Night Sky (64 page)

She nodded vaguely and slowly sat up, trying not to disturb the boy on her lap. David broke off some cheese and handed it to her with a slice of bread. She stared at the remaining food lying in the paper on his knees. He realised she was checking to see how much was left. David said, ‘It’s all right. Plenty for me and the boy.’

She nodded and ate, slowly at first then hungrily. When she had finished she started to caress the boy’s hair and he saw that she was crying again.

David pursed his lips. ‘Well, now, let’s make a plan! Let’s be very practical!’

Her eyes focused and she blinked away the tears. ‘Yes.’

‘We need to decide what options are open to us. First …’ He thought for a moment. ‘First, can we just walk back up the beach?’ Without waiting for her to reply he said, ‘No. They’ll have guards, won’t they?’

‘Up on the point. They have a post there. And … they’ve probably got extra guards at the top of the path.’

‘Yes.’ There was silence while they both thought. David ventured, ‘Perhaps at night … Perhaps we can climb the cliff somewhere else?’

She shook her head. ‘There’s no other way that I know of. The cliff here is sheer. It’s impossible to reach the next cove … This place is cut off.’

The silence was longer this time. David thought: I wish I could think of something else, for
her
sake. For myself I don’t care any more. Enough is enough.

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Not much choice, is there?’

He waved his hand from side to side. ‘Nonsense! We will think of something. Defeat is in the mind!’

The woman sighed. ‘I suppose so, but …’ She shook her head.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Eh? Oh, Julie, it’s Julie. Short for Juliette.’

‘Well, Julie, there must be a way out of here. Mustn’t there? Yes?’

She shrugged hopelessly. ‘Maybe …’

‘For your boy’s sake.’

She stared at him hard, her eyes round with anger and surprise. Then she softened and nodded gently. ‘Yes. For his sake …’

David smiled. ‘We’ll think of something.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘We’ll
have
to.’ She looked at him again and David noticed that her eyes had lost their lifelessness and were alert again. She said softly, ‘But
what
?’

Then her face took on a preoccupied look and he guessed she was going through the possibilities again.

He said, ‘There’s always
diversion
.’

‘Diversion?’

‘You know, make a noise somewhere to attract their attention. Then slip past.’ He made a snaking movement with his hand. ‘It can work very well. I
know
!’

‘Really? Yes … Perhaps you’re right. I—’

She paused and stiffened, her face suddenly sheet white. Then, moving the boy’s head quickly off her lap, she scrambled towards the entrance. A moment later she was back, her eyes round with fear.

‘Soldiers! Coming down the path!’

David looked at their rock cave: it was no good. Far too easy to find. He grasped her arm. ‘Quick! We must hide!’

‘Where!’

‘Try to hide the boy … Right under a rock, in the sand …’

‘Yes!’ The boy was already awake, dazed and frightened.

David crawled through the crevice to the far side, away from the beach. The woman followed and overtook him. She looked wildly to right and left, grabbed the boy and, scrabbling feverishly, pulled him up over a rock and out of sight.

David knew he couldn’t go climbing after them. He was too slow. He might give them away. Better to stay.

He looked back into the crevice and decided against it: they’d find him straight away. He crawled round a corner and almost immediately found a much smaller gap, under the overhang of a large rock. This would do. He thought wrily: It will have to.

There was nowhere!

Julie wanted to scream. Smooth rocks. Gaps in between. Nowhere to hide! God!

And she was losing the cover of the massive boulders behind. The back of her head felt as if it were ten feet square: the Germans were probably watching her even now.

Nowhere! She looked down towards the water.

Perhaps the water …

Pulling Peter behind her, she crouched low and ran down a gully towards the sea.

In
the water? Yes! She hissed, ‘Peter, we might have to get wet!’

He nodded. She climbed on to a rock and looked down. There was a gap in the rocks beneath, where the water sucked gently back and forth with a gentle lapping noise. It didn’t seem too deep and it looked as though there was an overhang—

She removed her rucksack and Peter’s shoulder bag and squeezed them into a narrow fissure in the rock above, where they couldn’t be seen. Then she jumped down. She caught her breath. The water came up to her thighs: it was icy. She stumbled, found firm sand, and turned for Peter.

