She followed the girl out to the garden, and through a gateway into an orchard. The girl went over to the corner which was filled with brambles and squeezed her way between the bush and the hedge. Fitz winced as one of the thorns caught her leg. There wasn’t much of a gap, but she pushed her way through, catching herself several more times on the thorns.
Behind the brambles, hidden from sight was a well. Fitz watched in amazement as the child climbed over the stone surround and grasping hold of the rope slid down out of sight.
‘Wait!Attendez!’ Fitz rushed to the well and peered over the edge. She gave a sigh of relief. The girl was sitting on a little ledge a few feet down, holding onto the rope to stop herself from falling into the water far below. ‘You hid here?’ asked Fitz in amazement. ‘I assume you can get out of there easily enough?’
The girl proceeded to show Fitz how she did it, using the uneven brickwork as footholds and the rope to support herself, she made her way out of the well.
‘How did you know to hide there?’ asked Fitz. Unsurprisingly, the girl didn’t answer. Fitz wondered if the girl had hidden in there before, perhaps in a game of hide-and-seek. Or whether the mother had hidden the child, in the hope that she might survive and be able to come back for her daughter. And now themother was probably among those bodies in the church and the child was all alone with no one to look after her.
Fitz took in a deep breath as she realised she’d need to find someone to take care of the child. But who and where, she had no idea.
She beckoned for the girl to come out of the well and helped her back onto the ground, before sending the bucket back down for some clean water. ‘You’re very clever,’ said Fitz, kneeling and using her handkerchief to clean the dirty tear-streaked face. ‘Now, do you have any papers? With your name on?’
The girl nodded and taking Fitz’s hand, led her back into the house where she pointed to a rather singed leather satchel hanging on the larder door, next to a child’s coat, presumably hers. Fitz took the bag down and looked inside. She was amazed and somewhat relieved to see the child’s identity papers.
‘So, let’s see who you are,’ she said, opening up the papers which hadn’t been touched by the fire. ‘Yvette Moreau.’ She looked up and smiled at the child. ‘Born twenty-fourth January, 1932. So you, Yvette, must be nine years old.’ The child nodded. ‘And my name is Claudine,’ continued Fitz, remembering at the last moment not to use her real name. ‘I’m going to look after you until we get to the next town.’
Yvette appeared uncertain. Her grip tightened on her teddy. She looked up at the mantelpiece. Fitz followed her gaze. There, spared from the fire by the brick chimney breast, was a photograph of a man and woman with a small child. Fitz took the photograph down. ‘Is that you?’ Yvette nodded. ‘And Mama and Papa?’ Again Yvette nodded and her eyes filled with fresh tears, which then slid down her face. Fitz wasn’t sure her heart could take such pain as the sight of this little girl crying for the loss of her mother. A child who could so easily have been Fitz at the same age, experiencing the same loss.
She couldn’t allow herself the indulgence of grief, though. She was supposed to be on a mission and having a child in tow wasn’t part of the plan. For now, though, Fitz would just have to look after her. It shouldn’t be too hard. Yvette wasn’t that much younger than Michael and it was only until the next village, where Fitz could leave her with someone.
‘Come here, my darling,’ she said, going over to Yvette and wrapping her arms around her tiny frame. After a few moments, she pulled away and wiped Yvette’s tears with her thumbs. ‘Now, listen, Yvette. We have to go on quite a long journey and we need to pretend that I’m your aunty.’ She took the satchel and slipped the photograph inside, together with Yvette’s identity papers and hooked the strap over the child’s shoulders. ‘If anyone asks us, we have to say I’m taking you to stay with my cousin, who lives in Josselin. Do you think you can remember that?’ Fitz wasn’t sure if Yvette would be capable of answering, but she had to at least ensure they stuck to the same story. She wasn’t of course going to take her as far as Josselin, but Fitz had no idea of what any of the villages on the way were called. It would be safe simply to say Josselin if they were stopped.
Yvette sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She nodded her understanding.
‘Right, well, let’s get on our way,’ Fitz said, with more cheer than the situation warranted. She took the coat from the door and helped Yvette put it on, buttoning it up for her. The lining was singed, but the heavy outside fabric had avoided any fire damage. It smelt of smoke but with any luck, the fresh air would get rid of that. ‘Do you like dogs?’ asked Fitz. Again, another nod. ‘That’s good, because I have a dog outside called Scout. He’s coming with us.’
