#149398 - We knew that the way we looked, the day Mistress took delivery of her fake identity, meant that we couldn’t pass ourselves off as wartime Frenchwomen, so we’d virtually starved ourselves for the two weeks before we took over the new apartment, allowing ourselves a mere one meal per day, and two weeks of feeling hungry virtually all day, every day, was absolute torture. “If you had somewhere to go,would you take me with you?” “You’d go with me, Mistress?” I asked in absolute shock. It couldn’t have any effect other than negative, especially at that stage of the war Our identities were accepted and we were able to get places on a train heading for a safe area well clear of the fighting.

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