The major’s lip curled in distaste and when Taube opened the door Mother Marie-Pierre swept in past him cheerfully. “Hallo, Sister, how are you feeling today?”
Sister St Bruno was propped up in the bed, her hands plucking at the wide blanket draped across her thin body. There was a strong smell of disinfectant in the room, at which Major Thielen, coming into the room behind the reverend mother, sniffed fastidiously.
“Not at all well, Mother,” replied the old nun in a petulant voice. “Sister Eloise says I had another accident.” She broke off as she noticed the German officer for the first time. She gave a little cry. “Mother, there’s a man in my room.” She pulled her shawl down over her face as if to hide from the major. “Make him go away, Mother,” she quavered. “I don’t want a man in my room. Make him go away. Oh, oh, the shame!”
“Hush now, Sister,” soothed Mother Marie-Pierre. “He’s only looked in to see how you are.”
“Is he a doctor?” asked the nun. “Are you a doctor, young man?” Sister St Bruno peered out at Major Thielen from under her shawl.”
“No,” he replied, and with another sniff of disgust he stalked out of the room and waited for Taube to open the next door.
“Now you settle down and have a nice little sleep, Sister,” the reverend mother said in a clear voice. “Sister Clothilde will be up with your supper later and I’ll come and see you before I go to bed.” As she spoke she raised her eyebrows in query, and Sister St Bruno pointed down with her forefinger. Not daring to check, Mother Marie-Pierre could only assume that the injured woman was stretched out on the floor beneath the iron bedstead, concealed only by the blanket that trailed to the floor on either side.
The search continued along the landing, and included the linen cupboard, which Taube emptied out into the passage in three swift movements, tumbling sheets and towels, pillow cases and aprons into a heap on the floor, but finding no one hiding in its depths. The bathrooms were empty, the lavatory doors open. Major Thielen did not seem to be expecting to find anyone concealed here and when every door had been opened and the bare rooms scrutinised he had already thought of what was coming next. “Now the chapel, Reverend Mother.”
Mother Marie-Pierre raised her eyes as if in surprise, but acquiesced readily enough. “Certainly, Major. Come this way.” As she had done before she led him through the convent to the door of the chapel.
Surely, she thought, after the time we’ve spent searching the nuns’ sleeping cells there’s been time to get the children safely in here.
She paused outside the door, barring the way as she spoke firmly. “I would prefer your man to leave his gun outside. This is, after all, the house of God.”
The major spoke to Taube and the man stepped back, taking up a watchful position in the corridor, his rifle at the ready.
“Thank you, Major.” Mother Marie-Pierre opened the door and stepping aside allowed the German to precede her. The warmth of the chapel, with its rich scent of incense, enfolded them as they entered. Candles flickered in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary and the sanctuary light, in its brass holder, gleamed red before the altar. The major paused on the threshold as he saw that the chapel was in use. There, kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin was a line of children with one of the sisters on the end. She was leading them in prayer and as he listened he heard the familiar words. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and in the hour of our death.”
Mother Marie-Pierre touched his arm and spoke quietly. “Sister Danielle always brings the children in for their evening prayers before they have their supper.”
The children continued to chant the prayer. “Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…”
Major Thielen nodded, but he did not back out of the chapel this time, he moved swiftly towards the altar, and then behind it. The chanting faltered as the children became aware of him and watched what he was doing. Returning to the front of the altar he lifted the corner of the embroidered frontal and peered beneath it. Letting the cloth fall back into place he moved to the side chapel where the children were kneeling in front of the statue, but to Mother Marie-Pierre’s relief his eyes were on the little curtained recess to one side. He lifted the curtain and saw the shelves where the votive candles and a pile of prayer books were stored. Again he let the curtain drop and paying no attention to the row of children, who were still kneeling just feet away, he moved on to the vestry on the further side of the high altar.
At a gesture from Mother Marie-Pierre, Sister Danielle began the prayer again, her voice clear and firm, and gradually the children joined in, so that the chorus of “Hail Mary” was well under way when the major re-emerged from the vestry. He took one more look round the chapel as if to ensure that he had not missed a possible hiding place and then returned to the door where the reverend mother waited. Pausing only to dip his hand into the stoup of holy water and bless himself, he walked past her, out into the corridor where Taube waited, his rifle trained on the chapel door.
At that minute there was a commotion at the end of the passageway and the sound of boots on the flagged floor. Mother Marie-Pierre closed the door on the children and, standing in front of it, watched as a sergeant marched up to the major and saluted with an echoing “Heil Hitler”. He made his report, and it was clear that neither he nor his men had discovered anyone hiding within the convent building.
Major Thielen turned to Mother Marie-Pierre. “My men have searched the convent and the hospital and have found no trace of the prisoners. We will disturb you no longer.”
“I see,” Mother Marie-Pierre said. “Well, I’m glad. Will your men be leaving the convent now, Major? It is nearly time for vespers and our evening meal, and we should like to carry on with our normal routine. Of course if you would care to join me for a cup of coffee in my office before you leave, you would be most welcome.”
