Thank you for you for reading and reviewing Chapter Eleven. Apologies for the delay in updating. It's been slow progress I'm afraid but here it is...

Chapter Twelve

George was worried. She had been worried all day but had done her best to hide it from Emile. From the moment she had woken him in the morning she felt sure that something was wrong. He had been slow to come to his senses and didn't seem to be thinking straight. It was unusual for him and that worried her. In all the weeks George had known him out here in France she had been struck by his vitality, sense of purpose and the way in which he had been ever alert to danger and ready to act at a moment's notice. The tired and sluggish way in which he had behaved since waking this morning betrayed the fact that something was amiss.

George had done her best to keep watch last night but knew that she must have succumbed to sleep a few times as once or twice she had suddenly jerked awake, shocked by the fact that she had closed her eyes for a short period of time and fearful that something must have happened to alert her. Each time there had been nothing but the sound of the trees and bushes around the shed moving in the breeze and the steady rhythm of Emile's breathing in the darkness.

As the first grey light of dawn crept through the small dirty skylight in the roof over their heads, George began to rouse herself and tried to gather her thoughts for the day to come. As much as they needed to continue south, she had no intention of returning to the main station. The unceremonious way in which they had been ejected, coupled with the German Officer's suspicion, made her very wary of returning there. It would be better to find a bus and get away from here by another means of transport as soon as possible but they also needed to find something to eat and drink. She was parched and very hungry. It had been a long time since they had eaten and she knew they would have to risk buying some provisions.

As soon as it was light enough she checked her watch. It was almost six o'clock. The curfew would lift very soon and it would be a good idea to make a move before anyone came into the park. George reached across to gently shake Emile.

"Emile, wake up. We need to go soon."

He stirred a little but didn't open his eyes. She tried again and this time he groaned as he stretched out his legs and finally forced himself to look at her. He sounded groggy.

"Where are we?"

The question surprised George. "The shed in the park. Remember?"

"Vaguely," he frowned with the effort of recollection and reached his left hand up to rub the back of his neck, grimacing as he did so, "I don't think I'll be recommending it to anyone."

George smiled at him, "Well, you slept pretty well, so I don't know why you're complaining."

She expected a quip from him but for once none came. He moved and tried to pull himself up but couldn't hide the pain it caused him. George reached over to help and somehow he got to his feet. She looked at the wound on his shoulder and was relieved to see that it didn't appear to have bled during the night. She helped him put on his shirt which was still slightly damp but he wasn't bothered. She retrieved a comb from her pocket and handed it to him.

"What's that for?" he sounded slightly cross or perhaps muddled as if handing him a comb made no sense.

"Try to make yourself look presentable unless you want to give the impression you've been sleeping rough."

He took the comb from her and half-heartedly ran it through his hair. It made a small difference but he still looked a little rough and ready. She watched him wondering if it was just his shoulder that was giving him trouble or he was somehow annoyed with her, perhaps he didn't like the cover story they were using.

"Look Emile, we don't have to continue using the same story as yesterday if you don't want to."

There was a puzzled expression on his face, "Why are you saying that. It doesn't make any difference to me."

"Are you alright?"

He sighed heavily, "As alright as I can be. Let's just get out of here."

She didn't want to risk any argument. The whole situation was too finely poised and too much depended on them working together the way they had yesterday. She held out her hand.

"Come on then."

He frowned, "Is there a plan? Where are we heading, George?"

She took a deep breath, she'd been thinking about this on and off during her wakeful moments throughout the night and it seemed her that despite the many difficulties it would present they had only one option if they wanted to get back to England.

"To Spain."

Four hours later, sitting on the slow bus wending its way through the countryside in the direction of Poitiers, George began to wonder if she was crazy thinking they could realistically make their way as far as the Spanish border. There were Germans patrols at the border and they would need to find and pay a guide to navigate them across the Pyrenees and into Spain which, despite its neutrality, was not without its dangers. She knew that even if they managed to cross into Spain they would have to avoid arrest and try to reach the British Embassy in Madrid but it was a possible escape route and now that the Circuit was unviable they had to get away.

