Page 66 of The French Wife

‘There’s such a scarcity of good food about now,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘We all need to be vigilant about what we eat.’

There was little opportunity for Amélie to meet Hans in the following weeks, although he would often ask her to visit him in the studio. She longed to go there with him after work, to sit and talk, to kiss him and hold him, to feel his arms around her. But she knew Bruno was always waiting at home, brooding and simmering, watching the clock obsessively to see what time she came back, and she didn’t want to anger him or raise his suspicions by being late so she and Hans had to be content with the odd stolen kiss at the end of the day behind the mairie when she collected her bicycle. She savoured the times he would take her in his arms and hold her close. In those moments he was no longer a German officer, he was just a good, kind man who cared deeply for her and was giving her the sort of love and attention she’d never experienced before.

She continued to spot Étienne Moreau in the market square, chatting with the troops. She always felt a pang of guilt when she saw him. It was Bruno’s fault the boy had no money and had to scrounge cigarettes from German soldiers to buy medicine for his mother. If Bruno had given him and his father work, he wouldn’t have had to do that. She’d given up trying to warn him about his behaviour. She was also fraternising with a German soldier, albeit in a subtler way, and it felt hypocritical to criticise Étienne.

About ten days after the round-up, when Amélie arrived at work one morning, she sensed a frenetic atmosphere in the mairie. It reminded her of the day after the ambush on the convoy, but as far as she knew, no missions had been carried out by the Resistance in the past couple of days. All the activity was unnerving. She wanted to ask Hans about it, but glancing through his door as she passed, she saw Glock standing in front of his desk. The two men were clearly engaged in another animated discussion. Nerves coursed through her. Remembering what this generally meant, it didn’t bode well.

She went into her office, sat down at her desk and tried to get on with her work. She was typing out witness statements for Monsieur Gilles; yet more petty crimes, but this time they were about people dealing on the black market. She found it difficult to concentrate. Outside in the square there seemed to be more commotion than usual: constant marching of heavy boots, the rumble of tyres and the roar of engines. Something was happening, or about to happen, and she needed to know what it was.

On an impulse she got up from her desk and crossed to the window. She saw armoured cars and trucks assembling, booted and helmeted soldiers being loaded on board, armed with rifles.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked Monsieur Colbert.

‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘Our German friends don’t always let me know what they’re up to. Whatever it is, it looks like a major operation.’

Amélie couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to know. She crossed the room, opened the door and hurried across the landing to Hans’ office. With a sigh of relief, she saw Glock was no longer there, and as she put her hand on the door, she saw Hans approaching it from the other side, his face ashen.

He opened the door, pulled her inside and closed it firmly. ‘I was just coming to find you,’ he said.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, her heart in her mouth.

‘The SS are doing another round-up,’ he said. Amélie stifled a gasp. ‘They think someone must have forewarned the people on the list last time as so many had fled their homes. They’re going to be more thorough today. I understand they intend to search every home in St Marie and the surrounding area.’

Amélie stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘I need to go,’ she said, looking into his eyes. She knew he must be aware of what was going on at the farm, although she’d never actually told him in so many words. Saying she needed to leave was as far as she’d ever gone towards admitting that they were sheltering Jews there. ‘I don’t know what to say to Monsieur Colbert though,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you,’ Hans said. ‘I’ll tell him I’ve sent you on an errand.’

‘Thank you, Hans.’

He touched her cheek with his fingers lovingly, caressing her face with his eyes.

She rushed back to collect her coat and hat, then hurried downstairs to get her bicycle. As she ran across the entrance hall, she could hear the roar of the army trucks setting off from the square. She knew she needed to cycle quickly if she was to warn the people at the farm. She hoped it wouldn’t be the SS’s first stop.

She pedalled away from the square, through the cobbled streets and out of the town over the medieval bridge, then turned right up the old cinder track. She’d never cycled so fast before. Soon, she was out of breath, but she pushed on regardless, standing up on the pedals to go more quickly, panting and gasping for breath as she struggled to maintain speed up the hill.

When she neared the house, with a bolt of shock she saw she was too late. Over the top of the courtyard wall, she caught sight of the unmistakable hooped canvas back of an army truck. Her heart was in her mouth. She hoped the women and children had managed to reach the cellar. If they hadn’t, they might be all right with their false IDs, they would at least have a chance. But Suzette hadn’t yet got her forged papers. She would have no chance at all. Amélie hoped against hope the girl would either have hidden in the cellar with the others or run away into the forest and managed to get to the cave.

Not knowing what to do for the best, Amélie hovered near the courtyard entrance, but as she neared the gate, she saw Glock jump out of the cab of the truck and walk towards the house. Her heart did a somersault. He must not see her here. If he did, he would know she’d come to warn people about the raid, and he would also know that Hans had told her about it. She had to leave immediately. She turned around and pedalled down the hill and back into town as quickly as she could. She was back at her desk within an hour of having left it.

Monsieur Colbert looked up and frowned at her. ‘You look out of breath, Madame Garnier,’ he said. ‘Hauptmann Bauer said he’d sent you on an errand. I hope it wasn’t too taxing for you?’

‘Not at all. I’m fine, thank you.’

But as soon as she could get away, she left her desk and went to see Hans.

‘I was too late,’ she said. ‘Glock and his men were at the farm before I got there.’

Hans looked at her steadily, she could see he was trying to find the best way of asking her exactly what she was worried about. In the end, he said, ‘Whatever happens, Amélie, I will try to help. You know that, don’t you?’

She nodded, and at that moment she heard the rumble of trucks returning to the market square. They both rushed to the window. A truck had pulled up in front of the building, the tailgate was opened and a group of soldiers jumped down. Then they dragged two dark-haired men, dressed like labourers, out of the back of the truck and pushed them towards the building. It was Gabriel and Samuel. Amélie felt the blood drain from her face and she turned to Hans.

‘Those men are from the farm,’ she said.

He laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. I said I’d help, didn’t I? Now, why don’t you get back to work and I’ll go down and see what I can do. I’ll let you know what happens.’

When Amélie returned to her desk she realised she was trembling from head to toe. She did her best to get on with her work but was finding it even more difficult to concentrate than before. She hoped Hans would be able to free the two men, but also she didn’t want him to put himself in danger.

She worked on all afternoon, occasionally making an excuse to go to Hans’ office to check if he was back, but he didn’t return, and her imagination started working overtime. What was happening down there in the cells? Had Hans failed to free the men? And then another heart-stopping thought occurred to her: had Hans come under suspicion by Glock and been arrested himself?