The planes of the flat land were empty even though it was February, even though it was time to work on the fields. In 1944 most of the men who worked on the land were either fighting or dead. The field hands were also fighting or dead. All that was left were the women and the children, many of whom couldn’t do the strenuous work required for the cultivation of the land. A few boys scattered here and there were working, desperate to keep their crops flourishing, but they were mostly youths, not old enough for their hard muscles to show from beneath their tough brown skin, so they stopped not long after starting, too exhausted to continue. As the afternoon sun continued to shine, only one boy continued working. Michel Pierre had no choice. With his father gone to war and missing, presumed dead, Michel as the oldest had to continue the work to make sure the family didn’t starve. His eight year old sister, Danielle, had been keeping him company, but had retired to the house for some food. Michel would have loved to run to his tired and beautiful Maman but he resisted the urge and kept on doing his work.

He straightened for a moment, to observe the work he had done. Pushing his sodden brown hair out of his dark brown eyes, he surveyed the area with pride. He had done the entire outer edge of the field, bringing himself up to the boundary of their land, at the edge of the forest. As per custom he glanced into the woods, wondering if he would see any game. As usual, there was nothing. A flat droning sound entered his ears. He glanced up at the sky and saw two planes chasing across the sky. One of them was emitting black smoke and as he watched them disappear over the forest trees, the fighter plane burst into flames, spiralling down. Michel muttered a quick prayer to him-self and hurried home, praying that it was a German plane, hoping all the men were dead. He hated the Boch and wished them nothing more than painful deaths, but he realized it was still uncomfortable to see the plane, know that they had died. He entered their yard and kicked his muddy wellies into the corner, quickly averting his gaze so as not to see his father’s pair of large green wellies. He had not cried since the dreaded telegram had come, he had been strong for his mother, his self and for his sisters and brothers. But sometimes it was hard pretending that he was older than 13, sometimes he just wanted to lie on the floor and howl.

At the entrance to the kitchen, he nearly tripped over his tiny 6 year old brother.
“Arnaud, why do you always sit in the dark, on the stairs? Where is Maman?”
Arnaud’s blue eyes glared up at him, his blond curls tousled, tear tracks staining his grubby cheeks. Michel immediately felt bad for yelling at him. He sat down and hugged the boy, holding him even when the macho six year old resisted the hug. Eventually Arnaud stopped struggling, and cuddled into Michel.
“What’s wrong Arnaud? Why are you crying?”
“I broke the Papa soldier, the biggest one. That was papa, now papa is broken and he will never come back.” Fresh tears again started to cascade down his cheeks. Michel wiped them away and laughed, though he was secretly shaken.
“Oh Arnaud! Do you think there is anything in this house that I can’t fix? Do you remember your toy truck that you thought was broken too? I fixed that one as well.”
Arnaud lifted his head, hope in his bright eyes.
“Really Michel, you can fix it? You’ll fix it for me?”
“Of course! Now go to your room and bring it to me, I’ll get some glue and it’ll be fixed in no time.”
The ecstatic boy gave Michel a hug and ran off. Michel grinned and walked into the kitchen.
Maman was by the stove, mixing a massive pot that smelled of potatoes and turnips. One hand stirred and the other was rubbing her neck. She was petite and thin, and Michel felt responsible as the eldest man of the house to look after her. When Michel walked up to her, he saw she had a weary expression.
“Maman, is there anything I can do to help?”
Sophie Pierre turned and smiled at her 13 year old. His complexion, height and muscles made him look so much like Hubert it tore her heart. She saw his brown eyes crinkled with suppressed worry for her, for the family, and it hurt her that she couldn’t have protected him from the horrors of the war.
“It’s OK Chérie your sister is helping me cook.”
Michel looked around the empty kitchen, exaggerating the movement. Sophie laughed, her tired features changing to give Michel a glimpse of the pretty carefree woman his Maman had once been. The kitchen door bounced against the wall as 12 year old Sonia ran into the kitchen, her dark blond hair bouncing. She stood next to Michel, looking younger than her twelve years because of her petite frame. Her mouth made up for her height though.
“Maman, I heard planes and I saw them going over the fields. Michel left the trowel in the fields; I wanted to clean up the equipment and noticed it wasn’t there. I also took in some potatoes. It’s going to be cold tonight and I don’t want them to freeze. Oh, Maman do you need help?”
“Oui mon amour if you don’t mind. Can you set the table and make the salad?”
“Sure.” Sonia gave Maman a hug, slapped Michel’s back and, chatting away, started doing her jobs. Michel watched her for a moment then looked outside the window. It was getting late already, the sun starting to set. He didn’t want to go out, but knew he had no choice.
“Maman I’m going to get the trowel. I’ll be home soon.”
He leant over and gave her a hug, then traipsed back out into the field. He was tired now, his muscle’s sore so he walked slowly. The forest looked black at this time and he was hesitant to approach it. He reached the trowel but before he headed back, he couldn’t resist a glance. A blackened face was staring right back at him.

