the other woman… the one I saw in the crypt with you?’
‘She’s the leader—goes by the name Hedgehog.’
‘Hedgehog?’
She smiled. ‘In the beginning we used numbers, but the Germans started to figure those out so we changed our call signs to the names of animals.’
Sister Mary-Francis burst through the door just as she pinned her veil into place. ‘They’re here, Mother,’ she said, panicky. ‘They just pulled up!’
The bell tower chimed, announcing morning prayer.
‘I’ll be right down.’ Mother put a hand on Marguerite’s shoulder. ‘Adèle isn’t the mole, but someone is. We’ve got to find out who she is before it’s too late.’
‘So, there is a spy?’ I asked.
‘Someone living among us. Our situation is dire.’ Mother looked at us both. ‘I suggest you get to know each other. You may need one another someday, when you least expect it.’ Mother reached for the Bible she normally carried with her during her walks. ‘Now, I must go. Remember, I have a convent to run too.’
‘Wait,’ I said, thinking we must have a name, just like all the famous Résistance groups. ‘You said group. Do we have a name?’
Mother stopped in the doorframe, her heavy black habit covering every bit of her body, and looked over her shoulder. ‘The Reich has named us Noah’s Ark, but we call ourselves the Alliance.’
*
Marguerite burned the letter Mama wrote, dropping it into a golden urn and loosely closing the lid. The Marguerite I thought I knew was gone, and in her place was someone different. It felt odd, to say the least. ‘Perhaps we should start over.’ I held my hand out for a shake. ‘As if we just met.’
She took my hand, but instead of shaking it she pulled me in close. ‘Wait for my word. Stay quiet. The less others know about you the better. Make up a lie about where you’re from if you must. If someone finds out you’re a résistant they will go to where you live and kill your family just to get to you.’ Marguerite took a long pause before continuing, listening to Mother’s voice lifting from the ground below as she greeted her guests outside. ‘Is that going to be a problem? There’s no place for weaklings in the Résistance, Adèle.’
‘I understand,’ I said, and she let go of my hand. ‘And I can make up some lies.’ Then I wondered with all the guns around, if she’d give me one. ‘Will I have to carry a gun?’
She laughed. ‘I’m not giving you a gun.’ She paused. ‘Do you know how to shoot one?’
‘No,’ I said, and she shook her head.
‘I’m not giving you a gun unless you already know how to shoot,’ she said. ‘Besides, we need you for surveillance. Not to shoot people.’
She fingered a mix of fresh and wilted flowers on Mother’s desk. ‘I will sift out this mole,’ she said as petals fell through her fingers. ‘If it’s the last thing I do.’
‘Do you have an idea of who it is?’ I thought about the list I’d found under her bed. My name was the only one with a circle around it. ‘Now that you know it isn’t me.’
Marguerite stopped fiddling with the flowers. ‘It could be anyone. Even one of the girls.’
‘The girls?’ I shouted though I didn’t mean to.
‘Shh.’ Marguerite put a finger to her mouth and a hand over mine. ‘Be quiet!’
‘But they’re so young,’ I whispered.
‘Before I came here, I helped a twelve-year-old strap dynamite to her chest. This war knows no age.’ Marguerite walked over to the window. The party Mother had been talking to had gotten back into their cars and sped down the road that led away from the convent. Marguerite watched them until they disappeared.
I paced in a circle, wondering who at the convent had the balls, as Mama would say, to spy on the sisters. Someone who didn’t want to stand out, perhaps. There were a pair of cousins who looked rather devious, and then there was…
‘Watch the girls carefully,’ Marguerite said. ‘We’ll meet in private and compare notes. I’ll make arrangements. As for now, they’ll have to believe our relationship is still contentious.’ Marguerite ran a finger along her jawline where she still had a few pink bumps. ‘There’s no escaping that fact.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘The girls think I came up here to get expelled from the convent.’
‘Do they know you broke into my chamber?’
‘Some do, but they think I was retaliating for the whipping you gave me. Truth was, I was afraid