Dottie felt numb. She could see movement in the corner of her eye, and the cars that passed by and the woman across the road picking up what her dog had left behind, yet it seemed that someone had turned off the sound. Perhaps her brain needed silence for it to process the ramifications of Polo’s revelations as a million thoughts exploded in her head like shards of glass, piercing her heart.
Hugh, Claude, one and the same, with his stammer and pockmarked face, the scars of teenage acne still visible even to that day. A man she had known for most of her life, who she had trusted, who she considered a good friend and admired immensely, was a traitor, worse, a murderer.
For some bizarre reason her head was now trying to work out if what he’d done was an act of war or a crime, a war crime maybe, or did it depend which side you were on. And whose sidewashe on? The answer to that at least was clear.
Polo interrupted. The sound came back on.
‘Yvette, are you okay, you have gone white? I have upset you, I’m sorry.’
Taking a deep breath, Dottie closed her eyes and asked herself the same question. No, she wasn’t okay but that didn’t matter because all she cared about now were answers. She had to know the truth, exactly what happened that night after Vincent said goodbye. Touching her mouth she could almost feel his lips on hers, the strength in his body the last time he held her in his arms, his voice as he asked her to make a promise, one that she had kept.
When she opened her eyes, Dottie’s vision was blurred by tears which she flicked away. This was no time for blubbing. Yvette would not have cried, she would have demanded answers, sought revenge, taken it with her bare hands if need be. Composing herself quickly, Dottie patted Polo’s hand, forcing a weak smile to reassure him before she answered, then asked him another question.
‘I am fine, Polo, please do not worry. I’m incredibly shocked but I still need to know it all, so will you explain, tell me everything about that night and then I promise you, I will put it right.’
Polo closed his eyes for a second, as though he was picturing the scene and relating what he could see. ‘I had been setting new traps in the forest, for rabbits, so that Tante Elise could make stew. I had already caught two. That’s when I heard the sound in the distance, a motorbike. From where I was, I could see the end of the lane that split the trees, where the tiny chapel is, there is a statue of an angel at the gate, do you know it?’
‘Yes, I do, the angel was missing a wing.’
‘At first, I thought it would be the Germans, so I kept out of sight, I didn’t want them stealing my rabbits. Then, when it came into view, I realised it wasn’t a motorbike, it was a Solex and I knew straight away it was Claude, he was the only person who had one. I watched as he pulled a brick from the back of the statue and take out a note then place another inside, then he jumped back on the Solex and rode off.’
Dottie imagined the scene, she knew the setting well. ‘What did you do then?’
‘I waited. I thought I should stay a while and guard the spot until someone came.’
Dottie smiled and raised her eyebrows, giving Polo a friendly nudge. ‘Or you were being your usual inquisitive self and wanted to see who collected the note.’ It felt good to laugh, just for a moment, in between the terribleness of Polo’s revelation.
‘Yes, I suppose you are correct, but really, Yvette, I did not expect what happened next.’
Dottie felt her chest tighten and held her breath for a second while Polo continued.
‘I dozed off. It was warm and I was tired but I woke up when I heard the sound of a car. I was expecting a member of the Resistance, someone on a bicycle or maybe in a farm truck, not one of the Nazi staff cars. You remember them, the big black limousines that parked outside of themairiein the town?’
A nod from Dottie preceded the rest of his tale.
‘It pulled to a halt at the shrine and one of the black bats got out of the back. That’s what I called the Gestapo, in their flappy leather coats and hats pulled down to their eyes. It was as though they knew everything and could hunt us down, even if they couldn’t see. I was terrified of them.
‘The man went over to the shrine, removed the brick and the note and then returned to the car and got inside. Then they drove away. I panicked. In my childish brain I thought at first that Claude would be in danger, but slowly I realised the truth. I realised our comrade was a traitor.’
Nodding, Dottie sighed. ‘He was certainly that. But go on, what happened next?’
‘I knew that Vincent was in Nantes but not when he would return so I ran to your aunt’s farm. I was going to tell you instead, but you weren’t there and she didn’t know where you’d gone, naturally.’
Dottie’s heart had quickened, it was as though she’d flown back in time, it felt too real. ‘I had gone to wait with the evaders.’
Polo continued. ‘After that I ran to the café and left a message there for you or Vincent. I told Armand I would wait for Vincent at the usual place, he would know where. I didn’t tell anyone what I’d seen. I was too scared, and my trust was slipping away with each second.
‘I ran and ran to Vincent’s hut by the stream. It felt like my whole life passed by while I waited, that’s how long it took until he arrived. I didn’t go inside. I hid in the bushes and watched. It was dusk when he finally showed up.’
Dottie remembered the hut, with the simple bed made from logs, the earthen floor, and the nights she had shared with Vincent there. Polo’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘I was so glad to see him, so eager to tell him what I knew but from the second the words came out of my mouth everything went wrong. I started it. If I had kept quiet, he might be alive still. It is something I will never know but it has haunted me every day since.’
Dottie laid her hand on his arm. ‘If there is one thing I have learned, Polo, it’s that we cannot change the past, no matter how much it haunts us. We can only try to make sense of it and learn to live with our mistakes.’
Polo sighed. ‘I suppose. But it is an easier thing to say than do.’
‘It is, but we can work through it together now, whatever is troubling you, so tell me. What do you mean, you started it?’ Dottie was eager to hear but didn’t want to press Polo, he looked sad, and was quite frail too, so she waited patiently. When he pulled himself out of his gloom, they went back to the hut by the stream, to a night she remembered vividly.
