CLAUDINE WAS IN the kitchen with Arlette, grinding acorns to make coffee and discussing that week’s menus, when the door opened and Louis toddled in, followed by Corinne.
‘Maman, we have a surprise for you,’ he said.
‘You do?’ she smiled, sweeping him up in her arms. He was so like his father now that her heart turned over every time she saw him. She hadn’t heard from François in almost a year. There had been no news either from Erich von Pappen, though she couldn’t make up her mind whether that was good or bad.
For weeks, following his last visit, she had tried to obtain an Ausweis in order to travel to Paris, but her application was constantly refused. What she hoped to achieve once she was there, she wasn’t sure, for she had no idea where Erich lived; what she did know was that sitting around at Lorvoire tearing herself to pieces with worry was serving no purpose at all. However, in the end she had no choice, because as Armand pointed out, if she defied the Germans there was no telling what reprisals would be visited on the family.
With Armand, it was a different matter. Since he had taken over the selling of the wine he found it much easier to obtain travel documents, so, only the week before, he had gone to Paris himself. He was there for five days, by which time the date on his permit had expired and he was forced to return to Lorvoire. He hadn’t managed to find Erich von Pappen.
‘And what is the surprise, chéri?’ Claudine said, swallowing the lump in her throat and kissing Louis’ cheek.
‘You have to come upstairs,’ he said, frowning and rubbing his fist over the wet patch her kiss had left.
‘Right now?’
He turned to look at Corinne and she nodded. ‘Yes, now,’ he confirmed. He wriggled to be put down, then held out his hand to lead her from the kitchen. Claudine gave Arlette a mystified shrug and told her she would be back.
‘I’ve painted a picture for you,’ Louis told her as they started up the stairs, ‘but you’re not to keep kissing me for it.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Claudine answered, grinning as she caught Corinne’s eye.
‘But that isn’t the surprise,’ Louis added.
Claudine wondered why he didn’t seem very excited: giving her a surprise was usually a source of tremendous glee. This time he seemed, if anything, rather bemused, and she was more than a little intrigued to find out what was waiting for her in the nursery.
As they crossed the landing to take the stairs to the second floor, they passed the door to Blomberg’s room. Claudine felt a sudden blaze of hatred. Only the night before he had made her kneel in front of him to polish his boots, then he had called in Hans and made her clean his too. But that was nothing to what he had forced her to do the week before. He had returned from the Château d’Artigny very nearly drooling at the mouth because he had only that day discovered she was half-English. In graphic detail he told her then what was happening to other dual-nationals – and their children – in the rest of occupied France. Of course, he said, it was his duty to pass this information to the Gestapo, but as they had become such good friends he was willing to overlook his duty in this instance, providing …
He had laughed so hard then that he had started to choke, so it was some minutes before he was able to tell her the price of his silence. An hour later she was in the drawing-room, the door was locked, and she was performing for three German officers, whom Blomberg had invited to watch the Comtesse de Lorvoire crawl about on all fours, naked.
She was now deeply suspicious of how much Blomberg actually knew about François and what he was doing, but she dared not run the risk of defying him until she had definite proof he was lying, but even then there was now this added complication of her being half-English. So for the time being at least she had no choice but to do as he said, but one day he would pay. He would pay with his life and she personally was going to take it.
‘There’s no need to look so gloomy,’ Corinne whispered in her ear, ‘it’s really quite a nice surprise.’
Claudine forced a smile, but she doubted whether anything short of François’ return would cheer her up today. But she was wrong.
When they reached the nursery playroom, Louis positioned her in the middle of the floor and Corinne closed the door. Then someone came up behind her, and put a hand over her eyes and said, ‘Guess who?’
She spun round, her eyes wide and her heart racing. ‘Lucien!’ she cried, and flung her arms around him. ‘Oh Lucien, we thought you were dead! We thought, oh, I don’t know, we thought so many things … Let me look at you! Oh, you don’t know how good it is to see you! Solange will be ecstatic. We’ll have to break it to her gently, but even then …’ Suddenly the smile fell from her face and she looked from his empty sleeve back to his laughing eyes. ‘Lucien! What happened to your arm?’
