The Sisters of St. Croix

by Diney Costeloe

  This information culled was all he needed. Returning from the Jews’ cell, he sat down in his office to consider just exactly what he did know. The information about the fugitives at the convent had come in an anonymous letter. Hoch got it out of his desk now to look at it again. Written on cheap, lined paper, it was scrawled in pencil and simply said, “She’s hiding them in the convent! The girl had one of the children.” Of course it was unsigned, and the writer gave no clue to his or her identity, but Hoch, guessing who had sent it, had decided to act on it.

  The information had proved correct, and Hoch was in no doubt now that the “she” must be the mother superior. Someone in the convent did not like her, the letter having been sent for private purposes; an informer who wanted some sort of reward would surely have made herself known. This fitted his theory that the letter had come from the nun he had dealt with before, Sister Marie-Something. She wanted to run the convent and was content to co-operate with the Germans if necessary, to do so. She might want to be rid of Reverend Mother, but so did he. He would tolerate no subversives in his area, and Mother Marie-Pierre was certainly that. The other nun, whoever she was, had been taken simply to implement his earlier threat. His point had been made, and emphatically made at that—there would be no further participation for the nuns in this war.

  Hoch contacted the HQ in Amiens and arranged for one of the lorry transports on its way to Drancy, the transit camp outside Paris, to be diverted to pick up the prisoners. He had no further need of any of them. The Jews would be off to Drancy in a couple of hours, and the nuns could go with them.

  That still left the question of Antoinette. Who was she? Was she the young woman at the convent? Almost certainly she was, so he could get her name easily enough. There would be no problem bringing in the Charbonniers and the Launays, they’d soon be made to talk. The only one he had little information on was the mysterious Marcel. No doubt Antoinette could furnish that information, and who knew where that might lead to?

  There was also the mysterious disappearance of the weasel informer, Fernand. Since tipping them off about the Jews in the first place, he had made no contact. Where was he? Fernand, or rather his disappearance, had irritated Hoch. He wanted to know what the man was up to, so he’d sent Weber to Fernand’s house, either to bring Fernand in, or find out where he was. Weber had returned with Fernand’s landlady.

  “Where is Monsieur Fernand, Madame?” Hoch had asked, almost civilly.

  Martine Reynaud was terrified to find herself in the German headquarters and her voice shook as she answered. “I don’t know, Monsieur.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “I don’t know, Monsieur. A few days ago. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “But you must know when he’s in the house.”

  Certainly Martine knew when the brute was in the house, with his demands for cooked meals, washing and mending to be done, boots to be cleaned. She had relished the peace of the last few days when he had made no appearance at all. She had not dared to hope that he might never come back and she might regain the use of her own home, but now this German officer with the skulls on his shoulder was glowering at her… and he was far more frightening than Fernand.

  “Sometimes, sometimes not. He’s always out and about, Monsieur,” stammered Martine.

  Hoch knew there was nothing more to be learned from her and he dismissed her. “When he comes back, you’re to let me know. But remember, Madame, there will be no need to tell him you have been here today.”

  “Yes, Monsieur, I mean no, Monsieur,” gabbled the woman, and scurried out of his office.

  Hoch considered what he had learned. Fernand had obviously disappeared. He, Hoch, would look into the matter later on. If Fernand were dead he wasn’t going anywhere, and if he wasn’t, well, he’d turn up sooner or later. He could be lying low, afraid, because his information proved to be out of date. Or perhaps something had happened to him? Hoch realised that he must be known locally as an informer, and probably a lot more besides. Had he met with an accident? It was more than possible that he had been silenced by one of his neighbours. Hoch did not particularly care whether the man was alive or dead, but if he had been murdered by the cell of résistants he was seeking now, the murder of a Frenchman would more than justify their arrest and execution when the time came.

  Today, however, Hoch was concentrating on the girl and Marcel. Once he had them he’d have time for everyone else.

  When he returned to the nuns’ cell, he found that the older one was in a bad way. She lay on the bed, moaning softly as Mother Marie-Pierre tried to soothe her. She had removed Sister Marie-Marc’s starched collar and cleaned her face as best she could with her handkerchief. As Hoch walked in the reverend mother appealed to him again. “For pity’s sake, Colonel, let them bring me some water. Sister Marie-Marc is feverish, she needs water to drink, and I need to bathe her face.”

  Hoch looked down, unperturbed, at the old woman on the bed. “You can have some water,” he said, “and then get her ready to go.”

  “Go!” Mother Marie-Pierre leapt to her feet. “Go where? She’s in no state to go anywhere. Let her be taken back to the convent so her sisters can care for her.”

  “You are being taken to a prison camp,” he told her, “and she will go with you.”

  “In the name of God, have you no pity?”

  “For enemies of the Reich, no, Reverend Mother, I have not.” He walked to the door and then paused. “By the way, the Jews gave me the information I needed. I shall soon arrest all the others concerned in this little affair. You will be brought out when the transport arrives.” Hoch stared at her for a moment. “You are a meddlesome woman, nun, and you have brought this on yourself… and on her.”

