Wild Lavender

by Belinda Alexandra

  He was about to speak when ‘Roger’, the Australian rose from his chair. ‘I think we are going to miss the train if this argument goes on any longer,’ he said in carefully measured French. For a moment I was hypnotised by his voice. It was rich and fluid, like an actor on stage. ‘If Mademoiselle Fleurier is prepared to risk her life for four men she doesn’t know from a bar of soap, then I think we can let her take her animals,’ he went on.

  Mouse’s face turned from white to crimson. But whether it was from the embarrassment of being outdone in chivalry or because he was being challenged, I couldn’t tell.

  ‘Come on then,’ said the Judge. ‘We will each take two pieces of Mademoiselle Fleurier’s luggage.’

  Mouse, chastised and annoyed, was the first out the door. Roger and I reached for the same suitcase. He smiled at me. The expression transformed his face: he was handsome rather than surly. I realised that he would probably have come across differently if he had not been a downed pilot, trapped behind enemy lines. My heart did a twirl in my chest. It startled me. I had experienced that sensation once before, many years ago. The blood rushed to the surface of my skin and I could feel my cheeks glow.

  ‘I grew up with dogs. Four of them,’ Roger said. He reached to pick up Chérie’s cage with his free arm. ‘I’ve never had a cat but I suspect I’ll like her.’

  He was self-assured in the way he spoke but his smile was shy. It melted my heart.

  ‘I think a person who is kind to animals must be a good person overall,’ I said, trying to regain my composure. I was acting as if I was sixteen again—and we were in the middle of a war!

  ‘I agree,’ he said, standing aside so I could go through the door first. ‘And I think a woman who is loyal to her animals will not betray her friends,’ he added in English.

  Roger’s voice was warm and rumbled like a tremor under the earth. He would make a good singer, I thought. The charm of it made me want to learn…whatever it was they spoke in Australia. Australian?

  We had chosen a day and time when Madame Goux normally visited her brother, so we all froze when we found her standing in the foyer. She was dressed in a travel suit with a suitcase by her side. The Judge glanced at me and Mouse gave me a nudge. It looked as though I was going to have to start with the cover story sooner than expected.

  ‘Good evening, Madame Goux,’ I said. ‘I would like you to meet my manager, Pierrot Vinet—’

  ‘My arse!’ she spat, lifting her eyebrow at me accusingly. ‘I know who they are. I heard through the air vent. Not as good spies as you think, are you?’

  I was too surprised to say anything. I had told her that my two visitors the previous week were from the Propagandastaffel and she had given every sign of believing me.

  ‘Madame, may I ask what you intend to do?’ said the Judge. His voice was chillingly calm and I sensed that he was feeling in his pocket for a weapon. I was afraid that if Madame Goux said she was going to denounce us, he would kill her on the spot.

  ‘As you see,’ she said, pointing to her suitcase, ‘I am coming with you.’

  ‘Pardon?’ asked Mouse.

  ‘I am coming with you,’ said Madame Goux. ‘To fight for France.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the Judge, switching to a more gracious tone. ‘You could do that so well from here, Madame. We need a Paris coordinator.’

  ‘Don’t give me that shit!’ barked Madame Goux. ‘I’ve got my papers in order. You can buy me a ticket at the station. I’m going as Mademoiselle Fleurier’s personal assistant. Didn’t it occur to you that it would look strange for her to travel alone with so many men?’

  It hadn’t occurred to me, but she was probably right. I glanced at Mouse who shrugged at the Judge.

  ‘Come along then, Madame,’ said the Judge, rolling his eyes. ‘Before everyone else who knows Mademoiselle Fleurier wants to come too.’

  We arrived at the station to find it crowded with German soldiers and French civil servants. With the luggage carriage filled to capacity, the conductor agreed to let the animals travel with us, although he warned that we would have to move if the Germans objected to them or the dogs started barking. My being given a compartment in first class was clearly an exception: the Germans were given the best seats first and the French had to settle for whatever was left after that. There were six seats in our compartment and, as it turned out, having an extra member in the party was to our advantage. If Madame Goux hadn’t come with us then a German soldier or French official would have taken the spare seat and maybe tried to make conversation.

