Albert scowled and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘He must be afraid of something.’
‘What?’
‘What do you think? The Germans.’
Albert stopped eating and looked worried. Edith had been thinking about it. She was sure she was right. ‘He could be a spy,’ she said. ‘Or a deserter.’ This, she thought, was the most likely answer. Helene was hiding a German deserter. It was bad enough that she would open her legs to another man, but to whore herself to a Hun was unthinkable. Now she had put them all in danger. Whoever it was she was hiding, you could be sure that when the Germans discovered him they would all be shot. She saw the same thought had occurred to Albert. He had forgotten about his food entirely.
‘What should we do?’ he said.
‘That is what I am trying to decide.’
After a while she got up and turned off the lamp. Shortly afterwards they heard Helene come upstairs and go to her room. She moved around and then there was silence. She was listening to make sure they were asleep, Edith thought. And then she would go to the barn as she had every night since Albert had seen the tracks in the snow.
But though Edith remained by the window she didn’t see Helene, and they didn’t hear her leave her room. Something was different that night. But what? Perhaps Helene had guessed they were suspicious. Or was it more than that? What was it she had said about the Roussel boy earlier? Something about him being willing to work in return for his keep. Why had Helene mentioned such a thing? A suspicion took hold in Edith’s mind and as she considered it she began to think it made sense. Albert grunted and snored. Even though her talk of German soldiers had frightened him, he had fallen asleep. Well, let him sleep for now. It would give her time to think.
An hour passed before Edith heard Helene quietly open the door to her room. A moment later she heard the creak of a board on the landing outside and she knew Helene was listening to check they were asleep. Soon afterwards she heard the creak again, and then from the window she saw Helene cross the yard carrying something in her hand. It was a bundle or a bag. Getting up from her chair, Edith went to the bed and woke Albert.
‘Get up,’ she said when he opened his eyes. ‘Get dressed and come downstairs. Hurry!’
Without waiting for him she went next door to Helene’s room, though to Edith it had always belonged to Jean. Even now, when she saw Helene’s things, her heart hardened a little more. It was like a piece of rock inside her chest. When Jean went away to Rouen, she had died inside. It was because of Helene that he went. That whore had stolen her son and turned him away from his own parents.
She checked in the drawers and found that some of Helene’s clothes were gone, and some of Jean’s too.
Downstairs in the darkness, she went to the cupboard and took out Albert’s guns and put them on the table. She loaded them by feel, and when he came down she put the rifle into his hands.
‘She is going to leave with him,’ Edith hissed. Albert looked at her uncomprehendingly and she saw she would have to explain it to him. ‘If they are caught by the Huns, she will tell them where she lives and the soldiers will come. You know what that will mean.’
Albert nodded fearfully, and then he turned and went to the door.
*****
When Helene slipped into the barn, William was waiting for her. ‘I brought you some food,’ she said and gave him bread and cheese. Edith would be angry when she discovered it was gone, but it didn’t matter anymore what Edith thought.
‘Thanks.’ William began to eat. ‘Are the Lisles’ asleep?’
‘I think so. I listened at their door but I couldn’t hear anything.’
‘You look worried,’ he said.
‘I think they know.’
‘Did they say something to you?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’ It was the look she’d seen in Edith’s eyes earlier. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything about the Roussel boy, but despite everything Helene couldn’t just walk away without trying to do something to help them. Well, she had done all she could. It was up to Edith and Albert now. She thought that Jean would not blame her for what she was doing, he would have wanted her to leave while she had the chance.
They were very different, Helene thought, comparing Jean to William. She knew Jean had loved her fiercely. From the first time they met, she’d sensed his need to be loved. He had been starved of it. He told her later that from that first day at the market, he’d resolved that he would marry her. When a person loves another like that it is difficult to resist, as she had discovered. She knew William didn’t love her the way Jean had. There was something about him that was almost unreachable, she thought.
When he’d finished eating, William asked if she was ready. She picked up the small bag she’d brought with her containing a few personal things, while he checked the chamber of his pistol and put it in his pocket.
They went out the back door of the barn and joined the track a hundred yards from the house. Helene looked back towards the farm, relinquishing that part of her life. There was no sound, no movement, and for some reason she couldn’t fathom that made her uneasy.
They walked briskly towards the road. There was a cold breeze and occasionally cloud hid the moon, plunging them into thick darkness.
They’d almost reached the road when Albert stepped out in front of them from behind the tree where he had concealed himself. He pointed his rifle at William’s chest.
‘Stop there!’ he said.
‘What are you doing?’ Helene demanded. Instinctively she stepped in front of William.
Albert ignored her and gestured with the gun. ‘Move away from him.’
The mixture of fear and malice she heard in his voice worried her. She tried to reason with him. ‘Albert, listen to me. This man is a British pilot. He has been fighting the German soldiers who killed your son.’
‘Shut your mouth! I told you to move away!’ The old man was surprised, but after a moment he seemed to decide it made no difference that William was British. ‘Do you know what the Germans will do if they find him here?’
‘They won’t find him. He is leaving.’
