the bundle of francs and reichsmarks inside his jacket. ‘If I hang on to this I’ll lose it to someone,’ Scholl said.
‘I’ll take care of it for you,’ Henderson said.
It wasn’t a great line, but Scholl had drunk a skinful and erupted with laughter. ‘I bet you would,’ he roared. ‘Bet you bloody would, but I’ll get it sent to my sister before you get your hands on it!’
Henderson wondered how to steer the conversation back towards the fuel situation. ‘I guess there’s worse things than spending a sunny afternoon in a bar,’ he said. ‘But I really need to get back to work.’
Scholl snorted. ‘I’m not stopping you.’
‘No, no!’ Henderson said, waving his hands at the misunderstanding. ‘I’m supposed to be surveying bridges on the road to Amiens, but my truck is bone dry. I’ve heard a rumour that there’s a fuel train coming into town later this week.’
‘You won’t get a drop – our battalion will have priority,’ Scholl said. ‘I don’t know of anything coming by rail, but they’re expecting a dozen road tankers this evening.’
Henderson smiled. ‘If I made it worth your while, do you think there’s any chance that fifty litres of diesel might find its way into my tank?’
‘Why are you so keen to get back to work? Why not stay here and take things easy?’ Scholl asked.
‘I like to keep my mind occupied,’ Henderson said. ‘And the poker games get expensive.’
Henderson wanted to press Scholl further, but at that moment a pistol blast ripped across the room and made him spew red wine down his lapel. The joke about shooting the waiter in the foot had turned real and men of the 108th applauded the shooter as the waiter lay on the floor, moaning in agony.
‘Bet you wish you’d hurried up now, you lazy French shit!’ Scholl shouted.
A woman behind the bar stepped bravely towards her injured colleague and shouted in poor German, ‘All of you – get out, we’re closing.’
None of the men took any notice until the near-hysterical woman tried dragging the waiter to safety. As she bent forward a soldier grabbed the back of her dress, lifting her into the air as it ripped down the back.
‘Forget your boyfriend,’ the man barked, slapping the woman’s arse as the crowd made wolf whistles. ‘Go fetch our drinks.’
‘Unless you want your bar smashed up,’ someone added, while another man sadistically kicked the writhing waiter.
‘These frogs take our money, but look down their noses at us,’ someone shouted. ‘Let’s smash the place up!’
Henderson ducked as an empty wine bottle flew through the air and shattered against the back of the bar. More glass broke and tables got tipped over as tank crews began vaulting the bar and helping themselves to bottles of wine.
‘It’s like Poland all over again!’ Scholl said happily, moving away from Henderson as a third member of staff got dragged up from the wine cellar and dumped in the middle of the room, with the woman in the torn dress and the man who’d been shot in the foot.
‘If you kiss our boots, we might not set your bar on fire,’ a man shouted, but over in the corner a mechanic was already holding a lighter to the blackout curtains.
Henderson tried to think of something he could do, but there were at least forty Germans in the bar. His OT uniform meant they might even turn on him, so his only option was to clear out and hope that nothing too awful happened before the men of the 108th finished their latest conquest and staggered back to their camouflaged tanks for an afternoon nap.
*
‘Where were you?’ Luc shouted aggressively.
The muscular sixteen-year-old booted a three-legged milking stool so hard that it spun out from beneath Paul’s arse. Paul went sideways, sending a miniature watercolour set and small sketchbook flying.
‘Eighteen bags of onions, forty sacks of potatoes I lugged,’ Luc said, making Paul flinch as he threw a punch, but pulled it a centimetre from Paul’s nose. ‘Dead sister’s no excuse to sit on your arse painting all day.’
Sometimes Paul started to think Luc was changing, but then something like this would happen and he’d realise that he was the same bully he’d always been.
‘Is there any more to carry?’ Paul asked. ‘I’d have given you a hand if you’d asked.’
Luc smiled nastily. ‘You’re so puny. If I hadn’t seen your dick with my own eyes, I’d swear that you were a girl.’
Paul wanted to retaliate, but he was out by the