Thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing chapter five. Apologies for the long delay in updating. I've been a little under the weather and it was a bit of a struggle to write for about a week but I didn't stop altogether. This has, however, turned into quite a long chapter – another reason it has taken so long – but I didn't want to split this up, so here it is in its entirety. As we left them at the end of chapter five, Emile and George had evaded a German patrol thanks to Emile's quick thinking although he soon forgot himself, much to George's annoyance….

Chapter Six

George buttoned up her jacket and turning to the mirror in the bedroom regarded herself dispassionately as she placed the brown beret securely on her head. There was nothing remarkable in the reflection and she felt no temptation to turn to the left or right to observe herself more closely. She was just another young Frenchwoman, like so many others, whose appearance was growing increasingly dowdy these days, dressed in her no-nonsense skirt, sensible lace-up shoes and jacket with its darned elbows. New clothes were as difficult to find as they were to afford and, in any case, the last thing she wanted this evening was to stand out in a crowd.

She was heading for a rendezvous with Jacques who was to drive her out to some woods which lay to the west of Sainte Martin. When they arrived they would meet up with other circuit members and lie low until shortly before midnight when they were to assemble at a drop location nearby. They would be acting as the reception committee for the weapons and explosives drop promised by London, the same one that George had reported to Emile last week. They were also expecting the arrival by parachute of a trained sabotage expert, codenamed Sebastian. Emile would also be there to assist and welcome the new member of the circuit. George had seen him a couple of times this week but only briefly in public places to pass on and receive messages and she was glad of it. The incident in the forest with the German patrol had shaken her more than she wanted to admit and not just because of the danger of being arrested. If she was honest, the close physical encounter with Emile had confused her for a little while. She had struggled to contain her anger immediately afterwards, furious at first with him for taking advantage of the situation but before long she had turned the anger on herself for still being bothered by him. She was half-way back to Varennes before she realised that she was so caught up with her own thoughts that she hadn't been paying enough attention to her surroundings and the recollection shocked her and brought her back to her senses. She had doubled her efforts since to be vigilant at all times and tried to clear her mind of all that had gone before. No good could come of these thoughts and her job here was already difficult enough without letting anything or anyone as pointless as Emile Harte cloud her judgment.

George took one final look at her reflection before heading downstairs. The elderly sisters she lodged with were preparing an evening meal in the kitchen. Cecile, the younger sister, a childless widow in her late sixties, always cheerful and surprisingly fresh-faced for a lady of mature years, looked up as George entered the room.

"Are you going out, Marie?"

George nodded. She still found it difficult to remember that as far as the ladies were concerned she was Marie Bouchard. They knew her by no other name, nor did they need to although tonight she would be carrying a different set of false papers in the name of Louise Aubert, papers that would not connect her to them. She knew that the sisters were sympathetic to the resistance, of course, but the unspoken agreement was that they asked no questions and George told them nothing in return. To all intents and purposes she was simply their young lodger.

She smiled at Cecile as she responded to her enquiry, "Yes. Don't wait up for me."

A look of concern crossed Cecile's face and George could tell that she was about to say something, perhaps give her a warning or maybe issue some motherly advice when her older sister, Jeanne interrupted her, "Very well." A retired teacher in her early seventies, Jeanne possessed a beady eye that had borne witness to almost every excuse under the sun offered up by errant school children to excuse misdemeanours and she knew how to judge situations such as these. She also recognised the dangers of conversation and nodded at George indicating that nothing more needed to be said before turning back to the stove. Cecile gave George a long look and George could tell her thoughts but she flashed a confident smile in her direction, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, my dear."

George heard the anxiety in Cecile's voice but pushed it to the back of her mind. She needed to focus on what she had to do. She couldn't carry the concerns of others with her when there was so much at stake and concentrating her mind she left without another word or backward glance.

Jacques was waiting with his van several streets away, as arranged, when George appeared shortly before six o'clock. It wouldn't be dark until at least nine o'clock and it would almost be time for curfew then so it was essential that they made the journey in good time to avoid trouble. Jacques, not always the most sociable of men, seemed to be in a talkative mood this evening and chatted amiably as they drove along. George was happy to join in as it took her mind off the task in hand and made everything seem much more normal until he threw in an unexpected question.