‘But you are going with him. The Huns will catch both of you and then they will come here. Now do as I say and move away from him.’
‘What are you going to do?’ He didn’t answer her, but Helene guessed his intention. ‘If you shoot him,’ she warned, ‘you will have to shoot me too.’
He stared at her. ‘Do you think that I won’t?’
‘But then what will you do? You and Edith will be alone. You cannot manage without me.’
‘What do you care what happens to us?’ Albert accused. ‘You would have left us.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Is that what you think? I was not leaving. I was only going to show this man the way past the town, that is all.’
‘You are lying,’ Albert said, but there was note of uncertainty in his tone.
‘I am not lying.’ She knew he was thinking and she pressed home her advantage. ‘Albert, if you let this man go, then I promise you that I will stay here. Everything will carry on as before.’
Albert appeared to waver. ‘Alright,’ he agreed finally. ‘You stay and tell him to go.’ He stood aside and gestured to William with the gun.
But Helene knew he was lying. Albert was a selfish coward, and she knew he would kill William rather than run the risk of him being caught and betraying them. She half turned to William and saw that his hand was in the pocket where he’d put his pistol. She spoke in English so that Albert wouldn’t understand. ‘He will kill you.’
‘What did you say to him?’ Albert demanded. ‘Get away from him! Get away, I said!’
But at that moment Helene reached out and swept the rifle aside. There was a shot and a flash from the barrel, and at the same time she saw William take out the revolver and point it at Albert, even as he worked the bolt to reload.
‘Stop,’ William said.
Albert froze. He had ejec
ted the spent cartridge and a new one was in the breech. He stared at them both with rheumy eyes wide with fear, but Helene saw at once that Albert believed William would kill him, because that is what he would do if their situations were reversed, and she knew what he would do.
‘No, Albert!’ she cried. But it was too late. The old man shoved the bolt home and began to swing the barrel around. A shot cracked in the air and Albert staggered. He looked surprised. The rifle fell from his grasp and he reached out for support, and finding nothing there he fell to the ground.
William lowered the pistol, and for a moment neither of them moved, and then Helene knelt down and put her hand to Albert’s neck to feel for his pulse.
‘He’s dead,’ she said. As she looked up she glimpsed a movement in the darkness and realised she should have known Edith would not have stayed at the house. She shouted a warning, but as William began to turn there was a flash and the report of a shot, and he threw his arms out and fell backwards onto the ground. Helene scrambled for Albert’s rifle which was lying on the ground beside her, but even as she laid her hands on it, Edith approached and working the bolt to reload, she levelled her gun at Helene’s head.
Hatred burned in Edith’s eyes. She looked at her dead husband. ‘It was not enough that you took my son! Now you have taken my husband! Whore!’ She spat a gob of spittle into Helene’s face.
‘I did not take Jean from you,’ Helene said quietly as she wiped her cheek. ‘He would have left even if he had never met me.’
‘Liar! You are a whore and a liar!’
‘You can curse all you like, but you know it’s the truth. You talk of love, but you did not love Jean. You only wanted him to stay here so he would look after you when you are old. You didn’t care what he wanted. If you loved him you would not have done this.’ She gestured towards Albert and William, who lay motionless behind Edith. ‘Do you think Jean would be proud of what you have done? He would hate you for this!’
‘Do not speak of my son!’ Edith screamed at her furiously. ‘If he was here, he would have killed this man with his own hands. And then he would kill his whore of a wife too!’ She stepped closer and aimed the gun at Helene’s face. ‘I will send you to hell where you belong!’
Helene stared at her. ‘Then do it. I would rather die than spend another minute living with you.’
The shot was loud. Helene flinched, but she didn’t feel the bullet. Edith’s gun fell to the ground and the old woman crumpled. A few feet away William was still lying on his back, but in his hand he held the pistol. He fell back again, his face creased with pain, his skin pale. When Helene reached him, she felt for his wound. His clothing was soaked with blood beneath his left shoulder, and when she undid his shirt and put her hand inside he stiffened and groaned.
‘The bullet has gone all the way through,’ she said, feeling the exit wound in his back. There was a lot of blood. It pumped slowly between her fingers. ‘Can you sit up?’
‘I’ll try.’
She helped him and then went to Edith’s body. The old woman lay on her side, her eyes open but lifeless, her thin lips drawn back in a grimace over yellowed teeth. Quickly Helene tore the old women’s dress to make a bandage, and tied it as tightly as she could around William’s chest to stop the bleeding. When she’d finished she helped him to stand.
‘Can you walk?’
Beads of perspiration popped on his brow even though it was cold. He nodded, his eyes glazed with pain.
‘I’ll boil some water at the house and clean the wound properly.’
But William grabbed her arm. ‘We can’t go back. Somebody might have heard the shots. And I need a doctor. We’ll carry on as we planned.’
‘But you are hurt.’
‘If I can make it to the aerodrome, I’ll be alright.’
‘Can you fly a plane like this?’
‘I think so. Get the gun.’ He struggled to his feet. ‘We have to hurry.’
