“At least nobody else knows,” comforted Connie as the train pulled into the station and they walked back toward Sophia.
“Madame, you will learn that there is always somebody who does.” Sarah sighed. “And will tell what they know. We must simply concentrate on getting Sophia to a place of safety, and then we can decide what’s best to do.”
Rather than the luxury of first class, the three women boarded third class as befitted their lowly status. The crowded carriage was dirty and smelled of stale bodies. Eventually, the train pulled out and Connie sighed with relief. Every step they took was one nearer to sanctuary.
At each station, Connie’s body tensed. Germans were swarming down to Marseille, fearing invasion from the south of the country, and the platforms were full of troops. The carriage was unheated and uncomfortable, though she could see that both Sarah and Sophia had managed to sleep. Apart from her fear of being apprehended, every time Connie closed her eyes, the horror of four nights ago continued to assail her senses.
At the station before Marseille, the ticket collector passed by, warning that the Germans were on board, checking papers on the train. Connie’s heart thudded in her chest as she roused the others to warn them. Everyone in the carriage was braced for danger, the scent of fear palpable. Connie wondered, as she looked at the motley collection of humanity, just how many other passengers were traveling illegally.
A German officer entered the carriage and barked for everyone to produce their papers. All eyes were on him as he checked each row of passengers. Sarah, Sophia, and Connie were in the last row, and the agony of waiting for him to reach them seemed endless.
“Fräulein, papers!” he snapped at Sarah, who sat on the end of the row.
“Of course, monsieur.” Sarah handed them to him with a friendly smile. He perused them then looked up at her.
“Where were these papers issued, fräulein?”
“At the mairie, in my local town of Dijon.”
He read them again, then shook his head. “These papers are forged, fräulein. They do not have the correct stamp on them. Stand up!”
Sarah stood, shaking with fear, and the German pulled his gun out of his holster and stuck it in her stomach.
“Monsieur, I’m an innocent citizen, I do no harm, please … I—”
“Aus! Out now!”
As Sarah was marched off the train at gunpoint, she did not turn back toward Sophia and Connie. Any signal that they had been traveling together and they too could have been arrested. A few seconds later, the whistle blew and the train moved on.
Everyone in the carriage was staring at where Sarah had been sitting. Connie squeezed Sophia’s hand hard to warn her to say nothing and gave a nonchalant shrug to the others in the carriage. The woman had simply been another passenger sitting next to them.
At Marseille, the two of them left the train to wait for their connection to Toulon. Connie sat Sophia down on a bench on the platform.
“My God! Constance,” Sophia breathed in desperation, “where will they take Sarah? What will happen to her?”
“I don’t know, Sophia,” Connie replied, trying to remain calm, “but there was nothing either of us could have done. At least I trust Sarah not to say a word about us, or who she works for in Paris. She loves you and your family so very much.”
“Oh, Constance, she’s been with me since I was born,” cried Sophia. “How will I cope without her?”
“You have me with you.” Connie patted her hand. “And I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
When the train for Toulon arrived, Connie stepped on with trepidation. If Sarah’s papers had noticeably been forged, then theirs were too. Only by chance had Sarah’s been looked at first and theirs not checked afterward. As the train chugged east across Provence and toward the Côte d’Azur, Connie had to face that Sarah’s protective arm was no longer around her. Sophia’s safety, and her own, now depended entirely on her.
• • •
“How are we today?” Venetia asked as she brought Édouard some coffee and placed it by his bed. “We’ve run out of milk. I’m afraid I’ve used up all the tinned stuff I found in the cupboard upstairs.”
“I’m better, thank you, Venetia.”
In the past two days, Édouard had done little more than sleep and eat whatever sustenance Venetia had offered him to try to regain his strength. But, today, his brain was alert and he definitely felt he was on the mend.
“Good,” said Venetia. “Time for a bath, methinks. A good wash always makes you feel more human and will please those who are currently sharing the same quarters with you.” She wrinkled her nose to emphasize the point.