"What have you done to upset Phillipe?"

She turned her head to look at Jacques wondering if this was some kind of joke but he appeared serious.

She shook her head, "I don't know what you mean."

Jacques raised his voice to be heard above the rising note of the engine as the van took a hill. "He said he was going to pull you off this drop tonight and wanted me to get a message to you to stay away."

George felt a stab of indignation course through her. After everything Emile had said last week in the forest to her about accepting that she was just as able as any man to do this work it seemed as if he had planned to go back on his word.

"Mind you," Jacques continued, "I told him we were short-handed tonight. Jean-Luc's ill, Richard's wife is having a baby and the only other option was to use Louis and we couldn't risk him so he had no choice but he seemed set against you joining us."

George wondered for a moment if Emile had changed his mind because she had rejected him. In spite of her feelings towards him even this seemed petty and beneath him but then she wondered if he had only been humouring her in the first place when he had invited her to join them on the drop. The thought that he might not have taken her seriously was even more annoying than the thought he was smarting because she hadn't fallen into his arms at the first opportunity.

"Well, that's too bad," she called to Jacques, "he'll have to put up with me whether he likes it or not."

Jacques glanced at her for a second, saw the determined look in her eye and chuckled to himself. Whatever problem had caused Phillipe to change his mind about Madeleine, he'd have a bigger problem on his hands if he didn't keep his word.

They arrived in good time at the assembly point, a remote farm owned by Albert Ferrand and his wife, Jacqueline, about a kilometre from the drop site. Jacques drove his van into one of the barns and they shut the large wooden double doors behind them to ensure it was out of sight should anyone pass by unexpectedly.

"You can only get to the drop site using a forest track. We'll take Albert's horse and cart down there and then bring the stuff up here to load into the van afterwards," Jacques explained as they made their way up to the farmhouse.

Albert, a stocky man in his forties with a ruddy complexion that bore testament to a lifetime outdoors, welcomed them and immediately embraced Jacques like a long-lost brother with much back-slapping and laughter. Jacques then introduced Madeleine and he greeted her with a handshake and kiss on each cheek before showing them into the kitchen where Jacqueline was preparing a meal. Several other men, including Bernard, were already assembled there, sitting at the table drinking wine and smoking. George had met all of them before on her travels and was greeted amiably and invited to join them before being given a glass of wine. Amongst these men at least she was considered a comrade in arms and an equal. Not one of them seemed the least bit surprised that she would be helping tonight and her sense of indignation towards Emile grew so much so that by the time he appeared an hour later she could barely bring herself to look at him for fear of glowering.

Emile was greeted warmly by those present and was clearly held in esteem but when his eyes briefly met George's she made sure he knew she was unimpressed and barely nodded at him before looking away. He noticed her cold response but he was too concerned with other matters to dwell on it. It was almost nine o'clock and they needed to listen to the wireless. Jacqueline brought out a wireless set that had been hidden under the floorboards and they tuned in to the BBC news service for French listeners. They all knew that it was strictly forbidden to listen to the BBC and anyone caught doing so could be arrested and imprisoned but on this occasion they had a good reason. Once the main news bulletin giving all the latest war news had finished the announcer read out a series of coded messages. Louis had relayed to Emile a message from London giving the sentence that would be broadcast if the drop was definitely going ahead and they all waited in anticipation. Six messages were read out and repeated before the announcer said, "Francois is going on a picnic."

"It's on," Emile said at once standing up to turn off the wireless set, "let's go over the plans."

They spent some time discussing arrangements and, not for the first time, George had leisure to observe how business-like and professional Emile could be. They went over the arrangements several times until everyone was certain of their roles. When the drop had been made the weapons, ammunition and explosives would be gathered up and loaded onto the cart and taken back to the farm. Jacques, a young man called Hubert, Madeleine and Emile would load up the van and then Jacques, Madeleine and Hubert would return to Varennes. Should they be stopped they were carrying false permits allowing them to be out during curfew hours as shift workers on their way to the metal works in Varennes. The sabotage and explosives agent, Sebastian, would leave with Bernard in the opposite direction and the two other men, Jean and Alain, would take their bicycles down to the drop zone and leave immediately the drop was completed.

