Resistance Book 2 Equality: Resistance, #2

By Eilidh McGinness

Bravery, courage, fear, treachery and love in a time of war.

 

Sabine and her family and friends discover the darkest days are just before liberation as brutality of the Occupation intensifies. Loyalties are stretched to the limits as the inhabitants of Saint-Antoine-de-Double attempt to navigate safely through the occupation.

Set in Dordogne in South-west France during World War II, the friends' relationships and strengths are tested to the limits as life changes in horrific ways, The friends find themselves facing frightening situations and responding in ways they never thought possible as bravery and resistance take different forms in each of their actions.

Vivid and powerful in its illumination of a time and place filled with atrocities but also humanity and extraordinary bravery, Eilidh McGinness's novel will evoke readers to ask - what would I have done?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eilidh McGinness
• Release date: Nov 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781916245372

Book preview

Chapter 1

MUSSIDAN 13 th JUNE 1944

A steamy haar rose from the river, cloaking Mussidan in a ghostly haze. Strangely, for the early morning, the town was still and quiet. Not even a dog barked to disturb the calm. The eerie silence and mist made Sabine shiver as she pedalled along. Fearing to cycle into the unknown, she dismounted at the bridge, where the fog was heaviest. Heart pounding, she stepped cautiously onto the bridge, pushing her bicycle. Sabine’s gaze darted left and right, searching for any sign of danger.

As she reached the edge of the town, even through the fog, she could discern that the streets were empty. As she edged towards the town centre, the thump, thump, thump of her heart-beat was the only audible sound. It seemed she was alone in a phantom town. The mist only intensified the sensation, as if it were conspiring with unearthly forces to conceal whatever lay beneath. An icy gust of wind dispersed the cloying fog for a few moments, revealing the draper’s shop window which had been boarded up, in a haphazard fashion with odd planks of dilapidated wood.

Nearby, the grocer’s lay abandoned, as the Nazis and the North African Brigade had left it. Sabine choked back tears remembering the kindly proprietor who had been unable to return. She peered through the shattered plate glass into the once neatly ordered shop. Empty drawers lay strewn over the floorboards where they had been tossed by looters. The shelves on the dresser were empty. Only two storage jars remained on the once laden counter. A few potatoes lay scattered by the cellar door with a forgotten tin of paté. The door to the office was ajar and inside was chaos. The cash box was tipped upside down on the old desk and the floor was carpeted with papers, invoices, receipts and ledgers. The desk drawers fell amongst it all, tossed like random pieces of an unmade jigsaw. The stillness was beginning to make her spine tingle with fear. She still had seen no-one. Nervously she continued along the street. Most houses were still heavily shuttered. Heart pounding, she took Hérisson’s message from its hiding place and slipped it into the letterbox. Then she hurried towards Mariette’s. When she reached her friend’s home, she climbed the stairs, hauling her bicycle with her. She was relieved to see the door had been repaired, after a fashion.

She knocked. A voice called nervously, Who is it?

Mariette, it’s me; open quickly. The hinges creaked as the door swung open. Mariette’s hair hung lank and unbrushed around her face and she was still wearing her long white cotton nightdress. Sabine hugged her friend.

I tried to come yesterday, but Papa absolutely forbade it.

Mariette nodded. She pulled on a cardigan and sat down on the bed. Sabine sat beside her holding her hand. How are you feeling?

Mariette shrugged. I won’t let what happened defne me. I will keep fighting. Her voice was strong and determined but Sabine could see her hands were trembling.

What happened yesterday?

The four men who survived the shooting were taken to the hospital. Everyone who could go has already left.

Come and stay with me, Sabine suggested. Mariette shook her head. Mama and Papa won’t leave the house.

You need to get away from here. Please.

Sabine glanced out of the window. The rising sun had begun to burn through the haar, dissipating the heavy fog and revealing more of the desecrated town. A stray dog slunk along the far side of the square, but that was the only movement. The silence was so heavy it screamed. Usually at this time of morning, the square was a hive of activity. The newspaper boy would be delivering papers, the milk boys depositing bottles of milk. Laughter would normally be heard as the children made their way to school, contrasting with the workers mutterings and trudging feet, as they made their way to the tannery.

Have you eaten? Mariette shook her head. Sabine wandered into the kitchenette and opened the cupboard. You have no food at all. The baker’s in Saint-Front-de-Pradoux was open when I passed earlier. I will go. Without waiting for her friend’s approval, she picked up Mariette’s ration card and left.

