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“Nothing serious, I hope,” Fischer said.

Johanna was sure he’d also noticed Gerhard’s hand trembling around the piece of paper.

“Everything is under control, Herr Standartenführer.”

Johanna knew her husband well enough to know that he was lying, and judging by the look on Fischer’s face, he wasn’t fooled either.

She resumed playing and gave her attention to Ralf’s photo, lightened by whatever it was that had caused these men such discomfort.

17.

“DID I DO WELL?” Nancy asked as Fabienne lay the blanket over her in bed. Cleo was already curled up next to her, purring loudly. “I sat outside for a long time to get really cold.”

Her teeth had stopped chattering, but her cheeks were still pale. She had done more than Fabienne had expected, and she could have caught a chill being outside for so long. “You did amazingly. I am proud of you. Now snuggle down and stay warm.” She kissed her cheek and tucked the blankets tightly around her. “It is late and time to go to sleep. Mamie will be home soon.”

Nancy picked at the cuff on Fabienne’s coat. The doe-eyed look of innocence and need tugged at Fabienne’s heart.

“Do you have to go out?”

Fabienne ruffled her hair playfully as she always did when trying to soothe her. She was trying to say don’t worry, though she knew Nancy would do exactly that. “I won’t be long, I promise.” She pulled the paper flower from inside her shirt pocket. “I have this with me.” She smiled and put it back, tapped the spot close to her heart. “You must stay in bed, okay?”

Nancy nodded and started stroking Cleo.

Fabienne left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

There was a low mist lying across the fields as she cycled in the opposite direction to the town. It would serve them well, offer some cover. It was two kilometres to the post office close to Windheisen Station. For the first, she would cycle along the lanes. She would then leave the bike inside a cattle-shed and cross the fields on foot for the second kilometre. It was the safest way to avoid the main roads where the Germans might have installed random checkpoints. Being stopped during curfew was one thing; being caught with a Browning in her coat pocket would get her shot on the spot.

Stopping the train was the biggest task they had done, and she didn’t feel fully prepared for what they might face. Who would? she asked herself. Apprehension kept her on edge until she reached the post office and caught sight of her comrades. She acknowledged the men with a nod of her head. The fear in their eyes reflected her own. They needed her leadership to steady them, and she did too.

“Everyone is ready?”

The men nodded.

“They are not expecting us. We will be hidden by the mist. It is a great night for us, and a bad one for les Boches.” She held her fist in the air. “Vive la France.”

Heads were lifted, and shoulders pulled back. Their fear had been displaced by the spark of optimism and the call to patriotism.

The railway track that ran behind the building was shrouded in darkness, the station approximately three hundred and fifty metres along the track.

“There were no guards when I checked,” one man said.

It was as she expected. If there had been guards at the station, it would have been because the Germans had discovered their plan. They were too small a group to engage in a fight of magnitude, and they would have had to abort the mission. This was a positive sign.

“There were more Germans on the streets in town this evening,” another said.

“Good, they will be distracted. We must direct the prisoners across the fields and then to the south,” Fabienne said. “It will be hard going but we have comrades in the villages who can provide a little food and shelter.”

“If they get that far.”

Fabienne nodded. She hoped Bertrand and his team had everything in place to blow up the bridge, otherwise the train would sail straight past and there would be nothing they could do to save the prisoners. They may not be able to offer much, but a chance was better than certain death. “When the Germans realise the bridge is breached, they will send trucks to the platform to pick up the prisoners.”

“Or send guards and leave them on the train until the bridge is repaired. They don’t care how they suffer or if they die on route,” the first man said.

Fabienne agreed. “We have a short time to release the prisoners. We will approach the train from the track side while their attention is on the platform and station entrance.”

The men nodded. She glanced at her watch. Eleven-fifteen. She blew into her hands to warm them. “Everyone knows their positions?”

The men nodded in unison and gathered in their groups.