‘Careless of me, I know,’ he answered, ‘but I lost the darned thing and couldn’t find it anywhere.’
‘But how?’
‘It’s a long story. I’m just glad it was my left arm and not the right, or I’d be really stymied. Anyway, I’m getting used to it now, I hardly notice it’s missing.’
‘Are you Papa?’ Louis asked, gazing up at him curiously.
Grinning, Lucien lowered himself to Louis’ height and said, ‘No. I’m your Uncle Lucien. Don’t you remember me?’
Louis pulled a face, then looked at Claudine. ‘I think so,’ he said. Then turning back to Lucien, ‘Do you know where Papa is?’
It was Lucien’s turn to look at Claudine. ‘No,’ he answered.
‘We haven’t heard from him in almost a year,’ Claudine said. ‘I’ll tell you about it later. First, I’d better go and break the news to Solange.’
‘No,’ Lucien said, standing up and lifting Louis with him. ‘We’re not going to tell Grand-mère I’m here, are we, Louis?’
Louis’ face took on a conspiratorial look and he solemnly shook his head. Then Corinne took him into her own arms and reminded him that they had the chickens to feed.
‘We only have two horses now,’ Louis told Lucien, ‘the Germans took the others. So we keep chickens in the stables instead.’
‘I see,’ Lucien nodded, ‘that seems to make sense.’
Louis drew back as Claudine went to kiss him goodbye, but then, relenting, he offered her his cheek on the understanding that she didn’t make it wet.
‘He’s grown so much,’ Lucien chuckled as the door closed behind Louis and Corinne, ‘I can hardly believe it. I’m sorry he saw me, by the way, but he happened to walk out of the nursery just as I let myself in from the bridge. Gave him the fright of his life, I think. Thank God Corinne was behind him or he might have screamed. You have Germans living here, I’m told?’
‘Just the one. And his chauffeur. They’re out all day.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Claudine said. She sat down on the sofa, and Lucien joined her. ‘Now what’s all this business about not telling Solange?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘You won’t be missed?’ he said.
‘No.’ Arlette would carry on without her.
‘All right. I’d better start at the beginning.’
‘Start with the arm.’
He nodded. Then, as if rattling off a shopping list, he said, ‘I was engaged in the fighting at Abbeville with the Fourth Armoured Division under de Gaulle. Then the Germans pushed through, cutting us off from the main British Expeditionary Force, and I was injured – not seriously, but enough to put me out for several days. The next thing I knew I was at Dunkirk, being piled into a stinking fishing boat along with dozens of others. As we started into the Channel our boat collided with another, and my arm, which was hanging over the side at the time …’ He made a slicing motion with his hand and grinned as Claudine winced.
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘we got to England and I was carted off to hospital, which was where one of de Gaulle’s men found me. He took me off to London as soon as I’d recovered, and that’s where I was until January. In January I sailed back to France with a couple of others, again in a stinking fishing boat. We made our way to Paris, holed up there for a while, and now I’m here.’
‘Why do I get the impression you’ve missed out the most important bit?’
Lucien grinned. ‘Because I have. And because I have to know that I can trust you before I tell you anything else.’
‘And what am I supposed to do to convince you of that?’
‘I guess nothing, because I’m going to trust you anyway. I have to. The reason I’m here in France is to help organize an escape route for the British pilots who are shot down or forced to bail out of their aircraft. It’s imperative that we get them back to England as quickly as possible so that they can continue the fight.’
‘And where do I come in?’
‘We need safe-houses for the pilots right the way through the country down into Spain. We also need couriers to let the safe-houses know when to expect the pilots. But that’s only the beginning. We need clothes, documents, guides, doctors, medication and as much information about the movement of German troops as we can get. You have contacts in this area, so does Armand. Where is he, by the way? Perhaps we should call him in?’
Claudine shook her head. ‘He went to Blois yesterday and won’t be back until Friday.’
‘I thought he was supposed to be protecting you from François’ nemesis?’
‘Life has to go on, Lucien.’
He nodded. ‘Has anyone discovered who Halunke is yet?’
‘I don’t think so. But as I said, we haven’t heard from François for almost a year.’
‘What about von Pappen?’
‘He came here a few months ago. Looking for you, as a matter of fact.’
