Page 78 of Love in the Shadows

Fabienne sighed. “I know.”

“I’m not leaving until the children have been collected, by which time you’ll have made the deliveries. You can pick me up. We have nothing to hide now. And Gerhard will not question my account of our trip, should he ask for it.”

Fabienne stared at her for a long time before she half-smiled. This time it reached her eyes.

Johanna wanted to go with her to protect her.

“I have to go,” Fabienne said.

Johanna had never felt more alone as she watched Fabienne leave the church. She prayed she would make it back for her.

32.

THIRTY-TWO CIVILIANS WERE murdered in retribution while Johanna cleaned out the cellar that afternoon. She’d needed the distraction, though it didn’t calm her anger at the injustice. She’d played the piano for Astrid and watched her daughter tease the kitten with a piece of string without a care in the world. That small part of her day had felt almost normal.

Fabienne had been too occupied with washing the bed sheets and airing the blankets to take advantage of the good weather. They had barely spoken, and she’d sensed that Fabienne was avoiding her. That silence troubled her far more than any guilt over killing the guards, and left her feeling isolated and alone.

Gerhard had asked about her trip into town later that evening, but he hadn’t tested her: not that he’d given any attention to her lies. He might think of her as outspoken, but he would not consider her capable of such actions. In any event, he’d been on tenterhooks, and not just about the guards’ deaths, though she was sure that hadn’t helped his sombre mood.

She’d slept fitfully, wondering how the children were faring, haunted by the sound of gunfire, and worrying about Fabienne’s reticence towards her. She’d woken before sunrise. Gerhard had already left for work, and she wasn’t expecting him back before midnight.

Today was the second of June. At 21:00 hours, Operation Dijon was going to happen. She didn’t know what it involved, just that it was significant for Gerhard and the German war effort. She prayed it wasn’t going to be a bad day for the Resistance and the French.

She put on her dark-blue dress and a pair of leather court shoes and went downstairs. Frau Tussaud had already stoked the stove and boiled the kettle. “Guten morgen, Frau Neumann. How are you today?”

“I’m okay, thank you. How’s Fabienne?” Johanna made coffee, lit a cigarette, and took a long draw.

“She’ll be over soon. She’s just settling Nancy.” Frau Tussaud wiped down the kitchen surface and took out a packet of flour. “I thought I’d make crepes for Astrid. Does she like crepes?”

“Um, yes, I’m sure she’ll love them.”

Frau Tussaud cracked an egg into a bowl, added some milk and flour and started to blend the mixture with a fork.

“Is something wrong with Nancy?” Johanna asked.

Frau Tussaud smiled. “No, she’s just staying home from school today.”

Johanna breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“Everything will work out. Relax and enjoy this beautiful summer’s day. Maybe a bit of fresh air will do the trick. Perhaps Astrid would like to play with Nancy later. It will give Nanny a rest. She’s been quite busy these last few days.”

Frau Tussaud took Johanna’s hand. Her skin was soft and warm, and the wisdom of her words, comforting.

“You’re right,” Johanna said.

Frau Tussaud patted her, then let her go. She went back to whisking the batter. “Maybe the girls could have a tea party at the cottage later? You are invited, of course.” She smiled and tasted the mix. “Everything will work out,” she said again.

Johanna sipped her coffee. “I’ll have to find something to occupy Hauptmann Schmidt for the afternoon.” She tapped the side of the cup as she pondered.

“The shutters at the back of the house need repainting. They haven’t been done since before the war. It’s man’s work. There is paint in the garage. If you were thinking of keeping him occupied for a few hours.”

Johanna laughed. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Fabienne entered through the kitchen door carrying a small basket of eggs. “It seems the hens prefer the summer.” She laughed. “Anyone for an omelette?”

Fabienne’s distance yesterday suddenly seemed light years away. Warmth radiated from deep inside Johanna, reviving her faith in them again. “I’d love one,” she said. “Would you both like a coffee?” She started making the drinks before either woman could respond, knowing Fabienne at least would not refuse.

Nanny entered the kitchen. She glanced from one woman to another, her gaze settling on Fabienne and the egg basket.

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