In This Hospitable Land (7 page)

What a dreadful Saturday. The children needed care and distraction but so did the adults.

Rose and Louis agonized. Geneviève, spotting cars of escapees from the Ardennes, moped miserably through her unhappy birthday. Over in the other villa, Alex packed frantically. The children became infected by the grown-ups’ sour dispositions though they didn’t understand the cause. Even Juli, overhearing a BBC broadcast in Flemish, became inconsolably upset.

On top of all that: no André. Alex had warned Denise not to expect him Saturday night but that hadn’t stopped her from hoping or from feeling heartsick when he didn’t show up.

Sunday was worse. Expected every minute, hour after hour André failed to appear.

Well after dark, Denise, once more posted at the front window, finally saw him approaching—on a bicycle! His coat draped over the handlebar, his black tie loosened, his shirt open at the neck, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and a clip on each pant leg to keep them from getting caught in the bicycle chain, he somehow balanced a small suitcase on his lap.

“Oh, André!” Denise called, racing through the door.

André pedaled doggedly. Sighting Denise hurrying down the front steps, he pumped as quickly as his exhausted legs and sore back would allow. Filthy, dehydrated, and inexpressibly weak, he stumbled off of the bicycle, leaving it and everything else to drop into the grass.

“It’s been a long ride,” he said in a daze, pulling his handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe sweat from his face and neck.

Denise embraced and gave him a long, intense kiss. Ida and Christel careened down the steps to greet him.

“Oh,
Papy
!” Ida cried, burying her face in his side. “We were so worried!”

Clinging to his legs all Christel could say was, “Pa…pa.”

“What are you doing up so late, my little ones?” André asked hoarsely.

“We couldn’t sleep until we knew you were home!” Ida explained.

With a weary smile André kissed each daughter on both cheeks in the Sauverin way.

“We thought you’d never get here,” Denise sighed, leading her husband inside and just as on Friday putting him straight to bed.

Riddled with anxiety, everyone had difficulty sleeping that night. The rumble of trucks headed for the fighting didn’t help—light ones followed by heavy ones then by tank carriers. Brief spells of silence were equally disquieting.

The government had issued orders for a total blackout so all the shades were drawn in both villas. Only a small light was left on in each kitchen to provide the faintest glow.

At four-thirty in the morning, Alex decided to step outside for a smoke on his villa’s back deck. He was only momentarily startled to find André doing the same and crossed the way to join him.

Side by side they looked out to sea, listening, thinking, smoking. Apart from a half-moon the coastline was devoid of light. Even the ships audibly steaming up and down the channel were blacked out.

“The diamonds?” Alex asked.

“Got ‘em.”

A policeman bicycled along the beach, his civil defense helmet clapped on his head, a red flashlight guiding his way. He waved to the brothers and offered a quick, quiet hello.

“Don’t forget to keep the lights off,” he warned as he rode off.

Monday morning Juli took the children out to play on the beach again. Over breakfast André told his latest stories.

Arriving in Brussels Saturday on an almost-empty train, he had had to struggle through the terminal to the street, bucking huge crowds hurrying into the station and scurrying toward the gates, everyone clamoring for seats on westbound trains. The shock of the Germans’ invasion and steady advance had given way to panic and hopelessness. A run on stores meant food would soon be impossible to come by.

The streetcars were still running and when André boarded his, a well-dressed and well-groomed young man climbed on behind him. As André moved to a seat the young man attacked the conductor for no discernable reason. It took half a dozen passengers to pull him off his victim and eject him into the street.

The conductor recovered his composure and drove on. Everyone eyed everyone else warily. Even André had to wonder who among his fellow passengers might be a German sympathizer, a card-carrying fascist, even a spy.

A man and a woman spoke together loudly, as if hard of hearing.

“That fellow over there comes from Germany I know,” the elderly gentleman said.

“There are those who admire Hitler and think his policies are right,” his equally aged seatmate added. “And they might not be wrong.”

“Of course they’re right,” a young fellow in ragged clothes declared unashamedly. Hanging on an overhead strap as the streetcar rumbled down the cobbled street, he leaned in and frightened the old couple. “Everyone knows there are too many Jews in power!”

“Did anyone answer that?” Alex demanded, disgusted, when André reached that point in the story.

“No, they just ignored him,” André explained. “Everyone’s afraid. No one wants to risk being reported for anything, to anyone.”

At the Free University controlled chaos reigned. Entering his laboratory André was caught off guard by a confusing tumult. As he reached for his lab coat Dr. Pinkus appeared.

“Ah! Monsieur le professeur.” Pinkus flushed. “I’m delighted to see you, especially considering our previous discussion.”

“I don’t understand,” André said, watching his students frantically pack up the room.

“Word has come down from the administration,” Pinkus explained. “We need to move everything out—equipment, notebooks, chemicals, all—so nothing can fall into German hands.”

“Where will it go?”

“Various departments in the south of France have been reserved for Belgians. Army trucks are already lined up in the courtyard to take away the crates by tomorrow night. Our precious diagnostic equipment and chemicals may end up in an abandoned barn on some rural farm.”

A tremor passed through Pinkus from head to toe. Taking off his pince-nez he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his beaded brow.

“André,” he said, startlingly dropping his accustomed formality for the first time and approaching André confidentially. “It isn’t official yet, but today or tomorrow the university will release professors who wish to go—the minute everything’s out of here in fact.” Lowering his voice further Pinkus asked, “Where will you go? The south of France sounds good.”

