The Escape - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

in Beauvais and had almost forgotten Marc; until he’d begun working on her father’s farm a few months earlier.

At first the pair only nodded and smiled, but since the weather had turned fine they’d managed a few conversations while sitting together in the grass, and occasionally Jae would share a bar of chocolate. They both sought a deeper connection, but their talk centred on local gossip and reminiscences from the days when they’d shared a classroom.

Jae always approached the cow shed as if she was taking a stroll and couldn’t care less, but she often doubled back or hid in the long grass before standing up and pretending to bump into Marc by accident as he came outside. The process was strangely exciting, even though they’d never exchanged more than words and chocolate.

On this particular Wednesday, Jae was surprised to see Marc emerge from the side door of the cow shed, bare-chested and in a vile temper. He lashed out with his rubber boot, sending a metal bucket clattering across the farmyard before he grabbed another and put it under the tap mounted on the shed’s exterior.

Intrigued by Marc’s fury, Jae hunkered down and leaned against the trunk of an elm. She watched as Marc wriggled out of his filthy boots then glanced around furtively before removing his under-shorts, trousers and the socks into which they were tucked. Jae had never seen a boy naked and clapped a hand over her mouth as Marc stepped up on to a large paving slab and grabbed a block of soap.

Marc cupped his hands and dipped them into the bucket, splashing water on himself before working the soap. The water was cold and even though the sun was hot he moved hurriedly. When he was lathered all over, he raised the bucket high into the air and drained the water over his head.

Soap burned his eyes as he reached out for a grotty towel wrapped over a wooden post.

‘You’ve got a big arse!’ Jae shouted, as she sprang out of the grass.

Marc urgently flicked the damp hair off his face and was stunned to see Jae’s brown eyes and sweet smile. He dropped the towel and lunged towards a pair of corduroy trousers.

‘Jesus,’ he choked, as the usually simple task of stepping into trousers became a frantic bout of hopping. ‘How long have you been there?’

‘Long enough.’ Jae grinned, pointing at a wooden screen lying flat on the pathway.

‘I don’t usually bother pulling it up … You’re never around until later.’

‘No school,’ Jae explained. ‘Some of the teachers have left. The Boche1 are on the march …’

Marc nodded as he buttoned his trousers and lobbed his work boots into the shed. ‘Did you hear the artillery shells earlier?’

‘Made me jump,’ Jae replied. ‘And the German planes! One of our maids said there were fires in town, near the marketplace.’

‘You can smell burning when the wind changes … Your dad’s got that swanky Renault. You should head south.’

Jae shook her head. ‘My mother wants to leave, but Daddy reckons the Germans won’t bother us if we don’t bother them. He says they’ll still need farmers, whether it’s French or German crooks running the country.’

‘The director let us listen to the radio for a while last night,’ Marc said. ‘They said we’re planning a counterattack. We could drive the Boche out.’

‘Maybe,’ Jae said uncertainly. ‘But it doesn’t look good …’

Marc didn’t need Jae to explain further. The government radio stations bristled with optimistic talk about fighting back and broadcast stirring speeches on turning points and the French fighting spirit. But no amount of propaganda could disguise truckloads of injured troops retreating from the front.

‘It’s too depressing,’ Marc said, buttoning his shirt as he smiled at Jae. ‘I wish I was old enough to fight. Have you heard anything from your brothers?’

‘Nothing … But nobody knows about anyone. The post has gone to hell. They’re probably being held prisoner. Or they might have escaped at Dunkirk.’

Marc nodded optimistically. ‘BBC France said over a hundred thousand of our troops made it across the channel with the Brits.’

‘So why were you in such a mood?’ Jae asked.

‘When?’

‘Just now,’ she smirked. ‘When you steamed out of the shed and kicked the bucket.’

‘Oh, that. I was all set to finish when I realised I’d left my shovel in one of the pens. So I reached in to grab it, the cow’s tail shoots up and VOOM. It shits right in my face – mouth was open too …’

‘EWW!’ Jae shrieked,