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yes, my mother pleaded with me to leave, but I told her I had things to do here in Lucie. Besides,’ he said, with a wink at Uncle Claude. ‘I couldn’t leave this old man on his own with such a rowdy tribe of kids.’
    I gave Olivier a small smile of admiration, wishing I too could summon the strength to stand up against my own mother. Like the war that raged across Europe, I ached to flee the smaller-scale battle that had entangled my mother and me for as far back as I could remember.
    I grabbed the rake again, my yearning to fight with my brother and Olivier, to rid Lucie of our occupiers, mounting with each clump of grass I heaped into the cart.
    ***
    ‘We should hurry,’ I said, as Patrick and I scurried along the ridge, the Wolf family trailing behind us in a thin, straggly line. I kept glancing up at the red-wine sky, the air pressing like dough around me.
    ‘A decent storm might break this drought at least,’ Patrick shouted, over the angry wind that had burst from the hills.
    The cool gusts were indeed a welcome respite, I only hoped the wind wouldn’t mask a whistled warning from Olivier, our lookout posted on the fringe of woods behind L’Auberge.
    The wind funnelled along the valley, hurling itself at us in raw bursts, snapping my skirt against my calves. Leaves, torn from branches, littered the ground and the birds seemed frantic, wheeling low in the sky and plummeting into tiny pockets of stagnant air.
    Hard splotches of rain began to fall as we caught sight of Olivier, his thumb held high in the “all clear” sign.
    ‘Will we live at this farm all the time now, Papa?’ Talia said.
    ‘No, Talia …. just for a while.’
    ‘We’ll find fun things for you to do, Talia,’ I said. ‘You’ll see.’
    I was relieved there was no sign of Maman, as we passed by her kitchen garden; no snarling face at the window. She must be busy in her bedroom. I would tell her about the Wolfs later. Once we’d settled them into the attic she might be less likely to make a fuss.
    ‘I want to go home, Maman,’ Jacob said, his face crumpling. ‘I don’t want to play hide and seek in the woods anymore.’
    ‘Hush, everything will be all right,’ Sabine said, stroking her child’s dark curls from his forehead. ‘Maman’s here.’
    The rain began to fall like reams of silver paper, lightning tearing yellow streaks through the sky. The little boy screamed and buried his face in his mother’s neck.
    ‘Quickly. Inside, everybody.’ Patrick opened the ivy-wreathed gate and we hurried round to the courtyard. The pig gave a welcoming grunt and Gingembre neighed softly from her stable.
    Maman still did not appear as we made the Wolf family comfortable in the attic with towels, clean clothes, straw mattresses and blankets. I took up bread and cheese, and a pitcher of milk for the children. Patrick dragged out the box of toy soldiers Papa had carved for him when he was young.
    ‘These are for you, Jacob,’ he said, sliding the box in front of the boy.
    ‘I’m sure you’ll love playing with them,’ I said. ‘Like Patrick did when he was your age.’
    Jacob peered into the box and picked out a single soldier in a red coat. He barely glanced at the rest of the collection.
    ‘Can you get my father some paints, Céleste?’ Talia said. ‘And brushes and paper?’
    Her father’s brow creased. ‘Talia!’
    ‘Papa’s a great artist,’ the girl went on, ignoring her father. ‘He uses Gouache. Me too, I like to paint. And Maman’s a ballerina. She dances in stage-shows.’
    ‘Please excuse my daughter, Céleste,’ Max said. ‘She’s a little … over-eager. Really, we’re all so exhausted from the rough living, we’ll be happy just to drop straight to sleep.’
    ‘I’ll try my best to find you some art supplies, Talia,’ I said, wondering wherever I could get such things. ‘Now remember, if you hear me cough twice, from the bottom of the attic ladder, just loosen the panel I showed you, and duck into the