From the corner of her left eye George glanced at Emile sitting by the bus window. He was quiet and withdrawn. It was still part of the disguise and he'd maintained it even when they had risked going into a café near the market square to buy something resembling coffee and a sandwich this morning. Both the coffee and the sandwich had been fairly disgusting but George was so hungry that she had struggled to maintain the appearance of eating it under sufferance. To her surprise, however, Emile had drunk the coffee but left some of his bread, admitting that he wasn't hungry. She knew he was tired and weak but it wasn't like him to seem so apathetic. Even when they had found the place to board the bus it had been George taking all the security measures, insisting they cross the road and check the area out before watching the other passengers board. When she was as reasonably happy as she could be that the rest of the passengers were of little risk she had encouraged Emile in what was becoming a familiar and patronising voice to get on the bus and sit down quietly. They had travelled as far as the town of Conteville before changing to another bus heading in the direction of Poitiers. It was on this second journey that George had grown concerned about Emile. The paleness of his skin, his apparent drowsiness and the fact that he appeared to be sweating even though it wasn't a particularly warm day seemed odd to her. The bus was carrying only a few passengers, the majority having departed in the small town they had just left behind and only a couple of women had boarded at the last stop. She risked leaning over to speak to him, "Claude, are you feeling alright?"

He didn't reply to her and she tapped him gently on the leg, "Claude?"

Emile turned his head as if startled and she could see at once that he wasn't focussing on her and he clearly wasn't well. "I think we need to get off the bus soon." George wasn't sure if her words registered with him but she didn't know what else to do. Emile needed to rest somewhere. They would have no choice but to risk finding a hotel but it would be dangerous as they would be expected to show their papers and the security services might check on residents at any time. She had no idea how much further to the next town or village but sat on in nervous anticipation of the next place of any size they might reach.

As they drew into the outskirts of a small town, one that George judged was likely to have at least one hotel, she nudged Emile and said quietly, "Claude, we're going to be getting off here." She wasn't sure if he had heard but when the bus came to a halt in the town square she nudged him again and seeing her moving he followed her lead and struggled into the aisle holding up one of the women passengers behind him who was also about to depart from the bus. She gave Emile a long look and George hastily apologised, "Excuse us, Madame." The woman said nothing but she seemed curious and George, wanting to avoid notice caught Emile by the hand and hurried him as best she could off of the bus. Once on the pavement, she saw that they were in a small square but having no idea of which direction to walk, she pretended to fiddle about tying her shoelaces until the bus had moved off and the other passenger had walked away before turning to Emile and saying quietly, "We need to find somewhere out of the way for you to rest and then I'll see if I can scout around and find a hotel and a doctor."

Emile said nothing and his silence on both matters convinced her that she had been right to worry about him. A fit and healthy Emile would have argued against both suggestions seeing the danger of both but he barely registered her words. She took him by the hand, "Come on, let's find you somewhere to hide for a while."

X-X-X-X

The shiny brass plate on the wall outside the house declared it to be the residence of Doctor Girard. The opening hours were shown below. George had walked around for the last hour and a half after finding a disused warehouse in which she had left Emile whilst she had investigated the town looking for anywhere they might stay and having seen a couple of small hotels near the market square she had gone in search of a doctor. There was still an hour until the surgery closed and George was torn between the knowledge that she needed to get some help for Emile or any attempt to continue south would be destined to fail and the risk of involving someone unknown who might betray them. It would be just as obvious to Doctor Girard as it had been to Doctor Lambert that Emile's injury was a bullet wound and there were only a limited number of explanations to account for it. It was now obvious to her from his symptoms and behaviour that an infection had taken hold and it worried her that it might prove their undoing. To leave it untreated could be disastrous and possibly fatal but to approach a stranger could be just as dangerous. She took a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open.

The darkness inside the hall contrasted strongly with the bright sunshine outside. It was cool and very quiet apart from the loud ticking of an ornate wooden clock standing on a table next to the wall. A sign on a door standing slightly ajar to her right indicated that it was the waiting room. For the last time George ran through the story in her mind that she had hastily concocted on her way here. She was going to have to use her judgment and gut feeling and pray it served her as well today as it had in the past.