He yelped and stumbled backwards, the movement frightening the man in the forest. He lurched forward, his arms up in a truce sign.
“Please, s’il vous plait. Friend, um English RAF. Non harm.”
He had come right up to the boundary. Michel stared at the blackened face, at the torn and burnt uniform. He could just see the lapel on the shoulder, saw the letters RAF. He knew what it was, all the school children did. His heart beat slowed down and he slowly walked towards the man. He felt pity for him. He tapped his chest.
“Michel. I Michel.” The man smiled at him, his teeth gleaming white in all the black.
“I Jonathan. Jonathan Brown.” They shook hands, a contrast of tanned brown and muddied and burnt black. Michel saw he was shivering even though it was only six degrees. Jonathan asked him something but Michel’s English wasn’t so good, so he took Jonathan home with him.

When they entered the yard, Clara came running up to Michel and jumped into his arms. Michel loved his chubby three year old sister, and felt very protective of her. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she had never known Papa, she was born after he had been called up, or perhaps it was because they looked the most alike; the same brown hair, eyes, skin and features. She chattered to him, then noticing Jonathan she shrieked and buried her head against his neck.
“Peur, peur.” She mumbled.
“It’s OK Clara, it’s a friend. Look, say hello to Jonathan.” She raised her head to look at the man, and then stared at his features.
“Why he all black?” she asked.
“Don’t be rude Clara. Let’s take him in OK?”
She nodded and ran into the kitchen shouting Maman.
Michel turned back to Jonathan who was smiling.
“Sorry. She very small. She not know.”
“It’s OK.” He followed Michel into the kitchen. Maman was serving soup to all the children. She looked up with a smile which dropped when she saw Jonathan.
“Maman, he’s English. His plane burst into flames and I found him at the edge of the forest. Please can we save him?”
She stared at him then smiled.
“Hello, I’m Sophie Pierre. You are welcome to stay with us as much as you need.”
She spoke English well with a pretty accent. Jonathan smiled and shook her hand.
“I’m Jonathan Brown. I fly with the RAF and a German got my spitfire. I fear I am the only survivor. Thank you for your kind words and thank you for hosting me. Would I be able to bathe and change my clothing?”
She nodded and instructed Michel to show him to the outhouse and to give him some of Papa’s clothing. Michel was surprised but did as she had requested.

He waited outside for Jonathan to finish, and spotted small; black-haired; serious Laurent striding towards him.
“Michel, how could you? You’re putting us all into to danger by bringing that man here. And what if the Boch come? They will punish Maman like they punished Madame Richard.”
“Laurent what are you talking about? He will look like a Frenchman in Papa’s clothing and-“
“Papa’s clothing? Are you mad? How could you give him papa’s clothing? It will then be like papa’s really dead.”
“Laurent, papa is dead.”
Laurent started shouting with tears in his startlingly blue eyes.
“No, papa is not dead, he will come home after the war, he will.”
Michel snapped.
“Laurent you are eleven years old. It’s time to stop pretending and grow up. It’s hard enough trying to live normally every day without you messing around, being unrealistic. Welcome to reality. Papa is dead, and this man needs clothing. Do you want to give your clothes to him? Even if they are too small? Or how about Maman’s clothes? Do you think he’ll look good in a skirt or dress with a shawl around his head?”
Laurent stared at Michel while he felt horrible. The tears fell from Laurent’s eyes, and he turned to go back to the house. Michel cursed himself and ran after his brother. He grabbed him, even as Laurent tried to push him away. Michel held him harder and let the kid kick and punch him until he stopped and just cried against Michel’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry Laurent. That was really mean of me, I didn’t mean to say that and you’re right. Papa is definitely still alive and he’ll come back to us soon.”
“You’re lying; you’re just saying that to get me to stop crying.”
“No Laurent, I’m not. Look, will you forgive me for what I said? There was no excuse at all for my behaviour.”
“Of course I forgive you. You can’t be so good all the time. And I love you Michel. You’re the nicest oldest brother.”
“Thank you. I love you too Laurent. Now go back to Maman and tell her we’ll be back soon.”
Laurent sniffled, nodded and ran back home. Michel felt slightly better, but he still wanted to kill himself for saying those things to Laurent. The kid was only 11 for heaven’s sake.
Jonathan came out of the outhouse, dressed in papa’s clothes. Michel felt a bit awkward seeing this but remembering his own words, dismissed his distress. He was a bit shocked by Jonathan’s white blond hair, green eyes and lily pale skin. He was, for some reason, expecting him to have black hair and skin. He had forgotten that the black was ash and burns. Back at the house, they all sat down to eat the soup. Conversation was scarce, mostly the younger children making noise with the older ones eating silently.
After dinner a bit of normalcy ensued with the children doing their jobs. After the younger kids were put to bed, Maman sat down with Jonathan and they had a lengthy conversation. Michel played a game of cards with Sonia and Laurent until they too were put to bed. Jonathan went from the room, and Michel took the time to speak to Maman.
“Maman, who is he?”
“Ah Michel my boy. Mon amour. He is a pilot for the RAF, and was sent into France to bomb someplace. A German fighter saw him and gunned down the plane. He is the only one who survived the fire and the crash. He lost his best friend in that plane.”
“I hate war Maman. It doesn’t mean anything, only men killing other men. I wish it had never started. I hate Hitler.”
“Me too Chérie. Michel, I’m sorry to have to ask this of you, but can Jonathan share your room? Only we have no other rooms in the house and I don’t want him sleeping in the dining room, it’s dangerous.”
He stared at the window. No he didn’t want to share his room, meaning his bed, with Jonathan. But he had to.
“It’s OK, Maman, of course he can share. It’s our duty is it not?”
Sophie laughed at that, and hugged him. Michel would never tire of being in Maman’s hug, the safety that he felt there. He didn’t care that he was 13 and too old for hugs anymore. He wanted them, no, he needed them.
“Right, bon nuit Chérie. A demain matin.”

