I had been doing some research on medieval times for another book I was writing when I came across a footnote about the Templar knights being disbanded in disgrace over trumped up charges. This sounded so tantalizing that I looked further into the matter, and I thought it was such an interesting story that it needed to be told. At the same time--and seemingly unrelated--I knew that my mother, who lived in France during the Second World War, had a friend who'd had a house in the country and took in children. I'd read books about English kids leaving London but not French kids leaving Paris, which was a slightly different situation since London was being bombed, but the Germans were actually in France.
Lisette sat down on the ground with her knees drawn up close to her chest. Maybe thirteen years old wasn't that wonderful after all. Maybe there was an advantage to being a younger child and not knowing what was going on around you. But thinking of younger children reminded her of the Jewish family on the train--and once she thought of them, she couldn't get their faces out of her mind. She ressted her head against her upraised knees and tried not to feel sorry for herself.
A cold breeze touched the back of her neck.
Which was odd, since her hair covered her neck.
Lisette straightened up. Slowly.
The icy touch was gone, but she had a strong sensation that someone was watching her. She turned around, quickly this time.