At half-past eleven the group made its way in silence, apart from the creaking of the cart and the horse's hooves on the track, down through the woods to the flat pasture land in a shallow valley below that would serve as the drop zone. They paused some distance from the site and Hubert and Bernard moved off in opposite directions to scout around and ensure that there was no German activity in the area. They returned within fifteen minutes or so to report that everything seemed quiet. The clearing was some distance from any roads and as there was no chance of any vehicles suddenly appearing they settled down to wait. They were expecting the drop around midnight but needed to wait until they could hear the sound of the aeroplane approaching before three of them would head out into the open to use hand held torches as signals to mark the area of the drop zone for the pilot and crew.

At about ten past twelve they heard the low distant hum of aeroplane engines in the distance and Bernard, Hubert and Alain headed out into the field. As the noise grew louder and closer George saw three beams of light directed up into the darkness. The aeroplane seemed to be almost directly overhead before, peering way above her into the dark sky, George caught sight of the first white, mushroom like shape of a parachute and realised that the drop was happening. Other smaller chutes appeared and soon there were canisters gently dropping across the field and she and the others hurried out to collect up all the supplies, remove the parachutes and carry the boxes to the waiting horse and cart. The whole drop had only taken a few minutes and the sound of the aeroplane engines had swiftly receded into the distance but it took them quite a while longer to gather and load everything. They had almost finished when Bernard came running across the field looking for Emile.

"Sebastian's parachute drifted off course. We found him but he's caught up in a tree. We need some help to get him down."

Jacques and Hubert were ready to return to the farm with Albert and the horse and cart and Emile sent them on their way knowing it would take some time to reach the farm and unload and it was vital not to waste unnecessary time.

"Madeleine, stay with me." There was no time to argue with Emile and from his tone of voice George surmised the matter wasn't up for discussion and she followed him into the woods along with Bernard.

When they located Sebastian on the far side of the drop zone he was well and truly strung up in a tree about fifteen feet from the ground. Jean and Alain were trying to reach him and cut him down but it was slow and painstaking work and they needed additional help from Emile. Between them they managed to climb into the tree, work him free and somehow manhandle him to the ground, a task made more difficult by the fact that he was a large man and barely conscious. When they did finally get him to the ground it appeared that after having been severely winded by the bad landing he had passed out and then had difficulty regaining consciousness due to a restriction of oxygen caused by the tightness of the harness. It took some time for him to come to his senses but he seemed none the worse and was eventually able to converse with Emile. It hadn't been a good start but after a little while he got to his feet and seemed fit to continue. In the meantime Bernard had cut down his parachute and buried it. Emile spoke with him briefly and they arranged to meet the following day then Bernard headed off with him to take him to a safe house.

Emile turned to George, "We'd better get back to the farm, Jacques will be ready to leave by now and you have to go."

They set off at a good pace heading back towards the farm but had only just crossed the open field and headed back into the woods making for the direction of the track leading to the farm when they heard the sound of shots being fired somewhere behind them. Emile shrank down to the ground, pulling George with him. They crouched and looked back into the distance trying to make out where the sound had come from. A volley of shots broke the silence and from the flashes and accompanying torches George estimated they were no more than five hundred metres away.

"Troops." Emile said. "They must have heard the aeroplane but at least it's taken them quite a while to get here."

"They might have seen some of the others," George said thinking of Bernard and Sebastian.

"Or us," Emile added. "Come on. No time to waste."

He rose and grabbing George by the hand broke into a run. The sound of shooting continued and seemed to be keeping pace with them although it was still beyond their range. They raced through the woods until they located the track back towards the farmhouse. It hadn't seemed far when they had walked down it the first time but now that they were running to try to put distance between themselves and the advancing troops it seemed to go on forever. George felt sure that they hadn't been seen but it was likely that having been alerted by the aeroplane noise earlier the soldiers were carrying out a sweep of the area and unless they found somewhere to hide they would probably be overtaken.

"They're bound to search here," George gasped as they reached the farmhouse.

Emile ignored her and firmly knocked twice on the farmhouse door which was opened immediately by Albert who appeared to be half-way through changing into his nightclothes.