He went to bed and undressed slowly in the moonlight. From his bedroom in the attic, he could just about see the sea, a day or two away from his house. He lay on the far end of the bed against the wall, dreading the moment when Jonathan would come and invade his personal space. When he came in, he came in as a ghost, with extreme care and silence. Michel closed his eyes while he undressed.
“Michel?” he opened his eyes to see Jonathan hovering besides his bed.
“Can I?” Michel felt bad for him, standing there so far away from his home and family. He nodded and felt the mattress sink with Jonathan’s weight as he lay down.
“Good night.”
“Bon nuit.”

The next day was slightly better, less awkward. Jonathan didn’t need to know French to be able to communicate to the younger kids. He played with them for hours which permitted a grateful Michel and Maman to get along with their jobs. In the late afternoon, he wandered back into the forest, but he couldn’t remember the place where the plane had landed. He wanted to bury his friends. Michel felt bad for him and thus began a friendship between the two. They communicated via sign language and made up words, laughing when they couldn’t understand each other. They taught each other their own language, and were pleased to discover that they caught on quickly. This permitted them to have lengthy and deep conversations that Michel felt he couldn’t have with his Maman or the girls. Michel felt that he had gained an older brother, Jonathan felt grateful to Michel for accepting him into the house with such ease. Clara and Arnaud simply adored Jonathan, begging him to play with them for hours. Danielle and Sonia liked him as well, but they felt slightly awkward having him around. It reminded them too much about papa. Laurent took the longest to accept him. Prior his arrival, Michel and Laurent had been extremely close, sticking close to each other against the girls. Now Laurent felt he had lost his brother to Jonathan, so he began to hate him. Michel didn’t understand why Laurent wasn’t speaking to him anymore but Laurent refused to explain. Jonathan finally caught on, and began paying attention to the boy. To his surprise, Laurent opened up easily to him and Jonathan was pleased to discover that he had a brilliant sense of humour and was witty and clever. By June, Jonathan was fluent in French, and was helping Michel with the jobs on the field. It felt like he had always belonged with the family.

As the weather got warmer, Michel noticed Jonathan withdrawing into himself a bit. He gave him space, not knowing what was wrong, but not wanting to intrude. Jonathan began disappearing for hours by himself. Michel knew he disappeared in to the forest, but he never said anything to Jonathan for fear of distressing him. In the first week of July, he saw Jonathan getting more and more distressed. Michel knew it had something to do with the forest, so one day he followed him even though his instincts were screaming at him to stay away. Jonathan walked quickly and precisely, following a path he obviously knew well. Michel followed with care, not wanting to be seen, but not wanting to be too far away from Jonathan. They walked for ten minutes through the thick foliage, the crunching of branches and twigs the only sound heard.

Murmuring. A deep throaty sound, a hushed laugh. Jonathan had disappeared between two big stones, a black mark on each one looking like mud if you didn’t know better. Michel caught his breath. He knew that the mark was the Maquis symbol, and you only joined the Maquis if you had lost everything there was to lose or if you wanted to kill. Michel knew that the French resistant had set up a group here; they called themselves the Renard Maquis, the fox resistance. No one spoke about them; they were dangerous, so why had Jonathan just gone and put himself in danger? Michel crept forwards on his belly and entered the camp. He observed Jonathan speaking to a hulking muscled man, while around 15 other men loitered around. They all had a hard brutal look to them, as though they had lived too long and had seen too much. He moved slightly to get a better view of the camp: it was in shambles. Tents were set up close to each other, clothes hanging on spare branches. The men had relaxed somewhat and started talking quietly, sitting on the ground. Jonathan was leaving the camp; Michel let out a sigh of relief and quickly followed him.
“Jonathan?”
Jonathan swirled round, a hand to his mouth. Michel felt a burning cold thing touch, no dig into his back.
“Don’t move if you value your life.”
Michel felt nausea frothing inside him. His palms felt slick with sweat, while his body prickled hot and cold.
“Who are you and how did you get here?”
Michel cleared his throat, trying to get the words out.
“I followed Jonathan. He lives with me.”
The thing in his back stayed where it was digging painfully in to his back, then it was removed.
“So Jonathan, this is your brother?”
Jonathan’s tense face relaxed somewhat. He marched up to Michel and cuffed his head.
“No. this is the boy that saved my life when I crashed down.”
The giant looked down at Michel with a calculation look.
“Hm, so he is brave this one?”
Jonathan hesitated, “Yes?”

