Le Marais, Part 3

Previously: Part 2 [A]

Listen very carefully, I will say this once once. 1940s!Spencer gets more deeply involved with the local French Resistance.

[Sorry for delay in re-posting this. Pressure of work. Word to my BFF-FFJ – Dev]

Rated: U.

* * * * *

Elly was pressed up against her side. There had been no hope of getting the young girl to sleep in her own bed and, to be honest, Ashley hadn’t minded a bit. She had gained comfort from the presence. Sometime in the early morning, Alex joined them, too. He was a smart child, like his sister. A little quieter perhaps, a little less ready to show his thoughts and words, but he was smart. Ashley could sense a deep sorrow in him. She knew that, in a way, he understood. The little boy couldn’t quite process it but he understood that things were not okay.

Surrounded by her family, Ashley let the sun of the morning slowly rise and greet her into the day. There was no real joy but she had genuine hope. There had to be hope. That’s what was brought by the sun and Ashley knew she would cling to it, harder than she ever had before.

Never an early riser, she found herself up at the crack of dawn, so she made the children a full breakfast, desperate for something to do with her hands. She felt the urge, over and over, to call the hospital, call Arthur, but she knew nothing had changed. He would have called if anything had. She wanted to be back there, holding Spencer, just being with her. If she could, she’d never leave her girl, just hold her forever.

Elly, unlike Spencer, was also not an early riser. So when she appeared at seven, Mr Ruffles in hand and that look on her face, all Ashley could do was open her arms and take the girl back into her embrace. There was a conflict when Alex woke up, because Ashley only had room for one person on her lap. Elly looked reluctant to give up her spot but Alex looked like he needed it just as much. In the end, the children solved it themselves, Elly finding her own chair and Alex sitting on her lap. Ashley couldn’t help smile at that, the first smile she’d managed in two days.

They’d never been a noisy household, between Elly’s permanent silence and Alex’s general nature, but the eerie quiet that had descended made Ashley’s bones hurt. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. The pain wouldn’t go until Spencer was home, making the comforting Spencer noises they all missed.

Ashley was leaning against the kitchen counter, just staring at the vinyl. She looked up to find Elly staring at her. It was too fake to smile, to pretend that everything was okay. Nothing was okay and both of them knew it. They shared all of these thoughts in a single glance and then Elly went back to making sure that Alex was eating his breakfast. Ashley let her. She also let her get him ready for the day. The little girl was doing her best to think of anything but her mother and Ashley knew it. As much as she would have loved to busy herself, to try to find anything and everything to take her mind off Spencer, she knew she was going to have to be the glue that held the family together.

She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

The doorbell rang. As expected, Gray stood on the doorstep looking miserable, his hands shoved in his gray slacks’ pockets.

“Hey,” she said, standing aside to let him in.

“Hey. How are you?”

She raised her eyebrows and he laughed with no humour.

“Yeah, me too.” As he looked around the very neat room, Ashley caught his question before it was even asked.

“They’re getting ready. Elly seems quite insistent on helping Alex this morning.”

“Ahh.”

In a way, Ashley found it almost amusing how much they could read each other’s mind, she and Gray – Spencer’s significant others, in a strange meeting of the minds.

She made him coffee. He spent enough time at their house for Ashley to know exactly how he liked his taken without asking. They drank in silence, waiting for the kids to emerge. They eventually did, looking either thoughtful or sad; Ashley couldn’t decide which but she just smiled at them, a half-smile.

Elly signed, “Are you going to the hospital?”

Ashley nodded. “Not just yet,” she signed back. “But we will.”

“I’m coming!” the little girl signed with fervent determination. Ashley raised an eyebrow.

“Elly.” Ashley had nothing else to say.

“I’m coming,” the girl reiterated. “I want to see Mom.”

“She’s asleep, honey,” Gray signed. He wasn’t as good as Ashley at signing – he hadn’t been learning for quite so long – but he was getting there. Ashley nodded, confirming his words.

“I know she’s asleep,” Elly signed with thin lips, “but I still want to see her.”

Ashley nodded again. “Okay.”

“Alex wants to come, too,” Elly said. Sometimes she was so articulate, so smart, that Ashley nearly forgot she was only eight. But then she’d say something like that and the brunette would have to smile, knowing full well that Alex hadn’t said anything of the kind. Elly wanted him to come, but that was okay, too.