“You think it’s safe to go upstairs?”
“Yes, perfectly. Besides, the bathroom is at the back of the house and has shutters. I’ve enjoyed a candlelit soak every night so far. Heaven!” Venetia stretched and smiled. “Now, drink your coffee and I’ll go and run it for you.”
An hour later, after a long soak, Édouard was indeed feeling refreshed. Venetia had procured some clothes from his bedroom and had applied a fresh bandage to his healing wound.
“Goodness, Édouard!” Venetia commented as he walked down the cellar steps. “You’re awfully tall when you’re upright. Now, I think I’ll have to venture out as we’re down to the cat food in the kitchen. And even I have my limits.” She smiled.
“No, let me go,” he urged.
“Don’t be silly, Édouard. I’m practiced at melting into a crowd, whereas you, Monsieur le Comte, unfortunately stick out like a sore thumb. Leave it to me. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Before Édouard could stop her, Venetia left by the cellar door, but was back twenty minutes later with two fresh baguettes. For the first time, he ate hungrily and thought the return of his appetite a good sign.
“I’ve been in touch with my network, and they’re coming up with a plan to get you out of France as soon as possible,” Venetia explained. “How do you fancy a sojourn in London? My people have been in touch with de Gaulle’s Free French headquarters over there. They would all very much like the pleasure of your company and a debrief. If we can get you over there in one piece, of course. Just a shame you’re so tall. Your height makes you far more difficult to conceal.”
“But what about my sister, Sophia? And your friend Constance?” Édouard shook his head. “No, I can’t simply abandon them and escape myself!”
“To be blunt, Édouard, for your sister’s sake, it’s probably the best thing you can do. As I’ve mentioned, you’re high on the Boche’s most wanted list at present. And we’re all hoping your sojourn won’t be for long; plans are still moving forward for the Allied invasion.”
“I wish, in retrospect, that I’d kept Sophia here in Paris with me.” Édouard sighed.
“Well, there’s no turning back now,” Venetia said stoically. “I’ve managed to send a message down south to alert our friends there to your sister’s imminent arrival. They’ll be looking out for her and will assist in any way they can.”
“Thank you, Venetia,” Édouard said gratefully. “I sent them in good faith, presuming I would be able to follow on.”
“Well, you can’t, and that’s that,” Venetia replied briskly. “I saw your face on a fly poster when I was out. You’re famous in Paris, Édouard. You must leave the country as soon as you can.”
“Then you’ll take a risk in helping me.”
“No more than usual.” Venetia raised her eyebrows and grinned. “But it’s time we moved on before our luck runs out. We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
Édouard nodded reluctantly. “It goes without saying that I appreciate everything you’ve done and are doing for me.”
“Well, Hero,” Venetia replied brusquely to hide her emotion, “from what I hear, given the countless lives you’ve saved in the past four years, it’s my honor.”
• • •
Connie pulled a weary Sophia from the train at Toulon station. It was pouring with rain and pitch-black as they
emerged from the platform. Connie went to the ticket office and spoke through the grille to the clerk behind it.
“Excuse me, monsieur, but when is the next train along the coast to Gassin?”
“Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock,” the clerk rasped.
“I see. Then would you know of a hotel where we could stay for the night?”
“Turn left and there’s a place on the corner of this street,” said the clerk, looking at Connie’s disheveled appearance and snapping down his blind.
Connie took hold of Sophia’s arm and they trudged along the street until they reached the hotel the clerk had suggested, both of them now drenched by the torrential rain.
Inside, at least the hotel was warm, if shabby. Connie was offered a room at a price that would normally secure accommodation at the Ritz and helped an exhausted and dripping Sophia upstairs. An hour later, after both women had washed and dried themselves as best they could in the limited facilities, Connie led Sophia into the small restaurant and sat her down.
“Nearly home,” said Connie comfortingly. “Please, Sophia, try to eat something.”