‘Did he?’ Lucien said thoughtfully. ‘Did he say why he was looking for me?’
‘No. He just said he was concerned.’
Lucien laughed. ‘Probably thought I’d got myself killed. Well, we can put his mind at rest now. So what’s all this about Armand going to Blois?’
‘He travels quite a lot to sell the wine.’ She shrugged. ‘Someone has to, now François isn’t here to do it.’
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and he wondered if he should tell her that he knew how in love she and his brother were, so there was no need to hide it from him. But he decided not to. She was handling it in her own way, and now wasn’t the time to be having that kind of conversation. ‘So who’s running the vineyards?’ he asked.
‘Armand. Solange, Monique and I help as much as we can. But that’s not important. What is important is that Armand finds it much easier than most to obtain a laissez-passer, or an Ausweis – the documents we need to travel about the country. So he could be invaluable as a courier.’
‘He most certainly could,’ Lucien agreed. ‘Pity he’s not here now. I have three airmen at a safe house in La Flèche, and I need to get word to their next safe-house which is just outside Loudun. I can’t go myself because I have to return to La Flèche before curfew to get them.’
‘I’ll go,’ Claudine said, without even thinking about it.
‘You would?’ Lucien exclaimed. ‘That’s just what I was hoping you’d say.’ And putting his arm round her, he gave her a smacking kiss on the forehead. ‘You’re a remarkable woman, Claudine!’
She pulled a face, and extricating herself from his embrace, said, ‘So, what do I do, and who should I speak to?’
‘First things first,’ he chuckled. ‘You have to think of a cover-story for why you’re going to Lémeré.’
‘Lémeré? But I thought you said Loudun?’
‘I did. But we’re introducing a system of cut-outs, which means you never actually meet the person you’re trying to contact. That way, if the Gestapo get hold of you you won’t be able to betray anyone. So, you are to go to the post office in Lémeré and ask to send a long cable including the words “Grandfather is sick”, then make a fuss about the charge. That way the postmaster will pay extra attention to your cable, and when he sees the code he’ll know he has to pass the message on to the next cut-out point.’
‘But that way I know who my contact is. And he’ll know me.’
‘As I know you, etc. It’s not a perfect system, but we’re working on it. However, if the Germans rumble you and torture you, which they will if they catch you, you will be able to tell them only of the post office in Lémeré. And if you disappear, I will know, so I can warn the postmaster.’
‘And if I tell them about you?’
‘What can you tell them? You have no idea where I’m going from here.’
‘La Flèche.’
‘That’s what I’ve told you.’
She grinned. ‘I’m with you.’
‘Good. So all you need now is a cover-story, and a cable.’
‘The cable is easy enough. I’ll simply address it to some friends in the south and tell them how sorry I am to learn their grandfather is sick.’
‘And sign it with a fictitious name. The last thing the postmaster will want to know is who you really are.’
She nodded. ‘And the reason I’m going to Lémeré, if I’m stopped along the way? I know, Liliane has a friend in Lémeré, I’ll say I’m taking her some eggs because Liliane can’t ride a bicycle.’
‘Pretty thin,’ Lucien said.
‘You know, we spend half our time pedalling round the countryside delivering farm produce to old folk.’
‘All right. But keep to the back roads, and if there’s a German anywhere near the post office, don’t go in. Just deliver the eggs and come home. If you succeed in passing the message, then black-out your bedroom window at curfew as normal, but leave the shutters open. If you fail, close the shutters. That way, I’ll know.’
‘So you’re going to be passing through the forest. Should you really be telling me that?’
Lucien laughed and got up. ‘I can see you’re going to make an excellent agent! But even agents have to tell one another something. Now, I’m going to make my way back to La Flèche,’ he gave her a comical look, ‘and you should go to see Liliane and tell her you’re taking eggs to her friend. And you’ll have to do it, too.’
Claudine walked with him to the bridge door.
‘One other thing before I go,’ he said, pulling the door closed behind them. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be able to get here again, but if I need you to relay another message, Jacques will come. It’s not his real name, of course, and you should think of a pseudonym too, by the way. Do it now.’
‘Antoinette,’ she said, immediately giving her mother’s name.
