Paris: The Novel

Charlie replied, “but if the airman gets caught, the less he knows about us the better.”

    The Canadian’s name was Richard Bennett. The arrangements for hiding him worked out well. Nobody went to the old garage where Charlie’s beloved Voisin was kept under lock and key, except for Charlie himself; and so there was no need for anyone but the three de Cygnes even to know the airman was there.
    “I’ve always wanted to sleep in a Voisin,” Richard told his host cheerfully. He swore he was perfectly comfortable, and though Charlie had produced two traveling rugs for blankets, he said he hardly needed them during those June nights.
    He was certainly well fed. Charlie put far more food on his plate thanhe really meant to eat, and slipped it into a container when no one was looking. Marie gave Charlie small items from the larder and Roland added an extra bottle from the wine cellar. With these items secreted in a bag, Charlie would go down to the old stable, ostensibly to tinker with his car. No one suspected a thing.
    As for keeping himself clean, the Canadian used the hose already in the stable for washing the car. The water was cold, but it was summer. Charlie brought him some of his old clothes to wear. They were a little big on him, but they served well enough. As for his other requirements, Charlie dealt with the chamber pot after dark.
    They also made a hiding place. Against one wall in the stable, there was a long, deep stone trough which was used for storage now. With some planks, they made a shelf that fitted over the bottom of the trough, leaving enough space for the Canadian to slide underneath it. Above the shelf, Charlie piled drums of oil, tubing, wrenches and all sorts of mechanical odds and ends. Once Richard was inside, he could pull down a pile of oily rags over the end of the shelf and it was quite impossible to guess that a person was hidden in there.
    Charlie would give him the newspaper to read. Sometimes they’d pass the time playing chess together. Charlie was pretty certain that every other game, the Canadian was letting him win.

    Roland’s feelings were mixed. They must hide the airman, of course. But all the same, he wished the fellow were not there—not so much for his own safety, or even that of Marie, but for that of little Esmé. If the police came looking for the airman and found him, Charlie’s story that no one knew he was there might work, but Roland doubted it. More likely, the whole family would be arrested. And what would happen to his grandson then?
    With luck, he hoped, the family’s conservative reputation would protect them from suspicion. The second day after Charlie’s arrival, he decided to walk down to the village. Seeing a police van in the little square, he went over to chat with the officers.
    They were friendly enough, and soon told him that an enemy plane had come down a few days ago.
    “Ah?” Roland feigned surprise. “I didn’t hear anything.”
    “
Non
, Monsieur de Cygne. It was about twenty kilometers away.”
    “That would explain it. Any survivors?”
    “There might be one or two. But we don’t think so.”
    “So long as they don’t poach my rabbits.”
    The policemen laughed.
    “Don’t worry, Monsieur de Cygne. If the Maquis find any airmen, they won’t bring them this way. They take them south, to Spain.”
    “So I’ve heard.” Roland shrugged. “It’s a long way.” And after chatting a few more minutes, he moved on.
    So far, so good.
    Now he could give his full attention to Charlie and his grandson.

    Charlie had been so delighted and relieved when he had discovered that Louise had brought Esmé to them. “I had no idea,” he explained. “I hadn’t spoken to Louise, because I’ve hardly been in Paris for three weeks.” He’d smiled at Roland. “I have wanted Esmé to know his grandfather for a long time.”
    They were wonderful days. Strange, but wonderful. Two hundred miles away, day after day, wave after wave of Allied troops were being landed on the secured beaches of Normandy, where huge artificial harbors were being floated in. “They’ll probably bring a million men over before the big breakout,” Charlie told his father.
    The Germans were fighting back furiously. Crack panzer divisions were determined to hold the old Norman town of Caen. Still unwilling to believe that the main invasion would not be up at the Strait of Dover, Hitler was only reluctantly being persuaded to send forces from there to Normandy.