Yvette’s curiosity was piqued as she looked eagerly through to the front of the house. Fitz held out her hand. ‘Ready?’
Yvette slipped her hand into Fitz’s and the two of them went out onto the street.
Scout was on the other side of the road sniffing around, but as soon as he saw them, he trotted over, stopping a few feet away, as was his custom. ‘He’s a bit shy,’ said Fitz. ‘Rather like you. We’ll start walking and he’ll follow us.’
They must look an unlikely trio thought Fitz to herself as they headed down the road. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this when she boarded the plane the previous night. First a dog and now a child. Life hadn’t prepared her for this. And certainly, no amount of SOE training had either!
The trek to Josselin was going to take at least twice the time Fitz soon realised. Yvette wouldn’t be able to keep at Fitz’s pace for long. If she’d been issued with a fake permit to use a bicycle she might have been tempted to look for one in the village, if only so that Yvette could sit on it while she pushed it. Fitz just hoped they’d soon come across a village where she could leave the child.
The sky was looking very dark with rain filled clouds which Fitz was sure were on the brink of bursting. They needed to find somewhere to shelter from the weather. They should head for woodland which the Breton countryside provided in abundance. At least there the trees would afford some sort of shelter.
They hadn’t long left the village when Fitz heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Not a truck but a car. ‘Quick, this way,’ she said, beginning to run to the gateway she had seen up ahead. The sound of the car was getting louder. It was coming fast and would soon be on them. They weren’t going to make it to the gateway in time. ‘Down here!’ said Fitz urgently, almost dragging Yvette into the bracken-filled ditch on the side of the road. ‘Duck down under the leaves. Scout! Here, boy. Here.’ The dog however wouldn’t come. ‘Come here,’ called Fitz, aware itwas only seconds before the car would be whizzing around the corner. A stray dog standing in the road was bound to cause some level of curiosity.
Without warning, Yvette had jumped up. ‘Scout! Come here!’ she called in French.
Fitz was momentarily stunned to hear the child’s voice and then stunned a second time as the dog did as it was told and trotted over. ‘Good boy,’ she said, amazed at the obedience of the animal. ‘Lie down.’
The dog settled down next to Yvette and Fitz quickly rearranged the foliage before ducking down herself. She heard the car coming around the corner, changing gear and then accelerating. She closed her eyes and held her breath. Both actions pointless but she did them all the same.Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop, she said over and over again in her head.
The car continued to accelerate away from them. She looked at Yvette and put her finger to her lips. She wanted to be sure the car wasn’t turning around and coming back anytime soon. She had to assume its destination was the burnt-out village. Maybe to check for any survivors.
‘We can’t stay on the road,’ said Fitz. ‘We need to use the trees as cover.’ She climbed out of the ditch and helped Yvette out, too. ‘Come on, we need to run, in case the car comes back.’
Within a few minutes they were in the safety of the trees, just as the first few spots of rain began to fall. Fitz looked down at Yvette who was once again holding her hand. The little girl looked up at her. There was so much trust in her eyes, Fitz was both surprised and slightly perturbed.
The trek through the woods slowed their progress even more. The ground was uneven and now and again one of them would stumble but they carried on and Yvette didn’t complain once. Fortunately, the rain hadn’t lasted too long and, although theywere wet, neither was soaked. Fitz had tried to get Yvette to speak again by asking questions, but she had lapsed back into silence. Scout walked behind them mostly, though every now and again he would trot on ahead, only to turn to look at them as if to make sure they were still there.
It wasn’t until they had been walking for an hour that Fitz finally felt it was safe enough to stop and take a break. She was glad she had managed to find a bottle to fill with water and she passed it to Yvette. ‘Only take a few sips,’ she instructed. ‘We have to make it last.’ Fitz closed her eyes and pictured the map of the area she had been told to memorise.
Fitz tried to remember what villages were in the area, but she felt slightly disorientated after trekking through the woods. She supposed there was always the option of finding somewhere to hide Yvette and Scout while she went onto Josselin by herself, though she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Yvette on her own. The child was bound to be traumatised by what had happened in her own village.
