The Flyer (29 page)

In the morning, when Christopher woke, Elizabeth was still there, though she had fallen asleep herself. When he tried to make her more comfortable she woke up and smiled when she saw him. Outside the rain had turned to snow.

CHAPTER 27

Outside, the snow was half a foot deep on the fields. In the woods and along the hedgerows, frozen clumps fell from the trees with muffled thuds. At dawn, rooks circled like black scratches against a grey sky.

As he left the barn, William shivered at the bite of the wind. He began to hurry towards the trees. Sleep still fogged his mind and the snow dragged at his feet. When he reached the stream he washed and shaved in the frigid water, scraping his skin with the razor, pulling out the hairs by their roots. At least it woke him up. The cold made his leg ache, though Helene’s poultices had healed the bruising, and he no longer walked with a limp. When he was dressed again he sat on a fallen log to smoke a cigarette, and only then did he register his footprints in the snow. Hurriedly he climbed back up the bank and went to the edge of the trees. His tracks cut a vivid slash in the pristine white of the snow leading back to the barn.

‘Christ!’ he muttered. ‘You bloody idiot!’

How could he have been so careless? For almost a month the Lisles had continued their existence oblivious to his presence in their barn. And now he may as well have put up a sign to tell them he was there.

There was nothing he could do except go back to the barn. He walked in his own footprints, though he didn’t know what good it would do. Soon Albert would come to milk his cows, and then he would take the animals to their hiding place in the woods and he would see the tracks.

When William reached the hayloft again, Helene had already left for the market. He could see her footprints on the track that led to the road. After a few minutes, Albert appeared and plodded to the barn. As usual he set about milking the two cows, muttering his litany of complaints to an uncaring God, and afterwards collected the eggs and returned to the house. When he appeared again he was carrying his rifle in the crook of his good arm. He set off along the track, his breath clouding in the frigid air. Sometimes when he went hunting, Albert would return with a rabbit or a pigeon or two, or even a pheasant, though Helene said that it was getting harder to find anything to shoot. Except Germans, she’d added with dark humour, and they were tough to eat.

Though he’d been given a reprieve, William wondered why Albert hadn’t taken the animals to hide them in the woods, but then he realised it was because of the snow. There was no point, because if the Germans came they would see the tracks. For the moment William was safe. He looked hopefully towards the sky. Perhaps fresh snow would fall and obscure his footprints, or perhaps the temperature would rise and the snow would melt.

Helene had brought him some books, and for a while he tried to read Madame Bovary, but he couldn’t concentrate. Instead he sat by the hay doors overlooking the yard, listening to the sounds coming from the dairy where Edith was making butter. Now and then he got up and went to the back of the barn where there was a hole in the brickwork. His tracks remained; a stark testament to his presence.

Towards midday, Albert returned carrying a pair of rabbits. He came into the barn and threw the corpses onto a block he used for chopping wood. He’d already gutted them, but now he took one and held it down with his foot. He removed its head and made a slit along the front legs and with one movement pulled back the skin from the body. He dealt with the second rabbit in the same way, and when he was finished he wiped the blade of his knife and nailed the skins out to dry. As he was doing this Helene came back from the market, her face pinched from the cold. She went into the house and a few minutes later came to the barn.

‘What have you got there?’ she asked Albert.

‘Rabbits,’ he grunted without looking at her. ‘The snow makes them easy to see.’

He wiped his bloody hands, then went to the water-trough behind the barn. As Helene looked up to the loft William whispered to her urgently.

‘I went to the stream this morning. He’ll see my tracks in the snow.’

Her eyes widened as she understood, but it was too late. Albert appeared at the door.

‘Helene! Come here,’ he hissed.

‘What is it?’

He gestured. ‘Come outside and look.’

William went to the far end of the loft, where he could hear them talking.

‘Someone has been here,’ Albert said.

‘Yes, I was going to tell you.’

‘Tell me? Tell me what?’ The old man sounded suspicious.

