my brow furrowed. ‘Adèle, this is your training. A series of tests. You failed the first one. Don’t let that happen again.’ She pointed to the chair. ‘Now, let’s get started.’
She handed me a paper with three letters groupings strung out like sentences, but they were just letters. No words. I looked up from the paper. ‘This is what you woke me up for?’
‘You’re good as dead if you don’t learn some skills, fast,’ Marguerite said. ‘Be glad I’m taking the time. I never had training.’ She pointed at the paper. ‘These are the codes we’re going to use. Each grouping stands for a commonly used word. You need to memorize them. Meet, leave, drop, hide, help…’
I counted the groupings as she talked. ‘There must be fifty,’ I said, looking up.
‘Be glad it’s not a hundred.’ Marguerite turned back around and picked through the metal instruments when I laughed.
‘All of them… Tonight?’ I said, and she looked over her shoulder at me.
‘Tonight.’ Marguerite handed me the key, the other piece of paper in her hand.
I sighed heavily. ‘Give me the pencil,’ I said, and I got to work memorizing the codes, writing them down, only to erase what I’d wrote and start over, flipping the paper front to back, over and over. After an hour or two she thought I was ready, and we practised writing messages to each other.
She pushed the metal instruments aside and slid a piece of paper to me on the table, message side down. ‘No cheating,’ she said.
I flipped the paper over and read the message. By now, I knew these codes. At least I thought I did. My heart raced the longer Marguerite stared at me, waiting for me to figure out her message. ‘You’re taking too long,’ she said, and I groaned.
‘Give me a second.’ The candles flickered very low to the melted wax and my eyes felt strained, and tired. Oh, so tired. ‘Meet at noon,’ I said, and she snatched the paper from my hand.
‘Wrong,’ she said, and I threw my head to the table. ‘Dammit, Adèle, you have to learn these. We’ve been down here for hours.’
‘I do know them,’ I said. ‘I do. I’m tired. All right? That’s all. When it counts, I’ll get it right.’ My eyes closed and then my body jerked from having a nod.
‘Get up!’ she said, and she lifted me by the armpits.
‘Stop it,’ I said, swatting at her. ‘I can stand by myself.’
‘Well then do it,’ she said, and she walked me through some sensory techniques to stay awake, which I had to admit worked. ‘Your ears,’ she said. ‘Feel that?’
I rubbed my ears, and was surprised to feel a little more awake. ‘Strange,’ I said. ‘I never knew. Are you going to tell me what those instruments are for now?’ I said, pointing with my eyes.
‘They’re to scare you,’ she said.
‘What?’ I said, and she laughed.
‘Like I said, I’m not going to do anything permanent.’
I picked through them myself, three pointy ones, sharp enough to be knives, or at least take the place of one. Marguerite moved the chairs together and we sat in them side-by-side. ‘If you’re ever interrogated, they might sit you next to someone, someone moaning or crying, someone who will get you to talk. Either out of pity or fright. Never look at them. Whatever you do, don’t look. It’s what they want. And your mind can’t erase what you’ve seen. It will make you weaker.’
‘All right,’ I said, looking at her, and she yelled at me.
‘Adèle!’
I looked away, wincing. ‘Sorry.’
She got up in a huff. ‘It was a simple request. Don’t look.’
‘Have you been interrogated before?’ I said, and Marguerite stared at the wall, looking very distant, and my stomach sank thinking she’d been questioned by the police or a German. My hands twisted in my lap, watching her. ‘Have you?’
She turned around sharply. ‘Some résistants will never get interrogated,’ she said. ‘It’s best to prepare. My work is different than what we’re asking you to do.’
I felt better. Best to prepare. ‘What’s that wood barrel for?’ I said, but she only glanced fleetingly at the floor. ‘Can you at least tell me what time it is?’
Marguerite picked up one of the metal instruments, waving it in the air, pointy side up. ‘Are you afraid of this?’
‘Well, no, you’ve already told me—’
She lunged at me, pointing it at my eyes.
‘Ack!’ I threw my hands up and she stopped a mere breath away from my face. ‘Christ, Marguerite.