The door swung noiselessly open to reveal a dark-haired nurse in a white, freshly laundered uniform sitting behind a desk. George had the odd sensation of having seen the woman somewhere before but she couldn't place her. The nurse lifted her eyes to survey the new arrival and a small frown creased her brow as if she was puzzled by something.

"Good afternoon. May I help you?"

George took a step towards her about to launch into her story when from the corner of her eye she caught sight of someone else sitting in the waiting room and she hesitated. To her left, looking decidedly bored and slightly impatient sat a Hauptmann from the Wehrmacht and his eyes were definitely upon her as she entered but she forced herself to walk towards the desk, to smile at the nurse and keep her voice level and confident.

"Would it be possible to see Doctor Girard?"

"Are you one of the Doctor's existing patients?"

George lowered her voice a fraction, "No, I'm new to the area."

"I see." The nurse looked down at the appointments diary on her desk and leafed through a few pages. She bit her lip as if struggling with something difficult.

"The doctor has no appointments remaining today, Mademoiselle. is it urgent?"

George hesitated, "It is quite important. A small but troubling matter. Perhaps I could have a few words with him at the end of surgery? I could come back later if that's more convenient."

The nurse shook her head, "I'm sorry Doctor Girard has to leave promptly at the end of surgery. Could you come back tomorrow?"

This was not very promising and George honestly didn't know how ill Emile might be in the morning. It was obvious that the infection in his wound was causing a fever and she was fearful of what a delay might bring. If the German hadn't been present she might have risked giving a few more details but she was wary. Instead she tried another tack, "Does Doctor Girard make house calls?"

The nurse frowned, "Yes, of course, but only if you are too ill to attend the surgery. I don't think he would visit you at home Mademoiselle."

"No, of course not," George replied, "But it's for a relative of mine."

The nurse raised her eyebrows in surprise, "You should have said? What's their name?"

George felt as if she was digging herself further into a hole with each attempt to gain a few minutes to talk to the doctor alone.

"I don't think Doctor Girard would know my relative." The uncertainty must have shown in her face as the nurse looked about to ask another question and George decided to pre-empt any further enquiries. "Perhaps it would be better to leave it."

She was about to turn away when the nurse suddenly spoke up, "Why don't you telephone tomorrow morning. The doctor may be able to speak to you then. Let me give you our number." She reached for a piece of paper and started to write something. George was now desperate to leave the waiting room as soon as possible and worried that she may have attracted too much of the German officer's notice. He appeared to have been listening at the start of the conversation but was now gazing out the window to his left with a suitably vacant expression which she hoped meant he had lost interest in the exchange.

The nurse folded the paper and handed it to George, "Try that, Mademoiselle it may be more effective." George took the note and thanked the nurse before leaving the waiting room glad only of the fact that she was no longer under the scrutiny of the German officer. She was annoyed and disappointed at not having met with more success but she left the surgery and walked at a steady pace knowing that she needed to return to Emile in the disused warehouse in which he was hiding as soon as possible and decide what to do next.

As she reached the alleyway which led to the warehouse she checked around her and made sure there was no one in the street before slipping off of the main street and then passing through a wooden gate with a broken padlock which lead towards the warehouse. She opened the door and called softly into the darkness, "Emile, it's me." There was some movement in the far corner. He said nothing but as she drew near she saw that his eyes had flickered open.

She sat down alongside him and sighed heavily, "Not much luck. I'm afraid. Only this." She took the note out of her pocket and waved it forlornly. It slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She reached out to pick it up unfolding it as she did so. Having expected to see a telephone number written on the piece of paper she stared at in complete surprise. The light was dim but she could just make out the message that was written there; Perhaps I can help you. Meet me at the Café Suisse in the Market Square in one hour.

X-X-X-X

The note from the nurse had concerned George a great deal but given the current very difficult position in which she and Emile found themselves she felt she had no choice but to risk going to the café even though she was worried. Emile had temporarily rallied enough to take in the information and he expressed his concerns, "It could be trap, George, you've got to be careful."