  “And you are an evil man, Colonel,” Mother Marie-Pierre replied quietly. “May God have mercy on you and forgive you, for I never will.” She turned back to Sister Marie-Marc. For a moment she thought he might strike her, but he simply gave a harsh laugh and left the cell slamming the door behind him and ramming home the bolt. Not long after that the soldiers had come for them.

  Adelaide watched with mounting anguish. What right had anyone to treat another human being as Hoch had clearly treated his prisoners, as the desperate men and women in the truck were being treated? Her fury threatened to boil over, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing to avert what was happening. She willed Sarah to look in her direction, so that Sarah would know that she, Adelaide, was safe; so that Sarah would know she and Sister Marie-Marc had not been deserted. Sister Marie-Marc, her face almost unrecognisable, was clinging to Sarah, muttering incoherently.

  As they reached the back of the truck, one of the soldiers grabbed Janine Auclon and simply tossed her over the tailgate. There were more cries from inside as she landed on top of those already aboard. Joseph Auclon was thrown in after his wife, and then the soldiers turned to the two waiting nuns.

  Sarah began to sing in English, her voice clear and loud, a bell ringing out across the square. “In death’s dark vale I fear no ill, with Thee dear Lord beside me. Thy rod and staff my comfort still, Thy Cross before to guide me!” For a fleeting moment her eyes met Adelaide’s, and then she shouldered Sister Marie-Marc’s weight once more, and reverting to French she said gently, “Come, Sister, it’s time to go…”

  As the soldiers still hesitated, she turned to them and spoke. “Perhaps you’d be good enough to help us into the lorry.” Two of them moved forward, and clearly uncomfortable at laying hands on a nun, lifted first Sister Marie-Marc and then Reverend Mother up and over the tailgate into the crush of humanity already on the inside.

  At that moment Colonel Hoch emerged from the town hall, his face dark with rage. “What the hell’s going on here?” he roared and the soldiers snapped to attention. “Get those flaps closed and get on the road.”

  The soldiers leapt to do his bidding, but as the flaps were hauled closed and roped into place, Adelaide heard Sarah’s voice, raised loud one last
time. “God bless you!” and she knew that the blessing was for her.

  23

  With the arrival of Hoch on the scene, the crowd who had been watching melted away. Adelaide moved with them, fighting the tears as she watched the lorry and its miserable cargo prepare to leave. She should not be in the square at all, she knew that. She couldn’t afford to be conspicuous, but neither could she bring herself to walk away from Sarah. She could do nothing for her but be there, and so she had stayed.

  The German soldiers returned to their HQ, as the lorry rumbled out of the place, and Hoch, with a final glance around the square, followed them inside. Once back in his office, he called for Lieutenant Weber. The lieutenant found him standing by the window that overlooked the square.

  “You wanted me, sir?”

  Hoch looked round. “Come here, Weber. Look out there. You see that girl crossing the square now? I want to know who she is and where she goes.”

  “Shall I have someone bring her in, sir?” asked Weber.

  “No,” snapped Hoch. “I just want her followed. I want to know where she lives, who she meets, who she talks to, where she goes. But discreetly, Weber. I don’t want her to suspect she is being watched. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get someone on to it.”

  “And Weber, when you’ve done that, come back. I need you to go up to the convent and speak to the new reverend mother.”

  “Yes, sir!” The lieutenant snapped a salute and left the colonel watching Adelaide walking slowly away. Hoch was almost certain she was the young woman who had been working at the convent, but was she the one who had escaped his men last night? If she were the young woman, Antoinette, who had taken the Auclon children away, then she was the important one now. She clearly had links with a wider network. Hoch needed her to lead him to this Marcel, whoever he was, and anyone else she had been working with; maybe to the whole network. With enough rope, he would hang them all. He would leave the minor players, the Charbonniers and Launays, for the time being. They weren’t going anywhere; he could round them up later on. If he arrested them too soon, it might alert Marcel, he would go to ground and Hoch would never catch him.

  Unaware of this scrutiny, Adelaide made her way slowly across the place. With the departure of the lorry, people began to drift back onto the square once more, carrying on their everyday business. A queue of housewives formed outside the boulangerie for the daily ration of bread, workmen called to each other as they repaired a fire-damaged shop. Two young women pushing prams across the square paused to perch on the edge of the fountain and chat; a woman was cleaning her front window, another sweeping her step. An elderly car chugged in from a side road, a man with a briefcase hurried along, consulting his watch as he went; the priest came out of the church. Life went on.

  How could everything seem so normal, Adelaide wondered bleakly as she watched them? How could life go on as usual when there was such an evil presence in their midst? She wanted to weep. Impotent fury and grief boiled up inside her, knotting together, a visceral pain. Her heart and mind were in that dreadful lorry, transporting its desperate human cargo to God alone knew where, and though she knew her own situation was precarious, she couldn’t give it her attention.

