“I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that,” said Kate, even though she had been thinking the exact same thing. She spotted a man detaching himself from the side of one of the camions, a cigarette tip glowing red in the darkness. “Look, there’s a soldier guarding the camions. We can ask him where we are.”
The soldier pitched his cigarette to the ground, grinding out the stub. “Qui va là?”
“Les dames Américaines,” said Emmie eagerly, half falling out of the truck. “Sorry, we’re a bit frozen. We’ve lost our way. We’re trying to get back to Grécourt, but we haven’t the faintest idea where we are.”
The soldier looked at the jitney and then back at them. “All by yourselves?”
There was something about the way he said it that Kate didn’t quite like. “If you could just show us on the map,” she said coolly, “we’ll be on our way.”
He could do better than that, the soldier said, suddenly very helpful. He could escort them as far as Ham, if they were willing to wait an hour. He and his comrades in arms were just having a bit of supper. Would les dames Américaines—he essayed an exaggerated bow—care to share their repast?
“Oh, yes, please!” exclaimed Emmie, before Kate could decline on their behalf. “How kind of you. Isn’t it terribly kind?”
“Ye-es,” said Kate, wondering if the cold had just addled her brain. Here they were, looking for shelter, and they’d found it. But there was something making her uneasy. “I’m not sure, though—”
Emmie jostled her with her elbow. “Food! And heat! My fingers are icicles. Either that or my icicles are fingers. I can’t tell which.”
“Welcome,” said the soldier, throwing open the door and speaking in rapid French to the people inside. Kate caught the words women and alone.
“Oh, lovely!” said Emmie, and plunged inside, Kate following more slowly.
After the outdoors, the room was smotheringly hot, the air shimmering with steam coming off an iron range, a pot bubbling on the top. Some seven or eight French poilus were sitting around a table in their shirtsleeves and braces, being served bowls of soup and thick slices of black bread by a woman who seemed to have forgotten to do up all the ties of her blouse. Another woman sat on the lap of a soldier, removing herself, none too speedily, as they came inside.
Behind them, the door slammed shut. Kate turned, frowning, and the guard made little swooshing gestures, urging them forward. He was grinning in a way she didn’t at all like, showing teeth stained by cigarettes.
“Goodness, it’s lovely and warm in here!” exclaimed Emmie, happily oblivious, as the woman at the stove surreptitiously did up a button. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are to have found you.”
Seven men stared at her. One of them, with black hair slicked back and his sleeves rolled to the elbows, pushed back his chair and stood. “But who are you?” He looked to the guard. “Pierre?”
Pierre shrugged. “They just drove up. In a truck.”
One of the men gave a guttural chuckle. “One doesn’t look at the bridle of a gift horse.”
“No, just the legs,” retorted another, and they stared at Kate and Emmie in a way that made Kate put her hands on her collar, even though it was already buttoned as high as it would go. Emmie, whose French wasn’t nearly as colloquial, smiled uncertainly at them, aware that there was a joke, but not sure what it was.
Kate didn’t at all like the way the men were smiling. “We,” she said crisply, “are with the American Red Cross.”
These men might not have heard of the Smith Unit, but everyone knew the Red Cross. And Americans.
“Red Cross, eh?” The men all exchanged glances. The leader, the one with the black hair, smiled back at them, showing too many teeth. “We love the Red Cross.”
“We do what we can,” said Emmie, pleased. “We’re so happy to be here to help.”
“Oh, I have some ideas for how you can help,” called out one of the men.
“Really? We’re always looking for ways to improve our services,” said Emmie gamely, and looked confused when that raised a great laugh.
Kate edged closer to her. “Emmie, I don’t think—”
But Emmie was resolved to be pleasant. “We can’t tell you how much we appreciate your hospitality.” Kate could see her determinedly ignoring their discarded jackets and the fact that they made no effort to put them back on. “What regiment are you with?”