‘Good. I’ll tell him to give an owl hoot from the forest if he needs to contact you. When you hear it, go to the edge of the bridge and wait. When he’s sure you haven’t been followed and aren’t being watched, he’ll come out of hiding. Then he’ll give you a password. It is snowing in Paris. You answer with, It often does in spring. If you hear anything but that, scream! Make it look as though you were waiting for a lover or something – but if you have to, kill him. Do you have a gun?’
Claudine shook her head.
‘I’ll get one to you.’ He grinned. ‘Do you think you’re up to it?’
‘Killing?’
He nodded.
‘Yes,’ she answered without hesitation, thinking of Blomberg.
Laughing, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and loped off into the forest. She waited until he had disappeared, then turned back inside. Just as she was closing the door she saw him come back through the trees. She waved, and he blew her kiss, mouthing the words, ‘Bonne chance!’
Several days later, Claudine was in the library reading the newspaper Gustave had slipped her that morning. It was by now three months old, the date at the top of the page was December 1940; but the clandestine newspapers often were well out of date by the time they received them. Circulating newspapers like Résistance – the one she was reading now – was an extremely risky business, and if the publishers, or indeed the readers, were caught, they would almost certainly be delivered into the hands of the Gestapo. Particularly if the paper carried a message on its front page like this one: ‘Resist! This is the cry that comes from the hearts of all of you who suffer from our country’s disaster. This is the wish of all of you who want to do your duty.’
A few minutes later Claudine pushed the newspaper back into the drawer of Louis’ desk and locked it. Then, resting her chin on her hands, she started to think. Her little venture for Lucien the other day, which had passed without incident, had sharpened her appetite for action. She hadn’t heard from him since, so she had no idea if he had managed to get the pilots to their next safe-house or not. But either way, she knew she couldn’t just sit around waiting for him to make contact. The time had come for a more organized resistance, and instead of talking about it she must actually do something about it.
The problems were manifold, that much was clear. To begin with, though there were obviously plenty of people who would be willing to help, there were many more who wouldn’t, and who would even betray those who did. Nevertheless, she made a mental list of those she felt sure she could rely on. Armand, naturally. Then there was his mother, who could possibly be persuaded into making her home a safe-house. And of course the cottage in the forest could be used too. There was also Gertrude Reinberg, who would undoubtedly be willing to make clothes for the pilots. And Doctor Lebrun, who had already volunteered the information that the telephone operator in Chinon was listening into German telephone calls, and said how frustrated he felt at having no one to pass the intelligence on to. So what they needed was to co-ordinate and extend this little network in such a way that it would not only help Lucien and the pilots, but would to some degree harass and thwart the Germans.
She must begin with a recruitment programme. Potential resisters should be given a rigorous interview and various tests of loyalty, and must be initially recommended by someone already known to be trustworthy. What then? Defacing German posters, cutting telephone lines, re-hoisting French flags and slashing tyres was hardly going to send the Germans scuttling back to the Fatherland. Annoyance wasn’t enough; they must be inconvenienced. But how? They, the resisters, had no weapons, no training, no underground experience …
Claudine’s eye suddenly widened, and she couldn’t imagine why the idea hadn’t occurred to her before. Corinne. She would know exactly how to go about this, she could even help train the recruits in unarmed combat.
Excitedly, Claudine got up from her chair and began to pace the room. She must think this through a little more, because Corinne’s job was to protect Louis, and that must come first. But Corinne could act as an adviser; the training she, Claudine, would carry out herself. She would need someone to head their little group, too, once it was under way. Most of their members would probably be men, and knowing the French as she did, it would be fatuous of her to expect them to take orders from a woman. Lucien’s visits were going to be erratic, but Armand was both liked and respected and, as she had pointed out to Lucien, he had the perfect excuse for travelling about the countryside, and bona fide documents that would even take him over the demarcation line and into Vichy France if necessary.
Yes, it was all beginning to shape up nicely. There was no point in thinking about the danger, if she did that she would become one of the Attentistes she accused Tante Céline of being. Sitting around waiting to see what would happen wasn’t good enough. They had to make things happen, and the sooner they started the better. Armand was due back later that day, so she would cycle into the village, return the newspaper to Gustave … Gustave! There was another recruit. A café was the perfect place to pass on information.