“Of course.” Ashley smiled again.

“Ashley,” Gray said, not signing but just talking, “Do you really think…”

“No,” she murmured. “But I know her well enough to know that we won’t get out of taking her there. I’d rather she was there with us anyway.”

“Okay,” he sighed with resignation. “Let’s get going then. I’ll take them for the rest of the day, if you like.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He had the same determination as his daughter. Ashley had always assumed that the stubbornness came from Spencer but now she wasn’t quite so sure. “If it was the other way round, I know where I’d like to be.”

“Thank you, Gray,” she said, meaning every syllable a hundred-fold.

“It’s okay.” A soft smile lit up his grey eyes. “Come on, let’s go send Arthur home for a rest.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s.”

* * *

Spencer’s mother was not amused. She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Spencer’s appearance, taking in the caked-in mud from head to toe. She opened her mouth to say something and Spencer just rolled her eyes, taking off up the stairs two at a time. She left her mother gaping downstairs. It wasn’t like they spoke often anyway. Spencer was so disgusted with her mother’s actions in general that she had very little to say to the woman. And every time her mother tried to talk to her, Spencer just chose one of two options: she walked away or she failed to listen.

The shower was divine. Washing away the grime and muck, Spencer nearly squealed when she pulled a huge clump of slime out of her hair. Oh God, had that been in her hair? Was it visible? Had Ashley seen her like that? Oh, that thought wasn’t good. That thought wasn’t good at all.

And neither was her sudden obsession with a quiet spoken, curly haired brunette from Paris, an obsession that wouldn’t leave her.

It was all very new to Spencer, to be thinking about someone when you woke up, when you moved, when you turned the corner. She mostly stayed indoors for the next few days, wanting to be near her mother and hopefully the Commandant. He stayed every night but, try as she might, Spencer couldn’t learn anything useful.

Eventually, being cooped up in the same small space as her mother drove her to escape. May was pulling to a close, the warm spring days ending as summer loomed on the horizon. Rations were tight but Spencer’s mother always seemed to have a few extra ration allowances. Spencer normally wouldn’t let herself touch them, but she was hungry and the boulangerie was just a few minutes’ walk. Growling with frustration over everything, she pulled on her coat and left the house.

There were always German soldiers in the street, in the town. For a place that was ostensibly under the control of the Vichy, it was awfully full of Germans. Spencer sneered at her own thought of the betraying French government that pretended to have some semblance of control, of dignity. Like most patriotic French, she thought the Vichy government was pathetic and sadistic.

She entered the warm boulangerie and took a moment to revel in the scent of the yeast and baked goods wafting through. Her stomach grumbled. Unlike the pre-war years, the store had limited stock. You could still buy bread, though: good, fresh, delicious bread. The bell on the door had announced her entry and it was only moments before a plump, middle-aged lady Spencer knew quite well came into view.

“Spencer,” Anne-Laure said warmly. They were always friendly to her in the town. Spencer often wondered what they said behind her back of her mother’s betrayal. Although she’d tried very hard to keep herself apart from it, to stand above and beyond, she knew she was tainted. Maybe it was fear of retribution that held the townspeople’s tongues. Maybe it was just politeness.

“Mme Glachant,” Spencer replied with equal warmth. “Comment t’allez vous?”

“Oh, hard times, hard times,” the lady replied jovially. “We manage,”

Spencer nodded understandingly. The curtains to the back of the bakery ruffled and another figure came through, carrying a tray of loaves. The person took one look at Spencer and nearly dropped the tray. It was Ashley. Swallowing, the blonde nodded to the girl and then frowned as the brunette turned away to stow the food.

Anne-Laure frowned too. “This is my niece, Isabelle. She has come in from… Rhiens.”

Spencer nodded. No, that was Ashley, from Paris.

“Salut,” ‘Isabelle’ greeted Spencer.

Spencer returned the greeting. “So, you’re new in town?”

Ashley/Isabelle nodded. “It’s a nice town, old.”

“Oh, yes. Have you seen the markets?”

The brunette shook her head.

“They’re on today.” Spencer smiled. “I’d be happy to take you.”

There was panic on the proprietress’ face, her ‘niece’ looking hopeful. Spencer didn’t for a second believe they were related.

“Maybe when I get off work,” Ashley replied.

“We have much to do today,” Anne-Laure cut in hurriedly. “There may not be time.”