  Mouse and I sat opposite each other in the seats nearest the door. Roger sat next to me, with Charlot resting near his feet, and Eduard was placed by the window. The plan was that when the police came to check our tickets, Eduard would pretend to be asleep and I would speak for him.

  I was aware that the compartment walls were thin and that we had Germans on either side of us, but I was fascinated by the two RAF men and wanted to know more about them. Especially Roger. I wondered what his true name was, but Mouse had forbidden me to enquire about any of the parties’ real lives, in case I was caught. ‘If they torture you, the less you know the better it will be for the rest of us,’ he had said.

  Eduard had already ‘fallen asleep’ so I whispered to Roger, ‘You were born in Algiers?’ If I couldn’t have a real conversation with him, surely I could get myself better acquainted with his cover story.

  Roger rose to the game. ‘My sisters and I went to live with my grandparents there after my parents were killed in a train accident. My grandfather was a retired naval captain who had travelled to Algiers and never wanted to leave.’

  Mouse frowned at me, then seemed to think better of it. Hadn’t he said himself that a cover story should be practised until it was flawless and all questions could be answered without hesitation?

  ‘And how come you are in France?’ he asked Roger.

  ‘My uncle invited me here to study law at the Sorbonne. I fell in love with Paris.’

  ‘Why weren’t you called up for military service?’ I asked, knowing this would be the first thing the Germans would ask of a man his age.

  ‘I’m diabetic,’ he answered.

  Goodness, I thought, I hope if he is ever caught and the Germans bring in a doctor, he can fake that.

  I tried to pick out what was true and what wasn’t in the cover story. I guessed that Roger probably did have two sisters. He may well have studied law, but not at the Sorbonne. What would be the use of knowing French law when you intended to practise in Britain or one of her dominions?

  The ticket and papers check by the conductor when we boarded the train had gone without a hitch, but when we stopped at the demarcation line and four French policemen came on board, my pulse began to throb.

  ‘Bonsoir, Mesdames and Messieurs,’ said one of the policemen, peering into our compartment. ‘Your papers, please.’

  As planned, Roger slipped Eduard’s papers from his pocket, put them on top of his and passed them to me. I handed all three of our passes up to the policeman, while Mouse did the same with his, the Judge’s and those of Madame Goux. The policeman studied them much more carefully than I had seen anyone do before the war. He checked my picture against my appearance and did the same with the others. But he stared uncomfortably long at Eduard’s.

  ‘Wake him up, please,’ he said, nodding his chin towards the Scotsman.

  ‘Is that necessary?’ I asked, laying my hand on the policeman’s wrist. ‘He has la grippe and has been sleeping since Paris.’

  I hoped that my comment that Eduard had influenza would cause the policeman to leave our compartment quickly, but the expression on his stern face didn’t change. To my horror, he leaned out into the corridor and called for the other policemen to come. I glanced at Mouse. Outwardly his face and posture were calm, but I could see how white his knuckles were on the armrest.

  Three more police officers arrived, blocking the corridor. My eyes fell to the revolvers on their belts. ‘There
,’ said the policeman, holding Eduard’s papers towards them. ‘This document has all the details filled out correctly. This is what the Germans want to see. This is what a genuine pass looks like.’

  The other policemen glanced at the paper and nodded their approval. ‘The French don’t realise how they hold things up by not doing things precisely,’ one of them said.

  The first policeman handed back our papers, then touched his cap and wished us a good trip. We were careful not to relax our positions as soon as he left. It wasn’t until the policemen got off and the train began moving again that we let out a collective sigh of relief.

  ‘We will have to warn the forger you use in Paris,’ the Judge said to Mouse. ‘He might be too good.’