"You've heard the shooting?" Emile asked and without waiting for a response continued, "Have Jacques and Hubert gone?"

"Yes, thank god," Albert said, whilst ushering them in and shutting the door. "This way!" he gestured for them to follow him and Emile roughly pushed George along the hallway in front of him towards the kitchen. She looked around the room wondering what on earth they were going to do next and then noticed that Albert was at one end of the heavy kitchen table, lifting it and attempting to drag it sideways. Emile rushed over to help him and then they hastily rolled back the old rug beneath to uncover a trap door in the floor. Albert lifted the door to reveal a short flight of steps leading down into the darkness.

Emile grabbed George by the hand, "Quick, down there."

She didn't need to be told twice but rushed forward and scrambled down the steps with Emile behind her. There was barely time to make out the fact that they were descending into a small cellar that was really no more than a small storage area with only just enough headroom for Emile to stand upright before Albert had shut the trap door, rolled the mat over the entrance above and they heard the sound of the table being dragged back across to its normal position to conceal its presence.

Suddenly George found she was struggling for breath. The shock of the Germans' arrival, the run through the forest and now the tension of being unexpectedly trapped down here in this dark, stuffy hole caused her breath to come in painful rasping gasps. Each breath seemed to be amplified in the darkness and she began to panic at the thought that she wouldn't be able to breathe normally or quietly until she felt her hand grasped in the darkness and then the warmth of Emile's breath close to her ear as he whispered, "Hush". He squeezed her hand and she turned her head towards the direction of his voice but there was no time to exchange a word as the hammering of a rifle butt on the front door of the farmhouse announced the arrival of troops intending to search the house.

There was a pause and then Albert must have moved to open the door, no doubt feigning sleepiness as an excuse for taking so long, as heavy boots could be heard moving swiftly into the rooms above them. There was evidently an officer with them as occasional instructions were being barked out in an authoritative tone. George and Emile froze in the darkness listening to the sound of feet racing upstairs, doors being opened, items falling on the floor and questions being hurled at Albert and his wife. After a couple of minutes they moved back downstairs and they realised that the soldiers were now directly above them in the kitchen.

George's heart was in her mouth as she listened to the footsteps moving only a couple of feet from her head and as Emile continued to hold her hand she stood like a statue taking short, shallow breaths in an effort to make no sound. Beside her she could tell, even in the darkness, that Emile was straining every muscle to follow the direction of the noise. The officer's voice was heard above them and then the sound of boots on the floor receded. The voices grew more distant and George guessed they were moving from the farmhouse into the yard but she didn't dare move or speak. Silence descended in the house but still neither of them dared to make a sound having no idea if anyone might still be above waiting for them to betray their presence. George lost all sense of time as she stood in the pitch blackness feeling nothing but an ever-growing sensation of claustrophobia as if the darkness was trying to swallow her up. Then another awful thought occurred to her; what if Albert and Jacqueline had been arrested and she and Emile were trapped here. How long would they dare to wait before they tried to make their escape and would they be able to get the trap door open again? She closed her eyes and tried to focus on breathing slowly and quietly, anything that would keep the terrifying feelings of incarceration at bay.

Although it had seemed like much longer, George and Emile had probably waited no more than fifteen minutes before they heard lighter footsteps above them, the sound of the mat being dragged back and then to George's relief a chink of light appeared followed by Albert lifting the trap door, allowing some welcome fresh air into the cellar. Emile released George's hand and she realised with a start that she had forgotten he was still holding it fast. He climbed up a few steps to speak to Albert.

"The Germans have gone but It's not safe to leave yet." Albert reported. "There will be patrols out in the area all night and they might come back. You'd better stay here until morning. I'll go out at first light to check on the cows and see how the land lies. I'm sorry but it would be safer for you to stay down there."

Emile turned to look at George and could tell from her face that this idea was not appealing but he knew Albert was right, they had no choice.

"Thank you, Albert. It will be fine. "

Albert located some matches and a candle and passed them down to Emile before shutting the trap door again and going off to bed. It had been a long night and he needed to be up again at dawn. The glow from the candle Emile was holding illuminated their immediate surroundings and relieved some of George's feelings of claustrophobia. It also revealed a small table, two stools and a mattress with some blankets on the floor but nothing else. George realised that they were not the first people to have hidden down here and tried to take comfort from that the fact that it must have worked before. Emile looked as though he was preparing to get settled and pulling out one of the stools sat down.