Sabine rattled down the stairs with her bicycle and set off, heading back across the bridge. The queue at the bakery was relatively short and Sabine took her place behind a short wiry woman in her fifties. In a whisper the lady confided I only live across the road, otherwise I wouldn’t have risked coming here.

Sabine explained she had just visited a friend who had been raided by the soldiers, and that there was no sign of life in Mussidan at all. The women shook her head.

Those poor people. All those deaths. Yesterday I watched people leaving the town all day. Children being pushed in prams. Old ladies struggling with suitcases. An old man in a wheel-chair being pushed by a younger man. The lucky ones had a horse and cart, and a few even left in cars, though where they got the petrol, I can’t imagine. I’m surprised there is anyone left at all.

Sabine managed to obtain a baguette and hurried back to Marietta’s. Just as she was about to enter the house, she heard the cough and roar of a truck echoing along the vacant streets. The noise unnerved her and she hastened up the stairs, chipping the paint with her bike. She tapped hurriedly on the door and was relieved when she immediately heard the click of the lock turning. Mariette must have waited beside the door for her return. As soon as she entered the room, her friend re-locked the door.

Sabine rushed to the window and cautiously peered out. She felt her head swim as she looked down. A cavalcade of vehicles was moving through the town. Lorries and tanks painted in camouflage green, each with the hated black cross on a white background.

The Waffen S.S..

Sabine could feel her body begin to tremble. Mariette gripped her arm. She too had paled and was shaking. What in God’s name do they plan to do now? Mariette mumbled. They watched frozen as the vehicles rumbled past, the soldiers grim faced in their uniforms of terror. The girls sat down on the bed trying not to imagine what further horror was about to be visited upon them.

You can’t stay here now, Sabine insisted. You must come to La Barde with me.

I don’t think I can. Mariette whispered. I’m too scared to move from here. And you can’t either, not until we know it is safe to go outside.

Mariette’s stomach growled. Sabine leapt to her feet. She had to get Mariette to eat. She went to the kitchenette, fetched two plates and handed one to Mariette with a chunk of bread and a portion of her cheese which she had brought with her. Sabine placed a thin slice of cheese on her own plate and tasted it, nodding approvingly. Mariette began to chew the bread, but Sabine could see that she was struggling to swallow. She picked up the coffee tin and sniffed the contents. What’s this fine blend? she asked, trying to sound jocular.

Mariette smiled weakly.

Walnut with a hint of chicory. It’s not the worst.

Excellent, Sabine declared trying to sound enthusiastic as she carefully placed a teaspoon of the mixture into each cup and then poured over some boiling water from the kettle on the grange.

Just because your parents have decided to stay here, doesn’t mean you have to. I promise you the country air will do you good. You can help me with the goats.

Knock, knock, sounded the door. The girls looked at each other in alarm. What shall we do? Sabine whispered.

Open up. It’s me, Genevieve. Mariette leapt to her feet and unlocked the door. Their friend seemed even thinner than when they had last seen her. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying. Blue and faded yellow bruising still marred her face and was apparent around her neck. She had worn a scarf in an attempt to cover the marks, but it had come lose.

"I had to get out of the house for a few minutes. The gendarme Monsieur Jacques has just been. His orders are to visit all the households who lost someone in the massacre and inform them that the town is now occupied by a section of the 17 th Panzer division. The commander has announced that if there is any attack on his unit by the Resistance, the occupants of Mussidan, men and women alike, will pay the price. He has threatened to hang ten people from the balconies and lamp-posts for every one of his soldiers injured."

Genevieve continued, her words almost drowned by the choking sobs. "Maman is on the verge of hysteria, but the doctor hasn’t been able to get any medicine for her. He told her to lie down with a sprig of lavender. It hasn’t helped." Genevieve began to tremble.

Sabine hugged her friend, You poor thing, she comforted.

My uncle Serge has arrived. He is going to stay with us for a few days. Until after the funerals, Genevieve’s body sagged as if she was going to collapse.

Sabine and Mariette sat her down on the bed between them with their arms around her.

Wiping her tears with her handkerchief, their friend continued. "All the victims are to be buried tomorrow, but funeral processions are forbidden. No crowds. No flowers. Only two members of each family are permitted to attend. Maman is going with her brother. Genevieve paused trying to control her emotions, then she exclaimed, I won’t even be able to go to Papa and Andree’s funeral.

