Holly and Richard quickly scrambled into the back of the cart and the monsieur covered them in thick layers of sacks that smelled of earth, fruit and vegetables.

‘Now be still,’ the elderly man advised them. ‘I shall not speak until we arrive at the farm. You never know who may be listening.’

Richard and Holly were lying so close that she could feel his warm breath fanning her cheek and she was glad of the darkness to hide her blushes. They heard the monsieur talk to the horse before climbing onto the driver’s bench seat and then they were off. It was very uncomfortable and as the wagon rattled across the rough ground they were thrown from side to side but neither of them said a word. Shortly after, the ride became smoother as they went through the streets of the town but then it grew rough again and they knew that now they were in enemy territory. Despite trying to be brave Holly’s heart began to pound with fear and when Richard reached out beneath the sacks to hold her hand and squeeze it reassuringly, she clung to it like a leech, his comforting touch enveloping her. She was all too aware that should the enemy discover them they might well be shot and it was a terrifying thought. However, the wagon rattled on its way for what seemed like an endless time with no one stopping them as they were rolled about all over the place. They had no way of knowing how long they lay there but at last they heard the monsieur speak softly to the horse and it came to a halt. Holly felt stiff and sore but she made no complaint and remained silent until the monsieur whipped the sacks off them. She saw that they were in a large barn and the horse was already cropping at some hay.

‘Well done,’ the monsieur praised them. ‘Now, you must come into the farmhouse to meet my family. They will be relieved that you ’ave arrived safely. Come.’ He helped Holly down from the cart and as she looked down at her skirt and shawl she smiled ruefully. There were bits of straw and dirt all over her but at least they had arrived safely. She and Richard followed the man across a farmyard and entered a kitchen where a plump, middle-aged woman and a very pretty younger girl were waiting for them.

‘Ah, Pierre, at last, I ’ave been so worried.’ The older woman hurried over to throw her arms about her husband and he smiled at them across her shoulder. ‘This is my wife, Claudette, and that is my daughter, Francine.’ Turning his attention back to his wife he told her mock sternly, ‘Come, woman, these people are cold and hungry. Where are your manners? Fetch them some hot soup immediately.’ He patted her ample backside and she skittered off, giggling like a girl. It was clear that they had a very loving relationship. Her dark hair was streaked with grey at the temples but her eyes were kindly and she was still a very attractive woman. Francine, however, was stunningly pretty, Holly thought, as the girl offered her a shy smile. Her long black hair hung down her back like a shimmering cloak and her eyes were a curious mixture of grey and blue. She was tall and slender and placing his arm affectionately about her, the monsieur informed them proudly, ‘Francine is the baby of the family. The rest of our children have grown and flown the nest. But ah, here is some food. Please sit down and eat and then I shall take you to the airman.’