The Girl in the Baker's Van by Richard Savin

Author:Richard Savin [Savin, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-02T04:00:00+00:00

*

Evangeline had made it to the Perrache terminus without problems; she had walked right under the noses of the gendarmes as she crossed the bridge to get to the station and had not been challenged. It ran through her mind that if they were looking for her they were making a bad job of it, though she concluded it was more likely that they were not in fact looking for her at all. There was no reason to suppose that anyone other than Kasha, the priest and the boys knew she was in Lyon. All she had to do now was buy a ticket to Narbonne where she was sure she would be able to find someone to get her across the Pyrenees into Spain. Once there, she had enough money to be comfortable and stay out of trouble; she could buy a new identity. She would be free.

The clerk in the ticket office got difficult when she tried to pay with Reich marks; her French francs were nearly all gone. ‘There is a bureau de change over there,’ he directed her, pointing across to the far side of the station concourse. She tried to argue but he wasn’t having it and the people in the queue behind her were starting to grumble. There was nothing for it; she would have to go and change the money. The teller in the bureau de change, a fresh faced young man, looked at the German money. ‘I need to see some identity document,’ he said politely. ‘Please let me see your ration card, mademoiselle.’ She handed him the document and waited while he scrutinised it. ‘You are from Alsace.’ It was a statement not a question. She nodded nervously. ‘Damn,’ she thought, and hoped he was not going to be difficult.

‘Ah,’ he smiled, ‘of course, that is why you have Reich marks, and I suppose you must use both currencies being so close to Germany.’

‘Yes,’ she replied as a small wave of relief welled up inside her. The exchange rate was not a good one; banks are thieves, she told herself, but she didn’t care; she had enough francs to see her clear of France and that was all she wanted. Back at the ticket office she was greeted with a condescending smile by the clerk who had sent her to the bureau de change. The next train was not for another hour so there was time for a short lunch. In the restaurant she started to gather her thoughts. It had been easier than she had imagined; her luck seemed to be holding up. She finished her lunch, paid the bill and went to the ladies room where she tidied her hair and freshened her make-up. She left the restaurant in high spirits; now she would take her train south. She reached the gates to the quai where the Montpellier express was waiting to depart.

There was a man talking to the ticket inspector just by the barrier. At first she thought she knew him; the face was familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.

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