The Room on Rue Amélie(23)

“Why?” Charlotte whispered. “Paris is crawling with Germans.”

“One of the other pilots in his squadron had been shot down before. And he’d been saved by a network who helped him to escape through a pass in the eastern Pyrenees mountains into Spain. He knew that if he came to Paris, he’d have a chance of returning to England.”

“But why here?” Charlotte asked. “Why your door?”

“Because,” Ruby said, swallowing hard and then hesitating, casting another glance at the pilot, “he says the man who lives in this apartment helped the other pilot.”

Charlotte stared at Ruby. “Monsieur Benoit?”

Ruby hesitated. “I shouldn’t be discussing this with you, Charlotte. I don’t want you to—”

“I saw him,” Charlotte interrupted, cutting her off.

“What do you mean?”

“He was in the hallway at night. He placed some sort of parcel into the closet in the hall.”

Ruby went still. “What closet in the hall?”

“It’s hidden. It’s just across from your doorway. I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Wait.” Ruby glanced at the airman, who was looking back and forth between the two of them with a blank expression on his face. “You’re telling me that you saw Marcel placing a parcel in a hidden closet? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Charlotte averted her eyes. “I thought perhaps you knew. I thought you were in on it.”

“No,” Ruby said softly. “No. It seems I’m the only one who’s been living in the dark here.”

The pilot interrupted, saying something rapid in English and gesturing to the bundle of food on the table. Ruby pushed it toward him, then she jumped up from the table to retrieve a can opener, a fork, and a glass of water. “He says he hasn’t eaten since his plane crashed,” she told Charlotte. “He’s starving.”

“Merci,” the pilot said again, nodding at Charlotte and pointing at the food. “Um, very hunger.” He dug in, wolfing down the bread first, then the cheese, and finally the sardines. He sighed when he was done and leaned back, closing his eyes.

“I think he is badly injured,” Charlotte said softly. She’d been studying him while he ate. Though the kitchen wasn’t warm, his skin was pale and clammy.

“Yes, I think so too.” Ruby sounded calm but concerned. She spoke to the pilot, and he shook his head and said something quickly. Ruby spoke again, her tone gentler this time, and finally the pilot glanced at Charlotte and then back at Ruby before nodding reluctantly. He unzipped his suit and winced as he wriggled out of the top half, exposing a torn and bloodied undershirt. He peeled that off too, and Charlotte and Ruby gasped in unison as they saw the giant, oozing gash across his right shoulder. Dried blood was caked all the way down his chest.

“What happened?” Charlotte breathed. It looked like the kind of wound a man could die from.

Ruby exchanged a few sentences with the pilot and turned back to Charlotte with a grim expression. “He thinks a bullet went through his shoulder. He was shot before he bailed out.” She glanced at the pilot once more, then leaned in to add in a whisper to Charlotte, “I’m very concerned that it is infected, but I don’t know how to treat it. And it’s too dangerous to call for a doctor.”

“Monsieur Benoit will know what to do.” Charlotte nodded decisively.

“But I don’t know when he will be home. He has no way of knowing that this pilot is here. If he doesn’t make it back for a few days . . .”

“The pilot could die.” Charlotte glanced at the man, who looked back at her blankly. She was glad he hadn’t understood. “Do you know where Monsieur Benoit goes? Or who he’s working with?”

“I didn’t even know he was doing any of this, Charlotte. You know more about it than I do, it seems.”

“No, I don’t.” Charlotte’s reply was instant, but then she felt guilty, for she had known more than Ruby and she hadn’t bothered to tell her. It seemed that she, not Ruby, was the bad friend. “My parents are friends with the doctor who helped you when—” She stopped abruptly. “You’ve met him,” she concluded instead.

“Yes. But we can’t involve him in this. We don’t know if he can be trusted, and even if he can, I’m not willing to put more people in danger.”

“Then what do we do?”

Ruby was silent for a long time. The airman was trying to follow their conversation, but from the look on his face, Charlotte was almost certain that he didn’t understand.

“We wait,” Ruby said at last. “We hide him, and we wait for Marcel to come home.”

“But what if he dies first?” Charlotte whispered.

“I’ll do everything I can to reach Marcel,” Ruby said. “And I’ll clean the airman’s wound and care for him to the best of my ability. Beyond that, we’ll just have to pray.”

“Okay. But you promise you’ll tell me if I can help at all?”

Ruby smiled. “You can help. You can show me this secret closet.”





CHAPTER TWELVE


August 1941

In January, just after Thomas had buried his mother, his squadron had begun missions over France, which was exactly the distraction he needed. Defending England’s coast was important, of course, but playing defense wasn’t the way to win a war. By bringing the fight to the Huns, the RAF was finally on the offense, which meant they actually had a chance.