"Take a seat, Madeleine. It's going to be a long night."

George hesitated for a moment contemplating the fact that she would be stuck down here in the cellar with him until daybreak. Emile glanced up at her. "What's the matter?"

George shrugged, "I don't particularly want to be here."

Emile smiled. "Could be worse. We could be out there."

"I think I'd prefer that."

Emile seemed to find this remark amusing and shook his head a little.

"Why are you smiling?"

He looked up at her, "Honestly?"

She nodded.

"Because you've got to admit that the fact you'd rather be avoiding patrolling Germans than spending the night down here with me is bloody hilarious."

She sensed an edge to his comment and it was just too much for her. He had no right to sound annoyed that she wouldn't want to be here.

"Can you blame me?"

Without thinking she headed towards the trap door and had taken her first step on the ladder but Emile was too quick for her. He lunged towards her and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Away from you."

"Albert wasn't joking. There are patrols out there."

"I'll take my chances," she hissed at him. It was a reckless statement and she knew it.

"Not at our expense, you won't," Emile responded with feeling, "I knew you shouldn't have come."

"Yes, I know what you really think. Jacques told me you didn't want me here."

"Not because…" he stopped mid-sentence. He had almost betrayed himself and he tried to change tack, "Look, all I'm saying is don't be a fool, George." He realised at once it had been the wrong thing to say.

"Well, I am a fool, Emile. You know that."

He heard sarcasm in her voice, sarcasm edged with something else that sounded like unhappiness. "What are you talking about?"

She stared at him and even in the gloom of the cellar he could see that her eyes were wide with anger, "Do I have to spell it out? Has it really slipped your mind?"

He saw her meaning. "You and me."

"Of course," she almost spat at him. "You must have thought I was a fool because I believed every rotten word that came out of your mouth."

He was shocked into silence. She looked close to tears, from anger he supposed and probably directed at herself as much as at him. He took a deep breath and a couple of steps away from her trying to gather his thoughts and keep his emotions in check. This was not the moment he would have chosen for this conversation but it looked like there was no way of escaping it now and above all else he had to stop George doing anything rash that might endanger both of them.

George watched Emile trying to compose himself, thinking to herself that it must be a difficult moment for him having to accept that she had seen him for who he was and he wasn't going to be let off the hook about the past just because everything was different here. He had only himself to blame if matters had come to a head just now. He shouldn't have kept behaving as if the past didn't matter. She could see that he was trying to decide how to respond and she braced herself for the lie that must surely follow.

Emile lifted his head and fixed George with a look of intensity and seriousness that she had never seen before even during some very difficult moments in the last few weeks and she was suddenly less certain of her ground.

"What did you think was happening that night in Bournemouth?" She said nothing and he continued, "What did you think was happening between us?"

Even in the poor light he saw a hint of colour in her cheeks and uncertainty. He had caught her by surprise. She clearly hadn't been expecting this, he saw an opening and he reached out to grasp her by both hands and hold them fast.

"We made love, George. That's what it was. It wasn't me getting my leg over or you being 'easy' or any other choice little phrase that you've heard bandied about. Is that what you thought?" She started and he knew he had hit the nail on the head. "Because you're wrong, more wrong than you've ever been about anything. That's not what happened, not for me. I was making love. What were you doing?"

She was shaken. She hadn't expected him to ask her such a searching question and her thoughts immediately returned to that night at the small hotel in Bournemouth, the end of a perfect day, the one and only night she had spent with Emile and had tried so hard to forget for the past two years. She had taken the courage of her convictions that night, gone against every principle of modesty and behaviour long instilled in her because she had believed in him, believed that he was different and he was worth it. She looked into his eyes, saw nothing but honesty written there and then realised her utter mistake. She struggled for a moment to phrase a response and when she did her voice was a mere whisper.

"You promised me you'd be waiting for me on Tuesday evening. I waited for two hours in the rain and you didn't show up. You didn't leave a word." The memory of waiting forlornly in a shop doorway as the night closed in with the drip of the rain from the shop awning splashing her feet was etched in her brain. She had never felt so alone and abandoned in her entire life as she had that evening.