The giant suddenly crouched so his eyes were level with Michel’s.
“Where is your father?”
“Dead.” The words fell out of Michel’s mouth without him meaning them to. He kept his eyed firmly on the ground, avoiding Jonathan’s eyes which he was sure looked horrified. He had told Jonathan that his father was fighting. But he hadn’t wanted his pity so he had never told him that he had died.
“What’s your name?”
“Michel Pierre.”
“Hm, you’re Hubert’s son?”
“Yes”
“I’m sorry”
Silence.
“Who killed him?”
“The bloody Boch.”
He looked up, his eyes raging. He had never let himself think about his father’s death before, never really understood that it was final. His father was never returning.
“Michel, do you want to avenge his death?”
“Yes, a thousand times yes.”
“Then join us. Will you?”
Michel nodded, and that was it. He was part of the Maquis.

They returned back to the camp with Michel sandwiched between the two men. He felt safe and hot, a spark had been kindled inside him and he thirsted for revenge. The men in the camp all looked up when they came in; a few darted to their feet when they saw Michel, looks of outrage on their faces. One man with a deep red scar across his face looked especially angry.
“Tomas, what are you-?”
Tomas, the giant next to Michel, held up his hand. Instantly all noises faded leaving just the hush of the wind moving through the trees.
“Gentlemen this is Michel Pierre. He has been drafted into the Renard Maquis as he wants to avenge the death of his father. Do you understand?”
The men all nodded. The one with the scar came up to Michel and shook his hand.
“I’m sorry. Your father, he was a good man.”
Michel nodded his thanks and gritted his teeth against the tears that were threatening to come up. Tomas clapped his hands for attention.
“In the Renard Maquis we only have first names, that way if we’re caught we can’t give any information about anyone in the group. Let me introduce you. I am Tomas Renard. That is why we are called the fox group. This is: Nathan, Richard, Albert, Clément, Claude, Françoise, Nikola, Rudi, Norbert, David, André, Jean, George, Francis and Henry.”
Each man inclined his head as he was introduced. Michel nodded back and promptly forgot each name. He wondered how old they all were, they all had the same weather beaten faces, and they all looked ageless. Jonathan took him back to his house. With one glance they agreed not to tell Sophie about the Maquis, not just yet. Sophie hurried over to Michel as soon as they came in through the door,
“Michel where were you? I was getting worried, it’s late already. Jonathan please don’t take him out without telling me, I couldn’t bear it if I lost another man. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him.”
Jonathan looked guilty.
“I’m so sorry Sophie, we didn’t realize the time.”
They all sat down for dinner. Danielle kept on kicking Michel’s foot. He glared at his skinny blond sister. She kept on kicking him though.
“What?” He finally snapped.
“Nothing.” She replied. He sent her daggers but she just stuck her tongue out and kept on kicking. He was thinking over what Maman had said; she couldn’t bear to lose another man. Did she mean Jonathan? Michel knew her family had been killed at Dunkirk, but she had been so strong. He couldn’t imagine her crying or losing her sanity. Maybe Jonathan replaced the brother she had lost. He decided to ask her.
“Jonathan is the same age as my brother is. Was. He was just 27 years old. In a way, Jonathan represents my lost brother. I try not to show him that, but when I think of losing both of you, I can’t help but worry. I beg you Michel, stay safe.”
He went to bed with his sides racked with guilt. It was as though Maman had known that he had joined the Maquis. How could he do something so dangerous when he knew how Maman felt? But as sleep pulled at him, his thoughts turned to those of revenge. Now he could kill the Boch that killed his Papa.

