Weaver

XXIII

Fred paced around, limping heavily on his damaged leg, punching one fist into another. 'Oh Christ Jesus. One from every house, that's what they take. Oh Christ bloody Jesus, not here, let them not come here.'

Viv peered out of a chink in the blackout curtain. 'They're walking down the drive. One fat man just slipped in the slush.' She actually laughed.

'You stupid little baggage!' Fred would have lunged at her.

Ernst caught his arm. 'Fred! We must get the children away, out of sight. And the women.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' Irma said. But she was shaking, her face empty.

And anyhow there was no time even for that. There was a hammering on the door, a shout, in German, 'Open up! Out, out!'

Viv screamed and ran upstairs. Irma grabbed her baby from her cot, and went to Alfie, who was still clutching his OWS papers, as if they were a shield. Fred just stood there motionless, hands bunched into fists.

Ernst made to go to the door.

Claudine got up and grabbed his arm. 'No,' she said in German. 'Let me go.'

'You? But-'

'Maybe I can confuse them. I will start shouting in German, and demand to see the oberleutnant in charge of the closed house, or something.' She managed a small smile. 'You know how you Germans are. Bureaucratic to a fault. If they're confused they might forget why they came here.'

'But-'

There was another slam on the door, like the heel of a boot, and dogs barked.

She flashed him a smile. 'I do this for you,' she said. She made for the door.

Ernst glimpsed an officer and an enlisted man, both in SS black, with a dog on a rope leash. When it smelled the roast pork the dog went crazy. Claudine spoke softly to the SS men in what sounded like English, not German, and showed them a bit of paper that to Ernst looked oddly like a British identity card. The officer inspected the paper. 'Good. Come.' He grabbed her arm and pulled her away, so roughly she stumbled.

Fred stood, unmoving. 'Is it over?'

Irma was patting at her apron. 'My identity card is gone. She must have- I thought what she showed them looked a bit familiar. How did she do that?'

In an instant Ernst saw what Claudine had done, that she had taken Irma's place. 'Claudine!' He lunged forward.

But Fred stood in his way and grabbed his arms. 'Let her go,' he said. 'She did it to spare us. For God's sake-'

Through the open door Ernst saw they were dragging her to a truck, in which a dozen people already stood passively, their heads bowed. He struggled. 'Get your hands off me!'

'Please. I'm begging you.' The man was crying, Ernst saw. Fred wrapped his big farmer's arms around him, as if he was hugging him rather than restraining him. 'Let her go! Oh, God, let her go.'