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Authors: Leslie Thomas

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BOOK: Ormerod's Landing
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181

The fugitives entered the forest after leaving the ambulance in a barn near the village of Rouperroux on the western boundary of the trees. It would take a thorough search to discover it. The furtive French doctor who had driven the vehicle now
went on some pre-arranged way which eventually led him into
the hands of the Gestapo and a merciful death. The remainder
of the party went into the trees in the late afternoon as the first rain since the middle days of September came across the hills
with the evening clouds. It thickened as they went deeper down
into the rifts and the coniferous slopes of the hills, until even the trees afforded only a little shelter from its force.

Henri, who came from that region, led the group, with Le
Blanc immediately behind him, a woollen hat protecting his
skinned head from the cold downpour. Marie-Thérèse came next, her face wet and calm, and then the third Frenchman, who they called Pöeles, because he had been a tinsmith at Villedieu. Instant streams filled the paths and the slopes be
came thick with mud. Twice Marie-Thérèse slipped and Ormerod had to hold her. She did not acknowledge his help, and
when he himself missed his footing and slithered down a slimy
bank into a mass of dead, wet leaves, they left him to recover himself and catch up with them along the dark, narrow track.
Nobody spoke while they walked for two hours.

Eventually a light showed in the rainy blackness ahead, a signal light blinking deliberately. The party paused and Le
Blanc signalled back with a pocket torch. 'Home sweet home?'
muttered Ormerod hopefully.

They had reached a considerable chasm right at the heart
of the forest. It was so dark that it was not possible to estimate
how far it descended. Ormerod could only hear the pounding
of a newly replenished river down there among the rocks and
boulders. The path narrowed even more and seemed to Or
merod to be skirting the drop perilously. With great caution he
followed the slight shadow of Marie-Thérèse just in front of
him. There were more flashes of a torch and eventually they
climbed a last difficult incline to a hard, dark ledge and Ormerod saw that there were some caves ahead. A man with a
torch was standing at the mouth of the largest cave. He greeted

182

them quietly and said to Le Blanc. 'I hear you have done well.
Come inside.'

Within the cave it was warm and damp. Ormerod slumped
down with the others on the uneven floor, his cold, wet clothes
sticking to him all over his body. Then a second figure came from further within and Ormerod, with no great interest, saw it was a woman. She called to them softly and they followed
her. It became warmer and wider as they went deeper. A glow appeared and Ormerod was grateful to see a small fire burning,
its smoke being drawn up through a hole in the ceiling. There was a large container of coffee and roughly cut sections of deer were grilling on an iron spit. Ormerod's nose opened to the smell. There was a pile of old blankets in one corner and they each took one. They crouched, still barely speaking, around the fire.

Ormerod looked across at Marie-Thérèse. The strain of the
murderous day had drained her face and she looked small
and surprisingly wizened. Her glance came up to him. 'Well?'
she said.

'I was thinking it was a pity I never had the chance to see if my friend Smales was around,' grumbled Ormerod. 'You're getting greedy.'

She looked at him sullenly. 'We did what was needed,' she said. Then she added: 'We made the inquiries about Smales, as I promised. I have known for several days about him, but I did not want the matter to get in the way of the operation at Bagnoles.'

Ormerod looked at her steadily. 'And where is he then?'

'I was informed that Monsieur Smales escaped from the hospital two months ago. He is now in Paris. He is a member of the resistance, Dodo.'

'Fuck my luck,' muttered Ormerod.

They remained in the cave for six days. German patrols were
seen in the forest moving along the old hunting rides and oc
casionally opening fire on animals they thought might be the men they sought. But they never came to the vicinity of the cave.

183

'We are very fortunate here,' said Marie-Thérèse to Ormerod on the third day. They sat looking up at the bat-hung ceiling of their concealment. 'The first Frenchmen, the cave dwellers, made this place for us. They even put a little hole in the roof for the smoke to get out.'

He sniffed. He had a heavy cold from the long trek through the rain. 'It's hardly the Savoy, I suppose,' he said. 'But it's better than nothing. What are we going to do next, blow up the Eiffel Tower?'

