The Girl You Left Behind

scouted around outside in the rubble for twigs and pieces of string, then sat with
     Liliane. In the watery sunlight, I bound the broken fingers of her left hand to splints.
     She was so brave, barely wincing even when I knew I must be hurting her. She had stopped
     bleeding, but still walked gingerly, as if she were in pain. I dared not ask what had
     happened to her.
    ‘It is good to see you, Sophie,’
     she said, examining her hand.
    Somewhere in there, I thought, there might
     still be a shadow of the woman I knew in St Péronne. ‘I never was so glad to
     see another human being,’ I said, wiping her face with my clean handkerchief, and
     I meant it.
    The men were sent on a work task. We could
     see them in the distance, queuing for shovels and pickaxes, formed into columns to march
     towards the infernal noise on the horizon. I said a silent prayer that our charitable
     Frenchman would stay safe, then offered up another, as I always did, for Édouard.
     The women, meanwhile, were directed towards a railway carriage. My heart sank at the
     thought of the next lengthy, stinking journey, but then I scolded myself. I may be only
     hours from Édouard, I thought. This may be the train that takes me to him.
    I climbed aboard without complaint. This
     carriage was smaller, yet they seemed to expect all three hundred women to get into it.
     There was some swearing and a few muffled arguments as we attempted to sit. Liliane and
     I found a small space on the bench, me sitting at her feet, and I stuffed my bag
     underneath it, jamming it in. I regarded that bag with jealous propriety, as if it were
     a baby. Someone yelped as a shell burst close enough to make the train rattle.
    ‘Tell me about Édith,’ she
     said, as the train pulled off.
    ‘She’s in good spirits.’ I
     put as much reassurance into my voice as possible. ‘She eats well, sleeps
     peacefully, and she and Mimi are now inseparable. She adores the baby, and he adores her
     too.’ As I talked, painting a picture of her daughter’s life in St
     Péronne, her eyes closed. I could not tell if it was with relief or grief.
    ‘Is she happy?’
    I answered carefully: ‘She is a child.
     She wants her
maman
. But she knows she is safe at Le Coq Rouge.’ I could
     not tell her more, but that seemed to be enough. I did not tell her about
     Édith’s nightmares, about the nights she had sobbed for her mother. Liliane
     was not stupid: I suspected she knew those things in her heart already. When I had
     finished, she stared out of the window for a long time, lost in thought.
    ‘And, Sophie, what brought you to
     this?’ she asked, eventually turning back to me.
    There was probably nobody else in the world
     who would understand better than Liliane. I searched her face, fearful even now. But the
     prospect of being able to share my burden with another human being was too great a
     lure.
    I told her. I told her about the
Kommandant
, the night I had gone to his barracks, and the deal I had
     offered him. She looked at me for a long time. She didn’t tell me I was a fool, or
     that I should not have believed him, or that my failure to do as the
Kommandant
had wished had been likely to bring about my death, if not that of those I loved.
    She didn’t say anything at all.
    ‘I do believe he will keep his side of
     things. I do believe he will bring me to Édouard,’ I said, with as much
     conviction as I could muster. She reached out her good hand and squeezed mine.
    At dusk, in a small forest, the train
     ground to a juddering halt. We waited for it to move off again, but this time the
     sliding doors opened at the rear, and the occupants, manyof whom had
     only just fallen asleep, muttered complaints. I was half dozing and woke to
     Liliane’s voice in my ear. ‘Sophie. Wake up. Wake up.’
    A German guard stood in the doorway. It took
     me a moment to realize he was calling my name. I jumped up, remembering to grab my bag,
     and motioned for Liliane to come with me.
    ‘
Karten
,’ he demanded.
     Liliane and I presented our identity cards. He checked our names on a list, and pointed
     towards a truck. We heard the disappointed hiss of the other women as the doors slammed
     behind us.
    Liliane and I were pushed towards the truck.
     I felt her lag a little. ‘What?’ I said. Her expression was clouded with
     distrust.
    ‘I don’t like this,’ she
     said, glancing behind her, as the train began to move away.
    ‘It’s good,’ I insisted.