“Oh, come now, Mme Glachant,” Spencer said, smiling. “Surely she deserves some time off to see the town? I promise to have her back before nightfall, and you know she’s going to be safe with me.”

“It will just be for a few hours, Tante,” Ashley whispered.

“Oh, very well, Isabelle.” Her so-called aunt looked upset.

“I’ll meet you outside in five minutes?” Ashley said to Spencer, undoing the ties at the back of her apron.

The blonde grabbed the bread roll she’d just bought and nodded. Through the wavy glass of the store she could see the two women arguing. It was almost exactly five minutes to the second that Ashley emerged.

“Markets?” Spencer asked. She brushed the crumbs off her hands, bread roll successfully devoured.

“Sounds good,” the brunette grinned.

“Ash-”

“Isabelle,” the girl said in a low tone.

“Isabelle,” Spencer said carefully.

“I shall have to have a word with Jean-Luc about that,” the brunette smiled. “He just never gets my name right.”

“You’ll have to remedy that,” Spencer grinned.

She really did show Ashley the markets. They enthused over the antiques, watched the flower-sellers hawk their wares. After they were done, they found a small café that was open and Spencer bought them coffee.

“So, you’re from Rhiens?”

Ashley nodded. “Yeah. Too close to… My family felt it was safer here with Tante.”

“They were probably right.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. Spencer knew full well they were talking in code. She just hoped she was getting the right messages.

“Annecy is pretty quiet.”

“Not the castle,” the brunette said.

It wasn’t a castle. It did have a moat but it wasn’t a castle. It was a fortified old building in the middle of the canal. The canal had been split to wash around it. The Gestapo had taken over the building right from the start. It was a dark place and one that would never have the blood washed from its stones again.

“Some things don’t get talked about.”

“Some things should be,” Ashley said softly, but hard.

“Yes. Doesn’t mean they are.”

The brunette was gripping her coffee in a knuckle-whiteningly tight handhold. Spencer watched her hands, lean, long fingers gripping. Without thinking, she reached over and put one hand softly over the top of a tanned one. There was slight contrast between her own white skin and that beneath her.

“I guess you miss your family,” Spencer said quietly.

“Yeah, I do,” Ashley said. There was something in her eye, a glint that the blonde did not miss. Her own white hand tightened over Ashley’s.

“Me too,” she whispered.

“I hear yours are alive and well.”

“You hear wrong,” Spencer said through a voice that wasn’t her own. “I have no family.” She pulled her hand away.

“That’s…” the brunette halted.

“C’est la vie.” Spencer took a sip of her coffee. “I know very little. And my education of late has been of no excitement.”

“Well,” Ashley said with a smile. “That might be something I can help you with. If you mean everything you say.”

“I always mean everything I say.”

“Me, too. Me, too. Saturday night?”

“I don’t have plans.”

“You do now.”

* * *

Ashley hefted Alex on her hip and made a small noise at the motion. The corridor squeaked under her shoes, the sounds of the hospital almost muffled around them. She could feel Gray’s presence by her side and knew that Elly’s hand was gripped almost painfully in his.

As they approached Spencer’s room, the sight of Paula emerging suddenly startled them all.

“Ashley. Gray.” Apparently, they had surprised her, too. Ashley’s mother-in-law looked at the kids and raised her eyebrow. Ashley knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Hey, Paula,” Gray said softly.

Elly let go of his hand and walked to her grandmother. In the universal sign for ‘hug me’, Elly opened up her arms and Paula picked her up. Ashley couldn’t help but smile at the warmth between the two.

“You think this was a good idea?” the blonde woman said, not looking at either Ashley or Gray. “Bringing them here?”

“I think there might have been a minor riot if we didn’t,” Gray smiled.

The brunette looked at the floor. In a way, she hated that Gray had to speak up to protect her. Paula was unlikely to believe Ashley, but would take anything from Gray. That still upset the younger girl.

Elly walked back to Ashley.

“I want to see Mom,” she signed. “Please?” Ashley nodded her reply. Taking Elly’s hand with a squeeze, she gave a half-smile to the other two and handed Alex to Paula.

“We’ll just go say hi to Arthur,” she said.

The room was quiet. Spencer’s father was occupying a chair on the other side of the room and looked like he’d been doing so all night. His clothes were rumpled and he had a distinct five o’clock shadow. His face was more drawn than Ashley had ever seen before. She supposed she probably didn’t look that much better.