‘Ah! I was just coming to see you,’ Armand said as she walked out of the café an hour later.
‘And I you,’ Claudine said. ‘How was Blois?’
‘Successful.’
‘Good. Did Estelle enjoy her trip?’
‘I think so.’
His face had turned slightly pink at the mention of Estelle, but if he hadn’t told her himself that he was taking Estelle to Blois she would never have mentioned it. ‘And what were you coming to see me about?’ she asked, as they turned to walk across the square.
‘Two things. First, I wanted to know that you were all right.’ He grinned. ‘That the big bad wolf hadn’t come out of the forest to get you.’
They often joked about Halunke now, it was probably one of the best ways of dealing with it, she’d decided. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she said, smiling, ‘someone did come out of the forest.’
Immediately he was angry. ‘I’ve told you time and time again that I shouldn’t be leaving you to go and sell wine. We should employ someone else to do it …’
‘Oh, do be quiet, Armand, and stop fussing,’ she laughed. ‘Now, don’t you want to know who it was?’
‘Well?’ he said.
She put her head to one side, caught her scarf as it took off in the wind, and said, ‘Lucien.’
‘What!’
‘Yes, our very own Lucien. Alive and kicking and in need of our help. Which is why I was coming to see you.’
‘Help? What kind of help?’
Claudine glanced about her, and seeing that there was no one in sight decided that here was as good a place as any. She perched herself on the edge of the well, and began.
‘… So what d’you think?’ she said, when she had finished. ‘It’ll be risky, I know, but …’
‘Risky! It’ll be downright dangerous,’ he cried. ‘We might just as well go and put ourselves in front of a firing squad now.’
‘Oh, Armand,’ she groaned. ‘Please don’t …’
‘Count me in,’ he laughed. ‘When are you seeing Lucien again?’
Resisting the urge to hug him, she said, ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say. But that’s no reason for us to wait. We can have everything organized by the time he returns.’
‘All right. I’ll make a start by going to ask my mother about this safe-house business, and you can talk to Gustave. Then I want you to meet me on the bridge at eleven thirty tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh?’ she said curiously.
‘It’s the second reason I was coming to see you this afternoon. But it can wait until then.’
Claudine shivered and pulled her waterproof hat tighter onto her head. It was a horrible, dreary day, the sky was leaden grey and the wind bitingly cold. Armand was leading the way through the forest, and though she was trying to concentrate on what he was saying, the fact that they were clearly heading towards the old cottage was unsettling her. He had so far refused to tell her why they were going there, except to say that he had something to show her.
They reached a dip in the path and she slipped in the slimy undergrowth, her scarf getting hooked on the spiky branches of a low-hanging tree.
‘Armand, I do wish you would tell me what’s going on,’ she said, exasperated.
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ he answered, helping her to untangle her scarf, then winding it about her neck. ‘Now come along, we’re almost there.’
A few minutes later they approached the clearing in front of the cottage, and Claudine saw straightaway that there was smoke coming from the chimney. Her heart sank. It was days like this that she and Armand had found so romantic, making love in front of the fire and huddling into the coarse blankets they took from the bed …
‘Wait!’ Armand put out a hand to stop her going any further. ‘Wait here,’ he whispered, and hunching his shoulders against the rain, he crept quietly across the clearing.
She watched, not a little irritated, as he pressed himself against the wall of the cottage and edged towards the window. He peered inside, then looked back to where she was standing and signalled her to join him.
‘What is it?’ she whispered as she walked into the circle of his arm. But he only put a finger over his lips then pushed her towards the window.
At first she couldn’t see anything through the steam on the glass, but Armand pointed to a clear patch near the bottom and she stooped to look through.
Her eyes scanned the room. It hadn’t changed a bit since she was last there; even her amateurish portrait of Armand still hung over the fireplace. The table was laid for lunch, with pieces of broken bread, a half-empty bottle of wine and – considering the ration per person per day was a quarter of an ounce – a surprisingly generous wedge of cheese. She could hear voices, but she couldn’t actually see anyone until she re-positioned herself and looked over into the far corner where the old bed was pushed up against the wall. On it were two naked figures in the final throes of making love. Immediately Claudine drew back and turned an angry face to Armand.
