times were becoming increasingly difficult under German occupation and every week there was another rule restricting the freedom of the French people.
I was now at the edge of the field, with just two rows of crops in front of me. A movement to my left caught my attention, and I saw Marcel appear.
My heart gave an extra bump, and a surge of excitement swept through me. He looked particularly handsome today, but I wasn’t sure why or whether it was just because I was more aware of him, or more aware of my reaction to him being near.
‘Bonjour,’ I said, realising I sounded formal. ‘Salut.’ There, that sounded more casual and friendly. He was standing in front of me now, looking down at me, with his brown eyes a rich shade of coffee.
He kissed me on each cheek. ‘That’s how I’m supposed to do it, isn’t it?’
I shrugged. ‘If you’re French, I suppose it is.’
‘As Marcel, I am.’
‘And when you’re not Marcel?’
There was a pause between us, and then, slowly, Marcel leaned into me. ‘It’s only ever Marcel here.’ His lips brushed mine and then he moved away. He took my hand. ‘Come on, you want to learn how to shoot. We’d better get going.’
I took his outstretched hand and ran alongside him across the fields. All I could think of was the touch of his lips on mine and how that small but intimate gesture had sent ripples of desire through my body.
We didn’t go to the gorge where we’d been before. Marcel explained he had been monitoring the area since we’d had a near run-in with the German patrol and they were making daily tours of the gorge now.
‘Instead, I thought I’d teach you some hand-to-hand combat,’ he said. ‘You never know when you might need it. I’ll show you how to disarm someone with a gun.’
‘I hope I never have to get that close to a German.’
‘But if you do, I want you to be able to protect yourself,’ said Marcel. ‘Besides, we can’t risk firing any shots today. Not only did they attract the interest of the Germans, but Gaston asked me if I knew anything about them.’
‘What did you say?’
