Free Stranger at the Gates by Evelyn Anthony Page A

moments and then withdrew. He had no curiosity about the village or its people. They were co-operative and peaceful. If they needed help beyond the capacity of the primitive local fire engine, they would call upon the German military. St. Blaize was a good place for a German. No assassins lurked in the streets or sprang upon them in the lanes. There was no trouble. Which was exactly why Brühl had picked the district to set up his headquarters. Minutes after he was in bed, Minden was deeply asleep.
    â€˜Mama! Mama, wake up!’ Louise felt her son’s arms round her neck, and his mouth pressing excitedly against her cheek.
    She hadn’t heard the maid come in and draw the curtains back; the room was filled with a pale sunlight. ‘Darling, what is it—why haven’t you gone to school?’ She sat up, and the little boy climbed onto the bed.
    â€˜I’m going,’ he said. ‘Fritz is downstairs.’ There was another of the Major’s gestures. His batman drove the children to the village school each morning before taking him to the Château Diane.
    â€˜There’s been a fire,’ her son announced. ‘A big fire in the village!’
    â€˜In the village? Where—Marie-Anne, is this right?’
    â€˜Yes, Madame.’ The maid came towards her. ‘Poor old Madame Pallier’s house. They couldn’t put it out; everyone was asleep when it happened. She was burned to death, poor old soul.’
    â€˜How terrible.’ Louise shuddered. She looked at her son’s excited face. ‘Go down now, darling, or you’ll be late. Where’s Sophie?’
    â€˜Getting her books—you know, Mama, she’s always late.’
    â€˜Go on.’ She kissed him. ‘Don’t keep Fritz waiting.’
    â€˜How awful,’ she said to the maid. ‘That poor woman. After losing her husband and son like that too.’
    â€˜They’re an unlucky family, Madame.’ Marie-Anne paused at the door. She was fond of the Comtesse, and she enjoyed calamity. Without words the two women understood each other. Marie-Anne hated the German Fritz, and she knew that Madame hated the Major. Yet they could not get rid of either of them. She and her husband had served the Comte’s father and mother since they were brought up from the village in their teens. They were glad to survive, but they were not proud of the price the Comte had paid for it.
    â€˜Very unlucky,’ she repeated. ‘Two sons lost in the First War, poor Gaston was the only one left, and then he gets himself murdered by the Germans and his only son goes too. Now the place burns down. I heard she was found by the door; she must have been trying to get out. Old people like that shouldn’t live alone. There’s always trouble.’ She shook her head, filled with enjoyment.
    â€˜Where’s Monsieur?’
    â€˜Gone down to the village,’ Marie-Anne said. ‘He left as soon as we woke him with the news. He’s gone to see the Mayor.’
    Louise got up and dressed. They had only one car and a tiny amount of petrol. The coupons were another of the Major’s gifts. There was no way of getting to St. Blaize. Jean should have woken her and taken her with him. She’d had the courage to go to the Palliers’ Requiem while he stayed at home. She wanted to go down, to show herself. She ran down the stairs to the hall, hearing a car come to the front. At the foot of the stairs she almost bumped into the Major. He was dressed in his field grey uniform, his cap under one arm, drawing on his gloves. He was a tall, well set up man, his dark hair cut close to a fine-shaped head.
    â€˜Good morning, Madame.’ He smiled at her.
    â€˜Good morning.’ Louise disliked meeting him alone, even in the hall. ‘I’m looking for my husband, I thought I heard his car.’
    â€˜That was Fritz, I’m afraid,’ the Major said. ‘Coming back from the