Belonging in the Maquis wasn’t as exciting as he had thought. They mostly just trained and loitered. Michel never actually got to go on a mission, but he was useful in the camp. As he was so much smaller than the other men, he could make sure there were no intruders in the camp and do some jobs the other men couldn’t do. There grew between himself and the men a certain respect, but never actual friendship. Jonathan however would disappear for hours at a time, though always reappearing in time to go home with Michel. They knew they would have to tell Sophie soon, but Michel wanted to delay. His first ever task was to go out with Jonathan searching for debris of a plane that crashed a few days back. Looking for the plane reminded Michel of when he had met Jonathan. Jonathan was also quiet. They passed a clearing, and Michel thought he saw something shiny on the ground. He motioned to Jonathan and they shimmied forwards to look at what it was: it was a plane, blackened with smoke, twisted with fire, empty with death. Jonathan’s face grew white as he took in the destruction. As if in a dream he moved until he was standing in front of the nose, looking into the cockpit.
“Hello you.” He murmured. With a jolt Michel realized that this was Jonathan’s elusive plane. He had never managed to find it no matter how hard he had looked. Jonathan circled it, looking into the belly and shuddering when he saw bone. Michel stood back to give him privacy when he heard a soft exclamation. He quickly looked down and saw a moving hand.
“Jonathan, come quickly. I think there is something here.”
Jonathan turned round and came to stand next to Michel. He looked down then crouched. As if in a frenzy, he started pulling up grass and shoots. Michel was startled but saw the urgency and helped.
“Johnny, that you?” A weak voice rose from the undergrowth.
“Tommy?” Breathed Jonathan.
“Yeah. How did you get here?”
Jonathan and Michel pulled out a gaunt and emaciated man. His RAF uniform was torn beyond recognition, his face yellow and sallow.
“Tommy, how did you get here?”
“I ate from the forest. A sniper then shot at me a few days ago and I came here to die. Are you a ghost? Are we in hell yet?”
“No Tommy, we’re alive. Michel, help me carry him. He fainted.”

Together they carried him home back to Sophie. She stood shocked for a second then barked out some orders and proceeded to attend to his wound. Jonathan and Michel hovered the rest of the day, waiting to see if he gained consciousness. He didn’t, but Sophie was looking suspiciously at the pair of them, and soon after dinner she confronted them.
“Michel, an explanation please.”
Stuttering and stumbling, he gave her the gist of the events. She turned white when she learned that he had joined the Maquis. She dropped her face in her hands when he had finished.
“Oh no, Mon Coeur. Not you too. I can’t tell you not to join, but I had so hoped you wouldn’t have to.” She turned to Jonathan with an anguished look, “Please Jonathan; take care of him.”
“I promise.” He placated her.
“Just one last thing: no telling the other children what you are doing. They will want to join and I can’t have that.”
“OK Maman. I’m sorry; I didn’t want you to worry.” She gave him a tired smile.
“It’s OK Cherie; I didn’t really expect it to last. I just keep forgetting you’re growing up.” He looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“It’s your birthday next week. Mon amour, you’re going to be 14.” She gave him a watery smile and a hug. Tommy made a noise from the next room and Sophie hurried back to look after him. Michel went up to bed feeling very old, yet highly insignificant.

The next morning Michel woke up alone. He supposed Jonathan had stayed with Tommy all night. As he was putting on his socks, the door opened and Danielle and Sonia slipped in. he glared at them in mock outrage.
“And supposing I would have been I the middle of getting dressed?”
“We wouldn’t see anything we haven’t seen before.” He stared at them open mouthed, then laughed.
“If you mean when we were three and had our baths together, please.” Danielle sat down next to him at slapped his back.
“Shut up Michel, you always make a fool of yourself. Tell us, why did you join the Maquis?”
Michel went very still.
“How do you know?” Sonia snorted.
“Oh come on Michel, we’re not stupid. We knew you’d been up to something so we followed you and Jonathan to the woods, realized you were going to the Maquis. Last night’s conversation only certified what we knew.”
Michel went red with anger.
“If you dare follow me into the woods again, I’ll-“
“What, you’ll tell Maman? Really! We just found out OK? No big deal. We just want to help you, not with the actual fighting, but we can do other stuff.”
“If you really think I’m going to let you-“
“Please Michel. He’s our Papa too.” Michel went silent, not knowing what to say. Jonathan chose that moment to walk in.
“Hello everyone, are you alright?” He looked at their faces, all angry to a different degree.
“You know what? I’ll let you deal with it Jonathan.” He turned to face the girls.
“You know what you want; now you’ll just have to ask him.” With that he stormed out the room.

He went to say hi to Maman; then quickly ran outside. His hands shook as he yanked on his wellies, though with anger or with fear he could not tell. He wandered about the fields, dreading to return home, reluctant to remain outside. The heat beat down on him the flies buzzed around his ears. Finally his stomach ordered him back home. He entered the kitchen in a foul mood to find Jonathan, Maman, Danielle, Sophie and Laurent standing around.
“What’s everyone doing here?” He asked, flinging himself into a chair.
“Nothing you grump.” Sophie hugged him from behind. “You’re really growing into a fine teenager Mon Chérie. Soon you’ll be moaning all day long, and you’ll become a couch potato.”
Michel smiled at that.
“Not a chance Maman. I’ll be here every second of the day to annoy you.” The heavy atmosphere defused.
“Where are Clara and Arnaud?”
Jonathan answered him. “They’re keeping Tommy Company. You see he’s in a bit of pain.”
“Who is Tommy?”
“My best friend. He’s married and has three kids already, and only my age.”
“Do you have a wife?” Michel groaned at Danielle’s question, so girly.
“No, but I have a girlfriend who I’m planning to marry as soon as I can get home.”
His face took on a nostalgic look and Michel felt a tug just looking at him.
“Do we get an invite to your wedding?” Asked Sonia.
“Of course.” He laughed. “You guys will be my French side of the family.” As everyone continued talking, Michel felt a bit strange. He realized he didn’t want Jonathan to go; he had enjoyed having an older brother to look after him and everyone else.