She reached up for him and he jumped into her arms. She tried to hold him above the water but he was so heavy that he slipped through and he was up to his waist before she got a grip on him and hauled him back into her arms. She heard him gasp as he met the water.

Julie looked quickly around and immediately saw an overhang where they’d be invisible from everywhere but the sea. Moving Peter round on to her hip, she pushed herself under the rock and pressed her back against it. She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I love you, darling.’

‘I love you too, Mummy.’ He turned his face to her and kissed her on the lips. He was shivering already.

She thought: How long could they last in this water? And the tide! She’d completely forgotten about that! God! Perhaps it was coming up …

Time. It passed in fractions of moments that lasted for ever. The icy water got colder. The blood too. Peter shivered.

She held him closer.

She tried to guess how the time was passing. Five minutes? No, seven. Maybe eight.

A stone fell some way away. Julie gripped Peter tighter.

Another sound: someone walking over the rocks. Heavy boots. Nearer.
Much
nearer.

God!

Crunch! From just above. Just overhead.

Close your eyes. Believe.

Another crunch. Feet shuffling.

Moving away.
Away!

Heavy boots stepping from rock to rock. Moving away!

But wait …
Wait
. Until you’re sure they’ve gone. It might be a trap!

She felt a great shudder go through Peter’s body. She put her lips to his ear and whispered, ‘It’s all right, darling!’ He nodded, but she could hear his teeth chattering. His skin was deathly cold.

But wait … Wait.

So she waited. Twenty minutes – it felt longer. Perhaps it was thirty minutes. Peter was weighing her down, heavier and heavier. A brisk wind was blowing in from the water, scything through her clothes, making Peter’s cold skin the temperature of ice. She whispered, ‘A little longer, just a little longer …’

She looked down and realised with a shock that the water was higher than before – quite a bit higher. It had reached her waist. The tide was coming up.

They would have to go, like it or not.

She smiled into Peter’s taut pale face. ‘We’re going now, darling.’

He nodded, his jaws clamped together to stop the chattering.

She moved out and looked up. Empty sky. No Germans.

There was only one way out: up a smooth rock face. She couldn’t do it with Peter in her arms. She said, ‘I’ll have to put you in the water. Just until I’m up. I’m sorry, darling …’

He nodded and, without a word, slid out of her arms into the water. It came up to his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment as the coldness hit him, then looked up to her.

‘Right. I’ve got to get back up on to the rock. Give me a heave, will you?’ She waited until he had moved out from under the rock then put her foot into a notch in the rock and pulled herself up. She felt Peter valiantly pushing from below. She paused, spreadeagled halfway up the smooth face, and took a long look round.

There was no-one in sight.

She looked for another handhold. She found one away to the right and hoisted herself up the last few feet. She looked again. No-one. She turned and lay down on the rock. Reaching down, she took Peter’s hands and pulled. She raised him a few inches but could get him no further: she didn’t have enough leverage. She lowered him back into the water. His lips quivered and silently he began to cry.

‘Don’t worry, darling, please!’ She put her foot across on to another rock so that she was making a bridge across the gap and, reaching down, pulled. This time he came, desperately slowly, until he was halfway up the rock. ‘Try and wedge yourself, darling!’ He put out a foot to the rock opposite and locked himself against the rock face. Julie moved quickly across and, lying down on the rock again, pulled. Slowly Peter came up until he lay on the top, panting, in a pool of water.

Julie got to her feet and, taking the bags from the crack, pulled Peter to his feet. ‘Come on, we’ll get some dry clothes on!’

She led the way cautiously up the gully. No-one. Then they were on a plateau of rocks, hidden from the beach by the giant boulders. No-one.

Back to the crevice then. She crept forward, came round a large rock and they were facing the entrance.

Her heart was thudding in her ears. Perhaps they had got the dear old man … She stooped and looked inside.

‘Hello, my dear!’ Freymann’s creased, smiling face peered out of the darkness at her. ‘They’ve gone. I watched them go back up the cliff. There’s no-one left.’ He smiled again. ‘How very delighted I am to see that you are safe!’