Sabine’s eyes filled with tears in empathy for her friend and sorrow for her loss, conscious always of just how close her father and brother had come to sharing the same fate as her friend’s relatives.

Genevieve continued in a sad monotonous tone They were going to go to Saint-Laurent-des-Hommes to see about some work there. Papa decided to hold off a day because of the weather. Imagine if they had gone they would have escaped the round up. They would still be alive. I keep going over it all in my head. Why? Why?

Genevieve was beginning to ramble, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

Here, Sabine said handing her a small cup of coffee. Drink this.

Her friend gulped down a mouthful of the mixture before continuing, "The Boche are controlling the press reports. The newspapers have printed that all the people shot were terrorists, that the Boche soldiers were forced to take action to protect the residents of the town. It’s just not true. Papa was more frightened of the communists than the Nazi’s so he would never have got involved in any kind of Resistance and Andre was such a gentle lad he would never do anything that involved violence. If he had been old enough to be called up, he would have become a conscientious objector. Not that they were collaborators either. They were just ordinary men."

Sabine nodded. Genevieve’s description was accurate. Never were their two more unlikely members of the Resistance than her friend’s father and brother.

Courage, she whispered, desperately trying to think of words of comfort for the tragic loss that engulfed them all. "We have to be brave. The Boche are losing. We don’t have to hold out for much longer." But even to her own ears, her words sounded hollow. Especially as they could hear the yells in German from outside as the soldiers made their presence felt.

I’ll have to go home, Genevieve muttered. If I’m careful, I won’t see anyone.

Mariette grabbed her arm. Wait, you can’t risk it. What if it all starts again?

Genevieve shook her head. "I can’t. Maman needs me now."

The girls hugged each other then Genevieve left. They watched from the window as she sidled down the back lane towards her home.

Do you think they are going to attack again?

Mariette shook her head decisively. "Not if they’ve given instructions for the procedure to be followed for the burials. It sounds as if they’re here to make sure there is no further trouble. As long as the Maquis stay away. She looked anxiously at Sabine.

They’re leaving, Sabine muttered despairingly, wondering if she would ever see Hérisson again.

Chapter 2

THE FOREST

Hérisson jogged back through the forest, swerving and leaping to dodge exposed tree roots and brambles that conspired to trip and send him tumbling to the ground. He suppressed any sadness at his forthcoming separation from Sabine. He would not see her again for some time, perhaps months. Instead, he took comfort that today was the final time she would carry a message for him. She would never act as courier again. He had placed her in danger for the very last time. That alone gave him a sense of relief that made his heart sing.

The deep-rooted fear that he would be responsible for harm coming to Sabine had become stronger in the last few months, as the reprisals from their occupiers became more vicious. Even minor roles, in what the Boche termed terrorist activity, could result in a prison sentence, transportation for slave labour, or rapid execution.

Hérisson paused, catching sight of a deer and her fawn nibbling the bark of a young birch. Watching the animals he smiled, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature. Soon the forest he had come to love would be liberated and all their lives would begin to return to normality. They were on the brink of victory. Already the Northernmost part of the Perigord was free. It was a matter of holding out for a few more weeks, perhaps a month or two. Sabine would be safe now.

He found himself imagining their next meeting. Once they were free. She would run towards him, laughing with joy, with her hair freshly washed and styled. He would catch the aroma of heavily scented roses when she fell into his arms. She would be wearing an elegant silk dress that drifted over her curves hinting at the graceful body that lay beneath. He would wear a suit and trilby and would be freshly shaven by his favourite barber using a cut-throat razer. His hair would be cut so short, there would be no evidence of the curls that plagued his life.

Why, his appearance would be so transformed, he would even splash a few drops of a woody aftershave onto his smooth jaw, so that at least she would be able to recognize his smell. Then he would drive her to his favorite restaurant in Pessac where they would dine leisurely, at a discrete table, sipping a fine Pomerol from a certain vineyard he knew well. Finally, over dessert he would tell her his actual name. Outside, villagers would be celebrating their liberation, but they would be apart from these festivities, a mysterious couple dining alone, focusing entirely on each other as gradually they revealed their true selves for the very first time.

The image made him feel as good as the first hit of Pitverin on that day when he had rashly experimented with the drug. He smiled, knowing that with Sabine there would be no unpleasant after-effects.

He heard shouting as he neared the camp and crouched in the scrub until