"It wasn't out of choice," Emile said at once. "We said goodbye at the hotel and I went back to the base the following morning and there were orders for an immediate posting waiting for me. I'd volunteered for special flying ops weeks before I met you and long before I got involved with this outfit because I was bored in Coastal but nothing had ever come of it and then the very day I got back from Bournemouth there were orders to ship out to a secret location. I couldn't write or call or tell anyone where I'd gone and when I finally did get a chance about a week later I tried to telephone you but you'd been posted too and they wouldn't say where. 'Careless talk' and all that. I wrote to you hoping the letter would get forwarded on somehow but I heard nothing from you."

His words rang true. Only a few days after the miserable evening she had spent waiting for him in vain she had also been posted. Fate had been desperately unkind to both of them.

"I didn't get the letter," George said miserably. "We were posted twice in a short space of time. I suppose there is a war on…" She didn't know what else to say and fell silent.

That was it exactly, Emile thought. They were just another insignificant couple whose romance had been ruined by the unpredictability of life in wartime. He felt the weight of her misery and he could also imagine what she must have felt two years ago.

"You thought I was just another man who'd lied to you and then disappeared once he'd had his way," he surmised. He could see it all from her point of view now and everything she had said and done since arriving in France made sense to him. She had been hurt. She held him responsible and she'd been trying to protect herself. He was still holding her hands and he tightened his grasp trying to impress on her that he meant what he was about to say. "I'm not that sort of man, George. I don't blame you for thinking that at the time or since, but I would have been there that day like a shot if it had been possible." He paused and took a slow, deliberate breath. "I was in love with you…I still am." He took one final chance, "And I thought you loved me, too."

He didn't need to hear her voice. She answered him without words, pulling her hands from his grasp and reaching out to cradle his face between her palms, her fingers gently exploring its contours like a blind person trying to read his character and finding familiarity beneath her touch. When her lips found his he realised how much he had been hurting too all this time, burying it beneath his work, hiding behind humour and using the purpose and activity as a means of escape. He had not needed to think about her for such a long time but the moment he had seen her again the night she arrived in France he had sensed that this day would inevitably come.

There was no rush or frantic, hurried release of tension. As he slowly wrapped his arms around her Emile knew they had waited too long to ruin something so precious and George seemed to feel this too. They gently explored the forgotten sensation of being in each other's arms again. Every touch, every word, every tender kiss soothed and washed away the hurt of two years and renewed the desire that had lain dormant. As they inevitably sank down together onto the mattress, wrapped up in each other and no longer thinking of the world beyond this room, they both seemed to instinctively know that this was not simply about passion. This was a moment of more than physical comfort; it was healing.

X-X-X-X

The light from the trap door opening above him roused Emile from his sleep and for a moment he was confused by the feeling of George lying in his arms with her head resting on his chest and her hair lying loose across her bare shoulders. They couldn't have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. He had promised to keep watch but the candle had burned out and in the darkness, comforted by the feel of George lying close to him, her heart beating in rhythm with his own, he had succumbed to weariness. As he moved he woke her too and she lifted her head and looked just as startled for a moment to see his face so close to hers before recollecting what had happened and smiling at him until she realised that the trap door above was opening, there was nowhere to run and they had no time to do anything.

Albert's face appeared above them, "Good morning. It's alright, everything's quiet out there. The Germans are gone."

Emile and George looked at each other in relief.

"Thank you," Emile called out.

"Come up and have some breakfast," Albert replied and Emile nodded his agreement.

He turned to George. "We'd better go up and thank them."

She nodded and they scrambled to their feet, pulling on clothes and trying to straighten out their appearance. George ran her fingers through her hair trying to remove a few tangles before making to leave. She turned towards the steps but Emile caught her by the hand and pulled her back towards him. He gazed into her eyes, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth as he thought of the few hours they had spent here.

"George, last night meant everything. You know that don't you?"

"Yes."