‘This morning when I came out of the house, I thought I heard something. I saw a man. I think he had been trying to get into the barn. When he saw me he ran away back to the woods.’

‘Who was he?’ Albert said in alarm. ‘Was he a German soldier?’

‘No. I don’t know who he was. Just somebody looking for food I expect. I don’t think he will come back again.’

There was a short silence as if Albert thought Helene’s story sounded all wrong to him, but he couldn’t decide why she would make up such a thing. ‘What makes you think he won’t come back?’

‘He looked frightened. He is probably miles away by now.’

But Albert wasn’t reassured. He went to have a closer look at the tracks and then followed them a little way before he turned back to Helene. ‘You say he ran away, this man?’

‘Yes.’

‘There is only one set of tracks. He went back in his own footprints. Why would he do that?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was easier for him.’

Albert stared at her. Finally he trudged back to the barn, and when they went back inside he gestured to the rabbits. ‘You can cook those for supper.’

‘Perhaps I should keep one of them. I could sell it at the market tomorrow,’ Helene said.

‘Don’t do that. Cook them both. It is a long time since we had rabbit.’

‘Are you sure? Perhaps I should ask Edith.’

Albert scowled. ‘I am sick of eating stew filled with scraps and acorns, and lately there seems to have been even less than usual. I say cook the rabbits and let us eat a decent meal for once.’

‘Alright. If Edith is angry with me - too bad. It will be too late then.’

The old man gave her a sly grin as if they were co-conspirators, his earlier suspicion suddenly forgotten. ‘Yes that is right, it will be too late. You are a good girl, Helene. I always said you were a good girl.’

She picked up the rabbits and went across the yard to the house, and after a moment Albert followed her.

That night, Helene was late coming to the barn. When she finally arrived, she sat by the hay doors smoking a cigarette while William ate. He’d come to look forward to her nightly visits. No, it was more than that. He relied on her. She was his only human contact. She brought him food and cigarettes, books to read, news of the outside world. It struck him that she looked very tired. Now and then she peered outside.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.

She gave a wan smile. ‘Nothing.’

‘You look tired. You don’t have to stay with me.’

‘No, I want to. I’m glad you are here.’

‘Are you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Life would be much simpler if I weren’t. And you would get more sleep.’

‘But I would be lonely. Since you came, I have somebody to talk to.’

He saw her shiver. ‘Why don’t you come away from there? The wind blows through the gaps.’

‘I am alright.’

‘You keep looking at the house. Is everything alright?’

‘Perhaps I am a little nervous because of what happened earlier.’

‘I’m sorry about that. It was stupid of me.’

‘It does not matter.’

‘That was quick thinking, your story about seeing somebody. Do you think he believed you?’

‘I don’t know. It was the first thing that came into my head.’

‘It reminded me of the day in the square, when you suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started telling me I was a lazy, good for nothing pig.’

She smiled. ‘You see, what a nag of a wife I would be. Poor Jean.’

‘I think he was very lucky. You must miss him.’

‘Yes, but you cannot always look back in life, I think.’ She peered at him. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Alright.’

‘Why don’t you ever talk about your life before the war?’

Her question surprised him. ‘I don’t know. What would you like to know?’

‘That is what you always do.’

‘What do I do?’

‘You answer a question with another question.’

‘I don’t mean to.’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is better if I do not stay long tonight.’

Suddenly he wanted her to stay. ‘Don’t go yet. You can sleep if you like. I’ll wake you before morning.’

She hesitated, then sat down again beside him. He put his arm around her so that she could lean against him.

‘Have you ever loved somebody?’ she asked.

He didn’t answer at first. He thought of what she’d said about him never talking about himself and he knew it was true. ‘Yes,’ he said eventually.

‘Will you tell me about her?’

‘Her name was Elizabeth.’ He paused, wondering where to start, how to explain what he’d felt. Then he began to tell her about that summer before the war. As he spoke it all came back to him with startling vividness, and though it ended in pain and tragedy he thought his life since then was like a landscape bleached of colour. A lonely, solitary vigil. Until now.

