Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

“Why?” Their cousins in the sticks lived a rustic existence that would never suit a city girl like Beaulene.

“For her nerves.”

“They’re not going to take Paris,” Boyce said tetchily, expecting better from his mother. This was an admission of defeat; they couldn’t think like that because defeat meant death and destruction for them.

“I hope they don’t. But it’ll get worse before it gets better, and she won’t be able to take that. I’m staying put.”

“Go with her if you have doubts.”

“I said I’m staying put,” she said sharply with a chastising glare. “Can you organise it?”

He nodded. He chose to drive her himself, opting to do this the following day. Beaulene was teary-eyed on the way and apologetic. She said to him, “Don’t think badly of me. I wish you’d all come too. I do want you to win, but you must sense the mood of the town.”

“There’s an optimism from our enemies right now, but I firmly believe we can win. I won’t be deserting my post.”

“You must think I’m deserting the sinking ship.”

“I don’t,” he said softly, the softness making her even more emotional as it was displayed so rarely. This was potentially their last goodbye and he knew it. And he was being honest with her – she was not deserting the sinking ship as she had never been on board. She did not support their goals and never had – she only wanted them to win so that the family was safe. “You’re my baby sister and your childhood has been marred by this. Whatever happens, don’t let your adult life be ruined by it too. Promise? You have to promise me or we part on bad terms.”

“I promise.” Damnit. He recognised this promise was as fake as the one he gave her about the Marvel boy. She’d be agonising over this for the next fifty years. By acting so quickly, though, they’d given her the opportunity of reaching such milestones.

Chapter 9

Vagabonds

Javert was in trouble. While not a true member of their Resistance group, he had done work for them. He was not a true believer in their cause by any means. Marcella brought him to the Love Phantom’s attention, aware of Javert as a prison officer who would do virtually anything for money. Javert would smuggle things into prison and out of prison (this was a rarer request, but they had asked this of him). More troublingly, he would offer to administer punishments to the inmates on behalf of anybody willing to pay outside of the walls. Ignoring his character deficits and focusing just on what he had done for them, the Love Phantom stepped in. He had Plague briefly pop into a club that the Milice frequented to take some of their number out with dysentery for a while and then gave Javert a letter with an address and a key inside. It was up to him and his wife how they got there. Javert had been the one who insisted on payment by cheque over the Love Phantom’s preferred option of cash. Javert’s argument was that the Love Phantom’s bulletproof status would elevate him too if anything was uncovered, Javert expecting the authorities to sweep any of his offences under the carpet for the sake of the Love Phantom. A flawed theory now discredited.

Hilaire could have done with a contact with a spare property to let for free. She had to leave the home she’d made at the Freche residence, the sanctuary that ‘Jacob Freche’ had gifted her with uncharacteristic kindness. The Freche home had been a godsend, without which she wouldn’t have been able to return to Paris during the Occupation as her own cottage was too risky to even contemplate going back to. She’d heard it stood derelict and had been badly vandalised years ago. The Nazis had done worse than that to her family. They couldn’t hurt the powerful Poirier sisters, so they resorted to petty acts. Digging up her family was particularly unpleasant. Maxi, Rollo, even their poor old parents, both of whom had been desperate to go in the ground before their early end. Not exhumed – that would infer a legality to proceedings. They had dug them up like graverobbers. Hilaire had told Florence about this, and she’d just asked her why she was so surprised. Florence picked the wrong word to describe her reaction. Hilaire knew they were capable of anything, but there was usually some logic behind it. Was it just being vindictive, or was there something more troubling that she wasn’t seeing?

Florence had tried using their skulduggery against her kin to spur her to action, revenge for the displacement of multiple Poirier bones. Unfortunately for Florence, some of Maxi’s words had got through to her. Striking back at random Germans would be doing the same as them, random reprisals that didn’t punish the guilty. None of them should have been in France, on that they were in total agreement, but she was much less inclined to punish a teenage conscript for his superior’s actions. It was the top brass she wanted to see pay. Presented with them, Madam Guillotine would re-emerge.

Whether Florence had gone out seeking revenge on her behalf or if Florence’s regular outings had finally caught up with her, there was a trail of dead German soldiers leading to the Freche sanctuary. Hilaire didn’t get to even go home to take any possessions with her. She got as far away as possible, Florence tracking her down by the river later in the day.

“I’m unharmed! I know you were worried,” Florence joked.

“You attract trouble like... where are we going to sleep tonight?”

“The Love Phantom accepts waifs and strays. Guess we’ve got to go back.”

Hilaire had talked her out of doing so up until now. Patience was safe, and Florence had fucked up any cooperation between them with the assault on their energy. Hilaire had toyed with returning the next day