Major Thielen, having clear memories of the coffee he had been served on his first visit to the convent, refused, saying that he must get back to headquarters and supervise the search for the escaped prisoners elsewhere. “Colonel Hoch and his men are searching the outlying farms and houses, I must return and see if he has made a capture.”
They turned their steps back to the main hall, where the rest of the men were waiting. Major Thielen dismissed them, thus releasing Sister Celestine at last from the threat of Hesse’s rifle, and as they trooped out Mother Marie-Pierre sent up a prayer of thanks for their departure and the convent’s deliverance. She was only too aware that if it had been Colonel Hoch who had searched the convent, he would not have been fooled by an apparently incontinent old lady, and a row of children saying their prayers.
As soon as she was sure that the lorry-load of soldiers and the major in his car really had driven away, she locked the front door and hurried back up the stairs to her sleeping cell. Sister St Bruno was sitting in a chair while Sister Eloise attended to the wounded woman who was once again lying on Mother Marie-Pierre’s bed.
“Sister, you were wonderful,” Mother Marie-Pierre said as she came back into the room. “How did you manage to get everything arranged in such a short time?”
Sister Eloise didn’t look up from her work. “Sister Henriette helped me. Now, Mother, if you could get Sister St Bruno back into her own bed, I would be grateful. Then I need a hand here.”
Mother Marie-Pierre had no hesitation in following the instructions given by her hospital matron. All through the Great War, Sister Eloise had issued Sarah Hurst, as she had been then, with instructions and orders that she had obeyed without question. Now, although their roles were reversed, with Mother Marie-Pierre the more senior in the community, she knew that it was Sister Eloise who knew best in situations such as these.
“Come, Sister,” she said to her aunt, formal as always in front of another sister, “let’s get you back to bed.” She needed a word with Aunt Anne in private anyway. With great care she raised the elderly nun from the c
hair and taking almost all her fragile weight, she supported her from the room and along the passage back to her own cell.
Sister St Bruno eased herself back onto her bed and sighed. “Are the children safe?” she asked.
“Yes, for now,” replied her niece, “but if the raid had been carried out by Colonel Hoch I think it would have been a different story. I don’t think the major’s heart was in it. I mean—” She paused to consider exactly what it was she did mean. “I mean, he was not happy about searching the convent. He left most of it to his men, only taking charge in the rooms where he was pretty sure he would find nothing.” She grinned across at her aunt. “You were amazing,” she said. “Talk about fractious old lady!” Then she was serious. “But it was a grave risk you took, you know.”
“Nonsense,” replied her aunt, “no more than you or Sister Eloise. What else could we do? Turn the poor child over to your major?”
“No, of course not,” agreed Sarah, “and he’s not my major.”
“Maybe not,” returned Aunt Anne, “but he seems to trust you and it could be useful to have him on our side in the future.”
“I doubt if he’ll ever be that,” Sarah replied seriously, “but he may be less of a threat than Colonel Hoch.”
11
The visit from the Germans persuaded Mother Marie-Pierre that she must put her plan to move the children to Paris into action at once. While Sister Eloise continued to minister to their patient laid out on the reverend mother’s bed, Reverend Mother herself was hurrying back to the chapel. Sister Danielle was still there with the children, though she now had them sitting on chairs listening while she read them a Bible story. Marthe had Margot on her knee and was rocking her gently as the child’s head drooped against her shoulder in sleep.
“I think it’s time for the children to go back and have their supper now, Sister,” Mother Marie-Pierre said, “and while they are having it, perhaps you’d come to my office. I need a word with you.”
“Yes, Mother, of course,” replied the nun. “I’ll be there directly.” She led her charges out of the chapel and closed the door behind them. Mother Marie-Pierre slipped onto her knees in front of the altar.
“Oh Lord,” she prayed, “help me to get these children to safety, away from the horrors and dangers of this war.” She stayed in the chapel for another five minutes, allowing the peaceful silence to have its familiar, calming effect, and when she rose to return to her office to speak to Sister Danielle, she knew that she had drawn strength from her five minutes alone with her God.
“We have to get these children away from here,” she said, coming straight to the point when Sister Danielle had come to her. “The SS are in the village. It isn’t just the German army now. Major Thielen carried out the search of the convent today, and he still has some respect for our calling and our cloth, but Colonel Hoch of the SS is a different man altogether. He’s looking for Jews. If he discovered the Leon children and Marthe and Margot were Jews, they would be rounded up and taken away as the rest of Marthe’s family were today.”
“But where shall we send them, Mother?” asked Sister Danielle anxiously. “Where will they be safe from such a man?”
“We must take them to Paris,” Mother Marie-Pierre replied briskly. “To Mother Magdalene. No one there need know their origins, just children orphaned by the war.”
“But how will we get them to Paris?” asked Sister Danielle.
“I shall take them myself,” said her superior. “I shall simply take them on the train. All we have to do is get them to the station in Albert and take the train to Amiens and then Paris.”
“Am I to come with you?” asked Sister Danielle.
“I shall need someone,” replied Reverend Mother. “I think it should be you as the children know and love you best. But there may be danger. Will you come?”
“Yes, Mother, of course,” answered Sister Danielle. “They are my children.”