He shook his head. ‘Look closer,’ he hissed.
Her face was taut with disapproval, but she dragged her eyes back to the window, and as she looked in again the man rolled over onto his back. Claudine’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. It was Hans, Blomberg’s chauffeur, and the woman he had been making love to was Monique.
It was almost four o’clock by the time Monique let herself in through the bridge door. Claudine was waiting for her. Without uttering a word, she grabbed Monique by the arm and hauled her into her bedroom.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Monique cried, snatching her arm away and glaring at Claudine defiantly.
Claudine slammed the door. ‘I’d like you to tell me that!’ she said, trying to keep her voice down. ‘I saw you, Monique. I saw you with my own eyes, so don’t bother to deny it. Now what the hell do you think you’re doing fornicating with Germans? You know what could happen …’
‘How dare you speak to me like that!’
‘I dare. And if need be I’ll keep you locked in your room to stop you seeing him again.’
For a moment Monique was speechless with rage. ‘Just who do you think you are!’ she shouted. ‘I’m not a child …’
‘No! You’re a damned fool. You know as well as I do what the penalty is for sleeping with a German. They call it “polluting the master race”, Monique, and for that you can be shot.’
‘But we’re in love!’ Monique cried, tears starting to pour from her eyes. ‘You know what it’s like to be in love, so how can you …’
‘Stop it! Stop it now!’ Claudine shouted. ‘If he’s in love with you, why is he putting you in this danger?’ An image of François flashed into her mind and for once she was relieved that no one knew how they felt about each other. ‘If I can find out so easily what’s going on,’ she continued, ‘then so can others. The worst that can happen to Hans is that he’ll be transferred elsewhere. But you, you could find yourself facing a firing squad and there won’t be a damned thing he can do to help you.’
Burying her face in her hands, Monique started to run from the room, but Claudine caught her and pulled her back. ‘No!’ she said firmly. ‘You are not going to run away. You’re going to sit here and talk to me, and I’m not letting you leave until I have your word that you won’t see him again.’
‘You can’t stop me!’ Monique sobbed.
‘I can stop you, and I will. I care a great deal about you, Monique, so do the rest of your family, and think what it would do to your mother if she were to find out.’ Then, realizing that she was being perhaps a little too harsh, she softened her voice and said, ‘Come and sit down, Monique. Sit down and listen to what I have to say.’
Once they were sitting side by side on the bed, she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the tears from Monique’s cheeks. ‘I’m sorry I flew off the handle,’ she said gently, ‘but I was afraid for you. I still am.’
Monique’s wide, amber eyes looked at her, searching her face as if she might find the answers to the misery of her life. ‘Oh, Claudine,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘Claudine, I don’t know what to do any more. I’m so lonely. I can’t find anyone to love me, to care about me. What’s wrong with me? Please tell me. Why is this happening?’
‘I don’t know, chérie,’ Claudine answered, hugging her. ‘I wish I did. But you can’t go on seeing Hans, you know that, don’t you?’
‘But what if he’s the right one for me? What if we’re meant to be together?’
Claudine shook her head. ‘He’s not, Monique. This may hurt you, but I have to make you understand that he is simply using you. Armand tells me that Hans has quite a reputation in Chinon, that he sleeps with a lot of the girls.’
‘That’s not true!’ Monique wailed. ‘How would Armand know, anyway?’
‘Estelle told him. She was the one who first saw you at the cottage with Hans. Now listen, I’m going to let you into a secret. It won’t exactly make up for anything, but I think it’ll make you a little happier than you are now. But you have to swear to me first that you won’t tell Solange.’
‘I swear,’ Monique said.
Claudine took a deep breath, sent up a silent prayer that she was doing the right thing, then put her hands on Monique’s shoulders and said, ‘I’ve seen Lucien. He’s been here …’ But she got no further, for Monique let out a howl and fell sobbing into her arms.