"I know. I'll get there early and keep out of sight and if I see anything that looks wrong or I even sense it's wrong, then I'll leave." She reached out to grasp Emile's hand. "I've got to try. You need help."

He couldn't argue with that, as even in his weakened and feverish state he knew he wouldn't get any further without some medical intervention but he still hated to see her taking such risks for him when he should have been able to fully play his part and take his share of the danger. He watched her leave with a heavy heart and fearful, as he had been every time she had ever left him, that he might not see her again.

George arrived at the market square at least fifteen minutes early and stayed out of sight in the porch of a church overlooking the square where she could observe the comings and goings for a while and get a feel for the place. The café was quiet with only a few people inside at the bar and a young couple sitting at a table outside who, from the way they were holding hands and whispering to each other, appeared to be very much in love. There were no soldiers and no signs of anyone loitering around the area without any useful purpose. Nevertheless, she stayed hidden and decided to wait for the nurse to arrive and observe her for a while before risking joining her. About twenty minutes had passed before George saw a dark-haired woman crossing the square making for the café. She had to look twice before she realised that it was the nurse as she had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a cotton frock that, like most clothing of the time, had probably seen better days. She settled herself at a table outside the café and by the looks of things appeared to be a regular as the waiter stopped to converse with her before taking her order and George saw the woman smile and laugh at something that was said. The fact that she was known here gave George more confidence but the nevertheless she bided her time making sure that no other customers appeared before deciding that she could risk going to speak to the woman. As she approached the café she saw that the woman had noticed her and she was wondering what excuse to make for sitting at the same table when the woman raised her hand and waved at her as if she was a friend or acquaintance and once she had drawn near said, "Hello. Thank you for joining me."

George sat down wondering not for the first time that day what on earth was going to happen but she was still determined to give nothing away. However, she cut to the chase.

"You said you might be able to help me?"

"Well, you seemed worried, Mademoiselle, and I was concerned about your relative."

This was a surprise to George, "Really?"

The woman nodded slowly, "Yes, if it's the same relative that I saw you sitting with on the bus from Conteville earlier this afternoon. He didn't look well."

Now George knew why the nurse had looked slightly familiar when she had entered the waiting room and why she had seemed puzzled by her arrival. The nurse had been the fellow passenger on the bus, the one who had disembarked at the same time as George and Emile and now she recalled that the woman had boarded the bus a few kilometres from town and must have been on her way to work. However, it also served as something of a relief. The nurse could have had no idea that George was going to come into the doctor's surgery an hour ago and it was therefore very likely that she wasn't trying to trap her but very possibly help as she had implied. George knew that she would have to take a leap of faith.

"You're right. He isn't well at the moment. He has a fever. I think it's an infection."

The woman nodded as if this confirmed what she had suspected, "Where are you staying?"

George hesitated, still unwilling to tell a stranger everything, "We haven't checked into a hotel yet."

The woman lowered her voice, "I sense, Mademoiselle, that you're wary of me and in turn I would advise you to be wary of the hotels around here. I saw that you didn't have any luggage with you and this is not the kind of place that people tend to stay just because they're passing through. Some of the proprietors like to gossip to the wrong people if you understand my meaning."

George nodded, "I think I do."

"Would it help if I took a look at your relative? I'm not a doctor but I'm a trained nurse."

In spite of the fact that she desperately needed the help George couldn't help asking, "Why would you do that?"

The woman sat back in her chair and appeared to be thinking about this although George realised that she was also glancing left and right and George sensed she was checking that they were not likely to be overheard. It was careful, measured behaviour that she recognised. She leaned forward again and lowered her voice, "I'm a patriot and I suspect that you are too." She held George's gaze and George knew she had two choices; trust this woman or walk away and try to cope with the consequences alone.

She nodded at her and said very quietly, "Yes, I'm a patriot."

