Page 30 of Resistance
‘What’s wrong with your sister?’
‘Pah, she is headstrong and has ideas, and is upset that the war has ruined her plans. My father cannot control her, and she fights with my mother all the time. The only person she listens to is me.’
Yvette was enjoying hearing about his family, in such bizarre and unfamiliar circumstances it was a moment of escape, and she liked his voice, deep and hoarse, probably the effects of outdoor living, strong cigarettes and wood smoke. There was a hint of humour too and in his next comment something else.
‘I will take you to my place in the woods, it is easy to find by the stream and then if you ever need me, or time alone, you can go there. Polo knows where it is too, he brings me food and cigarettes.’
Not quite sure what to say, but knowing she was thrilled and terrified at the same time, Yvette asked about the radio operator instead.
Vincent explained it was imperative to relocate him frequently because his safety was of paramount importance, the operator was their link to the Allies and a prize for the Boche if they caught him. He too had been parachuted in and now moved between the various groups along the line, it was safer that way.
‘I expect you will be glad to meet one of your fellow agents, perhaps you will know him.’
Yvette thought it unlikely. ‘I doubt it, my head was in such a spin during training I’m surprised I even remember who I am, let alone the face of another agent. But tell me, who was the little boy who brought the message?’
‘Ah, my little shadow. That is Polo. His aunt owns thechambre d’hotesin the village, he is an orphan, and everyone has taken him under their wing. He is a good kid, and loyal too. You can trust him. I taught him to poach and he knows the woods near my home like this,’ Vincent held up the back of his hand, ‘and if you ever want rabbit stew, he is your man, or boy I suppose.’
Yvette smiled. ‘I will remember, and I’ll watch out for him too, while you are away.’
They had reached a wider track that split the forest in two, crossing over they disappeared once again into its depths where, by the time Vincent had asked her where she was from and she had abandoned any ideas of secrecy, enjoying telling him about her parents and home, they had reached another camp of many more men. After pleasantries were exchanged, they were guided to a dugout fortified by logs, and here Yvette met her fellow agent, code name Nelson, a man she’d never met before and who seemed arrogant and unfriendly. Aware of the rumours that radio operators had a short life expectancy due to the cat and mouse nature of a sometimes solitary existence, Yvette put it down to that. After the brusque manner with which he addressed her, Yvette hoped that the need to be in his company wouldn’t arise again. They remained only minutes, she gave him her code name for the cipher so at least HQ would now know that Agent Nadine had survived the drop and was operational. Then Vincent and Yvette departed, she was glad to get away and spend the journey home in the company of a man infinitely more personable.
After that, Vincent would appear more frequently than Yvette thought he should, a whistle from across the farmyard would alert her to his presence and then they’d wander for a while across the field. Spending a few minutes smoking, he’d ask how she was, she’d enquire if he was warm enough or hungry. It was all very chaste, yet Yvette sensed that given the right signal the warm blood that ran through Vincent’s veins would quickly bubble and boil. It was just over two months later that a spring evening during Yvette’s first mission as a saboteur would mark a turning point in her life, for many reasons.
16
Dimensions Collide
Châteaubriant, 2005
They were back at the hotel, sitting in the peaceful courtyard garden at the rear. Dottie had made the call to themairieand had been told he was still on holiday, but an appointment had been made and a new plan struck up. Dottie thought it would be nice to visit the sea, a day at La Baule was in order and while she paddled in the Atlantic, Maude could do a bit of painting or snap some photos, whatever she wished. They were on holiday after all, and Dottie was mindful not to turn the expedition into some kind of maudlin trudge in the mire, especially when the next part of her story, her happiness with Vincent aside, was about to head in that direction.
She watched as Maude scribbled in her journal, writing up the story so far. Dottie had cut her story short in the restaurant, knowing that it was not the place to fully reminisce and that her memories would ruin what had been an exceptionally good meal.
Oddly enough, after a starter of vegetable salad, the main course was rabbit, and had led to her explaining more about shy little Polo who in the absence of Vincent became her shadow, and would leave a gift of one on Tante Helene’s doorstep and in return, she would make sure the pockets of her apron or coat held a sugary treat, in case she bumped into him as she frequently did. The black marketeers thrived during the war, and the town and city people who came foraging in the countryside were happy to swap an old hen for a tin of pastilles.
Noticing Maude click the top of her pen and relax into her deckchair, Dottie suggested they order some wine and make the most of the late afternoon sun.
‘That’s a nice idea. Oh look, there’s the waiter, he must have read our minds.’ Maude began waving to attract his attention and once their order was taken, settled down, speaking with her eyes closed. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened next then? I got the impression that what happened on your mission wasn’t pleasant?’
‘Yes, but I also didn’t want to discuss my love life over a dish of strawberries while that nosey woman earwigged. Did you see her, the American? This is why youmustlearn to speak French, Maude, it would come in very handy.’
‘Yes, I did see her and yes it would, so I promise that as soon as I’m back from my travels I’ll enrol on a course, or buy some CDs. Does that make you happy?’
‘Why on earth would you do that when I could teach you?’
‘Because, Grandmother dearest, I would rather stick my head in a bucket of poo than have you for a teacher, but you can help me practice, if you’re good.’ Maude opened one eye and smiled at Dottie whose attention was drawn by the arrival of the wine.
After it was poured, they chatted about the itinerary for the following days.
‘I promise, I’m not doing it on purpose, stretching out the holiday and our time together. But it’s lovely to change plans, go where the wind takes us, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I do, that’s sort of the vibe I was going for when I head to Oz, you know, wanderlust, go with the wind and all that.’
Dottie silently kicked herself in the foot, knowing what Maude was getting at. ‘Mmm, I suppose so, it’s just a pity you’re going with…’
‘Gran… stop! This is our precious time together so don’t spoil it, okay?’ Maude encouraged Dottie to continue with her story. ‘Now, tell me more about Vincent because he sounds gorgeous, but a bit cheeky too, even though he was the mysterious leader of the Maquis.’
Dottie laughed. ‘You make him sound like a film star, but I suppose to me he was. And even though we were living in an occupied zone, we still had feelings, hopes, and now and then, especially with Vincent, we allowed ourselves to have dreams.’