*****
From the edge of the trees, William watched the sentries stop to smoke. The tips of their cigarettes glowed red in the dark. They stamped their feet to keep warm and spoke in low voices punctuated by muffled laughter. They were careless, certain of another night of boredom.
He turned to Helene. ‘Ready?’
She nodded, though she looked worried. It had taken them much longer to get to the aerodrome than he’d planned. The dressing Helene had put on his wound had stopped most of the bleeding, but William was in considerable pain. The last mile had been the most difficult. He’d had to rest frequently, and even now the world swam and blurred around him, though he tried not to let on. He knew if he didn’t follow his plan through now, he never would. He needed a doctor, and it was unlikely that he could make it back to the Lisle’s farm.
Two hundred yards of open grass lay between where they were crouched and the hangers. There was a moon, and once they left the cover of the trees they would be committed. They had to reach the other side before the sentries turned to come back. They had timed it. To be safe they could only count on three minutes, and suddenly William doubted that he could make it.
‘William,’ Helene said. ‘The sentries. We must go.’
He saw they had started their patrol again but he hesitated.
‘What is it?’ she said.
‘It’s too dangerous.’ He took Helene’s hand. ‘Go back to the farm. If you bury the bodies nobody will know.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got to try.’
‘Then I will come too,’ she said resolutely and he knew she wouldn’t change her mind.
‘Alright.’
She helped him to his feet and he put his good arm around her shoulders. They began to walk across the field as quickly as they could, but before they had covered a third of the distance William knew they would never do it. The hangars seemed impossibly far away and already the sentries were half way to the ends of their patrol. All it would take is for one of them to glance in their direction and they would be discovered.
‘Wait,’ he said and when Helene stopped he took his arm from her shoulder. ‘We can go faster this way.’
She looked doubtful, but he started to walk and then to run a little. The pain was agonising. Sweat soaked his hair and ran into his eyes, and he was swaying like a drunkard. After a moment Helene caught up with him. She looked back.
‘They’re almost there.’
He picked up his pace. He saw the hangars through a black fog, and once he stumbled, but somehow managed to stay upright, though he felt strangely disconnected from his legs and knew he was losing consciousness.
‘Just a little further,’ Helene said, her voice tense.
He forced himself on for her, because her life was in his hands and he owed it to her. From somewhere he found reserves of strength. The hangars were very close. No more than fifty yards. He ran faster, and then finally they were there and he collapsed in the shadows.
‘It’s alright,’ Helene said as she looked back across the field. ‘They didn’t see us.’
He tried to smile, but he felt light-headed and thought he would be sick. He lay still, feeling his heart pumping too fast, and he took long slow breaths. His shoulder felt like there was a fire burning deep inside somewhere. He was hot all over. They remained hidden where they were until William felt strong enough to move again. He thought that he must have passed out for a few minutes because he couldn’t remember how long they had been there.
Eventually, with Helen’s help, William struggled to his feet and told Helene to follow him. They made their way to the front of the hangar. It was dark inside. He waited, listening for any sound that would give away the presence of a sentry. From somewhere nearby he heard voices, but inside it was silent. The planes stood in pairs facing out to the field. There were four of them, three Albatrosses and a two-seater. He led Helene to the two-seater and showed her where to put her foot to climb up to the rear cockpit. The observer’s cockpit was fitted with a machine gun, which was arme
d. William hoped that meant the plane was also fuelled. He showed Helene how the machine gun worked.
‘If anybody tries to stop us, cock it and pull the trigger.’
She nodded.
When he climbed up to the pilot’s cockpit, William found that the controls seemed much the same as a British plane, and once he’d found the switches for the magneto and the fuel he climbed down again and went around the front to prime the engine. As he reached up to turn the prop he felt something give in his wound, then warm stickiness oozed down his side and he knew he was bleeding again. Outside the hangar, the moon appeared through a break in the cloud and the field was washed in pale grey light. He looked up at Helene.
‘It’s now or never.’
‘Then it’s now,’ she replied.
He switched on, then went around to the front again and took hold of the prop and pulled down as hard as he could. The engine exploded into life, and as quickly as he could manage William climbed up to the cockpit and opened the throttle. As the plane rolled out of the hangar, William saw the sentries across the field standing motionless, too surprised to move. He turned to face the runway and as the plane began to quickly gather pace the sentries shouted out and began to run, un-slinging their rifles at the same time. A shot rang out. William ignored them, focusing his attention on the grass ahead. He glanced at the gauges and began to pull back on the stick. Another shot was fired and the bullet hit one of the wings. The sentries were only fifty yards ahead and to their left, and both of them had had the presence of mind to stop running so they could aim their rifles properly. William willed the machine to lift off the grass, afraid that the sentries would find their target. Suddenly, he heard the heavy bark of the machine gun behind him and clods of dirt flew up around the sentries. Helene fired another burst and both sentries threw up their arms and were spun around, and then the plane was past them and began to lift from the ground.
When the wheels cleared the treetops, William looked down at the figures running all over the aerodrome. He saw flashes from rifle fire and the machine gun barked again as Helene fired off another, long burst.
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