X-X-X-X

George had been dodging rain showers all afternoon but it looked as if the weather had finally set in and the leaden sky promised a long night of wet weather. She hastened her steps, swinging the bag with its provisions by her side as she tried to reach the shelter of the barn about half a kilometre away up the hill.

George and Emile had been holed up in the barn for four days thanks to their extreme good luck in running into one of the very few people in the town who would have been prepared to help them. George had not known when she entered the waiting room of Doctor Girard that the nurse behind the desk, a spirited woman in her thirties by the name of Monique, was a sympathiser having two brothers who had left home to join the Maquis. George had also not known that by attempting to speak to the doctor she had come close to confiding in someone who could not be trusted. Whilst the presence of a German officer in the waiting room at Doctor Girard's surgery had not necessarily sounded a warning bell in George's mind as she knew it was not uncommon for officers to consult French doctors privately, it appeared that in Monique's opinion Doctor Girard was not a man to help someone in Emile's position. At best he might have turned them away and at worst thought it necessary to report them to the authorities. "He's not sympathetic," Monique had informed her later that evening after they had settled in at the remote barn on the farm of her cousin, Marcel Bonneau. "Doctor Girard just wants to walk the easiest path, keep his head down and cause no trouble, like so many others."

They had reached the barn thanks to Marcel collecting them on his way through town with his horse and cart and its load of hay. They had hidden beneath the hay for the forty minutes it took to get to the barn and had met with no trouble on the road. Once there Marcel had helped Emile up the ladder into the hayloft and Monique had bought blankets, food and medical supplies. She had examined Emile's wound and realised at once how it had happened, "I knew something was wrong with him when I saw him on the bus. He looked feverish and the awkward way he walked made me think he was injured." She cleaned and redressed the wound, promising to call back the following day, and gave Emile some tablets she had obtained from Doctor Girard's pharmacy.

"I keep the inventory, so I'll make sure he doesn't find out that any are missing."

George shook her head at this, "You've done so much for us, Monique. I don't know how to thank you."

Monique turned to look at her, "You don't need to tell me any details but I suspect you've both done so much for all of us. There's nothing to thank me for."

She told George about her two younger brothers who had left home more than a year ago to join the Maquis. "I miss them and I'd have gone with them if I could but my parents are elderly and they need me and if the worst should happen I'll be all they have. I couldn't abandon them but if there's something I can do then I do it."

Monique had been as good as her word, returning each evening with food and on the second evening with something else wrapped in a blue cloth; a revolver and some bullets. "Don't ask where I got it from but you might need it at some point, so keep it safe and hidden." She passed the weapon to George and set about checking on Emile who appeared to be improving having slept peacefully for most of the day and whose fever seemed to have finally abated.

Now in the late afternoon of the fourth day, George was returning from a walk down the hill to Marcel's farm to collect the provisions. Monique had advised that she couldn't call on them this evening as Doctor Girard had late appointments but George had offered to fetch the provisions herself. However, she had waited until it looked as if the rain would hold off for a while. Emile was much better. The fever had gone, the rest had given his wound time to start the healing process and he was growing stronger. As was always the case, they kept the hayloft ladder above with them and judging that Emile was now strong enough to manage it if she went out, she had passed it back up to him as she departed an hour or so ago.

The rain had started on the way back from the farm and George hurried along eager to get undercover but as she approached the barn she caught sight of movement near some other outbuildings a little way distance and realised they had company. She rushed inside the barn and pressing her eye to a gap between the planks on the wall saw, to her dismay, the grey uniforms of a couple of German soldiers who appeared to be patrolling the area and were heading in this direction. The rain was starting to fall more heavily and she suspected they were also seeking some shelter. There wasn't time to call out to Emile or climb up to the hayloft and instead she retreated to the darkest corner of the barn and crouched down hoping that they wouldn't search the place and praying that Emile would notice them and keep quiet.

The soldiers came into the barn and for a moment it appeared that they might just hover near the door for a while. They exchanged a few words and George was now certain that Emile, probably waiting out for her, must have been alerted by the sound and would keep still. However, one of them started to move towards the back of the barn, looking into the wooden stalls that lined one side and then, to her horror, she heard a creak from the boards over her head and she saw the soldier freeze alerted by the noise. He called something over his shoulder to his comrade who started looking around and she feared they were going to try to investigate the hayloft somehow.