*****

In the morning, William heard Albert open the barn doors. Helene had already gone and he was half asleep, buried beneath the hay in a corner of the loft. He heard Albert moving about as he fetched the pail to milk the cows, but then there was silence, and after a moment he heard the unmistakeable creak of the ladder. William lay very still, listening intently and imagined the old man standing at the top of the ladder peering into the gloomy space. He tried to remember if he had left anything lying around that would give him away. Helene had brought clothes and a blanket for him over the weeks but he normally took care to keep them hidden underneath the hay. So long as Albert didn’t climb all the way up and start poking around, he would see nothing out of the ordinary. After what seemed like a long time the ladder creaked again as Albert climbed back down.

Straight away William crawled to a place where he could peer down into the barn through the cracks between the boards. Albert fetched the milking stool and soon William heard the sound of milk splashing against the pail. But something was different, though it took William a few moments to realise what it was. For once, Albert didn’t mumble his complaints against the world, and it seemed to William that there was something unnatural about the way Albert sat. There was a tension in his shoulders he had never seen before, as if Albert was self-consciously aware that he was being observed.

Only after Albert had gone did William get up and look around. He saw what Albert would have seen, nothing more than hay scattered on the floor. But then by the doors he saw a flash of colour. It was the red leather cover of the book that Helene had given him to read; Flaubert’s Madame Bovary.

For the rest of the morning he kept a watch on the house to see if the Lisles’ behaved any differently from normal. Once, he glimpsed a movement at Helene’s bedroom window and he was sure it was Edith.

When Helene came back she went into the house, and shortly afterwards she came across the yard to the barn. As soon as she came in the doors William whispered to her to be careful.

‘I think Albert saw something. He climbed up here today.’

A worried frown creased her brow, and then with a nod she went back outside again. For the rest of the day she stayed away. Now and then William caught a glimpse of Edith at the door of the house, or half hidden behind a window as Helene went about her work. He had the feeling the old woman was watching her.

That night, Helene didn’t come to him until after midnight. He was very hungry. She gave him a hunk of bread and some cheese, and while he ate he told her what had happened that morning.

‘Did they say anything to you?’ he asked.

‘No, but they are suspicious,’ she said. ‘When I came back from the market Edith went through my basket to see what I had. She doesn’t usually do that. Then after we finished our meal tonight I saw her look in the pot when she thought I wouldn’t notice. I think she wanted to see how much was left.’ As Helene spoke she unwrapped some cold chunks of meat. ‘I saved this from my plate when they weren’t looking.’

‘I can’t eat your food,’ William said.

‘You must. You need to keep up your strength.’

‘So do you.’ He took the meat and divided it in half, and told her he would only eat his share if she ate too.

‘I have been thinking. I do not think they know you are here,’ Helene said.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I know them. Edith has never trusted me. If I am ever later than usual coming back from the market, she asks me where I have been. She wants to know everybody I have talked to.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘At first when I came here she always went to the market with me. She didn’t want to let me out of her sight. She was afraid that I would meet a man and leave them. Once she saw me talking to a man who worked in the market and she called me a whore.’ Helene smiled sardonically when she saw that William still didn’t understand. ‘I think they suspect that somebody is coming here at night. My lover.’

But William didn’t think it mattered what their suspicions were. ‘If I stay here they’re going to find out sooner or later,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking too. Tomorrow when you go to the market I want to come with you. I’ll leave first and wait for you along the track.’

Helene was alarmed at the suggestion. ‘It is dangerous for you to go into town.’

‘I’m not going to the town. I want you to show me how to get to the German aerodrome.’

‘Why do you want to go there?’

‘I want to see what it’s like. How well guarded it is. I want to see if it would be possible to steal a plane.’

Helene stared at him incredulously. ‘You cannot be serious!’

‘Why not? Our own aerodromes aren’t very well guarded. Why would they be? They’re miles behind the lines, so the only thing people worry about is being attacked from the air. I imagine it’s probably the same for the Germans. It’s at least worth a look. Even if taking a plane is impossible, I might learn something useful.’