Bomber

by Paul Dowswell

  After she’d gone, Stearley was in unusually good spirits. They could find a café, he confided to Harry, and he would ask her to dance. That would sweep her off her feet.

  ‘But won’t we look ridiculous?’ said Harry. ‘A couple of decorators out with a beautiful girl.’

  ‘Hey, Harry, you’ve got style or you haven’t!’ he replied. ‘We’ll look fine.’

  True to her word, she turned up on Saturday evening. Harry was amused to see she had made herself look as dowdy as possible and wore an old grey coat clearly in need of a brush-down. Whether this was to blend in with the two scruffy decorators she was accompanying, or send a clear message to Stearley that she wasn’t interested in him, Harry didn’t know.

  But it was marvellous being out, even on a frosty autumnal evening. The air had a crisp sparkle that made them feel very much alive. They walked along a busy street and then the length of a park that had closed for the evening. Harry was very taken by the elegance of Paris, with its wide cobbled streets and great tall apartment blocks, built a hundred years or so before. He was fascinated by this city and desperately wanted to know more about it, but Natalie had forbidden them to speak out in the street.

  After they had strolled around the twilight streets for half an hour they came across a café bar where dance music could be heard. Stearley broke her no-talking rule and whispered, ‘So, Natalie, will you come and dance?’

  She was frosty. ‘Monsieur, vous êtes fou – c’est impossible.’ Harry understood that – ‘You must be mad.’

  There was an ugly silence. ‘Venez, rentrons a l’appartement,’ she said abruptly.

  Stearley hadn’t expected her to turn him down; Harry could see it in his face. As they walked back they passed several other cafés where the music from a small jazz band or a gramophone drifted out into the street. They reached a crossroads close to their safe house.

  Now Stearley was fuming and Harry hoped he wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

  As they neared the apartment, Stearley announced, ‘I’m sick of being cooped up in that dreary place. I need to stretch my legs some more. I’ll be back later.’

  With that he walked off down a side street. Natalie and Harry watched him go with mounting unease. Then a coldness came over her. She looked around to make sure they would not be overheard.

  ‘So … he’s on his own,’ she whispered quietly. ‘You and me, we will go to another safe house. When he gets back, there will be no one there.’

  Harry thought about going after him, but before he could do anything else, they saw Stearley turn round to look back at them as if he had been expecting them to come after him. Not looking where he was going, he bumped straight into a German soldier. There under the lamplight Natalie and Harry watched as the two exchanged words, then the German pointed his rifle straight at Stearley.

  CHAPTER 24

  What happened next astonished them. Stearley punched the German soldier so hard he collapsed on the ground, out cold. Worse was to come. The lieutenant turned on his heels and ran back towards the two of them.

  Natalie told Harry to walk away as fast as he could without being conspicuous. Stearley caught up soon enough.

  They walked the next few streets in angry silence. She led them back to the apartment, and when she had bolted the door she gave Stearley a look of cold hatred.

  ‘You idiot,’ she spat at him as quietly as her rage would allow. ‘Why did you punch him?’

  He seemed rather pleased with himself. ‘Kraut walking into me threw me. I said, “Watch out, pal.” Then I realised I’d spoken to him in English. He raised his rifle so I knocked him out. Hope I broke his jaw.’

  ‘Well,’ said Natalie icily, ‘I’m going to leave you and I’m not coming back. You can fend for yourself. I suspect you won’t have to for long though, because the Germans will be here searching every house in the next hour. And you can spend the rest of the war in a prison camp. Well done, Lieutenant Stearley. You’re a credit to your nation.’

  He stared open-mouthed at her rage.

  ‘Was that why you wanted to go for a walk? So you could ask me to dance? Do you not understand how treacherous this business is? Do you not realise that if you are noticed then I will be arrested and almost certainly tortured and shot?’

  Shaking her head in disgust, she left without another word.