Interrupting André, Geneviève wailed, “Why is everyone so anxious for us to go?”

“I only wish Pinkus would consider leaving too,” André said. “‘I’ll be fine,’ he told me. With all my heart I hope he’s right!”

“He’s a good man,” Denise put in quietly.

“Yes,” André agreed. “‘When you get to France,’ he said, ‘let us know where you are, if you can. When all this is over I hope we can work together again, contributing to the future instead of watching its destruction.’” André sat silently for several moments gathering the strength to go on. “After my students were gone and only the permanent fixtures remained, my lab felt spiritless. As I gathered my personal papers one of the few remaining undergraduates came in and gave me a note from the rector stating classes were suspended until further notice and I was free to leave. A few minutes later I went to lock the door behind me by force of habit and stopped. What was left to protect? The Free University was no longer a center of learning, discovery, and scientific advancement, just a hollow shell. I placed the key into the lock and walked away. When I reached the courtyard I saw a line of army trucks slowly snaking out onto the street. Soon every last army truck would be gone and with them what remained of my beloved university.”

“You mustn’t despair,” Rose consoled. “It will all come back and so will you!”

André sat silently once more then roused himself to say, “After that I made my way back to the Avenue Émile Duray to retrieve our diamonds.”

All the Sauverins felt sad recalling that location. Thanks to Jack Freedman, André, Denise, Alex, and Geneviève had lived there in elegant twin apartments from their wedding day until…until things changed.

Denise was anxious to know about Madame Jaspart, the concierge who had been so attentive to them and especially good with the children.

“She’s anxious, concerned, of course,” André explained. “She told me, ‘You are the lucky ones, who can get away.’”

“Even a concierge knows we need to flee,” Alex said angrily.

André laughed. “It wasn’t funny then, but when I got down to the basement I realized with a start that I didn’t know the combination to the safe!”

“Oh no!” Denise exclaimed. “What did you do?”

“Besides panic and perspire? I tried to put myself in Alex’s mind!”

“No small feat!” Denise teased.

“I thought the combination must be easy to remember, probably someone’s name. There were several possibilities, but considering Alex’s healthy ego…”

“No!” Denise cried out.

“I dialed the lock back and forth lining up the letters: ‘A…L…E…X.’ And voilà! The diamonds were saved!”

Everyone laughed except Alex. “I guess the joke’s on me,” he said, “but my ego got us back our diamonds.”

“On my way out,” André continued, “I noticed my old bicycle and carried it up to the courtyard. I knew I wouldn’t need it but someone else might.”

“Then how did you end up…?” Denise began to ask.

“I’ll come to that. Meantime I made my way back to the Chaussée Vleurgat, packed my little suitcase, and settled in for the night. The next morning the streets seemed more crowded and chaotic every moment. I moved through them as quickly as I could, trying to get to the Masonic lodge. I thought someone there might know whether there are any affiliated lodges anywhere in France—because if we go there to hide, as I think we must, I know my fellow Freemasons could be counted on to provide welcome and support.

“Unfortunately the lodge was shuttered. So I started for the Gare du Midi. Every once in a while I saw groups of men cornering and surrounding certain individuals. Everyone else glanced at these disturbing scenes briefly but no one wanted to get close enough to find out who those individuals were or why they were being detained. Nervous-looking women crossed to the opposite side of the street to avoid these confrontations. Everybody seemed to walk much faster than usual, still trying to look normal, hoping not to attract attention to themselves.

“When I got to the train station it was more of a madhouse than ever. At the newspaper kiosk a radio blared the prime minister’s voice assuring us the Belgian army was fighting bravely. But you could hear the announcer’s misery as he reported Stuka dive-bombers and two German Panzer divisions had torn a gap fifty miles long through French defenses.

“The effect was unbelievable. Terrifying. I was forced this way and that as men and women ran heedlessly toward gates, trying to force their way onto trains already pulling out.

“On the great board listing arrivals and departures, I saw red flags next to the names of every train scheduled to the east and to the north along the coast. I fought my way to the information booth but it was true: trains to the shore had been cancelled. Then I caught the arm of a red-capped stationmaster rushing by and asked why. ‘Because the Germans have bombed the railroad along the coast.’”

“And that’s when you remembered the bicycle?” Denise asked breathlessly.

“Actually at first I thought I’d have to walk. But the idea of tramping more than a hundred kilometers spurred my memory.

“The whole way back to Avenue Émile Duray I worried that someone might already have taken the bike. Imagine my relief to find it right where I’d left it. That’s when Madame Jaspart gave me this.”

André reached into his inside breast pocket and drew out a pale-yellow telegram envelope. To everyone’s surprise he handed to Geneviève, who hesitated to touch it.

“I can’t imagine,” Geneviève said uneasily, using a thumbnail to open it methodically. “Oh!” she exclaimed excitedly. “It’s from Lilla Tirouen, an old friend from finishing school days! She didn’t know we moved.”

While Geneviève read over the message André decided there was no point in describing any of the scenes of horror he had witnessed on his seemingly endless bicycle ride to Le Coq. Luftwaffe bombs had twisted large sections of heavy iron railway tracks into knots, lifting and flattening railway cars. Fires burned, revealed terrible glimpses of injury and death André hoped but doubted he would soon forget.