Page 14 of Love in the Shadows

Johanna sighed. “We can’t live with your grandmother. She has had to move out of her house and doesn’t have space for us.”

Astrid started to sob, and Johanna felt her heart break again. She held her daughter tightly. “Everything will be fine, my darling,” she whispered. She let her go and with a tremble in her fingers brushed the tears away. “You must be hungry. Here, sit next to me. Have some bread and jam.”

Astrid shook her head, her body jerking from the sobs. Johanna spread a fine layer of jam on a thin slice of bread and set it in front of her. She sat and drank her coffee while Astrid picked at the food.

“Perhaps we can take a walk around the garden after your morning lessons. I’ll push you on the swing.”

Astrid didn’t smile.

Johanna would have coped better if it had just been her suffering, but she hated her husband even more than she had the previous evening for the misery he’d inflicted on their daughter. Worse than that, his apparent intolerance of them both made her blood run cold.

7.

FABIENNE PARKED THE VAN outside the cottage and sat for a moment to take in the feeling of success.

The deliveries had gone as planned, the men dropped at the safe house, and the vet would provide the necessary certification for the cows after a lengthy inspection later that day. The round trip had taken longer than she’d wanted, and she worried about Mamie coping with the work on her own, but she had to go to the cow shed before arriving for her duties at the house.

She crossed the field, the cows barely acknowledging her as they grazed, and pulled back the corrugated tin panel that served as a door to the shed. Small windowless openings provided sufficient light to spot the three pairs of eyes watching her from the hay loft. She clicked her tongue, and they raised their tiny heads. The black kitten made his way down and sat a short distance from her. She took the van keys from her pocket, knelt and jangled them. He jerked his head backwards and jumped to his feet.

She made a clicking sound, dangling the keys at arm’s length, to encourage him to come to her. “Viens là, viens là,” she said softly. He inched closer. “There you go. I’m not at all scary. Come.”

He touched her hand with his nose, pulled back, then came again and batted the keys with his paw. She stroked him under the chin, and he started to purr. The other two kittens sat on the beam above, watching intently. “You are no rat catcher, but you will be perfect.”

He nudged her hand with his cold nose, then batted her with his paws – razor-sharp claws. She stroked him under his chin, drawing him closer until eventually he nuzzled against her leg, purring loudly. He didn’t try to run away when she lifted him and stared into his green, alert eyes.

“Hello, pretty one,” she said, getting to her feet. She tucked him into her jacket, formed a bridge with one arm underneath him, and turned to leave. She spotted the rusty, sprung trap, partly submerged in mud, close to the wall and picked it up. With a bit of a clean, it should work just fine.

She entered the house though the rear door into the kitchen. Mamie was preparing lunch and didn’t look up as a new soldier came in from the dining room.

“Guten morgen, Herr,” Fabienne said.

He looked her up and down as if she was a piece of shit on the sole of his shoes. “You are late, Fraulein Brun. You must not be late.”

“I am very sorry, Herr—”

“Hauptmann Müller,” Mamie said. She still didn’t look up, and she sounded nervous.

“I’m very sorry, Herr, Hauptmann Müller. Frau Neumann requested some items.” The black kitten clawed her chest. She placed the trap in the sink.

His back was straight, his wide jaw set firmly, and the tip of his nose turned naturally upwards. He had a drinker’s colouration in his cheeks, and she didn’t like the cold stare from his ice-blue eyes.

“Would it be possible to let Frau Neumann know, Hauptmann Müller?”

“Get to work,” he said.

He turned swiftly, and as he left the kitchen Mamie looked at her and raised her eyebrows. “He has been on my back all morning,” she whispered.

“Putain. I’m sorry. The deliveries took longer than expected.”

“All in good condition, I hope.”

Talking in coded sentences had become the norm. “Yes, though the cows seem to be planning to strike.”

“Isn’t that the French way?” Frau Neumann said, entering the kitchen with Astrid.

Fabienne noted the humour in her expression but didn’t reveal her own amusement. “But we are no longer French,” she said.

The sparkle in the German woman’s eyes died, and she gave a thin-lipped smile.

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