It was a split second decision. George stood up and stepped out of the shadows and both soldiers startled by the movement raised their rifles to point them at her. Her heart was pounding. She took a deep breath and raised her hands, "Don't shoot."

Both looked wary but one spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"I was out for a walk and it started to rain. I came in to shelter for a while."

"Papers?" the second one demanded.

George shrugged, indicating that she had none with her, "As you see I was just out walking, I left them at home. I'm sorry."

The second soldier looked as though he was struggling to comprehend her but said slowly in reply, "You must have papers."

"I could go home and fetch them but…" she pointed outside, "It's awful out there at the moment. I was just trying to keep dry." He was still struggling to understand her but the first soldier waved a dismissive hand at him and said something in German that caused him to relent. He stepped away, shaking his head and walked to the open door to survey the sky. The first soldier remained close to George and had been watching her intently throughout, still suspicious but he had at least lowered his rifle.

"He's right. You could get into a lot of trouble. Not everyone would be as understanding." His French was evidently very good in comparison with his companion. "Do you walk out here often?"

His tone of voice has altered altogether and it sounded like a conversational opening. She replied in kind, "Sometimes."

He seemed to relax and slung his rifle over one shoulder before taking out a packet of cigarettes. To George's surprise he offered her one. She refused but he carried on and lit it, taking a long drag. An awkward silence descended whilst he smoked and George wondered if she should try to excuse herself and pretend to leave. She was on the point of doing just that before the soldier called out in German to his comrade at the barn door who looked annoyed but then moved away and headed in the direction of the outbuilding fifty yards away. The soldier turned back to George.

"Do you ever get into the village? We're often at the bar in the market square in the evenings."

She realised that he was trying to chat her up and keen to keep him in a good frame of mind answered, "I haven't been there yet. I'm fairly new here."

"I could show you around," he said taking off his helmet to reveal a shock of straw- blond hair. He ran his fingers through it and appeared to be looking her up and down.

"That's kind of you," George said a non-committal voice, feigning a smile.

He threw the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out with his heel before putting down his rifle and resting it against one of the wooden stalls.

He lowered his voice, "We're not all bad, you know."

He stepped towards her as he said this and for the first time George suspected that he had rather more in mind than inviting her to meet him for a drink one evening and possibly had ulterior motives for sending his companion away. She tried to make light of the situation.

"Well, I'll try to come down to the bar when I have time."

He moved in very close, his left hand reaching out to touch her hair and then taking her totally by surprise he leaned over and kissed her rather roughly. The unwanted attention, the smell and taste of the cigarettes and him repulsed her. She hastily took a step away from him but he was too quick for her. His right arm clasped around her waist and holding her in a vice like grip by the hair he pushed her into the stall behind her and hard up against the wall of the barn. He was still holding her head and he pulled it back. His mouth was upon hers, hard, crushing and forceful. She struggled, trying to turn her head left and right despite the pain of feeling her hair almost being pulled from its roots, to escape the repulsive sensation of him trying to force her mouth open. A sudden stinging, heavy slap to her face shocked her. She was stunned for a second and didn't move until she realised that while he was pinning her physically against the wall he was also in the process of lifting her skirt and fumbling to undo the belt of his trousers.

"No," she cried out instinctively, still struggling to push him away but now fearful of what would follow. Another slap to the face silenced her but, to her horror, as her head lolled back she caught sight of Emile's face pressed to a gap in the boards over her head. They locked eyes and the fury on his face told her what he was planning. She knew that he had the revolver and he was going to use it. As much as she was terrified and repulsed by what was happening she knew it was utter suicide for him to shoot this soldier with his comrade nearby. She shook her head and could see him struggling to contain himself, trapped above and unable to bear what he was seeing and hearing.