‘Lucien!’ she cried. ‘Lucien! Where is he now? Oh, Claudine, why didn’t he see me too? But I know why. Oh, Claudine, I can’t bear it. I love him so much. And François. They love me, they’re the only men who love me. I want them back here, Claudine. I want François. François makes everything all right. He understands. He knows about Lucien and he understands the way I feel. But I can’t feel it, Claudine. I mustn’t. It’s wrong, but I can’t help it. I love him so much …’
A cold dread was starting to run through Claudine’s veins, and pulling Monique away from her shoulder she looked into her eyes. ‘What are you saying, Monique?’ she whispered. ‘What do you mean, it’s wrong?’
Monique started to shake her head, and tearing herself away, she pushed her face into the pillow. ‘Nothing!’ she cried. ‘I don’t mean anything. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. Only François knows.’
‘Knows what, chérie?’
‘Nothing! I shouldn’t have said …’ Her body was convulsed with sobs and Claudine could only stare at her in horror.
‘Monique, are you in love with Lucien?’ she said finally, staggered that she should even be thinking such a thing.
The silence that followed was confirmation enough, and for the moment Claudine felt too shocked to move. She looked at Monique. She was so still that for a moment Claudine thought she might have fainted. ‘Does Lucien know?’ Her voice was like an echo inside her head.
After what felt like an unbearably long time, Monique pulled herself up and looked into Claudine’s eyes. But she couldn’t hold the gaze and lowered her head. ‘No one knows,’ she said huskily. ‘Except François.’
‘How does he know?’ Claudine whispered.
Monique blew her nose noisily. ‘I told him. When I was fifteen. He found me crying one day and made me tell him why. I’d just come from Lucien’s room where I’d caught him making love to the maid. They didn’t see me, but I stood there for a long time watching them, and I was so jealous that I just wanted to kill her. François said it was natural for me to be jealous. He said that it had come as a shock to me to realize that Lucien could love another girl. He said that when I was older and had a relationship of my own, I’d understand how it was possible to love in two different ways. But I knew the way I was feeling wasn’t normal. Lucien’s my brother, my own flesh and blood, and I wanted him to hold me the way he …
‘Oh Claudine, I tried so hard to believe what François had told me, but I knew I couldn’t wait until I was older, I had to find out then. So I got one of the men from the vineyards to make love to me, but it was no good, I couldn’t get Lucien and the maid out of my mind. I kept imagining that Christophe, the man from the vineyards, was Lucien … I told François, but he only said that it was because I didn’t really love Christophe. He dismissed Christophe then, I know he did, though he told me that Christophe had left of his own accord …’
She looked up and Claudine’s heart turned over at the anguish in her eyes. ‘The worst thing,’ she went on, ‘is that François said the memory would fade – but it hasn’t. Every time I make love with someone I see them together, her legs wrapped around Lucien’s waist, Lucien’s back, his shoulders, the sweat glistening on his skin … and I start to imagine that I’m the maid and the man I’m with is Lucien. I’ve tried so hard not to, I keep trying, but it’s all I can think of. I so desperately want to fall in love with someone else, to prove to myself that I’m normal, but …’ She looked off into the distance and swallowed hard on her tears. I don’t know what to do, Claudine. I just don’t know what to do.’
Claudine felt a gurgle of laughter in her throat as relief overcame her. ‘Oh Monique!’ she said, taking her hands, ‘Monique. It’s not what …’
‘Don’t! Don’t say anything. I should never have told you, but I … It’s so horrible and it’s never going to change. I know you despise me now, I don’t blame you! I despise myself. I want to die, so many times I’ve just wanted to …’
‘Ssh!’ Claudine soothed. ‘Just tell me, when did you last talk to François about this?’
Monique shrugged. ‘I don’t know. A long time ago. When I was twenty, I think.’
‘Then you’re a silly goose. You should have talked to him again.’
‘Why? It’s his brother I’m talking about as well as mine. And he knows I still feel the way I do, but he’s as disgusted by it as you are. But he understood, at first … Oh Claudine, so many awful things have happened because of it. François … François killed someone because of it.’
Claudine’s face turned white. ‘What do you mean? What are you saying, Monique?’
‘François killed a woman because she loved Lucien. He knew I was jealous, so he killed her. I didn’t want him to do it, but it was … No, I can’t think of it. It was all so terrible. It was all my fault …’
‘Monique, calm down,’ Claudine said firmly. ‘Now tell me, who was the woman?’