Both of them picked at their food, Connie thinking of Sarah, Édouard, and Venetia. She told herself how lucky she and Sophia were to be at least free, warm, and dry tonight. Besides, this was the kind of operation she’d been trained for and she must finally prove her worth.
A voice broke into her thoughts: ‘You are traveling far, madame?”
She turned and saw a young man sitting at the table next to her, watching them both with interest.
“We’re returning home,” Connie replied cautiously. “We live farther along the coast.”
“Ah, the Côte d’Azur. I think there’s no place more beautiful on earth.”
“No, monsieur, I agree.”
“Have you been visiting relatives?”
“Yes,” said Connie, stifling a yawn, “and it’s been a long journey back.”
“Any journey undertaken these days is fraught with difficulty. I myself am an agricultural engineer, so I travel widely and see many things.” The man raised his eyebrows. “You’re traveling unchaperoned?”
“Yes, but we’re almost there,” Connie answered, nervous now at so many questions.
“That’s very brave in these difficult times. Especially as I notice your companion …” The young man mimed a pair of closed eyes.
Connie immediately panicked. What was she doing sitting openly in a restaurant with an obviously blind sister of a man wanted by the Gestapo? “No, my sister is not blind, she’s simply tired. Come, Claudine, it’s time we were in bed. Good night, monsieur.” She allowed Sophia to stand from the table alone and only at the last minute took her elbow and led her out of the room.
“Who was that man?” Sophia whispered fearfully.
“I don’t know, but I’m not sure we should stay here. I—” As Connie’s foot touched the bottom step to walk upstairs, a hand grasped her shoulder, and she jumped in fright. It was the man from the restaurant.
“Madame, I know who you both are.” He spoke in a low voice. “Do not fear, your secret is safe. A friend alerted me to the fact that such a young lady”—he indicated Sophia—“would be traveling down this way, and I was asked to look out for her and help her and her companions. I spotted you at Marseille station and would have introduced myself sooner, but I saw what happened to your friend on the train. I’m to see you safely to the end of your journey. Mademoiselle Sophia’s brother is well-known to me.”
Connie stood silently in an agony of indecision.
“He is a hero, madame,” the man added, gazing at her intently.
At the use of Édouard’s code name, Connie nodded.
“Thank you, monsieur. We’re grateful to you.”
“Tomorrow I’ll escort you down the coast to Mademoiselle’s home. My name is Armand and I’m at your service. Good night.”
“Can we trust him?” asked Sophia as she climbed into bed a few seconds later.
If the Gestapo hadn’t burst in by morning, then Connie knew they could. But she didn’t say this to Sophia. “Yes. I think we can. Your brother, with his many contacts in the Resistance, must have sent word down the line.”
“I wonder when Édouard will join us?” Sophia sighed. “Oh, Constance, I can’t stop thinking of poor Sarah. What can we do?”
“We have to hope she is questioned, then released and returned to us. Sleep now, Sophia, and know that tomorrow evening we’ll be in a place of safety.”
• • •
The following morning, after a breakfast of the freshest bread and even a croissant still hot from the oven, Connie felt somewhat restored. Armand had nodded at her across the restaurant as he drank his coffee, then stood up and looked at his watch.
“It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame. I’ll be leaving now to walk to the station to catch the train along the coast.” He smiled at them and left the room.
A few minutes after Armand had left, Connie guided Sophia down the street toward the station, and Armand tipped his hat as he saw them arrive. Having purchased two tickets and taken Sophia to sit on a bench on the platform, Connie watched Armand as he read a newspaper nonchalantly. The little train drew in and everyone clustered around the doors in a very un-British fashion. Leading Sophia onto the train, Connie settled her in a seat by the window. She looked for Armand, but he had obviously disappeared into the second carriage.
The journey to Gassin took just over two hours. Connie looked at the raft of pretty coastal villages, which, in high summer, faced on an azure sea. Now, in early December, the waves below were an angry gray. Connie shivered, hoping only for warmth when they arrived; she was chilled to the bone.
