Page 83 of The Resistance Book Club

She turned and read the inscription on the headstone next to her grandparents’ grave. She’d been so focused on the resting places of her grandparents, and Margot and Emil, earlier that she hadn’t noticed who lay on the other side. Her father’s surprise arrival meant she hadn’t thought to look at any of the other memorials.

But there they were: Esther and Daniel. Pebbles had been left on their grave by visitors to the dead, following the Jewish tradition of leaving stones instead of flowers. Lucy wiped away her tears and crouched down, resting her hand on the marble that was cool despite the heat from the summer sun.

‘I won’t let you be forgotten,’ she told them. ‘I won’t. You have no idea how proud I am to be able to say that I’m your great-granddaughter. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to see Arielle grow up, but then I think maybe you watched over her always. And if you’re watching over me as well…here I am, back whereI belong, in Cordeval. And I’ll tell your story so you’ll never be forgotten.’

She was silent for a while, absorbing everything she’d found out. Although her father was still quiet, when she caught his glance, the expression on his face spoke volumes. Pride and grief, and the surprise at finding himself in a different world that was somehow still the same, were all written there.

And yet there was one piece of the puzzle that hadn’t yet slotted into place.

Lucy got to her feet and went to stand at the foot of Margot and Emil’s grave.

‘I know it sounds silly, but, while I’ve been working through the memory box, I’ve become so fond of Theo,’ she said. She looked from Sébastien’s face to Beatrice’s. ‘His story is so heartbreaking – losing his wife and his daughter like that. And he was so caring with Isa— I mean, Mémé. He got a second chance with Margot – but Margot married Emil instead. I wonder if there’s a way to find out what happened to him?’

SIXTY

MARGOT

1941

The trawler still smelt of fish and it seemed to be struggling with its full load of passengers, although, mercifully, the sea wasn’t rough. Theo had been taken into the hold and Margot watched the sailors go back and forth with first aid kits and pans of water. But they were caring for him. They’d made it this far.

Salt spray occasionally burst over the bows, and each time it was met with laughter from the passengers. Margot had found somewhere to sit on the crowded deck beside Madame Cassin, who made a fuss of Isabelle— no,Arielle, that was what Margot had decided to call her now. Arielle wailed and Margot took her out of the basket and buttoned her inside her coat, trying to keep the unsettled baby warm and comforted. Eventually, Arielle settled, fighting sleep until her eyelids finally dropped.

As the trawler headed through the cold, dark night across the waves, Margot tried to ignore the looming threat of the mines that dotted the water and the submarines that might be creeping like sharks through the depths below. Claudine had told her that the fishing boats could no longer go out veryfar, and all the fishermen had tales about rogue mines that had come loose and taken out an unwary boat and all its crew.

As tin mugs of hot coffee were passed around, the passengers burst into a rousing chorus of the French national anthem, and Margot wondered if Theo could hear it. Would his heart be cheered by it too? There was such passion in their voices, especially when they reached the words,the day of glory has arrived!How glorious it was to escape, but Margot was haunted by thoughts of everything she was leaving behind.

But for Arielle’s sake, she couldn’t have stayed.

Margot dozed on and off as the hours passed. Her dreams were full of fire and smoke, confused faces and shouts. She did what she could for Arielle, who woke up and was restless and griping; the sailors spared some of their milk for her and she drank it down hungrily. Then she slept once more, buttoned into Margot’s coat, gripping her goose in one hand, and resting her cheek against the bear that had once belonged to Theo’s daughter.

By the time they arrived at the docks, the winter sun was low in the late morning sky, glowing from behind thin cloud. Margot was cramped and tired, having spent ten hours or more on the fishing boat with only scraps of sleep. Ambulances were waiting for them, and Margot watched helplessly as Theo was unloaded from the boat before everyone else. He was so pale and his eyes were closed.

Margot was dazed. The air was full of English voices, a language she barely understood. They walked across a battered footbridge from the boat to dry land. The dockside seemed to move up and down under Margot’s feet as if she was still at sea.

A truck with a green awning over the back and with a red cross painted on the side was waiting for them. They clambered in, Arielle’s large eyes taking everything in. Through the open back of the truck, Margot was amazed to see that the docks were still functioning despite the relentless damagethey’d suffered. She saw cordoned-off bomb craters, and the soot-covered remains of burnt-out buildings.

But between them, she saw men busily moving between temporary buildings that had been hammered together from planks. Tarpaulins covering damaged roofs so that the essential work of the docks could continue. Ships were lined up, with cranes lifting out vital supplies that had managed to get to British soil. Even if the Nazis hadn’t occupied the country, they’d done their best to tear it apart and isolate it, but the British had patched it up as best as they could and were carrying on.

Margot said goodbye to Madame Cassin, as she and Jacob were led away with the others by kind-looking women with clipboards and wide smiles. Margot, though, was taken to an office. She didn’t have enough English to understand why, and wondered if she was about to be told off for leaving France at such short notice.

Fear gripped her as she panicked that it was about Theo. Margot couldn’t bear to think that she’d lost him.

There was no one in the office, and as she waited she took Arielle out of her basket and rocked her in her arms, singing ‘Au clair de la lune’.

The door suddenly opened.

Margot turned with a gasp. Standing in the doorway was a tall man with a large moustache, dressed in a suit made from blue tartan. He seemed to bristle with energy, although Margot was sure she saw his gaze soften as he looked at Arielle.

‘Monsieur!’ Margot exclaimed to this most English-looking of men.

‘Madame Dufour and Mademoiselle Arielle,’ he said in fluent French. ‘I’m MrGray and I’m with the ministry. Our MrWyngate – Corbeau to you – has apprised me of your situation. Might I say, Madame, that you have done a good many great things for your country.’

Margot stared at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to speak such perfect French.

‘I did what I could,’ she said. She hadn’t ever sought praise. ‘I still can’t believe I’m here.’

Arielle had gripped her teddy by his ear, and cooed as she held him out to show MrGray. He screwed a monocle into his eye, then peered at the teddy. As he did, he told the little girl brightly, ‘A very handsome gentleman indeed; I believe he will look after you always.’