It was no secret that the Feldmanns were far more prosperous than the Barbets, whose fortune had been dwindling slowly for years. Gaëlle had overheard her father say that they were land rich and cash poor, but they had everything they needed, and their château was one of the oldest and finest in the region. And aside from her parents’ warning not to talk to the soldiers, they hadn’t curbed Gaëlle’s activities, and she was still riding to school on her bike every day, and stopped to meet Rebekah on the way. Gaëlle always tried to leave enough time to spend a few minutes in the Feldmann kitchen, where the cook and two maids served them freshly baked croissants and brioches, and rolls filled with melted chocolate. It was Gaëlle’s favorite time of the day, and their friendly cook always gave them a few extra rolls to take to school with them. The two girls had been best friends since nursery school.
Rebekah had two younger brothers who were twelve and fourteen, and a five-year-old sister, Lotte, who Rebekah insisted was a pest, but Gaëlle had loved her since she was a baby, and Lotte worshipped Gaëlle. And her brothers went to the same school they did. The Feldmanns had a large home, not as big as the Barbets’ château, but much fancier, with beautiful furniture, art, and decorations, and Rebekah’s mother bought beautiful clothes in Paris, and wore jewelry and furs. Gaëlle loved visiting them, they always made her feel so welcome. Her own mother was shy, more reserved, and somewhat austere. Gaëlle had more fun at Rebekah’s house than she did at her own. Before Thomas left for university, he loved to tease both girls, but had been far more serious for the past year, and concerned about the Occupation. He and their father talked about it for hours whenever he came home, and now he spent little time with Gaëlle, whom he treated like a child.
Two weeks before Christmas, she headed to Rebekah’s house on the way to school, and as she rounded the bend that brought the Feldmanns’ house into view, she saw two police trucks parked outside, and a flock of gendarmes standing beside it. When she slowed to see what was going on before she approached, she saw Rebekah’s father dragged from their home by two of the policemen, with his wife being pulled by two more, as she clung to Lotte’s hand, and the terrified five-year-old was screaming. They pushed the two boys down the stairs, and they landed in a heap at the bottom, where two more gendarmes threw them into one of the trucks, and then she saw Rebekah, with her long blond hair flying, she hadn’t had time yet to braid it, and one of the soldiers tossed her into the truck like a rag doll. She was a slight girl, and her hair was the same color as Gaëlle’s. People at school often said they looked like sisters, although Gaëlle was taller, but just as slim. And for an instant as the gendarme grabbed her, her eyes had met Gaëlle’s, and then she was flung into the truck and disappeared. And Gaëlle saw one of the men take the elegant homburg from Mr. Feldmann’s head, throw it to the ground, and crush it under his boot. She heard him say, “You won’t need that where you’re going.”
Gaëlle’s heart was pounding as she watched the scene with horror, not daring to approach, and a moment later she saw the trucks pull away, and a police captain’s car follow. She wanted to run after them but knew she couldn’t. It was impossible to understand why French gendarmes and local policemen were dragging them from their home. They weren’t German soldiers but their fellow countrymen. She was crying a moment later when she rode her bike up to the house and ran up the back stairs and into the kitchen. The cook and both maids looked terrified, and there was the smell of burning baked goods coming from the oven, as no one moved.
“What happened? Where are they taking them?” Gaëlle shouted at them, sobbing, and the cook turned on her in a fury.
“Get out of here! Go! You don’t belong here! Go now!” She pointed to the door and spoke to her in a way she never had before, and Gaëlle could see that the two maids were crying. They had all been told that they would be arrested for working for Jews if they did not leave the house immediately, and the gendarmes had said they would be back later. There was the sound of footsteps running upstairs, as the other maids gathered up their things to leave.
“Where are they going?” Gaëlle asked the cook in desperation.
“I don’t know…to detention probably. They should have left before this,” she said, looking distraught herself, and slightly less fierce with Gaëlle than she had been at first. “You must go now, and don’t come back. The officers said that Germans are taking over the house this afternoon. The Feldmanns won’t return.”
“I have to find her,” Gaëlle said, looking frantic.
“No, you don’t,” the heavyset woman said, grabbing her arm roughly and shaking her. “Leave it alone. They won’t let you see her.”
“How could they do this to them?” Gaëlle choked on sobs as the cook who had always been so kind to her pushed her toward the door.
“They’re Jews. Forget you know them. You can only get trouble from this. Now go—” She shoved her firmly out the door then and locked it behind her, and Gaëlle stumbled down the stairs, grabbed her bike, and rode away, shocked by everything that had happened, and worried sick for her friend. The police had treated them all so roughly, as though they were so much garbage they were throwing into the back of the truck. And Gaëlle had no idea where they’d gone. She was so shaken by it that she fell off her bike twice on the way to school, tore her dress, and arrived late with a scraped arm and bleeding knee. She looked a mess.