April 25, 1944
Victoria and Kate halted where they were, joining Chloé, Max and Rachelle who were staring at the ceiling in absolute silence. Victoria pricked her ears, trying to hear any sounds from above, but she couldn't hear anything.
"How do you know that there's someone up there?" she whispered to Chloé.
"The intruder set off the perimeter alarm," Chloé whispered back, pointing at the small bells hanging from the ceiling. "The trigger wire snaps if someone walks into it, making the bell jingle once."
"Is it the Germans?" Kate asked.
"We don't know," Max answered. "It's too dark for the periscope. If we're lucky, it was just a deer or a rabbit that set off the alarm."
"And if we're not?" Victoria asked, staring at the hatch at the end of the stairs.
"Then we will make them pay dearly for our lives," Rachelle said, walking back into the bunker, followed by Chloé and Max.
Victoria and Kate looked at each other gravely, before they joined the others. Victoria was going to close the door behind them, but Max stopped her.
"Leave it open. It'll be easier to stop them at the corridor."
Victoria did as instructed and left the door wide open. Rachelle opened a cabinet next to the corridor entrance and took out submachine guns and clips, passing them on to the others.
"Max, Rachelle, take the sides," Chloé commanded. "Kate, Victoria, you will hand them extra clips and step in, if either of them falls."
All the women took their designated places. Max knelt next to the wall on the left side of the corridor entrance with Kate right behind her while Victoria took her place behind Rachelle on the right side. Both Max and Rachelle peeked around the corner just enough so that they had a clear line of sight to the bottom of the stairs. Chloé placed herself right at the corridor entrance, taking aim at the staircase.
Seconds passed by, each one taking an eternity, at least in Victoria's mind. She felt how her palms were getting sweaty against the cold barrel of her weapon as she stood there completely motionless, careful not to make a sound. The thought that she might meet her fate in an underground bunker hadn't really crossed her mind when she had enlisted. Yet, here she was with a ragtag team of women she barely knew. If the bunker was breached, they'd put up a good fight but that would probably be it. She didn't want to die but she'd be damned if she let the Nazis capture her alive.
"They're inside the barn," Max whispered as another bell jingled.
Victoria perked her ears. She could vaguely hear the sound of footsteps above them. There was something peculiar about the pacing though. Instead of being cautious, the pacing was determined, as if whoever was walking on top of them knew exactly where they were going. Victoria's observation was confirmed as the hidden hatch was opened and someone began to descend the chairs. Chloé seemed to have come to the same conclusion as she let out an irritated huff and waved others to stand down.
"Maman, je pensais que nous avions convenu que tu resterais loin d'ici!" Chloé retorted at the woman in her late forties that stepped inside the room. "Et si tu étais suivi?"
"Les boches font des allers-retours dans le village. J'étais inquiet pour vous tous!" the woman huffed back, not intimidated by Chloé's tone. "Et ne t'inquiète pas, je suis tout à fait capable de perdre les crétins de la Wehrmacht. De plus, mon stock de vin diminue."
Victoria listened to the argument quietly with the others. No one seemed to want to intervene and she followed suit. The way the two women conversed left little room to speculation as to who the newcomer might be. This must be Chloé's mother, Victoria realized. The heated and fast-paced conversation in French wasn't easy to follow, but apparently, her and Kate's arrival seemed to have caused quite a stirrup in the members of the local garrison and patrols were swarming all over the neighborhood looking for whomever might have arrived on the plane. The German troops had already searched through the tavern and Chloé's mother had decided to come and check up on her daughter and her friends.
"But aren't you going to introduce me to your guests," the woman suddenly said, changing to English and turning to look at Victoria and Kate with a wholehearted smile.
"Uh, sure," Chloé said, slightly surprised by the sudden change of the topic. "You probably guessed already, but this is my mother, Joceline Price. Maman, meet Victoria Chase and Kate Marsh."
"Please, call me Joyce," Chloé's mother said, offering her hand. "My husband, God bless his soul, always called me that and the people in the village have adopted it too."
"Enchanté," Victoria said, shaking the offered hand.
"Oh mon Dieu! We have to do something about that accent of yours," Joyce said concernedly. "You wouldn't pass as a native even to a Wehrmacht private."
"So I've been told," Victoria commented dryly.
"Pleased to meet you," Kate greeted Joyce in her turn. "Your English is quite excellent, if I may say so.
" Merci beaucoup! Having been married to un américain for over twenty years does help," Joyce said humbly. "So, you two have arrived to help us to fight les boches?" she asked.
"We'll do whatever we can to help your cause," Kate answered.
"Four years, we have been suffering under Hitler's tyranny," Joyce said in frustration. "It is time messieurs Churchill and Roosevelt stop hiding behind their desks and come to drive the German troops off the French soil."
