‘She’s my niece. My sister’s child. Sadly, my sister has passed away. We are going to stay with my cousin in Josselin,’ Fitz said, elaborating on her official cover story.
The officer looked thoughtful. ‘You have come from the village of Saint Pierre?’
Fitz’s heart quickened as she tried to think of an explanation. ‘She came with me to visit relations in Pontivy first. That’s where we’ve been the last few days. We’re now making our way to Josselin.’
‘And she is your niece, you say?’ asked the officer.
‘That’s right,’ replied Fitz.
The officer placed a hand on Yvette’s shoulder and moved her away from Fitz. He whispered something in Yvette’s ear and after a little coaxing, Yvette replied. Fitz couldn’t hear what was being said. The officer turned back around and moved Yvette in front of him, facing Fitz.
He looked Fitz straight in the eye as he spoke and then put his finger to his lips, before taking his pistol from its holster and pointing it at the back of Yvette’s head.
Fitz gasped in horror but then seeing the questioning look on Yvette’s face, she forced herself to smile at her instead.
‘Keep looking at me,’ said Fitz, her voice cracking slightly. ‘That’s it, Yvette. Just at me.’
‘So, a little game,’ said the officer. ‘I have asked your dear niece what her favourite colour is. I’m going to ask you what that colour is, and you have one chance to get it right or you lose a life.’
Fitz’s stomach churned with fear. What sort of man did this? She had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. In fact, he looked to be enjoying himself, delighting in her distress at the situation.
She looked at Yvette who was clasping her teddy, her fingers flicking the little red ribbon around its neck. Fitz wanted to cry. A poor innocent child – how could someone be so cruel? In fact, cruel was too kind a word. This was barbaric.
The small curve of the officer’s mouth repulsed her. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
Fitz wasn’t sure if her legs were going to hold her but she couldn’t show the fear she felt. She didn’t want the last thing Yvette to see was fear. She smiled again at the child. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Good. So, remember, one chance otherwise you lose a life.’ The officer paused dramatically and then posed his question. ‘What is Yvette’s favourite colour? Now think very carefully before answering.’
‘Favourite colour,’ repeated Fitz. She looked at Yvette who was worrying the ribbon between her finger and thumb. She was staring straight at Fitz, her eyes wide as if she was trying to tell her the answer. The poor child, if only she could somehow convey it to Fitz.
‘Hurry up,’ said the officer. ‘I haven’t got long.’
‘Erm … p––’ Fitz went to say pink but something stopped her. Yvette was tugging at the ribbon on the bear. The red ribbon.Was Yvette actually trying to tell her the answer? No, surely not? Fitz glanced up at the officer and back at Yvette.
‘You have five seconds to give me an answer,’ said the officer. ‘Five. Four. Three––’
Fitz took one last look at Yvette. ‘Red!’ she shouted out just before the German had finished counting. ‘Red. Her favourite colour is red.’
The officer raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘I’m also a man of my word.’ He replaced the pistol in its holster and then pushed Yvette towards Fitz. It was then he appeared to notice the dog. ‘Is that your animal?’
‘Yes, he’s with us,’ said Fitz.
‘Strange, one of my men said something about a dog in the village of Saint Pierre last night. Wasn’t very welcoming apparently.’ He took a step towards them and immediately Scout’s hackles went up. The officer once again took the pistol from its holster.
‘He’s very protective,’ said Fitz, quickly. ‘Just not very good with strangers.’
‘But fine with you two because he is, after all, your dog, yes?’
‘Erm, yes.’
‘Maybe you could prove to me he’s not dangerous,’ said the officer. ‘Go on, both of you. Pet the dog.’
Fitz took Yvette’s hand and slowly turned towards Scout. She said a silent prayer that the dog wouldn’t be scared of them. ‘Hello, Scout,’ she said, as she took a few steps closer to him. She purposely placed herself ahead of Yvette. If the dog did try to attack them, which she knew would be out of fear rather than aggression, then she could protect Yvette from harm.
Scout stood his ground. Fitz was in front of him now. She reached out her hand, hoping the officer wouldn’t see she was shaking. Scout sniffed her fingertips. There was no sign ofaggression from him at all. ‘Good boy,’ said Fitz. She slowly moved her hand to the dog’s head and stroked him a couple of times before taking her hand away.
She looked around at the officer. ‘He’s a bit nervous, that’s all.’