Sophie sat back with a serious expression. Everyone fell silent as she looked at each of them in turn.
“OK, here’s the deal. From now we all belong in the Maquis, but we are not to tell anyone or Clara and Arnaud. Jonathan has arranged for any sick or injured people to find covalence in our home. I would like the girls and Laurent to help. Michel, you will carry on going with Jonathan. That’s it, any questions?”
No questions were asked. From then on the family had a purpose. None of them wallowed in sadness because there was simply too much to do, too many people to take care of. Everyone was happy with his or her job. Michel had his birthday and perhaps grew somewhat surly, but Sophie took it in her stride. She knew he needed a male presence so let him stay with Jonathan a lot. Jonathan liked having Michel around; the boy was interesting and could keep quiet. Tommy grew stronger and it came to the day when he was no longer a patient, and since he had nowhere else to go, Sophie took him in. Sophie and Michel had a small fight over this. Sophie wanted to put Tommy in his room and Michel declared absolutely not.
“Michel, I have nowhere else to put him.”
“Put him with the girls then.”
“Michel!”
“I don’t have space Maman, and I don’t want him.”
Sophie sat down for a moment.
“So where should we put him?”
“In the bin? I don’t care. Anywhere but in my room. I need the limited amount of space there is.”
Eventually Sophie put him in the boy’s room. Michel should have been happy with his victory, but he just hated himself for being so awful to Maman. He was feeling depressed these days and he didn’t know why. He didn’t want to be in anyone’s company, not even Jonathan’s, and he wandered alone.

ONE day he went with Jonathan to the Maquis to find unrest in the camp. The man Michel called scar-face came running up and declared that two children had been abducted when their father had refused to a demand from the Nazi’s. The Maquis were going to free the children and needed all the help they could get. Michel was relegated to the outside with a gun. He was supposed to be watching for intruders. He felt a buzz of adrenalin. He had never been on a mission yet. The group reached a grand red house on the other side of the forest. It had been Mr Fargent’s house. Michel supposed the old man was dead now. They could see the movement of bulky frames behind the windows.
“Nazi’s.” Tomas whispered. Michel was bid to stay in the forest and to sound the alert if there was trouble. The men slowly moved out of the trees and disappeared. He glanced in all directions.
“Michel Pierre.”
Michel jumped as a ghost of a whisper reached him.
“Oui?”
“It’s Mr Partouche. My children are being held in there by the Nazi pig Herr Ebert. He wants me to give him all my money and my guns. I refused so he retaliated by taking the children. Are the Maquis in there?”
Michel turned and saw the man sitting camouflaged in a nearby tree. He started to reply when Mr Partouche disappeared, a small explosion sound following. There was no time to think. Michel saw the man in a green uniform step around the tree, saw the gun aimed; saw the gun fire. He felt the jolt of the bullet as it entered the chest. He saw the red liquid pour out of the hole. He heard the last breath and the last thing he saw was the ground rushing up to meet him.

“Michel. Wake up.” The noise of a slap, no pain. Michel groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on the green floor of the forest, needles pricking his back. Jonathan was kneeling on the floor next to him, worry oozing over his features, then relief.
“He’s awake.” He called to the man around. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Jonathan gently slipped Michel’s shirt over his head.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to see where he got you.” Michel was very confused.
“But I’m not hurt. I didn’t get hit. He did.” He pointed towards the trees.
“Who?”
“He killed Mr Partouche, and then I. I… I killed him.” Tomas came up to Michel.
“There’s a dead Nazi by the tree, and a dead old man.” He hauled Michel to his feet and slapped him on his back. “Good job son. Now you have truly experienced the war.” Michel stared at him dazed; then gave him a small smile. He buried the incident at the back of his brain, made himself believe that another man had killed the Nazi. He noticed two children on the ground; a girl holding a boy to her side. She was staring at him so he stared back. She had Mr Partouche’s features he realized. He was aware of a man speaking to him, then going over to the children on the floor and speaking to them too. Everyone was heading back to base so Michel headed back too. Suddenly they were back at the camp. Everyone was silent. They had lost two members and silence was their way of grieving for them. Jonathan took Michel and the two kids back to Michel’s house. He learnt that she was called Rachelle and she was 12 years old. Her brother was called Benedict and he was only 8 years old. Michel listened to them talk to Jonathan as he followed them home. As they reached the yard, he grabbed hold of Jonathan and begged him not to tell Sophie what had really happened. Jonathan looked confused but agreed.

