There were few people on the streets. The rain kept them indoors. But an old woman was watching the new arrivals through the window of her crumbling cottage. Aimee tapped at her door. ‘Can you tell me the way to the church, please?’

‘No,’ the woman replied.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t like that new priest. I haven’t been to church since he arrived,’ she said, and began to close the door.

‘Father Gaulle? What’s wrong with him?’ Aimee asked quickly.

The old woman’s lip curled in disgust. ‘He’s a German. Are you one of them?’

‘No... but...’

‘He moved in when they invaded,’ the woman said, and her voice was harsh as a magpie’s. ‘He’s stayed on now his comrades have been driven out like rats.’

‘So where’s his church?’ Aimee asked. ‘Please.’

The woman jerked a gnarled thumb to her right. ‘East end of the village.’ She began to close the door again. ‘Do you have any food you could sell us?’ Aimee asked.

‘I have food but not for tramps like you,’ the woman growled, and this time her firm push slammed the door.

The rain was heavy and even Marius found the strength to run. The church door was open and they ran through it. The dry, cool air was scented with smoke from the candles that burned near the altar. Two women were kneeling in front of a statue of the baby Jesus in his mother’s arms. One woman was weeping, the other just moved her lips in a silent prayer.

Aimee felt she was invading their lives. She and Marius sat silently in one of the wooden pews. At last the weeping woman dried her eyes and rose to her feet. She swallowed her tears and gave Aimee a shy smile. ‘My son,’ she said. ‘He’s fighting at Verdun. He needs my prayers.’ Aimee just nodded.

‘We’re looking for Father Gaulle,’ she said.

A voice came from the back of the church. ‘You have found him,’ the man said in a German accent.

‘We need help,’ Aimee said, turning to look at the priest. He wore a long black robe with a white neckpiece. His hair was white and wild as a dandelion seed. His pale blue eyes sparkled happily as he looked at them.

‘Help? Then you have come to the right place.’ He walked down the aisle. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Marius here is German,’ Aimee explained. ‘He needs to get back to his side of the fighting. We heard you could help him.’

‘Who told you that?’ the priest asked.

‘My... I mean... a woman. She is one of the White Lady group.’

The priest’s thick grey eyebrows rose when he heard the name. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I am not one of them – I am German, you see. But they seem to trust me. I work with them from time to time.’