Page 12 of Love in the Shadows

Both men nodded.

They squeezed into the narrow space, lay on their side facing each other, and Fabienne closed the hatch above them. She positioned the flat pallets directly over the trap door and then put the two empty churns she always carried on top of them. She was sure it would be coffin-like for the men, but they had made it through the tunnels and were so close to freedom it wouldn’t matter, and it would be less frightening together than alone.

She assessed how the back of the van looked if a guard checked, as she always did. They would see a supply vehicle heading to the dairy with empty churns. She had to pray that they wouldn’t be bothered to move the pallets. She was known by most of the guards at the dairy and she could easily prevent them from searching too thoroughly. They were Wehrmacht conscripts, some of them French men, unlike the soldiers of the SS Division or the Gestapo patrolling the streets, who didn’t need a reason to execute innocent people.

She drove slowly along the road. The cluster of lights up ahead meant only one thing. A checkpoint. Her heart thundered in her chest as she approached, praying the airmen would stay quiet. She wound down the window. The soldier at the captain’s side directed his rifle at her head.

“Guten morgen, Herr Hauptmann.”

“Papers,” the captain said.

She handed over her Ausweis and the authorisation to work.

He held his torch to them, handed them back, and waved her on.

She drove slowly, keeping the window open for air, curbing her desire to get away as quickly as possible. As she approached the main entrance of the dairy and spotted the familiar face of the guard, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Guten morgen, Herr Weber. How are things this morning?”

“Guten morgen, Fraulein Brun. We had some trouble with the milk production again. I think the cows do not like the weather. Let us hope the rain stays away today.” He smiled and told her to proceed.

“This is not good. I’ll check with the production manager.” The reason for the problem with the cows was down to the concerted efforts of the workforce, not the beasts themselves. She looked towards the sky. “The weather is changing. Do you like autumn, Herr Weber?” Their conversation was always about the weather because it was something they could agree on, something that the war couldn’t influence, but this morning it helped her to gather herself after the checkpoint.

He smiled. “The autumn colours are very pretty. They remind me of my homeland.” His clean-shaven cheeks flushed deeply.

“Where are you from?”

“Hannover. It’s in the north. It gets very cold there in winter.”

Fabienne smiled. “Well, we’ll have snow by December, I believe.” She could sense the two men in hiding feeling the strain of her lengthy conversation, but she had to behave as she normally would, or she might ignite the guard’s curiosity. And no matter how familiar they could be, they were still the enemy and not to be underestimated. “The cows are not too keen on the snow.”

He laughed.

She drove towards the loading bay and reversed the truck to the opening. She climbed out and approached the two guards assigned to monitoring the despatch of produce. “Guten morgen, meine Herren. What is this I hear about the cows not performing their duties today?”

“Yes, Fraulein Brun. Production’s down by two churns this past month. The kommandant won’t be happy to discover this on his first weeks here. We have reduced the supply to the town, so as not to inconvenience the scheduled deliveries to our barracks.”

“Why are you telling her all this?” the new guard at his side said. He glared at Fabienne.

She addressed him while the French workers loaded the van. “Now I know what is expected, I too will make sure that the deliveries are correct, Herr Obersturmführer.”

“You talk too much,” he said to his friendlier colleague. “The kommandant will have whoever is responsible shot.”

Fabienne raised her eyebrows. This arrogant putain de Boche was barely out of nappies. “Well, mein Herr, if he has the cows shot for not producing milk, he will be left with nothing for his men. Unfortunately for the kommandant, the cows do not take into account that there is a war going on. Maybe he would like to supervise the milking process himself.”

The guard reached for his holstered pistol.

Fabienne stood taller and maintained eye contact. The French men continued to load the truck as if nothing untoward was going on.

The more familiar of the two guards stepped towards her, in front of his colleague. “You will speak to the manager, Fraulein Brun.”

The second guard continued to glare at her.

“I will do that immediately, Herr. May I go?”

He nodded.

Fabienne started towards the production office. At least the men loading the truck had not been properly monitored. Maurice Perez was waiting for her, standing behind his desk. She closed the door behind her, glancing in the direction of the guards. “Taking advantage of the kommandant’s early days is catching up with us.”

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