  Harry expected an apology from Stearley, but the lieutenant was still looking immensely pleased with himself. ‘She’ll be back,’ he said.

  Harry didn’t know what to say. He wanted to hit Stearley, but he knew hitting an officer was a very serious offence. What could he do to make him realise he was behaving like an idiot? He took himself away to another room and seethed in silence.

  Expecting the streets to be full of German soldiers with dogs and torches, and thinking every creak and bang in the night was someone knocking on the door, Harry was too tense to sleep. Stearley went out like a light, entirely indifferent to the trouble he had brought upon them.

  But when Harry did fall asleep and then woke around three in the morning he realised there had been no house-to-house searches after all. The Germans had not reacted as Natalie had predicted. Perhaps Stearley had got away with it.

  There was enough food in the apartment for breakfast the next morning, which was good as Harry was not looking forward to having to argue with Stearley about whether they should go out and buy their breakfast in a café with the few francs they had between them. He had grown to like Stearley in these long days holed up here. But now he was really beginning to detest him.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked Stearley after they had finished off the last of a stale baguette.

  ‘Wait. She’ll be back. They won’t leave us here –’

  There was a knock at the door.

  Harry tiptoed to look through the peephole. There was a Frenchman standing there, a few feet back so anyone looking at him could see him clearly. Harry and Stearley both agreed it was not the way they’d expect the Gestapo or the Milice to behave. Stearley opened the door.

  The man walked right in. ‘Lieutenant Stearley?’ he asked in impeccable English, once the door was shut.

  Stearley nodded, and before he could say a word, the man punched him hard in the stomach. Stearley collapsed on the floor gasping for air, writhing in agony.

  ‘If this happens again, expect the worst,’ said the man. ‘And I’ll tell you this, I’d happily shoot you myself.’

  Stearley remained on the floor.

  ‘You are not to leave the apartment. If you do, then you are on your own,’ the man said. He turned and left without another word.

  Stearley lay on the floor for a full five minutes before he found the strength to haul himself up. ‘She’ll be back,’ he said to Harry. ‘I’ll bet you a croissant she’ll be back!’

  Harry bit his tongue as he felt the anger building up inside him. He wanted to tell Stearley the man was right. He was being more than foolish. But Harry knew they shouldn’t fall out. Besides, Stearley was his commanding officer now Holberg was dead. That still counted for something, surely.

  A while later, when his anger had abated, Harry did manage to raise the subject indirectly. ‘You know, if we’re arrested, and the Nazis discover I’m a Jew, it’s going to be far worse for me than it is for you.’

  Stearley thought about it for a brief moment, then said, ‘Don’t worry about it. You’re an American and you’re protected by the Geneva Convention.’

  It was clear to Harry that Stearley hadn’t connected his own behaviour with what Harry had said about being a Jew at all. He fumed silently, cursing the lieutenant’s arrogance.

  Later that afternoon they had another visitor – a large French lady in late middle age carrying a grey shopping bag. She let herself in and they were both startled to see this stranger in their midst. She barely spoke to them, just dropped off provisions and then left.

  Three days later they were dozing in the afternoon, wondering what to do next, when they
heard the front door open. Natalie was standing there, eyes blazing with anger, clutching a bag of provisions. ‘My superior officer tells me I have to carry on with you as we have lost another operative. But I will not tolerate any foolishness. Do I make myself understood?’

  Stearley stood up and walked over to her. For one awful moment Harry thought he was going to try to embrace her, but he didn’t. He stood a respectful distance away and said, ‘Mademoiselle, I apologise unreservedly.’

  She nodded, and Harry thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker across her face. He liked Natalie, although she frightened him too. She was beautiful, she was resourceful and clever, but she had this ruthless streak in her eye that he had never seen in any other girl.

  ‘Tonight we are going to take a train down to Châteauroux,’ she said. ‘Austerlitz is our station. We’ll walk. It’s not far. And it’s always good not to have to go through unnecessary checkpoints on the Métro. So we need to leave here at six to catch the seven o’clock train. Help yourself to provisions – I have bread and cheese and ham, and eat as much as you can because I’m not sure when we’ll be getting some more.’

