The Life That I Have

Chapter 7

Luc sneaked through the dark streets, looking for the right house. When he found it, he went looking for the correct mews. He matched up the back and the front of the house. It was not difficult. The same peeling paint and smashed windows– yes this was the same house alright. Gaining entry to the house would be easy.

  Anya, up in the attic, heard footsteps, and quickly went to the staircase door to look through the keyhole. She could see a man of about thirty, and was not a soldier as far as she could make out. As the man made a beeline for the door, Anya shrank back. There was a gentle knock on the cupboard door.

  "Hello?" he called softly.

  Anya took a chance.

  "Who is it? What do you want?" she said coldly.

  "Are you alone?"

  Anya didn't have anything to lose.

  "Yes."

  There was a pause.

  "My name's Luc. I'm from– Adele sent me."

  Anya warily unlocked the door, and came face to face with him.

  "Thanks. We need your help Anya... or should I say 'Yvette'?"

  Anya looked skeptically at Luc, who launched into the whole story. When Anya confirmed it, she asked:

  "He told you that?"

  Luc nodded. "And Jean-Marc, our leader, thought we should have more proof."

  Anya understood now. It all fitted into place. Adele, Rudi, the Maquis, everything. Luc soon had to leave. Anya was sad as she showed him out. She didn't realize how lonely she was until she was with someone.

  "Look out for the nosy old woman next door," she warned him. Just as he was halfway through the window, he said briefly:

  "Just remember, if you ever need any help, we'll be at St. Catherine's!"

  With that, he left, leaving Anya alone again with her dog.

  "Come on, Tip," she said wistfully. "Let's go and get our dinner."

  Anya was soon walking along the pavement in a daydream, Tippy in her arms. It was not until the last moment did she realize that she was walking right into a Nazi road-block. Suddenly, realizing her mistake, Anya froze.

  Trying to turn around without being noticed was impossible, as she found out.

  "Come here, girl!" a soldier called. "There's nothing to be afraid of, unless you've got something to hide. Come here and show me your papers!"

  A sudden brain-wave hit Anya. Putting Tippy down casually on the cobblestone road, Anya whispered urgently:

  "Run, Tippy, home! Go, on, boy! Home!"

  Tippy bolted back in the direction in which she had come. Anya, pretended to be panic-stricken, called:

  "Celeste! Celeste! Come back you silly dog!"

  When 'Celeste' did not respond, Anya gave an impatient sigh, and ran off after him. The guard stood there, bemused for a second, then shrugged and continued with his duties.

  When she safely several blocks away, Anya recalled Tippy, who obediently trotted beside her. At last when she arrived back at the house, she was so tired she could barely climb over the garden wall. At the window, she made sure her map of the area was still in her pocket. It was.

  After reassuring herself, she carefully put Tippy indoors before she, herself climbed over the sill.

  As she walked up the stairs, she could feel a certain tension in the air. She felt uneasy. When she reached the room containing the stairs leading up to the attic, she knew something was definitely wrong. For one thing, the cupboard door was open– she had shut it when she had gone out, like she always did. And then there were the voices. The elderly neighbor's and at least that of two other men.

  "You see! A spy! A British spy!" the old lady crowed.

  "Yes, thank you, Madame. But keep your voice down, or she'll hear us," the man snapped.

  'Well, you're too damned late," Anya whispered under her breath. "I've heard you."

  Quietly tiptoeing back down the stairs, Anya called the old woman every insulting name under the sun. Anya knew where she was going– to St. Catherine's castle. She would be safe there. She would not be lonely anymore.

  When she was onto the street, she ran as fast as she could in the direction of the countryside, sprinting mindlessly through the street, ignoring angry shouts from the people she had run straight into.

  She was soon into the countryside. She selected a comfortable looking grassy bank, and scrambled up it. There, she regained her breath and rummaged around her coat pockets until she found her map. She scrutinized it until she found the castle on it, which was about twenty miles from where she was now. Sighing, she folded the map and returned it to her pocket. Anya stood up and slowly started walking her lonely trek.

Dominique looked disdainfully around the catacombs. It's walls where cold and slimy.

  The whole of the Maquis had abandoned the castle the previous night, thanks to Rudi's words of warning.

  As for Rudi himself, he had had to be put under a twenty-four hour guard, but not for the safety of those around him– but for his safety. Jean-Marc had (correctly) judged that the general attitude of the Maquis men and women to a German would be distinctly cool– he would be lynched.

Early that morning, Anya awoke stiff and cold. Clapping her hands together to warm them, she consulted her map to see how much farther she had to go. Four miles. She had done well last night.

  It didn't take her long to kill those leftover miles, and soon she was pulling herself up the steep woodland surrounding the castle, which was insight.

  Now she could see it, Anya was surprised at how empty it looked. Where where all the people? Suddenly, she realized. She had come to the old Maquis hideout. She had missed the boat. They had left her behind.

  At that moment, the loneliness became to much for her to bear. Leaning against the crumbling stone wall, all the tears she had been bottling up for the past months, the past years, all started to flow. All the tormenting memories came back, and in her her hysteria, she grabbed a loose stone and threw it as hard as he could. The stone landed with a thud a few meters away. It did not help vent her anger. Anya began to hit her fists against the wall, howling like a wild animal. Soon she had used up all of what little energy she had, and collapsed into a miserable, sobbing heap on the hard earth.

  She was like that for a few minutes when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  "You looking for someone?" a voice echoed.

  Anya could just make out a blurred face of a man before it all went black.