Tormented that he knew by the state of her what the soldiers had done, but comforted by his voice, she tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the fog in her brain thickened and she felt darkness descend upon her, taking her into the blessed peace his presence gave her.

CHAPTER TEN

France and Switzerland

Ella and Flors

Ella ached all over. Her hand felt cold and stiff as she held onto a silent Lonia. They stood looking at the huge gates. She knew they were still in France, somewhere south of Reims, as she had seen signs for that city on the journey, but exactly where they were, she had no idea.

After the soldier had raped her, he’d bundled her into the back of the truck. She’d waited, praying that Flors would be brought back, but at the sound of gunshots, the soldier had slammed the tailgate and driven off at a roaring speed. He’d driven all night without stopping. Ella had slept some of the time, but most of the journey she’d fretted about being separated from Flors, and with worry about what had happened to her dear friend. She felt certain Cyrus was dead, and she feared that Flors was, too. The thought was unbearable to her, and yet she couldn’t cry out against it. Her soul had been drained.

When they’d reached a checkpoint she’d heard the soldier shout out what had happened to the convoy, and demand that they radio HQ and report the incident. Leaving her lying in the back of the truck, he’d disappeared. Ella was glad of this, as she never wanted to look into his hateful face again or smell him anywhere near her. He’d conjured up terrible memories from her past that she’d tried to suppress – of her time with Shamus – but at this moment she thought of the soldier as the viler of the two.

But now she had knowledge of even greater evil. Having been picked up from the checkpoint, she’d been taken to Paris, a long, arduous journey crouching in the back of another truck, clinging onto poor Lonia. Having been separated from Lonia, she’d been shoved into a cell in Gestapo headquarters and interrogated for hours.

‘Who helped you? And who were the others you were travelling with? Where is your husband?’

‘No one helped me. My friends are dead. They, too, were British, but your soldiers killed them – they raped us. RAPED ME AND MY FRIEND!’ This scream had earned her another slap, which calmed her. ‘My husband is dead also.’

‘LIAR! Your child says that he left you to go back to your home. Where is he?’

The realization that they were questioning Lonia terrified her. ‘I don’t know. I – I had to leave him and take my child. I had to try to get her to safety.’

‘But not your other child – your son?’