Julie smiled weakly. ‘They’ve gone?’

‘They’ve gone. They’ve given up! They think we have vanished into thin air! We’re safe!’

Julie thought: But we’re not, are we? It’s only a reprieve.

Darkness again. Julie chewed on the bread and knew that she had to decide.

They had shared out the last of Peter’s food parcel; most for Peter himself and the rest split between herself and the scientist. At first the old man had refused to take any, but she’d insisted. For drink they’d taken brackish rainwater from pools in the rocks.

Now there was no more food and the pools were drying out. Peter had put his one change of clothes on, but they weren’t very warm and he’d been cold and shivery all day. He was probably catching a cold. Something would have to be done. But
what
? What could one do with a small boy and a sick old man?

The thought of having to take a decision made her feel slightly hysterical. She wanted to put it off. The longer they waited the better the chances might be … After a while the guards on the clifftop might go away.
Might
…

The decision was impossible. Perhaps if they waited another day …? Julie closed her eyes and started from the beginning again.

Freymann and she had been through it a dozen times since morning. The only thing they’d decided was to do nothing while it was light. Darkness offered the only hope. The old man favoured the diversionary tactic. He’d suggested that he should walk up the path and run, to lure the guard away while Julie and Peter escaped. Julie had pointed out that David would be shot instantly and bring the other guards from the headland within seconds.

After that, Freymann was silent for a long time. Julie asked him about his life and he told her about his childhood and the happy days in Berlin. He didn’t tell her very much about what happened after that and she didn’t press it.

She said, ‘And what will you do in England?’

‘Ah. Who knows? I’ve learnt not to think ahead.’

Then he’d been silent again, except to ask her to call him David.

‘I’ll try, monsieur.’ Then she laughed. ‘It’s difficult not to call you monsieur … The only person of your age that I’ve ever called by his name is my uncle.’

‘How old do you think I am then!’

‘Well … Not
that
old. I – Oh dear, I’ve offended you.’

‘No … No.’

‘How old
are
you?’

‘Fifty-two. Or fifty-three. I’m not sure.’

‘Oh.’ She was shocked. He looked well over sixty. ‘Yes, of course. That’s what I thought …’

He smiled at her because she’d lied to be kind. Then he settled down to sleep again and she was left to her own thoughts.

Now it was dark and the thinking still hadn’t produced a solution.

It was Peter who gripped her arm and whispered, ‘Mummy! There’s something. A noise!’

Julie tensed and listened. The night was very still.

There was silence. Then, suddenly, a sound: a low whistle, long and low. A pause, then it came again. It was a man’s whistle.

Silence. Then it came again, closer. Thoughts raced through Julie’s mind: Friends? Germans! A clever trick? Oh yes: what a clever trick!

Now the sound was close. Panic began to grip her.

A voice called soft and low, ‘… Juliette … Are you there? … Julie …’

Julie froze. It could be a trick, an elaborate trick …

‘… Julie, it’s me … Michel.’

Julie sighed audibly and squeezed Peter’s arm. She got up and climbed out onto the rocks. ‘Michel …! Michel …! Here! We’re here!’ A moment later a dark figure emerged out of the night. Julie grasped his arms and sobbed with gratitude and relief. ‘Oh, bless you! Bless you!’

‘Quick!’ His voice was harsh and businesslike. ‘How many are you?’

‘Just me and Peter and the old man.’

‘The old man?’

‘Freymann. The scientist.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded cross.

‘Why?’

‘He’ll be slow, that’s all.’

‘He’ll do his best. I know he will.’

‘Right. Come on then. We’ve got to be quick.’

‘Yes. Yes. I’ll get the others.’ Julie scrambled back into the crevice. ‘Come on, darlings. We’re going! Don’t forget anything, will you? Have you got your bag, Peter?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

Julie pulled on her haversack. ‘Ready?’ she called.

She led the way up on to the rocks again and waited while first Peter then Freymann climbed out and started down the fall of rocks to the beach. She heard someone grunt: Freymann. She found him lying against a rock trying to regain his feet. ‘Here, let me give you a hand.’ She pulled him up and, holding his hand, helped him down to the sand where Michel and Peter were waiting.