Page 76 of The French Wife

They kissed passionately before she drew away.

‘Is something the matter?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Come inside,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

They went into the cabin and sat down, side by side, then she told him what had happened that morning.

He stroked her cheek. ‘He hit you! What a brute that man is,’ he said. ‘You must leave him. I’ve been telling you that for months now.’

‘But where could I go, Hans? It’s impossible for you and me to live together, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘It is, sadly. I would be punished, sent to Russia probably. But I could rent you a place in town. You could leave your husband and live by yourself. We could still meet.’

She turned his words over in her mind. She wanted to leave Bruno with all her heart, but what about her work for the Resistance? Would she still be able to get information to Raoul and the others? And what about the Jewish families and Suzette? They all relied on her. Her other concern was what people would think. How would people in St Marie react to her new circumstances? She would be openly denounced for leaving her husband and consorting with a German officer for sure. If she left the farm the secret would be out. Her life would be hell.

Hans slid his arm around her. She knew he was waiting for her answer, but she had no idea what to do.

In the end, he leaned in and said gently, ‘When the war is over, you could come back to Germany with me. We could be married… if you’d have me, that is?’

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, Hans,’ she said. ‘I would love to be your wife. I love you more than anything in the world. But my situation is complicated. I don’t know if I can leave the farm right now.’

He stared at her, puzzled. ‘But what is stopping you? How can you stay there after what he’s done to you?’

She dropped her gaze. She couldn’t reply. She couldn’t tell him about the Resistance and Suzette and about how she smuggled documents out of the mairie for the cause. She wished she didn’t have to deceive him, but there it was. Despite the love they shared, there was no escaping they were on opposite sides.

She closed her eyes against the sting of tears to try to stop them from falling, but then she felt his lips on her cheek, his arms around her body, pulling her close to him, enveloping her in his loving embrace. She surrendered to the moment, to their love, where nothing else mattered except his lips on her lips, the whispered words of love in her ear, the heat of his body against hers.

The rest of the weekend crawled by. Amélie had moved into the nursery at the front of the house, refusing to share a bed with Bruno after what he’d done to her. He said no more to her about the rumour, but she knew his silence didn’t mean it was over. She knew it was only a matter of time before he raised it again. He would never forget what he’d heard, never let it rest.

They only spoke at mealtimes, trying to maintain a front that everything was as normal between them, but from the wary looks the others gave them, it was clear they knew something was wrong.

She mulled over Hans’ words, trying to think of a way of leaving Bruno without compromising her work for the Resistance, but it seemed impossible. She pictured herself in a lonely attic in the centre of town, shunned by her neighbours, denounced as a traitor by the townsfolk. Could she bear it? And what about Suzette? She felt responsible for the girl; after all, it was she who’d brought her to the farm in the first place. She could hardly abandon her now. She felt thwarted and frustrated, trapped in Bruno’s miserable, violent world with no way out.

She was relieved when the weekend was over and she could finally leave the farm on Monday morning and head off on her bicycle to work. It was drizzling when she left and a soft mist had settled in the river valley. She’d left Suzette washing up the breakfast things, and Naomi and Esther ushering their children into the herbergerie, where they usually played when it was raining. Bruno and the men had already set off for the fields; spring was a busy time. It was when they pruned the vines, ploughed between the rows to manage the weeds and, as ever, Bruno had been driving the men hard to complete the work. When she was pedalling away from the courtyard, she saw the three résistants heading off into the forest for target practice, and she waved goodbye.

When she reached the mairie and let herself in through the back door, she immediately sensed that something was wrong and she found herself tensing up. There was that frenetic air about the building that usually preceded a raid or a round-up. Soldiers were rushing up and down the stairs, speaking loudly in German, clearly preparing for something big. She went up the stairs slowly, wondering what it could be. There was nothing in what she’d typed the previous week to suggest a major operation. She glanced through Hans’ door, but he wasn’t in his office. She would ask him later.

In her office, Monsieur Colbert and Monsieur Gilles were huddled together, discussing something in whispers. They glanced her way when she entered, then quickly went back to their desks. When she crossed the room to hang up her wet hat and coat, she glanced out the window and saw three trucks lined up outside, soldiers boarding, rifles over their shoulders.

‘Do you know what’s happening out there?’ she asked Monsieur Colbert.

He shrugged, shook his head and looked straight back at his work.

Amélie went to her typewriter and started typing up letters for Monsieur Colbert, but she found it hard to concentrate, especially when she heard the lorries starting up outside and the rumble of their tyres on the cobbles of the square. After a few minutes, she could stand it no more. She needed to know.

Leaving her work, she went out onto the landing. She would ask Hans. He would tell her what was happening. But at that moment Hans came hurrying up the stairs, his face pale, his forehead drawn into an anxious frown.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, chills running down her spine.

‘Come into the office,’ he said. As soon as they were inside, he turned to her. ‘They’re raiding the farm,’ he said. ‘Your farm, Le Châtaignier.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure. Glock wouldn’t tell me everything. There’s been a tip-off apparently, about Resistance activity there.’

‘Oh my God!’ She leaned back against the wall, temporarily paralysed with shock, but in seconds panic set in. ‘I have to go, I have to warn them… They will hear the engines though,’ she added as an afterthought.

Hans shook his head. ‘The orders are to leave the trucks on the road and advance through the woods on foot to prevent that.’