The Cyclist by Fredrik Nath Read Free Book Online Page A

SD officers tonight. If you answered the telephone you would know. I don’t know how I can look them in the face without fear of their suspicion. One of them is Brunner.’
    ‘They won’t come here will they?’
    ‘No my love. I’ve been told I have to go to the restaurant.’
    ‘Be careful...’
    A child’s voice interrupted her.
    ‘Uncle Auguste.’
    Monique ran into the kitchen. She flung herself at Auguste. He gathered her up in his arms and hugged her, patting her back with a practiced gentleness.
    ‘My little friend. How are you? It must be weeks.’
    ‘Papa brought me. I’m to stay until the Germans are dead.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Papa said he would chase them all away and when it was safe he would come for me. He said we won’t have to wear the yellow star anymore then.’
    ‘You know no one can know you are here?’
    ‘Yes, Papa told me.’
    ‘Papa! You are home,’ Zara said from the doorway. She smiled. ‘We were playing nurses.’
    ‘My little flower. Is there a hug for your Papa?’
    Zara ran to him and he hugged them both.
    ‘Zara, you must always play quietly. I don’t want anyone to know Monique is here. You understand?’
    ‘We understand Papa,’ she turned to her mother. ‘We are very hungry. What’s for dinner?’
    ‘I must go,’ Auguste said.
    Odette looked at him. Her eyes betrayed helplessness. He thought she struggled with being unable to say what she wished in front of the two girls. Auguste left to the sound of the girls giggling. The sound made him shudder.

Chapter 3
    1
    Auguste arrived early at the restaurant. His watch said nearly seven o’clock but he did not expect SD company so soon. He had to be there on time but the arrogance of the invitation made him sure they would be late. He began to wonder who he was in their eyes anyway. Had he become a traitor to France who they could manipulate and bend to their will? His father, a veteran of the first war would have thumped the table, his pipe in the corner of his mouth and accused him of betraying the Republic.
    He felt shame. He felt passive, weak and then he thought of Monique. She was the same age as Zara but a different kind of child. Monique was serious. She seemed to have wisdom and she understood what was happening, though Zara had no concept at all of the dangers her parents were running. Auguste wondered if he had understood the danger too, when Odette presented him with it. He felt it was a fait accompli and there had been no going back, for her decision had sealed their fates, all of them. Her decision had also changed his life.
    He entered the restaurant and made for the tiny semi-circular bar opposite the door. A sense of loneliness took him. Odette had pushed him into a dangerous situation but he was now in the wolves’ den and alone. He felt he was facing the Germans without allies, without support. He it was, who ran the risk of them noticing some change in him. He wondered in a vague ponder, whether there could be some outward sign of the Jewish child hiding in his home. Some way they could detect her on him, on his clothes or even his demeanour. He knew it was nonsense and he discarded his thoughts as the ruminations of a frightened fool.
    He sat on a stool and asked the barmaid for a Vichy water. He had no wish to come home drunk as if he had been carousing with these Nazis.
    Seated next to him was a young girl. He knew her and he smiled to her when she looked round.
    ‘Good evening, Bernadette,’ he said.
    ‘Good evening, Inspector Ran,’ she replied.
    Bernadette was short in stature but Auguste noticed her beauty as if it was a beacon on a dark night. It shone. She had curly blonde hair lashing her shoulders and a smile radiating warmth and friendliness. Her white teeth flashed in the lamplight when she smiled. She had blue almost iridescent eyes echoing her smile. He knew she was eighteen and like any man, he appreciated the gentle curves of her body and the relaxed way she moved. A young man would