V2 A Novel of World War II - Robert Harris Page 0,79

then, to them all, in English, ‘May I join you?’

‘This is Jens Thys,’ said Arnaud, ‘an old friend of mine. This is Barbara, and this is Kay.’ The stranger bowed to each of them in turn, and sat. He looked to be the same age as Arnaud, but more smartly dressed, in a suit and tie. ‘Jens is a teacher,’ said Arnaud.

The other man added, ‘We used to be colleagues.’

Kay said, ‘But I thought you did manual work?’

‘That is now. Before, I was a teacher.’

‘And what are you doing in Mechelen?’ asked Jens.

Barbara said, ‘Oh, it’s all very hush-hush – we’re not allowed to say.’

‘Hush-hush?’ He looked bewildered.

‘You know – top secret.’

‘It’s just administration,’ said Kay quickly. ‘Typing, filing, that kind of thing. Very boring.’

‘Women’s work,’ added Barbara sarcastically, to show she had been joking.

‘But you are being modest, surely? I can see from your uniforms that you are officers.’

‘Darling,’ said Barbara, ‘in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, everyone is an officer.’

They all laughed.

After that, the evening became convivial. To Kay’s relief, there were no more questions about what they did. They complimented Jens on his English and he told them about a holiday he had spent in England: ‘In Guildford, do you know it?’ Barbara said her family had a place in a village nearby. Jens insisted on ordering more beer. The shuffleboard came free – sjoelen, they called it in Flemish – and Arnaud suggested they should play. The men’s attempts to explain the rules became the focus of their conversation. Indeed, for half an hour, Kay almost entirely forgot the war. She was conscious of Arnaud standing close to her, of the way his hand covered hers as he showed her how to slide the wooden discs. Jens did the same with Barbara. The beer was strong, the flirtation mild, so that when she looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly seven, she was not only surprised by how much time had passed, but sorry to call a halt.

‘Barbara – we ought to go.’

‘Really? You’re such a prefect.’

‘What’s a prefect?’ asked Jens.

‘Someone who stops other people having fun.’

‘She’s right,’ said Arnaud. ‘It will be the curfew soon.’ Kay looked around. Without her noticing, the bar had already half emptied.

Jens said, ‘I’ll walk you back, Barbara. Where do you live?’ She told him the street. ‘Oh, that’s easy. It’s only ten minutes from here.’

The two men went over to the bar to settle the bill. Kay whispered, ‘Do you think we ought to offer to pay our share?’

‘Of course not. You’ll offend their manly honour. Besides, we haven’t any Belgian money.’

‘And are you sure you’ll be safe going back with him?’

Barbara gave her a pitying look. ‘A teacher? Please! Anyway, he’s rather good-looking, don’t you think?’

‘Oh God!’

‘We should definitely see them again.’

Arnaud limped back from the bar, smiling. He gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we go?’

Jens and Barbara left first, and Kay was just about to follow when someone shouted, ‘Hey, Arnaud!’

She turned at the same time as he did. A man at the bar clicked his heels together and shot out his arm in a Nazi salute.

Arnaud pretended he hadn’t noticed. They walked along the quay and up the steps and said goodbye to the others on the bridge. ‘See you tomorrow,’ said Barbara with a wink. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ She set off in one direction with Jens; Arnaud and Kay went the other.

They walked in silence for a while. The curfew had emptied the streets. Eventually he said, ‘Your friend is very funny.’

‘Isn’t she? I only met her yesterday. I like her a lot.’ She glanced at him. His jaw was clenched. He was staring straight ahead. His earlier good humour had entirely gone. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Not at all.’

‘The business at the end, just as we were leaving – the Nazi salute – what was that about?’

‘Nothing. Just a stupid joke.’

‘Then why are you angry?’

‘I’m not.’

Two British soldiers were walking along the pavement towards them, carrying their rifles across their chests. They blocked their path. ‘Your papers, please.’

Kay pulled out her identity card. Arnaud did the same. One of the soldiers shone a torch on their photographs and then on their faces. The other said, ‘You’re breaking the curfew.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Kay. ‘We’re on our way back now.’

‘Not you, ma’am. Him.’

‘I can vouch for him. I’m billeted on his family.’

‘Arms up,’ said the soldier. He gestured with his rifle. Arnaud raised his hands. The soldier patted him down. ‘Turn