Page 38 of The Resistance Book Club

For tonight, she’d accept Joséphine’s help, but she’d have to try to keep her at arm’s length.

‘Mum,’ Beatrice implored as she continued to soothe the baby, who cooed happily. ‘Mum, tell her about Est?—’

Joséphine darted a finger to her lips and said quickly, ‘Bea, I told you! A secret, remember?’

‘What is it?’ Margot asked them. ‘I know about Esther – we all saw the radio in her cellar. Is there something else?’

When Joséphine shook her head, Beatrice rolled her eyes and told Margot, ‘All the things you think about Mum and the Nazi…you’re wrong. She’s doing it because Esther asked her to. Mum’s one of Chevalier’s fighters.’

Layers seemed to peel away before Margot’s eyes – each untruth, each lie, each hidden fact. Until she realised the enormous sacrifice that Joséphine was making for the freedom of France.

‘You’re resistance?’ Margot whispered. It was extraordinarywhat had been going on right in front of her, and she’d had no idea. ‘That’s why you go to bed with that monster?’

‘We do what we have to,’ Joséphine replied. ‘Now let’s get this little one somewhere safe. And speaking of going to bed, what’s going on with you and the brother? Bea says he was upstairs with you?’

‘He’s taken the empty flat,’ Margot replied. ‘I need the money, and besides…I was scared to say no. He hasn’t anywhere else to go. I can keep an eye on him if he’s here.’

She thought of Esther’s words, moments before she was killed, telling her to speak to the Professor.

‘Joséphine, is the Professor resistance as well?’ Margot asked her.

Joséphine frowned, then shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know, but…we only know who we need to know. It’s safer that way. For tonight though, we haven’t got anywhere for Isabelle to go. I daren’t take her to Petit’s.’

‘I’ll say she’s the daughter of someone I know in Rouen,’ Margot replied. ‘Someone in the village might recognise her – but it’ll do for now.’

Beatrice looked up at her mum and murmured, ‘Margot runs a book club, reading all the books that the Germans don’t want anyone to see. I’ve been coming to the club, Mum. Because I wanted to be in the resistance too, like you are.’

Joséphine stroked her hand over her daughter’s cheek and replied, ‘You’re a brave girl. France thanks you, little Bea.’

Margot led the way up the stairs, no one saying a word. The presence of the Professor at the top of the house, an unknown quantity who might be friend or foe, was like a weight pushing down on them. As they reached Margot’s flat and she turned on the light, she looked down at Isabelle in her basket and wondered if Joséphine had resistance contacts who could hide the baby somewhere safe. But Margot hated the thought of letting her go – she’d made a promise to Esther.

She left Joséphine and Beatrice to settle Isabelle, then returned to the landing. Her heart was thudding heavily at the thought of going up to the Professor’s flat, but she had to pass on Esther’s message. She had no idea if she could trust him, though, and she fought her own fear as she took each step up to his flat.

It’s one of the last things Esther ever asked of me. I have to do this. I have to tell him.

She pushed herself onwards. When she reached the top of the stairs, she knocked on the door.

‘Professor Lauterborn?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’

She strained to listen for any sound, but there was nothing. She knocked and called, waited again. But still there was no sign of him.

Margot headed back down to her flat, where Joséphine and Beatrice were waiting for her. She heated up some milk for Isabelle, and Joséphine showed her how to check the temperature by putting some drops of it on her wrist. She talked her through how to change and wash Isabelle, and how to listen for different cries; whether she was hungry, or tired, or uncomfortable. She told her what Beatrice had been like when she was only a few months old, like Isabelle.

Margot sat with the baby in her arms eagerly taking her bottle, and listened, anxious to remember everything that Joséphine was telling her. She had to get everything right, for Esther.

She danced the knitted goose up and down Isabelle’s arm and held it out so the baby could catch it in her strong grip. The little girl’s attention kept wandering from the goose. Her large eyes scanned the room as if she was looking for her mum, expecting to see her at any moment. Each time, her lips buckled and she cried. All Margot could do was hold back her own tears and rock her.

‘I really don’t know much about babies,’ Margot admitted asshe hugged the sobbing Isabelle. She went on, anxiously, ‘but I know they cry a lot, especially when they start teething. What are we going to do? Someone will hear her.’

‘She’s not there yet,’ Joséphine assured her. ‘Don’t worry, we can soothe her; we’re all here to help.’

‘Thanks, Joséphine,’ Margot said, reassured that she wasn’t going to be raising a baby all by herself.

It was late, and Margot sent Joséphine and Beatrice home. She put Isabelle on her bed in her basket.

She stroked the baby’s cheek, whispering to her softly.

‘I’m so sorry, little one,’ she murmured. ‘I miss your mum so much, too. But I’ll look after you, I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.’