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Vous ne pouvez pas rester ici

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Vous ne pouvez pas rester ici." "We'll be staying in the barn. We need water, wine, bread, cheese and anything else you can spare." "Impossible!" He said to her softly, "We've been fighting for France." "You can't stay here." "We'll be gone at dawn The Germans are still..." "It's not the Germans, M'sieu It's my sons They are animals. And they'll be back soon." Robbie pushed past the woman and went to the pump which was in the corner of the yard, near the kitchen Nettle and Mace followed him. While he drank, a girl of about ten and an infant brother holding her hand watched him from the doorway. When he finished and had filled his canteen he smiled at them and they fled.

The corporals were under the pump together, drinking simultaneously The woman was suddenly behind him, clutching at his elbow. Before she could start again he said, "Please bring us what I asked for or we'll come in and get it for ourselves." "My sons are brutes. They'll kill me." He would have preferred to say, So be it, but instead he walked away and called over his shoulder, "I'll talk to them." "And then, M'sieu, they will kill you. They will tear you to shreds." Corporal Mace was a cook in the same RASC unit as Corporal Nettle.

Before he joined he was a warehouseman at Heal's in the Tottenham Court Road. He said he knew a thing or two about comfort and in the barn he set about arranging their quarters Robbie would have thrown himself down on the straw. Mace found a heap of sacks and with Nettle's help stuffed them to make up three mattresses. He made headboards out of hay bales which he lifted down with a single hand He set up a door on brick piles for a table He took out half a candle from his pocket "Might as well be comfy," he kept saying under his breath. It was the first time they had moved much beyond sexual innuendo The three men lay on their beds, smoking and waiting. Now they were no longer thirsty their thoughts were on the food they were about to get and they heard each other's stomachs rumbling and squirting in the gloom, and it made them laugh. Robbie told them about his conversation with the old woman and what she had said about her sons "Fifth columnists, they would be," Nettle said.

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