She would be all right after she got some coffee.But there wasn't any coffee made! She got the half cup that was left from yesterday and warmed it and drank it down quickly. She got some going and hoped it wouldn't take forever to make. As she waited she sat at the counter and thought about yesterday. It was fun doing the fashion show; she enjoyed walking around with everyone looking at her, being the center of attention was great. She would like to be a model or movie star, maybe even a princess. When she was young her father had called her princess. Everywhere they went he had carried her in his arms until she got to big but he always managed to get her in his lap when they watched TV. Her mother used to tell him and everyone that he spoiled her rotten. But she got to big to sit in his lap! She had always felt closer to him than her mother, she loved her mother but it was different than the love she felt for her dad.A lone tear got caught in her long eye lash and she had to wipe it. ” I had, I think, held my breath throughout. It was not unusual to be scared even if what you were doing was perfectly innocent. The Germans ruled by fear, expected it. I was shaking as I wobbled off on my bike. The following morning I learned that Martin and his colleagues had all been arrested. On hearing this I went to the toilet and threw up my breakfast. People would assume someone had informed, maybe assume that I, the sole survivor, was that informant. I coded a message to London and, on my way to my first visit of the day, left it at one of the drops. It contained the information regarding Martin’s arrest as well as the account of my recent conversation with Ilse. I was horrified when a German soldier called at the surgery, a large, open-topped Mercedes outside. “Nurse Lassainte?” “Yes.” “You are needed at the telephone exchange. Please come with me now.” “Why?” “I don’t know, I was simply told to bring you.” “I’ll go by bicycle, I have other calls to make.” “Please, get in.
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