“In that case I will tell you the plan I have and see what you think of it.”
Reverend Mother outlined the plan she had discussed with Sister St Bruno earlier.
“I think the safest way is to travel openly, not try to hide our journey,” she said. “It will look far more suspicious if we try to hide what we are doing. The only one I am worried about really is Marthe. She is clearly not a child and she does have a Jewish cast to her features. I have decided to put her into a novice’s habit and let her travel as if she were one of the sisters going to visit the community in Paris.”
“And you will leave her there, as a novice?” Sister Danielle sounded doubtful.
“I shall leave her in Mother Magdalene’s care,” answered Mother Marie-Pierre. “She must decide what is best for the girl once we get her clear of here. That Colonel Hoch is not going to be satisfied when he hears that there were other Jews in the area who were missed in this last round-up. And have no doubt about it,” she added bitterly, “he will hear.”
She did not mention the wounded woman lying on her bed upstairs. The fewer people who knew about her the better. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Sister Danielle, or any of the sisters for that matter, but mistakes could be made, a careless word could endanger not only the woman herself, but the nuns who had sheltered her.
“We shall leave as soon as it can be arranged,” said the reverend mother, “so please make sure the children are packed and ready to go at short notice.”
As Sister Danielle stood to return to her charges, Mother Marie-Pierre went on, “Please ask Sister Marie-Marc to come and see me.” She paused, gravely. “And Sister, these children are truly at risk, the less we discuss this the better.”
Sister Danielle smiled. “I shall say nothing, Mother,” she promised. “Do you want me to get a novice’s habit for Marthe?”
Reverend Mother shook her head. “No, I will speak to Sister Marie-Paul myself.”
As she waited for Sister Marie-Marc to come, Mother Marie-Pierre stared down into the little walled garden below her window and considered how much to say to the old nun. When she had come to the convent as plain Sarah Hurst during the Great War, it was Sister Marie-Marc who had been in charge of the kitchen. Now such work was too much for her and she simply helped Sister Elisabeth with light tasks when necessary, and looked after her beloved hens.
Sister Marie-Marc may be old with creaking joints, Reverend Mother thought now, but she’s in no way senile. When she found the wounded woman, she kept her head, locking her safely in the pantry and then coming to find me. She must have cleaned the blood from the floor, too, before Major Thielen’s search party had arrived in the kitchen, as they didn’t find anything. Pray God we can get the children away before another search, and also find some way of protecting that poor woman upstairs; though what we’re going to do with her is yet another problem.
A tap on her door heralded the arrival of Sister Marie-Marc.
“Come in, Sister,” Mother Marie-Pierre said and pulled a chair round so that they could sit comfortably across from each other as they talked. “Now tell me, was there any problem when the soldiers came searching through the kitchen?”
The elderly nun gave a cackle of laughter. “No, Mother,” she replied. “I had cleaned the floor, but when les sales Boches came in I hadn’t had time to empty the bucket. I heard them coming, so I tipped the bucket into a pan and I put it on the stove. Then I stirred it, as if it were soup.”
In spite of herself, Mother Marie-Pierre laughed. “Soup?”
“Oh yes, Mother. And if they’d asked for a taste I’d have given it to them.”
“Then I can only thank God that they didn’t ask,” replied her superior, trying to control her quivering lip. “Now, Sister, we have a problem. The woman you found is badly wounded, but she is also wanted by the Germans. We have to keep her hidden and safe until she is well enough to move on.”
Sister Marie-Marc nodded.
“So the fewer people in the convent who know she was actually here,” went on Mother Marie-Pierre
, “the better.”
“So you’re not going to tell our sisters.”
“No, Sister,” Mother Marie-Pierre replied gently. “I think it is safest for all of us if as few as possible are in on the secret. You know, of course, and Sister Eloise. So does Sister Henriette, who has been helping Sister Eloise. There is no need for anyone else to know that we are sheltering an escaped prisoner.”
“In the Great War,” Sister Marie-Marc said slowly, “we were fighting the Germans, our army fighting theirs, but they weren’t here, in France. They weren’t living in our village, taking people’s homes, sending people away to Germany. Shooting people. It can’t be right, Mother, for them to do what they are doing to the ordinary people of France.”
“There is always cruelty in war,” Mother Marie-Pierre said, “we saw enough last time. But I agree this is different, and we must respond differently.” She smiled across at Sister Marie-Marc. “Now, we shall have to find a way of looking after the woman you found, but I know I can rely on you if I need you.”
Mother Marie-Pierre and the children set out for Paris the following day. Jean Danot, the farmer, had agreed to take them to Albert in his farm wagon and they had piled all the children and their luggage into it. The children were both excited and fearful. The older ones were leaving the only home they had ever known, but with a growing excitement at the thought of Paris. The Leon children kept close to Sister Danielle, the new rock in their swirling sea of change and anxiety. Marthe, dressed in the flowing habit and small headdress of a novice of the community, held on tightly to Margot’s hand, each the last link with her lost family.
When Mother Marie-Pierre had approached Sister Marie-Paul to give her a novice’s habit, Sister Marie-Paul had been horrified.
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