“Hey, girls,” he said wearily, catching them coming in the door.

Elly, for the first time in her life, failed to give her grandfather a hug. Instead, her beautiful blue eyes opened wide at the sight of her mother and the hand that gripped Ashley’s squeezed a little tighter. Ashley squeezed back. Tentatively, the little girl approached the bed. Ashley watched as Elly climbed up and sat beside Spencer, took her mother’s hand and patted it gently. Swallowing back her own tears, she moved to near Arthur and gave him an understanding squeeze on the shoulder.

“She insisted on coming,” she said in a low voice.

“I thought she might,” he returned.

“I didn’t know if it was a good idea, or the worst one ever. I took a chance.”

“It won’t hurt her or Spencer. It might help.”

“You look like hell, Mr C. You should get some sleep.”

Arthur returned a wry grin. “I might say the same to you, Ashley.”

“I got some.”

“Not that much more than me, I’m guessing.”

Ashley shook her head. “Probably not, but at least I wasn’t in a plastic hospital chair.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for a while until Gray and Paula appeared at the door. They carried coffees which were gratefully received. Alex climbed into his grandfather’s lap.

Elly turned and signed to Ashley, “If I talk, will you tell her what I’m saying? She can’t see my hands.”

Ashley nodded. She sat down next to the little girl on the bed and held her with one arm. With her other hand, she gripped Spencer’s gently. “Hey baby,” she murmured. “We’re all here, waiting for you to wake up.”

Clearly, these were not the magic words, because Spencer didn’t so much as flicker, but Ashley hadn’t really expected her to. Elly began to sign, slowly but certainly, and the brunette behind her translated quietly.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me, Elly. Alex and I thought we’d come see you. I’m glad you’re only asleep and not too hurt. We’ll come and visit lots, so that when you wake up, we’ll be here. We miss you. Get better soon, Mommy.” Ashley tried desperately to keep the tears out of her voice, but she got a little choked up towards the end. Especially when Elly finished off by leaning down and kissing her mother on the forehead. It was such a Spencer gesture, so sweet and caring, that Ashley had to squeeze her eyes together so that she didn’t completely lose control.

Somewhere in the background, she heard Arthur herding everyone out the door. Leaning down, she put her head on Spencer’s shoulder and let some of the tears fall out.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I should cry,” she whispered in her girl’s ear, “but I hate seeing you like this. You don’t belong like this. You belong with me.” Even there, in the hospital, the scent of Spencer wrapped around her like a comforting shawl and made her feel a little better. “Wake up, my love. Please. I need you.” Turning her head, Ashley pressed a kiss into Spencer’s ear. “I need you…”.

* * *

By Saturday afternoon, Spencer had the almighty jitters. She had no idea what Ashley had in store for them that evening. The curly-haired Parisienne was a complete mystery. Two names, two stories. The girl was clearly part of the Maquis, but was masquerading as a baker’s niece. And what was with the brothel owner? Clearly that’s what she was: she wasn’t just a madame, she was a Madame! With a capital M! Maybe she’d find out that night, perhaps.

The front door echoed as it shut and Spencer winced. Hurrying to her own door, she closed it and moved back to the window seat she’d been occupying. Her mother was home and that meant avoidance.

Her mother, her traitorious, evil spirited mother. Spencer remembered at time when they’d been close, almost friends. When her mother had read to her, loved her, shielded her from the angry taunts and accusing eyes of the town. Paula had never revealed who Spencer’s father was and a bastard child was nothing to parade around. In the townsfolk’s eyes, especially those who frequented Pere Henri’s church, they were both abominations.

Spencer supposed that’s why her mother had turned to the Commandant when he’d offered. What did Paula owe the town? Nothing but tears and recrimination. At least the German was kind and attentive. But he was an invader, a disgusting German sent to their town to oppress and divide. The Vichy government made Spencer physically ill, but the Nazis? They were too much. She knew what stories came out of the castle, the rivers of blood that were supposed to have been spilt. No matter what the town had done to her mother, there was no justice in throwing herself in with the Germans. So Spencer walked a fine line: she kept herself out of trouble and out of everyone’s way. Until now.

She checked the clock again. It was nearly five. She was to meet Ashley at the bakery at six. It was time to start getting ready.