That day lasted for ever. Michel couldn’t look at anyone. When his Maman asked him why he was so quiet, he just grunted that he was tired. Finally it was bedtime. He went up early, glad for once that Jonathan stayed downstairs to play cards with Tommy. He slowly got undressed then leaned on the windowsill to stare at the stars. He was a killer. He had killed a man today. He stared at his hands, seeing red taint the tan. He couldn’t bear himself and went to bed to fall into oblivion. But sleep never came. He lay in bed. Jonathan came up so Michel stilled his breathing, not wanting to cope with anything. The mattress dipped as usual, Jonathan stole some of the blanket as usual. But he wasn’t usual. He Michel had killed a man. Suddenly he could visualize Papa on the battle-field, staring at a gaping wound in his chest, watching the red seep out of him. He missed him so much. Why did Papa of all people have to die? He started sobbing in to his pillow. He felt his stomach constrict with the force of his loss, the hole papa’s death had made in him ripped apart. He felt the force of it and tried to rein it in, but it was no use. Suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore. He was enfolded in a warm and strong hug. Michel tried to push away from the security of the arms, but they wouldn’t let him leave.
“Michel, you have to let it out, it’s good to cry.”
That was it. The last lock holding back the dam broke and he felt the tsunami erupt from him. He shuddered and howled and gasped with the strength of the unrelenting force on him. But still the safe arms encircled him, holding him close to the warm body. The sea inside of him finally emptied leaving him cold and numb. He shivered though it was August, his teeth clacking together. Jonathan took him and rolled him in the blanket though he tried to protest. Jonathan then wrapped his arms around the bundle. But he was still so cold. Jonathan finally couldn’t bear the shivers. He climbed in to the swaddle with Michel and wrapped himself around Michel. Slowly the shivers stopped. Michel fell into a fitful sleep.

The next few days were a blur for him. He stayed in bed, speaking to no one, always cold. His shivers only stopped at night when Jonathan climbed into bed with him. Only then did he feel secure. He tried to ask Jonathan to stay with him in the day, but he couldn’t move his mouth, couldn’t make his voice work. Only the sound of Maman’s voice begging him to get better made him come out of the daze that had enveloped him. For the first time, he fell into a deep dreamless sleep. He woke up and saw a black haired angle standing over him, holding a cup of water. She started to speak in a voice like honey.
“Do you want to drink something? Jonathan said you might be thirsty when you woke up.” He sat up and stared at her. He took the cup from her and tried to drink but his hand was shaking too much, he spilled the water.
“Here, let me help you.” She calmly sat next to him and helped him sip. That little action exhausted him. He lay back down to continue staring at her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Rachelle Partouche. I live here now with my brother Benedict. Well, at least till the end of the war.” Her smile was like a ray of sunshine to him. He felt feelings stir inside of him that he had never felt before.

He recovered quickly. Jonathan hovered close to him the first few days after he left his bed. Neither of them returned to the Maquis. Tomas had come to visit them, and he understood. The men were welcome to return to Sophie’s house, and many of them did. Michel slowly grew out of the shock; he learnt to live with his murder, partly because of his family, partly because of Jonathan and partly because of Rachelle. They kept his mind occupied. Jonathan once again became elusive, but this time he disappeared with Tommy. One night Michel confronted him.
“Are you going back to the Maquis?”
Jonathan was silent for so long Michel feared he had fallen asleep.
“No. Michel, I love you guys and I love it here but I am English. My soul yearns for my country, for my friends and family. Tommy also feels this way. We are planning to escape back to England.”
Michel felt another piece of his heart rip, but he kept it under control.
“Jonathan I know the coast. Papa used to take us every year and he taught us how to swim, sail and fish. I could steal you a boat. Do you know how to ride one?”
“Tommy does. He comes from near the sea. Are you serious Michel? You would really help us, even though you want us to stay?”
Michel was silent for a moment.
“Jonathan. I love you. You have been the older brother I always wanted. But your family must miss you, your father must cry for you. And what about your girlfriend? She still wants to marry you. Just promise you’ll stay in touch.”
Jonathan leaned over and hugged the younger boy. He was amazed at the integrity Michel possessed. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.
“Michel, I don’t know how to thank you. The first invite I will send off to my wedding will be yours. You are my brother, I love you too. We only spent a year together, but I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime with you.”

The next few days were spent concentrating on their plans. Michel drew for them diagrams of where the small boats were kept, where the Germans kept a lookout. It was decided that Michel would accompany them so as to help them steal the boat. At first they weren’t going to tell Sophie about their departure, but on the night before, they felt they couldn’t hold back. Jonathan hugged each of the children in turn, shedding a few tears. Sophie didn’t hide her tears, and she hugged him for a full five minutes. They exchanged addresses, and he promised to visit after the war. Tommy also got a great goodbye, especially from the younger children with whom he had formed a great bond. That night in bed, Michel shed some tears for Jonathan while Jonathan did the same for him. They spent the night awake, talking, wrapped in each other’s arms. They would both have to get used to sleeping solitarily again. They spoke openly that night, telling each other secrets and being honest. Jonathan had one last message before they got up.
“Michel, I see you looking at Rachelle. I see her looking back at you. Don’t miss your chance, if you love her, ask her and see how she responds. Never lose 3 years from your loved ones like I did. Michel thanked Jonathan, and then it was time to leave. They slid silently from the house, grabbing the bicycle’s Danielle had stolen. They sped across the dark lanes, peddling fast and furiously. The sea became a great mass in front of them. They finally reached sand. Michel took them to the boats, his intuition telling him where to tread to avoid the German spotlights. One of the biggest boats was a dark red one. It had belonged to Mr and Mme Lombrosau who had been deported. Michel quickly untied it from the pier and waited for the others to join him.
“Bye Tommy. Bye Jonathan.” The men hugged the boy; Jonathan’s was long and lingering. He jumped out the boat and watched as they cast off. Tears threatened to spill, but he was in danger on the pier. He bound heavy rocks on 2 of the stolen bicycles and drowned them. He quickly pedalled off back home.