"For once, I agree with you, Maman," Chloé added.
"Mon dieu! Here I am, blabbering about the war, when you girls must be starving," Joyce said abruptly. "Come with me to the tavern and I'll fix you up some supper."
"Es-tu sûr que c'est sûr?"
"Oh, the Wehrmacht already ransacked the tavern. They won't be coming there tonight."
"I suppose, it'll be safe, then," Chloé contemplated. "We have to go through the woods, though. I hope you ladies don't mind a little walk." She cast a meaningful glance at Victoria and Kate.
-ooo-
They were sitting at a small round table. Victoria, Chloé and Rachelle were enjoying an after-meal smoke as Kate and Max helped Joyce with the dishes. They were in the back room of Joyce's tavern, Les Deux Baleines. Victoria couldn't help but wonder how Joyce had managed to come up with such a wonderful meal in such a short time. Maybe she was really hungry but she couldn't imagine she could've eaten better at some fancy Parisian restaurant.
"Chloé mentioned that her father was American," Kate asked Joyce as she picked up the last plates.
"Oh yes, mon cher William," Joyce said, a hint of longing in her voice. "We met in 1918, a little before the war ended. William was stationed near Cantigny. I was only eighteen and I just fell for his boyish charm. He returned to America after the armistice but he couldn't forget about me either. He kept writing to me and returned to France the following summer. We got married and Chloé was born the next year." She stopped for a moment to look around her plaintively. "This old tavern was in horrible shape when we bought it, but William and I did renovations, and made a good living running the place." Joyce paused again, and Kate could see a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. "When the Germans invaded France, they let William be, because he still was an American citizen and Germany was not at war with the United States. After Pearl Harbor, though, they came to arrest him. Later, we received a word that he'd been shot to death, allegedly while attempting to escape."
"Oh, that's terrible!" Kate gasped. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, dear. We've all lost someone in this terrible war," Joyce said, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Times like these, what else can we do than try to put things aside and concentrate on survival?"
"We can fight back," Chloé said sharply.
"You know how I feel about you and the rest of the girls putting yourself in danger," Joyce said, frowning. "Isn't it enough that your father is dead?"
"At least I'm doing something to make sure that he didn't die for nothing," Chloé retorted. "What are you doing, serving the Wehrmacht soldiers behind the counter?"
"Do you think I'm enjoying it?" Joyce snapped back. "It wrenches my gut to serve those bastards!"
"Et pourtant tu continues à le faire."
"Sinon, ils me prendraient la taverne et mettraient quelqu'un d'autre à ma place!"
"Qui se soucie de la taverne?"
"Moi! A part toi, c'est la seule chose qui reste de ton père!" Joyce sat down, sobbing. "It is the only thing that's left of your father, besides you," she repeated.
"Maman…" Chloé stood down, realizing she'd pushed it too far.
"It's all right, ma fille," Joyce said, standing up again and picking up a bowl. "I have to go do the dishes." With that, she walked into the kitchen.
An awkward silence fell into the room. Max stood up, frowning at Chloé, and went after the older woman. Chloé looked at the kitchen door hesitatingly, before she leaned back on her chair and lit another cigarette, letting out her first inhale with a frustrated sigh. Kate, realizing that a change of subject might be in order, set the stack of plates she was carrying onto the desk next to her and sat at the table.
"So, whats the story between you two?" Kate asked enthusiastically, looking at Chloé.
Chloé lifted her eyebrows at the unexpected question, before taking another drag from her cigarette and leaning forward, grinning.
"Max and I have know each other since we were kids," the tall woman began. "My dad had some distant relatives in Ireland, so we used to travel there almost every summer. Max´s family lives just outside of Killarney and my dad's second cousin has a farm a bit further down the road. We first met when we were visiting the market and Max was there with her family. She was being bullied by some local kids and it looked like she was badly outnumbered, so I went for her help. I guess those boys were not used to a girl that can hit back," Chloé chuckled.
"Long story short, we were practically inseparable since then and spend all our time together when we were visiting Killarney or when Max came here."
"When did you two realize you were more than just friends?" Victoria asked.
"I think I realized it in that first summer," Chloé said contemplatively. "Of course, I was too chicken to confess it to Max, so we went on as friends for the years to come all the way until the last time we travelled to Killarney in the summer of '38. I had garnered enough courage to tell Max how I felt about her and was anxiously looking forward to see her – only to find out that she had left without a word a month before."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that," Chloé affirmed. "I was heartbroken. I wanted to go looking for her but my folks talked me out of it. So, we went back home and I didn't hear anything from Max until five years later when she appeared at our doorstep in the middle of the night." Chloé took one final drag from her cigarette and stumped it on the ashtray. "I still keep wondering how she was able to make it through the Kriegsmarine infested waters and the occupied country, but there she was. I was amazed, overjoyed and angry at the same time. I admit, part of me wanted to slam the door shut in front of her, as I was still hurting from how she'd left without a word. Then again, I couldn't drive her away either when the whole country was swarming with Nazis, so I took her in. It didn't happen overnight, but eventually we were able to work things out between us and express our true feelings to each other."