Spencer dressed with care, not really knowing why she had to look good, only demanding of herself that she did. The unquenchable desire to impress the brunette was strange, but Spencer followed it. Smoothing down her skirt, she looked at her tattered faux-silk stockings which had seen much better days, another remnant of the war they were in.

She wondered what it would be like if the Germans had never come. Would she be in Paris, drinking coffee in Le Marais, spying Ashley on the street as she moved past? Oh, that was a nice picture: to have met Ashley somewhere else, somewhere safe, where they could pursue their friendship away from prying eyes. Okay, well, that was a strange thought.

Spencer sighed and smoothed down her skirt yet again. Pinning on her hat, she slipped out of the door and tiptoed down the stairs. Her mother was giggling in the sitting room and a familiar but harsh voice was with her. Spencer made a gagging face and gently let herself out the front door. The lovers in the living room were so distracted by each other they didn’t notice she’d left.

Hurrying along the darkening streets, Spencer made it to the bakery without being seen. Ashley let her in and shut the door behind her, locking it.

“You look nice,” she smiled.

“You didn’t tell me what we were doing,” Spencer replied self-consciously. “I had no idea how to dress.”

“Well, I don’t plan on rolling around in the swamp today,” Ashley grinned. “I think we’ve already done that this month.”

“Thank God,” the blonde smiled back. “It took me a week to get the muck out of my hair.”

With a strange look, the brunette reached out and touched a stray tendril of blonde. “That is, indeed, a tragedy.” Ashley shook her head, as though breaking some kind of dream. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

It was cold outside, darkness having descended. It was early June – it should have been warm and summery – but the mountains sometimes held surprises and that night was one of them. Together, they hurried through the darkened streets, keeping to the shadows wherever they could. Spencer recognised their destination when they were nearly there. Jean-Luc opened the door to Madeleine’s establishment with a grin that faded when he saw Spencer.

“You are fucking crazy,” he said to Ashley. “Fucking Crazy”

“Yeah, well, you’re a disgusting lunatic but I still put up with you,” she retorted. “Come on, Spencer.”

“You’ll get us all killed,” Jean Luc grumbled, closing the door.

“I won’t harm you,” Spencer said softly. “I’m here to help.”

“Actually,” Ashley grinned, “you’re here to drink and have a good time, but maybe later you can help.”

“Drink?” The blonde looked alarmed.

“Yeah.”

“Here?”

Ashley shook her head. She stopped Spencer from removing her jacket and winked. “Wait here.”

Spencer found herself loitering in the entrance hall with Jean-Luc, who leaned nonchalantly against the wall and gave her what amounted to a sneer.

“How’s your mother?”

“Still sick and twisted,” she bit back. “How’s yours?”

“Dead.”

Spencer gave a start, She stared at him, her mouth open slightly, before he spoke again.

“Most of us are orphans,” he lit a cigarette. “Hasn’t ‘Isabelle’ told you her life story yet?” The man put such emphasis on the fake name that Spencer took a step back.

“I… we….”

Ashley’s steps clattering down the stairs pulled them out of the conversation. The brunette took one look at Spencer’s face and turned to Jean-Luc with a frown.

“What did you say to her, you asshole?” She shook her head and grunted. “Don’t answer.” Turning to Spencer, she smiled. “Don’t listen to him. He gets his brain power from a small mouse on a wheel in there.”

With a poise and grace that Spencer had never seen before, Madeleine descended the stairs behind Ashley. Unlike the others, who were fairly sedately dressed, she was in silks and satins, bright colours.

“Spencer! So charming to see you again.” She extended a well-manicured hand that Spencer didn’t know whether to shake or kiss. She went with the first option. “Well, my loves,” the madame purred, “the night gets no younger. Shall we go?”

With a flourish, they disappeared out the door and into the night. Once again, they kept to the shadows, hurrying along. Spencer moved as near to the brunette as possible, afraid of being caught out so late at night. Did people really move around at this hour? Wasn’t it terribly dangerous?

They had only gone a few streets when they stopped at a corner. They were just outside a café that Spencer knew, but had rarely gone into. It was more of a tavern and not the sort of place she would normally attend. The four of them moved down the alley at the tavern’s side and Spencer watched with some confusion as Madeleine rapped on a wooden door almost hidden in the wall.