  The train trip to Marseilles was supposed to be an overnight one, but we had been warned that with all the checks the journey could end up taking two or three days. At each stop, I would have to take the three dogs for a toilet break and Chérie when she needed it too. I could see why Mouse had objected to me bringing the animals, but I had to stand by my decision and find a way to manage. No wagon compartments had been available but we were content to sleep upright as long as we weren’t disturbed. Madame Goux and Mouse shut the curtains. I posted Bruno near the door to warn us if anybody came inside. Princesse curled herself into my lap while Charlot remained at Roger’s feet. Chérie seemed happy to sleep in her cage on top of the luggage rack.

  On a train crowded with Germans, we weren’t going to risk the dining car and my stomach rumbled as I drifted off to sleep to dream of policemen endlessly checking my papers. I must have been asleep for an hour or so when the train slowed down then came to a stop. There were shouts outside; the voices were German. I sat upright. The others did the same. The Judge peered through the curtains. ‘Another check. A German one.’

  A few minutes later the conductor knocked on our door. ‘Everybody out. Leave your luggage in the compartment.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mouse whispered in English, ‘Mademoiselle Fleurier and I will go first with everybody’s papers. The rest of you stick close behind.’

  I left Chérie where she was but took the dogs with me.

  We stepped out of the carriage and found the platform overrun by German soldiers. Even though we had passed the demarcation line and were supposed to be in Vichy France, it appeared that the Germans were giving the local police some ‘assistance’ in checking travellers’ papers. To my horror, the control desks were divided by language and there was one for Czech citizens. We were done for.

  ‘Stay with us,’ the Judge whispered to Eduard. ‘Don’t allow yourself to be separated. Whatever happens, keep calm.’

  We were directed to a table where an officer sat waiting to check the French first- and second-class passengers. He was the most fastidiously dressed man I had ever seen. His boots glistened under the dim station lights as if he had just painted them. His buckles and buttons sparkled and there was not a crease in his uniform where one shouldn’t be. While his colleagues were also neatly dressed, they looked wilted by the heat. But this officer was as cleanly shaven and fresh-looking as if he had just started work for the day. He gestured for us to step forward. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure that he would hear it.

  ‘You are travelling on the train with these dogs?’ he said, in perfect French. ‘It is unhygienic.’

  He looked like the kind of man who would call a dog hair on his trousers ‘filthy’.

  ‘They are clean dogs, I assure you. No fleas or worms,’ I said. On cue, Bruno rested his chin on the table, a string of drool oozing from his jaws. I brushed him away. ‘They are part of my act,’ I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. ‘For my upcoming show in Marseilles.’

  ‘Part of your act?’ The officer watched Charlot relieve himself against a post. ‘I have never seen you perform with animals.’

  Jean Renoir had once told me that the best way to calm nerves was to act the opposite to what you are feeling. I did my best to act flattered. ‘You have seen me perform?’ I asked, tossing my head and smiling. ‘Where did you see me?’

  ‘In Paris in 1930. I saw your show sixteen times.’

  ‘Well,’ I replied, laughing, ‘I guess that means you liked it.’

  ‘We are travelling to Marseilles to design a new show for Mademoiselle Fleurier,’ Mouse said, sounding as slick as any Parisian manager. ‘You must come and see her perform there.’

  The officer glanced at the two soldiers standing behind him and said to them in German, ‘Can you believe that I have Simone Fleurier standing in front of me? And her manager invited me to her show in Marseilles.’

  ‘You should search her,’ replied one of them, licking his lips. ‘You can’t let a chance like that go by.’

  I felt myself pale. I wasn’t hiding anything on my person that could give the others away, but the thought of being searched by those men was terrifying. Then, an image of my mother flashed into my mind. I saw her staring down Guillemette in the Parc de Monceau when she had tried to intimidate her. I found myself giving the same look to the officer. He shifted in his seat although he would have assumed that I couldn’t understand German. Nevertheless, he turned to the others and said, ‘I can’t search a French citizen of her standing without good reason. Besides, do you really think a spy would be travelling with such a zoo? I mean, look at them all. Especially that old woman. She has a face like a donkey’s arse.’