  When she had left, Stearley had a smug smile on his lips. ‘I’ll bet you a week’s pay, yours against mine, she’ll come round before we get to the Pyrenees. All these opportunities …’

  Harry saw red. Despite the fact that Stearley was maybe eight inches taller, he threw himself at him. ‘Are you totally crazy?’ he shouted, his anger getting the better of him. Taken by surprise, the lieutenant was knocked to the floor. Harry grabbed him by the lapels. ‘They’ll kill you, didn’t you hear that? And if your stupid behaviour gets us all arrested, then Natalie will be executed …’

  Harry let go, expecting Stearley to say something conciliatory. But this unexpected attack had riled him. In an instant he swung a fist up and hit Harry on the side of the face, sending him sprawling across the floor.

  They both lay there for a few moments. Harry noticed the side of his face was beginning to ache and winced when he touched it. Already it had started to swell.

  Stearley stood and offered him a hand. ‘I’m sorry, Harry,’ he said. ‘All this being cooped up is getting to us. Come on, let me bathe that.’

  Harry sat on the side of the bath while Stearley squeezed out a dishcloth and gave it to him to press against his bruise. Then he left him on his own.

  When Harry looked in the mirror he could see a purple bruise just beneath his left eye. It no longer throbbed as much as it had done, but it made him look like a hood who had been in a fight. When the apartment door opened they expected to see Natalie all ready to take them. It was her, but she was wide-eyed with fear. ‘Look out of the window,’ she said. ‘The Gestapo are out on the street, I’m sure of it.’ The doorbell buzzed before she said another word.

  She ignored it. There was a persistent series of buzzes.

  She peered cautiously out of the window. Three men wearing leather coats were gathered around the apartment entrance. A squad of Wehrmacht soldiers stood behind them.

  They heard other buzzers in the apartments around them. Someone was going to let them in at any moment.

  ‘Quickly,’ said Natalie, and they followed her out and headed up to the roof.

  There was a skylight at the very top and a little wooden ladder leading up to it. She vaulted up and immediately began to force it open. Before she squeezed out she said, ‘We must stay on the rear side of the roof. Otherwise they’ll see us from below.’

  She beckoned impatiently for the airmen to follow. Stearley gestured for Harry to go next. Below came the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs. As Harry squeezed out he heard the crash of splintering wood. They would be into that apartment in seconds. Stearley followed as soon as Harry had gone through. He had the presence of mind to shut the skylight behind him.

  The roof was a dizzying height above the streets and the skylight had brought them out on to curving tiles that sloped down to a shallow parapet. ‘Go slowly,’ said Natalie. They gingerly picked their way down the steep curve of the roof. Harry lost his grip on the tiles, which were still damp from the afternoon rain, and slipped down, lurching alarmingly as his feet made contact with the parapet. Stearley, right behind him, grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back from the edge.

  ‘We have to jump to the next building,’ said Natalie. ‘Just do it. We have only a few seconds to get away.’

  They edged over, keeping their backs to the wall, trying not to look down at the back street far below. Natalie went first, throwing her bag across, then leaping over the gap with barely a second thought.

  Harry flinched at the size of the gap. It must be at least four feet. ‘Hurry,’ she snapped. He took a short run-up and launched himself across; his foot just about reached the parapet on the far roof. She grabbed his hand and they both fell over against the sharp sloping slates. Harry heard a tile crack and thought maybe wood in the eaves had split. Stearley followed and made the jump easily enough.

  There was no skylight. Instead there were roof windows. Natalie wasted no time edging up to one and peering through. She opened her bag and took out a revolver, carefully smashing a small pane of glass and flipping open the handle.