The routine at home was a strange one. Michel kept looking to his side to tell Jonathan something when he remembered that Jonathan had gone. They still lived in fear of the Germans, of the air raids that were more frequent. They lived in fear for Tommy’s and Jonathan’s life. They didn’t know if they managed to reach England. The family grew closer, took comfort through each other’s presence. Michel was still lonely. He missed Jonathan the most at night-time, when he tossed alone in his bed. He once woke up sweating. He retched as he remembered the nightmare.
“Are you OK?” The voice frightened him half to death. Rachelle stood by the window, a dark angel. Staring at her, he decided to take Jonathans advice.
“Rachelle, come here.” She slowly approached him. He sat up and took her hand in his.
“I… I’ve been feeling something for you, something quite strong. Do you feel the same thing for me?” Her hair swung in front of her face. Michel swung it back and saw her blushing face nod. He sighed in relief.
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” She looked at him with a big smile and nodded her head. Feeling strangely grown up, he brought his face forwards and her face down, and kissed her. On the lips. She let out a sigh, and he felt a huge jolt of happiness running through him. From that moment, the nights weren’t so lonely anymore. He had Rachelle to share them with. Life continued. The radio spoke of the Germans losing the war, but nobody believed it anymore. They had been saying that since the war started in 1939. They just hoped for a good life

One night Michel was lying with Rachelle on the sofa. Sophie sat on the love seat by the window, knitting. Laurent, Benedict and Sonia were playing a game of cards on the floor. Danielle was brushing her hair in the doorway. Clara and Arnaud came giggling down the stairs to come and lie down with Michel and Rachelle on the sofa. The night was blustery and dark. They were all comfortable in their positions. A knock on the door broke the comfortable silence.
“Michel?” Sophie asked.
He groaned and swung himself up. He could see a shadow by the door.
“Who is it?” He asked tentatively.
“Can I have shelter from the elements tonight?” Strange, thought Michel. The voice was very familiar. He opened the door to a man dressed in rags.
“Come in.” He ushered the man into the living room. Sophie looked up and immediately offered the man a drink and food. He stared at her, then at the children in the room.
“I bring you news.” Was his reply.
“You might want to sit down.” Sophie carefully sat down; her face had turned very pale.
“Your husband is still alive.” Sophie looked up in astonishment; the she gave a great sigh of joy. All the children remained still and quiet. The man thanked her for the hospitality then slowly started to remove his rags. Michel watched in trepidation then joy as the rags slowly dropped to reveal a gaunt, tired face he knew so well. Sophie remained seated, staring up as though he was a stranger. Michel moved as though in a dream towards him.
“Papa?”

Epilogue

Michel ran down the stairs as he heard his Maman’s voice. He skidded on the landing when he saw a bedroom door opening. When he saw the long black hair and shiny black eyes he loved, he glanced round then pulled her towards him and kissed her softly on the mouth. She melted into him and he regretfully pulled away.
“Hello Rachelle, I’ll see you later.” He heard sounds of vomiting issuing from the bedroom and called out.
“You just wait Sonia till you have a sweetheart, then we’ll see who’ll be the one laughing.” He ran into the kitchen, almost knocking his father over.
“Morning Michel. How did you sleep?”
“Very well thank you.” He gave his father a hug then went to Sophie and gave her a hug too.
“Morning Maman.”
“Hello Michel. Can you set the table?”
“Oh Maman, that’s a girls job.”
“So, you can do it too.”
He pulled a face. He had never been so happy in his life. The war was over and his father was back. The usual noises started in the house: Arnaud and Clara bickering, Laurent singing. All theses noises were home. A loud knock startled everybody. Michel rolled his eyes then got up good-naturedly to get it. He yanked open the door, then almost fell on his face. A blond young man and a radiant young woman stood before him, but only the man held his attention.
“Jonathan?”
“Hey Michel! I told you I would invite you to my wedding, I just didn’t say how!” With that they threw themselves into each other’s arms. They were crying, but tears of happiness and relief. As the family bowled out to see Jonathan, Michel realized that he had been wrong. Only now was his happiness complete.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.07.2012

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