She reached up to kiss him and he held her fast not wanting to release her, bring this moment to an end or return to the world that existed above them. They stood in silence, his forehead resting upon hers, their arms tightly wound around each other. He felt her breath upon his face, saw her eyes flicker open as she gazed into his and heard her whisper, "Je t'aime."

X-X-X-X

Emile hadn't been surprised to see a checkpoint on the bridge at Varennes. After the events of last night it was inevitable that there would be an increased security presence but at least this one was being manned by gendarmes with only a small contingent of German soldiers nearby who seemed relaxed and were paying little attention to activity at the checkpoint.

When he and George had finally parted company at the farm after breakfast with Albert and Jacqueline it was with the agreement that they would leave separately and travel by different routes to Varennes. George had lodgings there and Emile needed to find Bernard and check that the weapons and ammunition had been safely transported and stored before going on to meet Sebastian and draw up plans for the operation. George had taken the longer route by road whilst Emile had travelled by the shorter but riskier cross-country route. They had agreed, however, that whoever reached Varennes first would wait at the café in Rue Marseilles on the other side of the bridge to ensure that they both made it safely.

As he approached the bridge heading for the checkpoint Emile could see that George was not sitting outside the café but he hadn't really expected her to arrive first. He glanced casually to his left and right to check that she was not hanging back somewhere but not seeing her or anything else that made him feel wary he walked on at a steady pace towards the gendarmes trying to maintain a blank, neutral expression. Checks such as these on identity papers were a regular occurrence, a nuisance endured by French citizens and he tried to affect a look of bored indifference to the situation despite the tension that he naturally felt. Like George, he was carrying papers for a second false identity. He had one regular set he used for his normal every day activities but he carried a second set of false papers whenever they were engaged in operations or travelling in case of checks such as this. It was early and he was dressed like many other workers and his papers declaring him to be Michel Laval, a factory worker, raised no curiosity with the officer. He passed through and headed to the café taking up position at a table outside where he ordered a coffee and waited for George. He wouldn't speak to her, of course, when she arrived. She would simply continue on her way but it would be enough to know that she had made it.

Twenty minutes had passed before Emile caught sight of George approaching the checkpoint. It was busier now and a small queue had formed waiting for their papers to be inspected; a mixture of workers and housewives burdened by the daily struggle to feed their families on what little could be bought, bartered or begged. A minute or two passed before George reached the front of the queue and handed her papers to the officer. Emile could see her waiting, her expression suitably blank. The officer was spending a lot of time scrutinising the documents. He raised a hand and called over a second gendarme who took the papers from him and also examined them closely then they appeared to be asking her some questions and she responded. They were both looking at her and then one grasped her by the upper arm and pulled her from the front of the queue to the side. The two officers continued to talk to her and she was responding. Emile knew that something was wrong. George was shaking her head and seemed to be repeating something. The gendarme was pointing at the papers and now one of the soldiers was walking over to see what was being discussed.

Emile felt anxiety and tension course through him. He was helpless sitting here on his own, unarmed in a busy street with German soldiers so close by. George was in trouble but there was nothing he could do but look on in silent horror. The conversation between George and the gendarmes seemed to have concluded and the outcome was not good. She was being marched across the bridge between two of them each holding her by one of her arms. They were heading into town and the only glimmer of hope in Emile's mind was the fact that she was not with the German soldiers. Whatever was wrong did not seem to have attracted their attention and the first soldier who had started to show an interest had drifted away. However, this was no guarantee that the French police would not pass on a report to the German authorities if something was wrong.

As George, accompanied by the gendarmes drew nearer, Emile scanned the area again wondering if there was something he could possibly do to cause a diversion but at that moment a truck load of German soldiers pulled up just beyond him in the road and he realised with a sense of despair that it would be suicide to attempt anything.

By now Emile was sure that George must have seen or sensed he was nearby but she was steadfastly looking ahead and he realised that even in such a moment as this she was thinking of him, determined not to betray him by drawing attention to the fact that she knew him. They were level with him now and Emile could see George concentrating hard to stay calm and focused, no doubt running through dozens of excuses and explanations in her head and intent on convincing them that she had done nothing wrong. Then, for just a brief second, totally unseen by her captors who were intent of marching her to the police station, her eyes flickered in Emile's direction and he saw something else in their expression that tore at his heart; fear.