The Life That I Have

Chapter 6

They were all sat around the long oak table. Jean-Marc, Adele, Phillipe, Dominique and other important people of the Maquis were there.

  "I say we should believe him," Adele insisted.

  "After all, his story does collaborate with that of Anya Devlin, or Yvette as he seems to know her by," someone else added.

  "Yvette was the alias of Anya Devlin," Adele snapped.

  "How do we know we can trust this kid?" Phillipe asked.

  "Phillipe, you didn't meet her! No way was she a Nazi spy!"

  "What do you say, Jean-Marc? After all," Phillipe added, glaring at Adele, "you are the one in charge here."

  All heads turned to Jean-Marc, who was sitting at the end of the table.

  "Well, I'm at a loss," he confessed. "There's too much to lose if we just ignore him, and he's actually on our side, but..."

  "I agree with Jean-Marc. We have everything to lose..."

Anya was doing the washing. It was her least favorite job in her new life, and about the only thing she missed from boarding school. She had found an old tin bath in one of the rooms, and luckily for her, the house had it's own well in the back yard. Back and forth from the house to the well she went for hours, desperately trying not to think about the Jewish family she had seen the previous day. It was hard, as Tippy was sat there, watching Anya, as if spellbound.

  When at last she had filled, emptied, re-filled, washed all herself and all her clothes, and emptied the bath again, Anya slumped down in a heap on the cold slates of the kitchen floor. Tippy nosed her, and started to lick her face, which caused her to smile.

  At that moment, her peace was broken by a triumphant voice.

  "I thought so!"

  Anya snapped awake. There, standing at the back door, was an old lady.

  "Madame–" Anya started.

  "I knew someone was here! I've been watching you over the garden wall!"

  Anya's heart sank. She had been careless. She'd forgotten about the neighbors. Now she had been caught– unless she could bluff her way out...

  "I'm sorry Madame. This is my... sort of den. I didn't realize I was doing any harm," Anya whimpered.

  The old lady glared for a moment.

  "Well, if I see you here again, I'll report you to the police, I can promise you that," she grunted.

  Anya threw her a gratified smile, and obliged the old lady by running down the garden, Tippy racing after her, and after picking her up, clambered over the garden wall. What the lady didn't know were the curses Anya was saying under her breath.

At the castle, the debate was still going on.

  "What if we get the girl and question her?" someone suggested.

  "That would be wasting time. And besides, we have to bring her here. The person who fetches her would be taking a terrible risk. If they got stopped on the way here with her, they'll  be caught as well. Remember she hasn't got any papers. It would like walking down the road with a time-bomb in your pocket," Dominique said.

  "We lose one man. I don't want to sound callous, but that would be one man versus the whole of the Maquis being killed. It would only take a day!"

  Adele spoke up.

  "If we send someone to her, someone trustworthy, rather than bringing her here... that would only take a few hours."

  "Yes...that would work..."Jean-Marc said slowly.

  "I can tell you where she is," Adele said eagerly. "Who shall we send?"

  "Don't jump the gun, Adele," Jean-Marc said sternly. "But it is an idea..."

Anya watched the old lady like a hawk. It was getting dark, and she wanted to get back to her nice cosy attic. And it was nearly curfew.

  The old lady was painstakingly slowly planting what seemed to be about a thousand Geraniums. After three hours, the woman pottered into her house and shut the door.

  Quicker than greased lightning, Anya grabbed Tippy, climbed over the garden wall, ran up the garden, through the glass-less window, up the stairs, across the landing, up the secret stairs (locking the cupboard door behind her) and onto the pile of blankets, breathlessly. She had made it.