It opened quietly and a man ushered them in. Down the stairs they went, the Madame first, then Jean-Luc, with Spencer and Ashley bringing up the rear. At the bottom of the stairs, another door opened and warm, sultry air flowed out. Candles gave the room a glowing look. It was almost a second tavern set up down there, but clearly not attended by your average patron.

There were Germans in uniform over in the corner. They too were drinking. Spencer eyed them cautiously, as Ashley leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Funnily enough, they make it safer. They’re not supposed to be here, either, but everyone likes to drink. They keep the patrols away.”

Spencer nodded. They were guided over to a table with stools near the bar. Perching herself as close to Ashley as possible without sitting in the girl’s lap, Spencer shivered and looked around. Glasses of wine appeared in front of them and the blonde sipped nervously.

Nothing much was said, except for Jean-Luc and Ashley exchanging snippy comments at each other, until a middle-aged gentleman with black hair and friendly eyes, appeared at their table. He wore an apron, had a dishcloth over his shoulder and his hands looked rough but yet somehow still soft. Spencer warmed to him before he had even spoken a word. He kissed Madeleine and Ashley in greeting and put out his hand warmly to Spencer, taking one of hers between his own and then kissing the back of her hand.

“Mademoiselle, you are very welcome here.”

“Spencer, this is Arthur. He owns Le Souris,” Ashley introduced. “Arthur, this is my new friend, Spencer.”

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly. Her name was unusual, Spencer knew. And everyone found out who she was, eventually. Chances were that he knew who her mother was, who she lived with. There would be assumptions and recriminations and…

A warm hand on her shoulder made her jump. Arthur smiled. “As I said, you are always welcome here.”

He moved back to the bar and Madeleine followed him. Spencer drained the rest of her wine, letting the warm liquid flow into her stomach, the heat radiating out. She, like most French, drank wine every day, but now the drink was making her feel comfortable. For some odd reason, she wanted to put her head on Ashley’s shoulder.

Madeleine appeared at Jean-Luc’s shoulder. “Come, we’re going.”

“Already?” the man grunted. He’d been eying off a girl in the corner and Ashley elbowed him in the ribs.

“Come on, Don Juan, she’s here with someone already.” Helping Spencer off the stool, Ashley steadied them. She smiled at the blonde. “You with us?”

“Of course,” Spencer replied.

Before she knew it, they were back in the attic of the brothel and Madeleine was pouring them all a brandy. The madame looked jittery, hassled.

“What’s going on?” Jean-Luc asked.

“Just wait,” the proprietress said.

There followed twenty minutes of Madeleine drinking cognac like it was going out of production and Jean Luc pacing the floor complaining. Spencer sat on the couch, pressed up against her friend. They didn’t say much, but Ashley’s presence was a comfort in itself. Every now and then, Ashley would cut through one of Jean-Luc’s diatribes with a pithy comment, but Spencer remained quiet. They were interrupted by the door opening. To the blonde’s surprise, Arthur entered.

“I can’t stay,” he said. “Patrice can only mind the tavern so long before I’ll be missed.”

“What’s happening?” Jean Luc asked.

“The Allies will make a move soon,” Arthur said, bringing gasps from the others. “Word is, they’re going to invade France in the near future.”

“We’ve heard that before,” Ashley said disbelievingly, “Nothing ever comes of it.”

“This time it sounds more convincing. The Germans are jumpy, building reinforcements to the south. A body was found, in the sea. A British airman. He had papers.”

“When?” Madeleine asked.

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know, but there will be more activity, more raids. We must be alert, help any way we can.”

“I can probably help,” Spencer blurted out. All four of the others turned to look at her. She shrank a little. “I can see what I can find out from my mother and, and the Commandant.”

Arthur nodded. “Be very careful. If you should be caught…”

“You never speak to your mother,” Ashley said with a frown.

“I guess it’s time for me to become a more dutiful daughter,” Spencer said wryly. “And you never know what her gentleman friend might say over dinner.”

“You’ll be careful?” Ashley’s hand squeezed her arm.

“She’ll get us all killed,” Jean-Luc spat.

“No,” Madeleine said carefully, making them all turn to look at her now. “Let her try. She’s the best resource we have.” She looked at Spencer. “Be careful, though.”

Spencer took a deep breath and nodded. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d just joined the Resistance.

* * * * *

Next up: Part 5 [U]