Hero on a Bicycle by Shirley Hughes Page A

day or two.”
    “Good. I thought I might warn you — in absolute confidence, you understand. . . .” He lowered his voice. “You know, of course, that the Gestapo is very active here, based in my office.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “Colonel Richter came in early this morning. The German military authorities have informed us that there was an incident in the city last night. An escaped prisoner of war was captured, but another got away.”
    “Really? We hadn’t heard. . . .”
    “The one who escaped was not alone. He had an accomplice — a boy on a bicycle.”
    There was a long pause.
    “Signora Crivelli? Are you still there?”
    “Yes, I’m here.”
    The captain’s voice dropped still further.
    “Of course you realize that it’s highly irregular for me to telephone you like this. The city is under military law and — as you know — it’s a capital offense for Italian civilians to aid the enemy in any way.”
    “I know.”
    “As we are old friends, I thought I might mention that you may have an official visit from the Gestapo later today. Someone has mentioned your name to them as being possibly suspect. So if you need to prepare in any way . . .”
    “I understand, Captain. Please don’t say any more. And thank you. I’m so very grateful.”
    When she hung up, Rosemary had to hold on to the edge of the table to steady herself. Her legs hardly seemed able to support her.
    “Franco — oh, Franco — what am I going to do now?” she said aloud. But she knew she was talking to an empty room.
    Her first coherent thought was that she must rouse Joe and warn him of this imminent danger, however frail he might be feeling. But before that, she had to make some sort of plan.
    She summoned Paolo and Constanza, and the three of them huddled around the kitchen table, talking in urgent whispers, although there was nobody to overhear them.
    “They could be here at any time,” said Rosemary, “and they’ll be sure to search the cellar. We’ll have to hide Joe somewhere else right away — get him out of the house altogether if possible.”
    “Could we hide him in the garden or in the barn?” suggested Constanza.
    “No — they’ll be sure to search there, too. They’re nothing if not thorough.”
    “I could get him to the hillside on the back of my bicycle,” said Paolo. “He could lie low out there until the coast’s clear.”
    Rosemary shook her head vehemently.
    “I don’t think that’s possible, Paolo. Joe’s in a very poor state, and he’s lost a lot of blood. How would you manage if he collapsed completely?”
    “There must be somewhere we can hide him,” Paolo said suddenly. “Wait a minute — I know! What about the little wine store under the grating right next to the cellar? The one I . . . I mean, the one nobody would think of unless they actually knew it was there.”
    Rosemary’s mind was racing.
    “It might do,” she said. “We’ve got to be quick, though. Do you think we can disguise the door that leads from the cellar? And the trapdoor from outside?”
    “You bet,” said Paolo.
    “Right. Maria’s better left out of this, so, Paolo, can you begin covering up the outside? There’s that pile of old wine crates in the yard. You can put them on top of the trapdoor and scatter some grass cuttings around. Constanza, you’d better come down to the cellar with me. We’ve got to break it to Joe and get the place completely cleared up — we can’t leave a sign of anyone having been in there. We must hurry!”
    Joe was dazed when they woke him, but he grasped the situation very quickly and tried as best he could with his good arm to help Rosemary roll up all the bedding and hide it under a pile of old curtains. Constanza was pulling away all the piles of junk around the little door that led to the wine store.
    “Check the air holes in this door,” Rosemary told her, “and put a bottle of water and a couple of blankets in there. Oh, and my flashlight.”
    They worked