The soldier had undone the buckle of his belt and was unbuttoning his trousers taking advantage of the fact that George was temporarily stunned and he released his grip on her hair. She struck immediately, pushing him with all her might away from her. It had a small effect as he staggered back a few steps but it also seemed to make him angrier. Before she could slip away he threw her back against the wall, grasping both her arms and pinning them over her head, trapping her.

"Hey!"

The shout broke the soldier's concentration and he turned his head in surprise to see his comrade had returned and was standing at the door of the stall. George, glimpsing the expression on his face, could see that this man was not impressed by what was happening and he spoke harshly to him in German. The soldier holding George replied in an angry tone but the second man stepped forward and said something else before grabbing George's attacker by the arm and trying to pull him away. The conversation continued and he released George's arms. She immediately wriggled away desperately hoping that he would go. The exchange of words continued and George wished she could get away but her exit was blocked by both of them. Then to her utter relief the blond-haired soldier turned his back on her and followed his companion, hastily buckling his trousers and picking up his rifle and helmet as he did so and left without a backward glance.

The whole incident had lasted little more than a few minutes but every moment seemed to have been played out at a deathly slow pace. George felt her legs grow weak and sank to the floor in the hay, leaning against the wooden stall and breathing heavily. It had been a close call and if she was honest she'd been torn between wanting Emile to swiftly deal with the soldier and just wanting to save the situation and both of them although the consequences of the latter course of action made her shudder. Her saviour had been unexpected and she thanked her lucky stars that not all the occupiers behaved in such a brutal and callous manner as the blond soldier.

"George!"

She raised her eyes to see Emile looking down at her and struggled to her feet. She heard him shuffle over the boards above her and a few moments later with some difficulty the ladder dropped down to her. She climbed up with shaking legs and found him waiting for her full of concern. He reached out his left arm to her and she leaned in to him.

"God, I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault."

"If I hadn't been stuck here and utterly useless he'd have been sorry he ever decided to go near you."

She knew he was blaming himself for what might have happened but it was pointless. "I'm alright and it's over but we'll have to go or he might come back. Monique said there's a path through the woods to Sainte Amand. Do you think you're strong enough?"

He nodded and they sat in silence for a long while. George tried to erase the scene from her mind but it was playing back and already she couldn't help wondering if she should have said or done anything differently to prevent what had happened. Alongside her she sensed that Emile was still furious and frustrated by the fact he hadn't been able to help and it was making her feel worse. She got up and busied herself sorting out the provisions and they both ate some bread and cheese. It had grown late and the light had faded. She got to her feet.

"Come on, Emile. It's time to get out of here."

She offered her hand to help him up but he stayed where he was. He looked troubled and she knew he was going to say something.

"George, if that second soldier hadn't come back would you have …" He couldn't bring himself to say it and was struggling even to look at her. She knew it was from a sense of embarrassment at his inability to do anything but she didn't want him to keep torturing himself over something that hadn't happened.

"Emile, it's over and we didn't need to find out." She paused and forced a bright smile, "Anyway, I'm sure I would have thought of something."

She hoped she had convinced him but in truth it was an awful thought and she couldn't bring herself to contemplate it any further. She got to her feet and manoeuvred the ladder to the edge of the loft before lowering it to the floor. She climbed down and Emile joined her holding firmly with his one good hand but already showing signs of being much more mobile and it heartened her to see him returning to his old self. She reached out her hand to help him, "Come on."

He caught it and held it fast pulling her back towards him, "Just one more thing before we leave."

She looked into his eyes and saw the deadly serious expression there, "I'll never let anyone hurt you again, George. I promise."

She reached up to touch his face and reassure him, "I know." She smiled at him, "Let's get out of here."

For the first time in days she saw a smile hover at the corners of his mouth, "Do you have anywhere in mind?"

She pretended to consider it for a moment just as if the world were their oyster and this was a difficult decision, "I hear Spain is very nice at this time of year. What do you say?"

He nodded, "I think you're probably right about that." He bent his head to kiss her, "But I'm not a good judge because the truth is, I'd go anywhere with you, George. Looks like you're stuck with me."

She smiled back at him, "I think I'll manage."