This week’s exclusive excerpt of my recent novel, The Postwoman, shines on a light on Dedée doing what she does best—keeping the Gestapo on their toes.
The street lights were turned off, but Dedée could navigate well in her old neighborhood with just the ambient light from the sky. When she turned onto her street about two blocks from her house, she stopped to scan the area. The street slanted downward and she could easily see that no cars were parked anywhere near her home. In this area, each house had a small yard in back that butted up against the backyard of the house behind it. A small path wove through, separating the backyards. When she came to her block she crossed over and slowly took the path to her house. Happily, she saw a dim light on the second floor which meant that Paul was home. A trellis marked the entrance to the yard. Her father always had to duck under the trellis and she remembered how she never had to. She still didn’t. She stepped up on the rear porch and softly knocked on the door. Hearing nothing, she rapped again this time slightly louder. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs. As she waited, she looked around her old porch. A bicycle was leaning against the house, the same one she had used years ago. Above it hung her old jump rope with the handles dangling in the breeze. She smiled remembering the rhymes she used to sing when she jumped rope.
I know something
but I won’t tell…
She recognized her father’s soft footsteps as he came to the door. He looked through a slit in the curtains and when he saw it was Dedee, he quickly unlocked the door, grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. With a shocked whisper, he said, “What on earth are you doing here? Don’t you know the Gestapo is looking for you? They come looking almost every day!”
“Oh, father, you worry too much. There’s nobody around.”
They embraced and walked up the steps to the sitting room. On the coffee table, Paul had papers scattered all over. He turned out the light and went to the window to check for traffic. Seeing none, he sat next to Dedée and told her how happy he was to see her.
“Paul, you must leave Brussels,” she said, “I worry about you all the time. I think you should move to Paris where nobody knows you. You could handle our operations from there.”
Paul made some tea and they continued to talk about the future of their escape line. Paul told her they had nearly sixty crewman in various safe-houses in Belgium waiting to be escorted, with more being shot down every week. Dedée said she could make a trip every two to three weeks, but they would need additional guides from Paris to the Pyrenees. Paul had several ideas.
Suddenly, they heard the sound of a racing car engine followed immediately by a screech of brakes. Paul went to the window and peered out.
“Gestapo! Quickly, the back door!” Paul loudly whispered.
She rushed to see out. Four uniformed Gestapo agents got out of a car. Two were approaching the front door and two were going around the house to the back, one on each side. Paul looked at Dedée helplessly, thinking the game was over.
“Goodbye Paul,” she said as she raced downstairs.
A loud rapping on the front door could be heard as the two Gestapo agents met each other in the back yard. They stepped up on the porch. To the left was a young girl jumping rope. Her white socks and plaid skirt keeping the rhythm of the fast beat of the rope.
I know something,
But I won’t tell.
Three little monkeys
in a peanut shell.
one can read
and one can dance,
and one has a hole
in the seat of his pants
The agents shined their light up and down on her as she continued to twirl the rope. They could hear the agents in the front demanding to be let in. The two agents hesitated, then, thinking the young girl was nobody important, opened the rear door of the house
and rushed inside.
In a flash, Dedée disappeared in the night.
Click HERE to learn more about Andrée “Dedée” De Jongh.
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