'I do not know,' she said seriously. 'It is Jean Le Blanc who is in command now. In this part of Normandy the resistance will be very good. It is better organized.'

'It would take a lot of Germans to track them down here,' said Ormerod, looking out of the mouth of the cave to the tree tops of the forest.

'There are many places such as this,' she said. 'And as we get nearer to Paris, so we will find the resistance movement is stronger. The news is travelling through our network. Already the workers at Dreux have had meetings to decide their actions. And at the Citroen plant there has been sabotage. At Chartres two Germans were shot and thrown into the river. At Argentan, only to the north of here, the house of a collaborator had been burned to the ground. France is waking.' She went into the inner cave and returned quickly with a photograph. She handed it to Ormerod. 'This was brought by one of our people,' she said. 'The late General Groemann - taken by one of his own Nazi photographers by the lake just a few minutes before he died. See how he smiles. Our network is getting very good you see. We can obtain such things. You can keep that copy as a souvenir.'

'Thanks. I'll try not to wave it in front of the Gestapo.' He regarded the image of the convivial, plump man in the photograph. 'Poor old Wolfgang,' he said.

'He was a Nazi,' Marie-Thérèse pointed out.

'AH right. He kept bad company. He paid for it.'

'As many others will,' she said. She threw a stone down into the chasm.

'How long before we will be in Paris, then?' he said. 'I'd like to just set eyes on Mr Smales. Just once.'

184

She smiled wryly. 'If Mr Smales is valuable to our movement then it might be difficult for us to permit you to take him away.'

'That had occurred to me,' he said. He looked at her steadily. 'In which case I might have to smuggle him away.'

'As the situation is at the moment,' she continued, ignoring the comment, 'we will, I think, need him more than you. But there may come a time when we will be glad to hand Mm to you.'

'There's nothing going to stop me getting to him now,' said Ormerod doggedly. 'So you can get that straight.'

'If anything is to be straight, Dodo,' she replied quietly, 'it might be
you.
If you are less valuable than Smales then maybe you will be the one to be eliminated. For myself, you understand, I would not do it.'

He saw she was looking at him seriously. 'Thanks very much,' he said.

She leaned closer. 'But listen, please listen. In a few days I will leave you for some time, only a short time, but you must be careful. Be careful of Jean Le Blanc. I have been protecting you, Dodo, telling him that you have an essential role to play in Paris, where he has no command, that you cannot be expended. But when I am away you must watch him carefully. He can be very violent and very selfish.'

'Oh, he's
selfish
as well is he?' said Ormerod, wondering at the understatement. 'And what do you mean about me being "expended". I don't altogether like the sound of that.'

She watched his face. Then she moved her face forward so that their cheeks touched briefly. 'Ever since Bagnoles,' she said quietly, 'he has wanted to kill you.'

Eastward from the Ecouves Forest the countryside becomes less wooded, but still with many sharp hills and deep-lined valleys. This is the beginning of the Perche region, given over to small enclosed farms and the breeding of horses.

It is a landscape not easily travelled at night, but after five days the group split up and left the forest caves; Ormerod, Marie-Thérèse and Jean Le Blanc moving towards Montagne-au-Perche. It took two nights travelling and they hid during

185

the day in a barn on the fringe of the village at Longpont. It rained all through the day and the strange trio lay in the stored hay, hardly speaking, eating little food. Ormerod watched Le Blanc carefully. When Le Blanc went to sleep, then Ormerod went to sleep. When he awoke Le Blanc had gone.

'Well,' he yawned. He felt himself all down his chest. 'He didn't kill me this time.'

Marie-Thérèse smiled grimly. 'He is from this region. He is gone to visit his family.'

Ormerod raised his eyes at the revelation. 'Family?' he said. 'Never thought of our Jean as a family man.'

She ignored the sarcasm. 'You know I am from this region also, the Perche, my children are near. I am going to see them tonight. You must wait here for my return.'

He looked at her strangely. This would be the first time they had been parted for more than a few hours since they had landed in France. She smiled at his expression. 'The man here, the farmer,' she said. 'He is a friend. He will bring some food. But if the Germans should come he will not know you are here, you understand?'

