As I heard the animals bark, we followed the stream.
‘We must try and throw them off our scent,’ he told me. ‘Maybe if we run in the water?’
He took my hand again, and we jumped into the icy stream. The freezing water came as a jolt, and I was instantly fully conscious and aware.
‘Keep running!’ Mo told me.
We splashed on until the stream widened before climbing the opposite bank. Behind us, the dogs drew nearer, and I heard more German soldiers.
‘There!’ said Mo.
He pointed at a huge oak tree, and behind it, a narrow path probably used by hunters.
‘Where does that lead?’ he asked.
Only I had never ventured so deeply into the woods.
‘I have no idea,’ I told him.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied. ‘We have no choice.’
Some fifty yards down the path grew wider. We ran into a small lane, lined by tall hedgerows on either side. Further along there was a house sitting in darkness.
‘Come on!’ said Mo.
‘I know that house. It is deserted!’ I told him. ‘I didn’t realise it could be reached through the woods.’
We sprinted down the lane, though the overgrown front garden, and past a rotten wooden door, Inside, the house had been left to ruin, and I heard rodents scurry away. A small parlour led into a larger kitchen area, and at the rear were stone stairs, similar to my own house. But the upper storey had collapsed, and the stairwell was impassable.
‘Where now?’ I asked.
Mo was sweating profusely, his turban darker where it sat on his forehead.
‘Maybe there is an outbuilding?’ he wondered aloud.
We raced into the yard, and in the distance, I heard the dogs barking once more. The Germans had found the lane, and soon they would find us. We were running out of time.
Mo had stopped by an old well. He was examining a rope, which had once held a pail. Suddenly, he pulled the rope free and drew it up. It was very long, probably twenty feet in total, and he began to tie thick knots along its length.
‘Is there any more rope anywhere?’ he asked.
My eyes had grown used to the dark by now, and I managed to search the area around us. I found a rusting shovel, a pitchfork, and some wooden crates, but nothing else.
‘No rope!’ I said, as the dogs closed in.
Mo picked up a rock and dropped it down the well, counting until he heard a splash.
‘Ten,’ he said. ‘That is a long way down!’
He reconnected the rope, via a pulley wheel and made sure it was tight.
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘And do exactly as I say.’
Before I could react, he took hold of the rope, clambered over the side of the well and began to descend using the knots as footholds. The rope swung precariously and creaked under his weight but held fast. He held out his right hand.
‘Come on!’ he whispered. ‘Climb over and hold on to me.’
‘But what if we fall?’ I said, hesitating.
‘Joelle!’ he urged. ‘The Germans will be here any second. I promise you won’t fall.’
He did not convince me. The barking of German shepherd attack dogs did. I leaped over to him but was too hasty. The rope swung and groaned, and I thought it would snap. Mo did not wait. As the dogs entered the yard, he began to climb down the knots. I clung on to him for dear life, his beard tickling my face.
‘Do not make a single sound,’ he whispered, once we’d come to a stop.
Above us, the dogs growled and snarled, but their masters paid them no heed. I heard the soldiers curse and swear, but they did not look down the well. We hung there for a long time, as they searched every inch of the abandoned farmhouse. My feet were resting on Mo’s, my arms around his shoulders. I worried that Mo’s grip might loosen. But he held fast and did not show an ounce of fatigue. However, my arms began to tire, and quickly.
‘I cannot hold on much longer,’ I whispered.
‘You must!’ he replied. ‘We cannot die here, Joelle. Not now!’
I took a deep breath and willed myself greater strength. It was painful and scary, and I knew that I might let go at any second.
‘They’re leaving,’ Mo whispered eventually.
Sure enough, the sound of barking dogs and cursing Germans receded. Only when he was absolutely certain, did Mo begin to ascend. He carried both of us with ease, and soon I was climbing out of the well.
‘My parents!’ I said.
Mo nodded, then lowered his head.
We found cover in the farmhouse’s barn and sheltered there until dawn. Mo told me to rest, but I could not. Neither could he.
‘I want to go to my parents,’ I said, over and over again.
Only, deep inside, I knew that it was too dangerous. We needed to wait until there was no more threat. However, we had no idea what awaited us at my house. How would we know that danger had passed?
‘Just try to rest,’ Mo told me, as I held his hand and hoped for the best. Trouble was, hope was hard to find in those circumstances.
When, finally, we emerged, our trek back was slow and cautious. The closer we got to my house, the more my dread increased. The veins in my neck pulsed with tension and my legs wobbled. As we drew near, Mo told me to wait.
‘We need to be sure,’ he told me. ‘And then I will go first.’
‘No!’ I insisted. ‘They are my parents. I will go…’
‘I cannot allow that,’ Mo told me. ‘I cannot let you face danger before me. That is not possible, Joelle.’
I knew that he was protecting me. I knew that he did not want me to discover some grisly scene. But truth be told, I already knew what we might find. And even though I told myself that I could handle it, I was not ready…
TEN
Maman was slumped across the kitchen table. She seemed to be asleep.