  The two soldiers laughed and the officer shuffled through our papers. He stamped them and handed them back to me. ‘Till Marseilles then, Mademoiselle Fleurier,’ he said, appraising me with the eyes of a man, not an officer.

  I tucked the papers into my handbag and turned back to the carriage, calling the dogs to come too. The men and Madame Goux followed but we said nothing to each other until all the passengers had been checked and reseated. I felt in some way that although we were travelling together, each one of us was making this treacherous journey alone.

  By some miracle we arrived in Marseilles on schedule and without further incident. It was strange for me to be back in the city where I had first dreamed of becoming a star. The smell of salt and the screeching seagulls brought back memories of Aunt Augustine’s house. I had travelled a long way since then.

  I had reserved a four-bedroomed suite at the Hôtel de Noailles. After the waiter had delivered us a breakfast of omelettes, cheese, croissants, melon and champagne, we blocked the air vents and keyhole then toasted the success of the first part of our mission.

  ‘Here’s to getting out of occupied France,’ said the Judge.

  ‘I could have done just as well with bacon and eggs,’ said Eduard, eyeing the feast set out before us. ‘But this is splendid.’

  It was the first time I had heard him speak and he didn’t sound like a Czech at all. He had a high, lilting voice.

  ‘You must have been bursting to say something,’ I told him. ‘I don’t think I could have gone that long without saying a word.’

  Roger laughed. Even Mouse and the Judge allowed themselves to smile. Madame Goux demanded to know what we were talking about and Mouse translated our conversation for her.

  ‘I am impressed with your sang-froid, Mademoiselle Fleurier,’ said the Judge, buttering a piece of bread. ‘You are a remarkable woman.’

  I turned to Mouse, keen to rub in what the officer had said about the animals. ‘Bruno, Princesse, Charlot and Chérie turned out to be an excellent cover story.’

  ‘All right then,’ chuckled the Judge. ‘We shall toast our animal friends too. But I had no idea that you could speak German. Where did you learn?’

  I explained about my time in Berlin and about my lessons there. I had everyone laughing again when I told them about Doctor Daniel, who used to make me jump over chairs and sing high Cs.

  ‘You must have had some bizarre teachers in your time too,’ Roger said to Eduard.

  The Scotsman put down his knife and fork. ‘None to match that one,’ he said. ‘At least with the piano no o
ne expects you to be able to run around and play it at the same time.’

  ‘I hope I will hear you play before you go,’ I said. ‘I am curious to know how a concert pianist ended up in the RAF.’

  ‘Ask the Squadron Captain,’ he answered, nodding at Roger. ‘I’m just an officer. He’s the fighting ace. He shot down a number of the Luftwaffe before he got hit himself.’

  Roger blushed and, because he was embarrassed, dropped his guard. ‘I flew quite a bit in Tasmania,’ he said. ‘My grandmother told me that my very first word was “airplane”—’

  Mouse coughed and we fell into an awkward silence. I realised we weren’t supposed to go that far. It was hard for me to get used to the secrecy. It was still early in the war and our spirits were high. The thought of being thrown into prison and tortured, let alone executed, didn’t seem real. But then, none of us knew anyone who had died that way yet.

  ‘What is the next step in the plan?’ asked Madame Goux. If Mouse had praised me on my coolness in the face of danger, then she deserved to be complimented too. Madame Goux had shown restraint the whole journey and had played the part of an efficient secretary well.

  ‘We have a contact in Marseilles,’ Mouse explained. ‘Once we have spoken to him we are going to leave either by sea or cross the Pyrenees into Spain. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you which one.’

  The sea would be easier than the Pyrenees, which were rugged mountains and difficult to cross. Roger, Eduard and Mouse looked fit enough to make it, but I worried about the Judge.

  ‘Please, gentlemen, eat up and rest well while you are here,’ I told them. ‘I will spare no expense for you. You must be strong for your escape.’