'Just let the Germans come over the horizon and I
won't
bloody well be here,' he assured her. He touched her face. 'Be careful won't you, love. Since Bagnoles they've turned nasty. They'll be on the lookout. Don't get caught again. Please.'

She regarded him intently. 'I thank you for your concern and your tenderness,' she said. 'You are a very kind man. I will be safe.'

'Make sure you are,' he replied. He stood up and they came together and kissed as lovers. 'Give my love to the kids,' he grinned.

'If anything should happen to me, if I do not return by tomorrow night, then you must make your way to Paris. Go to the vegetable market at Les Halles and find the man they call the Monkey -
Le Singe.
He will look after you.' As if realizing the seriousness of what she was saying she tried to smile and make a joke. 'It will be boring for you here, Dodo. Without me and without your dear friend Jean Le Blanc'

He grimaced. 'It's never boring when he's around. There's

186

always the diversion of having your throat cut You're right, though, I'll not have a lot to do. I wish I'd brought my comics.'

She kissed him again, briefly this time, a signal that she was going. 'You're a good man,' she said again.

'There's not many of us left,' he said softly. 'Goodbye, take care.'

'Au revoir,
Dodo.'

'And you, Dove. Don't be long.'

When she had gone he lay back unhappily and slept fitfully in the straw. Then his general weariness, built up over those fugitive days, overcame him and he descended into a deeper sleep. Marie-Thérèse, returning at three in the morning, woke him as she entered the barn. He had his pistol pointing at the door when her shadow whispered tiredly. She lay down at his side, her body against his as if she needed comfort and protection.

'How was it?' he said.

'It was wonderful,' she whispered. It sounded oddly unconvincing. 'The children are so beautiful. My mother is with them.'

'I bet she was surprised to see you,' he said conventionally.

'Yes, she was very amazed. She thought I was dead. I am supposed to have been killed in a flying accident in England, you see. It is part of the cover. She could not believe it was truly me.'

'God. I bet. I didn't know about the flying accident story.'

'There is much you don't know,' she sighed. She pushed her face into his neck. 'But my children are beautiful and safe. That is good. My mother cares for them well.'

'Any news of your husband?' he said with caution.

'He is still with the Germans.'

'They're still holding him?'

'Yes,' she said carefully. He detected her reluctance to talk about it. 'Tomorrow,' she said, 'I have told my mother that we will visit her. You will like her. She was an actress once, years ago. Then you can see my children also. We will eat there. In my house.'

He could not understand what was wrong. It was her voice. 'That would be nice,' he said, as though it were an invitation

187

to tea in Surrey. Then doubtfully: 'How about food? Do they have enough to feed us all?'

Her head nodded against him. 'Yes, there is plenty of food. They are not short of anything. My husband sees to that.'

Ormerod remained silent. He could not understand. Then he said: 'I thought you said the Germans had got him.'

'They have,' she replied hollowly. 'They
have
got him.' Sud
denly she began to sob against his neck. He could feel her tears running down inside the collar of his jersey. 'Oh, Dodo,' she said. I thought my husband was a patriot. Instead he is a collaborator.'

The village of St Luc au Perche was only two miles down the
wooded valley. It was a haphazard place with the dwellings spread out over three or four meadows and a single cobbled street, part of the road from Longport to La Meniere. There were no Germans stationed there, only occasional security
patrols, although these had increased since the assassination at
Bagnoles.

The house of Marie-Thérèse was not difficult to reach, a matter of leaving the valley track and going across two wet fields to the small back garden and the rear door. They went in the dark at eight o'clock and half an hour later were sitting in the comfortable room at the table. Marie-Thérèse sat be
tween the two children, Clovis and Suzanne, looking as though she had never been absent. She talked to them sweetly and she
kept touching their hair, her eyes hardly ever leaving their animated faces. Watching her Ormerod wondered how this could be the same woman who had drowned two men in a fishing net, who had shot a policeman, her own countryman, and had been at the assassination at Bagnoles de 1'Orne.

BOOK: Ormerod's Landing
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