  Hardly looking where she was going, Adelaide almost cannoned into a young German soldier heading the other way. He put out a hand to steady her, and smiled. “Enschuligen!”

  Adelaide was jolted back to the present and with a duck of her head she muttered, “Pardon!” and hurried away.

  Horrified at her own stupidity, she forced herself to continue at an even pace, though her mind reeled. The soldier watched her appreciatively for a moment before going into the café. He had not recognised her, but, Adelaide realised with a sudden chill, he could so easily have been one of those who had given chase last night, and she, too, could have been gathered into Hoch’s evil web.

  Focus! Focus on what needs to be done, she admonished herself. There’s no time to think about Sarah now. You must put her out of your head and focus your mind on what to do next.

  But try as she would, she could not banish the battered and bruised faces of the two nuns from her mind’s eye. And she was responsible; it was as simple as that. If she hadn’t hidden the Auclons at the convent, Sarah and Sister Marie-Marc would be safe and Aunt Anne would be alive.

  A tiny voice inside reminded her that she had saved the children. She thought of the two little boys she had passed on to Father Bernard and wondered where they were now. Were they safe or had that been in vain as well? What about Father Bernard himself? If she were to be caught now, he too would be in jeopardy. The colonel had obviously been brutal in his questioning of the four prisoners, and Adelaide knew she must be in acute danger. She had no idea what he had been able to extract from them, but she guessed that they would not have been sent on their way had they still held information that Hoch needed. She had to assume that they had told him everything.

  Now, more than ever, she needed to see Marcel. She had no direct means of contacting him, she had to rely on Madame Juliette. That was a security cut-out. Indeed she realised, as she didn’t even know Marcel’s real name, he would be safe if she were caught, but even so, she knew that she had to get away. Madame Juliette. She was another who would be at Hoch’s mercy should Adelaide fall into his hands, for if she were caught, she knew that she would be unlikely to withstand Hoch’s questioning for long. If there was no message from Marcel, or if he didn’t or couldn’t come to the farm, Adelaide decided that she must use the fallback rendezvous he had given her in Albert.

  The longer I stay in the area, the more I endanger everyone concerned, Adelaide thought. Pull yourself together, woman, and get yourself away from here.

  The first thing to do was to get out of sight. There were off-duty German soldiers sitting at tables outside the café. Any of them could be among those who’d been at the convent, any of them might recognise her. Whatever happened next, she had to warn the Launays and the Charbonniers. Adelaide quickened her pace and took the alley along the side of the café down towards the river. If Marcel did not come quickly she must contrive her own escape.

  As she walked she considered her options. She thought about Madame Juliette’s cellar. Perhaps she could hide there until Marcel did come, until he brought news from London, but the idea appalled her. She knew she couldn’t survive in that claustrophobic underground room for long, and she would yet again be putting the old lady at risk. No, that would truly be a last resort. Marcel had told her that in an emergency she should head for Albert and he would look for her in the Café Rousseau every morning at eleven. Better to go there, she decided, than put Juliette at further risk.

  As she reached the end of the lane, a young man in workman’s overalls came pedalling along the towpath on an elderly-looking bike. He raised a hand in greeting as he passed, and as she watched him riding on along the path, she thought about the bike she had used to carry the children. Perhaps she could simply get on her bike and ride away. She hadn’t used it today. After some discussion they had decided that Gerard should take the child seat off the back before she used it again, in case someone remembered seeing her with one of the boys up behind her. Still, the bike was a possibility. She might simply ride out of the area… if the Germans weren’t already on the lookout for her. Could she get as far as Albert without being picked up? And when she got there, where should she go until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning?

  Adelaide reached the old stone barn and turned down the track that led to the Launays’ farm. Further up the towpath, she saw that the cyclist had stopped and was energetically pumping up his back tyre. He must have got a puncture, Adelaide thought sympathetically. The path was rough enough, jagged stones bedded in rutted mud. If she did decide to use the bike to get away, she must remember to take the puncture kit and pump with her. She couldn’t afford to get stranded at the side of the road.

  As Adelaide turned onto the farm track, Horst Braun stood up from his bicycle wheel an
d looked back. Pushing the bike, he walked back to the end of the track and glanced along it. The girl was walking briskly, striding out, almost running. In the distance Braun could see farm buildings among some trees, obviously her destination. He climbed onto his bicycle and rode quickly back to the town hall, taking the direct route rather than the circuitous one he had used to disguise his approach.

  “She’s gone to the farm in the river bend,” he reported to Hoch.

  Hoch’s eyes gleamed. “By the river, you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I see.” Hoch thought for a moment. Weber had been up to the convent and spoken to Sister Marie-Paul, the new reverend mother. He’d come back with the information that the girl Hoch was looking for no longer worked there, she had been sacked just that morning.

  “Her name’s Adèle Durant,” the reverend mother had said. “She lives with her aunt and uncle at a farm out along the river. The Launays.”