  The noise drew the attention of the residents of the rooftop apartment, and when Harry and Stearley reached the window they could see Natalie standing there, pointing her gun at two elderly occupants. Harry thought they were sisters by the look of them.

  She spoke to them rapidly in French. Harry could not understand, although he did pick up the word ‘Gestapo’.

  They looked at her, frozen with fear. She spoke again, waving her hand impatiently.

  The elder of the two sisters began to babble and held out a key.

  Natalie snatched it from her and they took the stairs two at a time, not even thinking to be quiet.

  There was a door to the back alley and it opened as soon as Natalie turned the key. Peering cautiously up the street she beckoned them out and told them to walk fast. ‘If the Gestapo notice a running figure, they will know at once who to chase,’ she said with impeccable logic.

  But one of the Gestapo was already out on the roof and a shot rang out, shattering a cobblestone right by Harry’s foot.

  They ran out through the back alley and into a maze of small streets. Natalie obviously knew the area well, for she seemed to be running with a clear purpose. After a couple of minutes she knocked on the door of a house on a side street. After a few moments a young woman answered.

  Natalie spoke rapidly in French; it sounded to Harry as though she was pleading to be let in. He recognised the word ‘Gestapo’ again.

  The door slammed in their faces.

  CHAPTER 25

  They hurried on until they reached a park. The keeper’s bell was ringing, letting everyone know it was time to leave for the evening.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Natalie, surveying the empty gardens. There was a large evergreen close to the entrance and, when they were sure no one was watching them, they dived in there.

  ‘Now don’t even breathe,’ she said. ‘We must be very patient.’

  They crouched still and silent in the prickly lower branches of the tree. After a couple of minutes they heard running footsteps and the barking of angry dogs. Peering through the foliage, Harry could see several German soldiers running past the gates, accompanied by men in leather overcoats. He hoped those dogs hadn’t picked up a scent. That would be it for all of them.

  But the running men didn’t stop and the sound of barking dogs vanished into the distance.

  Then the park keeper locked up for the night and left.

  ‘Why did they raid the apartment?’ whispered Harry. ‘How did they know?’

  ‘Maybe one of the neighbours got suspicious,’ she said. ‘We should not have kept you there so long. Especially after the lieutenant’s attack on the soldier.’

  In an instant he thought of the fight he and Stearley had had. He had done the shouting, although their scuffling must have bee
n noticed by the downstairs neighbours at least.

  ‘But why would the French betray us to the Nazis?’ asked Harry.

  Natalie looked at him impatiently. ‘Come, monsieur, there are fascists everywhere. In France before the war we had our own Action Française party. Just like the British had their Blackshirts and you Americans had your German American Bund. There are always people who will support fascism. I’m pleased to tell you most of us despise the Milice and the Vichy collaborators. They will pay when this is all over.’

  Then she said, ‘You’ve bruised your face. Did that happen just now?’

  ‘No,’ said Harry, then immediately felt like he was telling tales. He shook his head and said no more. She could draw her own conclusions.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Stearley. Harry sensed he was anxious to change the conversation.

  She eyed him coolly. ‘We cannot take the train. We will go to another safe house. We will go when I think it’s safe.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘We can’t wait too long here. Certainly we need to be away before the eleven o’clock curfew.’

  Hours passed and it was only after the local clock struck ten that the street was empty enough for them to emerge from their hiding place. As they clambered over the park railings Stearley picked up Natalie by the waist to help her up, as if she weighed no more than a bag of shopping. Natalie accepted this help matter-of-factly.

  Their new safe house was a ten-minute walk away in another apartment in a side road off one of the grand boulevards. As before, they walked apart but keeping one another in sight, so that no one would think they were together. Harry was completely lost and couldn’t imagine what he would do if he became separated from Natalie.

  The two airmen watched her enter and then followed through the door she had left ajar. They hurried up three flights of stairs and the elderly couple who opened the door looked immediately fearful.

  ‘Vite, vite,’ said Natalie, picking up on their unease.