"So, where'd she been off to the whole time, then?" Victoria asked.
"Ah, 'ere and there, finding out who I wus an' what I wanted," Max answered behind Victoria's back, just as Chloé was about to open her mouth. "Turns out it wus me darlin' Chloé al' along."
Victoria turned to look at Max, whose smile looked slightly contrived. Victoria pursed her lips suspiciously. Her gut was telling that the young Irishwoman was hiding something. I don't know what it is but until I do, I'd better keep an eye on her, Victoria thought.
Victoria turned around and realized that Rachelle was no longer sitting at the table. She looked around and saw that the back door was slightly ajar. Victoria excused herself and walked to the door, cracking it open. It led to a small corridor, full of crates and sacks. At the other end, there was another door that led outside. Victoria walked to the opposite door and opened it. She hesitated for a moment before she stepped out into a dark and narrow alley. Since the blackout was in effect, the only light source was the moon, whose light made the alley a chaos of shadows and pale blueish grey surfaces.
Victoria couldn't see Rachelle anywhere, so she walked further down the alleyway. After a few steps, though, she began to hesitate again. What the hell am I doing? She obviously went into the kitchen and not out here. Victoria was about to turn back when she saw a cigarette light flashing about ten feet away.
"Rachelle, is that you?" Victoria said quietly, before she bit her lip sharply. Speak French, you idiot! There was no point correcting herself, though, as the smoker put out their cigarette and walked hastily towards her.
"Es-tu folle de parler anglais à l'extérieur?" Rachelle hissed angrily as she came to Victoria. "You never know who might be listening?" She changed to English lowering her voice to a whisper.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't think," Victoria whispered back. "I-it just came out before I could stop myself."
"Well, you better start thinking or you will get us all killed!" Rachelle snapped. "Your horrible accent is one thing, but speaking English outdoors is like painting a bullseye on your forehead!"
"I-Im sorry, it won't happen again, I promise," Victoria said, embarrassed.
"Make sure it won't, est-ce clair?"
"Très clair."
"Très bien. Let's go inside," Rachelle said in a more lenient tone. "What were you doing out here anyway?"
"I realized you'd gone out, so I thought I'd join you."
"I needed a moment for myself," the hazel-eyed woman said. "One can only endure so much family drama."
"Do Chloé and Joyce argue often?" Victoria asked as they stepped back inside.
"Oui," Rachelle answered, closing the door behind them. "Joyce does her best to survive in this terrible situation, but Chloé feels she shouldn't be serving those who killed her husband."
"Where do you stand?"
"I try to remain impartial. As does Max,"Rachelle said, sighing. "From what Joyce has told me, her relationship with Chloé has never been the easiest one, and William's death certainly didn't help. If it weren't for the war, they'd find something else to argue about." She shrugged and walked to the other door.
"Ah, you came in just right, Victoria," Kate said enthusiastically as they stepped in. "Chloé is telling about the German troops stationed in the region.
"As I was saying," Chloé continued as Victoria and Rachelle took their seats, "the local garrison consists only of Wehrmacht troops with maybe two companies worth of soldiers. Their commander is Oberstleutnant Dieter Merrich. His role is administrative rather than executive, though." Chloé paused for a moment and took a sip of her brandy.
"The man pulling the strings," she continued, "is a Gestapo officer, Kriminalrat Frank Bauers. He was stationed here soon after Germany occupied France. He is a textbook example of a Nazi zealot. Devoted to the cause and ruthless. Even though Merrich outranks Bauers, he's got no power over him. Bauers answers directly to his superior, possibly Heinrich Müller himself. So far, we've been able to stay ahead of him but we don't know how long that will last. Until then, we'll do our best to make the Germans' lives as miserable as possible." Chloé leaned forward, looking directly at Kate and Victoria. "I know you have your own orders and we'll assist you any way we can, but in the meantime, we'd really appreciate your expertise."
"That goes without saying," Kate assured.
"Excellent!" Chloé nodded approvingly. "I think it's time we head back to the farm. We all could use some sleep." She stood up and the others followed suite. "Tomorrow, we'll begin planning."
Author's notes:
Welcome back and sorry for the long pause since the last update. Life tends to take priority most of the time nowadays. I hope you enjoy the chapter.Disclaimer: All the French spelling and grammar errors are again mine - with some help from Google translate.