The train journey was thankfully uneventful, and the two of them disembarked at Gassin station in further torrential rain. When the train had trundled off and the small number of passengers had dispersed, only they and a donkey and cart waited patiently for further guidance. A few minutes later, Armand appeared out of nowhere, wheeling two bicycles with him.
Connie looked at him in horror. “Monsieur, you must understand that Sophia cannot cycle. How about the donkey and cart?”
“Charlotte, the donkey, takes the post up the hill to Gassin village.” Armand looked at the animal fondly. “But her disappearance might alert the villagers to Sophia’s presence.”
“But, surely, monsieur, she would say nothing?”
“Charlotte, certainly, is trustworthy.” A glint of a smile appeared in his eyes as he and Connie shared the absurdity of the statement. “But her master, the postman, I cannot vouch for. The château is a short bicycle ride of five minutes. Sophia will hold tight to me.”
“No!” Sophia was aghast. “I cannot.”
“Mademoiselle, you must. Now”—he glanced at Connie—“take this.” Armand handed her Sophia’s small suitcase, which Connie placed in the bicycle basket in front of her. “And help me get Mademoiselle aboard.”
“Please don’t make me!” Sophia moaned in fear.
By now dripping wet, Connie lost her patience. “Sophia, for goodness’ sake, get on, before we all die of pneumonia!”
The sharpness in Connie’s voice quieted Sophia’s protests, and the two of them helped her climb onto the saddle.
“Put your arms about my waist and hang on tight,” Armand instructed, standing astride the bicycle in front of Sophia. “Right. Here we go!”
Connie watched as Armand wobbled off along the bumpy road, Sophia clinging on for dear life behind him. Connie followed, and several minutes later, as raindrops cascaded from her white-blond hair, Armand turned off the main road. A few yards down the narrow track, he stopped to let Connie catch up with them.
“There, mademoiselle! Your first bicycle ride.” He handed a shaking Sophia from the bicycle and laid it down, indicating Connie to do the same. “We must walk from here, the track is too rough for wheels. We’re entering by the back of the château, which takes us through the vineyards and dire
ctly to the cave. The good news is that we haven’t passed a soul since we left the station.” He led Sophia carefully along the potholed, puddled track. “The rain has been on our side.”
“We’re here?” asked Sophia.
“Yes, we’ll be at the cave in a few minutes,” he said reassuringly.
“Thank God,” cried Sophia, panting with fear and exhaustion.
“Jacques is expecting you,” said Armand.
The sound of the name seemed to spur Sophia’s feet forward. A large, rendered building came into view, and Armand pulled open the high wooden doors in the center of it. Connie felt like crying with relief herself as they stepped inside out of the rain.
The interior of the building was a vast, dim space, filled with the scent of fermenting grapes. Huge oak barrels lined its sides, and a figure appeared through a side door between two of them.
“Sophia? Is that you?” a voice whispered from the shadows.
“Jacques!” Sophia reached out her thin, childlike arms, and a tall, heavyset man in his thirties, his face lined and tanned brown as a nut by the relentless sun, walked up to her.
“My Sophia, thank God you’re safe!” The man clasped her against his wide, strong chest, and Sophia sobbed onto his shoulder. He stroked her soaking hair and whispered to her tenderly, “Don’t worry, Jacques is here now. I’ll look after you.”
Connie and Armand watched this display of affection silently. Then Jacques looked toward them.
“Thank you for bringing her home,” he said to both of them, his voice cracked with emotion. “I didn’t believe she would make it. Did anyone see you arrive here?”
“Jacques, we couldn’t see two centimeters in front of us in this rain.” Armand laughed. “It couldn’t have been better.”
“Good. So now, ladies, there’s a fire lit in my cottage, and you must both change out of your wet clothes.” Jacques took his arms from around Sophia and strode over to Armand. “Thank you, my friend. I’m sure the comte will never forget what you’ve done for him.”
The Lavender Garden Page 28