‘Her name was Hortense. Hortense de Bourchain.’
It was the name Claudine had expected to hear, yet still she was stunned. ‘No, Monique,’ she said slowly. ‘You’re wrong. I don’t know why François killed her, but he wouldn’t have done it for the reasons you think.’
‘How do you know? You weren’t here. He’s never told you …’
‘He told me he killed her, but I know he wouldn’t have done it because of the way you feel – you think you feel – about Lucien. Monique, you’ve got to listen to me, and you must try to understand what I’m saying. François was right when he told you you were shocked by finding Lucien in bed with the maid, and the way you responded was quite natural, given your age and how close you are to Lucien. But somehow you’ve managed to build it out of all proportion; you’re so obsessed by the image of Lucien making love that you can’t see beyond it. But you aren’t going to exorcise the image by sleeping with every man you meet. Either your desperation will frighten them – as it did with Freddy – or your vulnerability will lead them to use you – as happened with Karol and with Hans.’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ Monique cried. ‘I think of Lucien when I’m making love with them, that’s why things go wrong. Oh, they don’t know it, I can hide it, but it’s true, and somehow they must sense it.’
‘No! All they sense is that they’ve got hold of a woman they can turn into a slave. The answer doesn’t lie with these men, it lies with you. You have to face the truth – which is much, much easier than the terrible misconception you’ve been living with. Oh, if only you’d talked to François again. He would have helped you, things might never have gone this far … He probably thinks you’re over it.’
‘Well, I’m not over it.’ Monique stood up abruptly. ‘I don’t want to discuss it any more. Please, I beg you, don’t ever refer to it again. I’ll stop seeing Hans, I’ll do anything you ask of me, but please …’ She broke down again, and before Claudine could stop her she had run out of the room.
If she hadn’t at that moment heard the haunting owl hoot that was her signal to receive a message from Lucien, Claudine would have gone after her. She had no intention of letting the matter rest there. Monique was not in love with Lucien, but it was going to take a great deal of time, patience and understanding to help her put that adolescent trauma into perspective. However, for the moment the call from the forest was more pressing, and putting her coat round her shoulders, she let herself out into the icy rain and ran to the far edge of the bridge.
She waited, and after a few minutes a dark figure loomed out of the shadows. Her heart lurched into her throat. He was wearing heavy boots, a belted fur jerkin, and a voluminous black cap was pulled down over his eyes. She dreaded to think what Armand, or more particularly François, would say if they knew what she was doing now, but she pushed the thought to one side and watched the man approach.
‘It’s snowing in Paris,’ he told her, his voice barely reaching her through the howl of the wind.
‘It often does in spring,’ she answered, her heart thudding wildly.
The stranger smiled briefly, then said, ‘Two coming through tomorrow night. Go to the tabac in Monts. Hand over these ration tickets,’ he passed them to her, ‘and ask for five packets of Gauloises. The answer you receive should be I have only three. Ask to smoke one there – since women aren’t permitted to smoke in public it won’t be such an unusual request – and he will take you through to the back of the shop. Smoke your cigarette, tell him two are coming through, then when he gives you the three packets, leave. If he has a message to relay to us it will be in the cigarettes. Don’t open them, bring them here.’ He took her by the arm and pulled her into the shadows. ‘Put them there,’ he said, pointing to a hollow in the bole of a tree, ‘and I will collect them tomorrow night.’ He bent down and reached inside the hole. Then standing up again, he pressed something into her hand. It was a gun.
‘Bonne chance!’ he said. Then he pulled his collar up round his face and sprinted off into the forest.
Claudine returned immediately to her room, secreted the gun beneath her pillow and went off to find Monique. But when she tried the door of Monique’s room it was locked, and nothing Claudine said would persuade her to open it.
The following morning, while Claudine was in her sitting-room trying to concoct a reason for going to Monts, Solange came in and told her Monique had gone to stay with some friends at L’Île Bouchard.
‘For how long?’ Claudine asked, trying to swallow her frustration.
‘Two weeks. Now, where is that grandson of mine? I expected to find him here.’
‘He’s in François’ bathroom,’ Claudine told her, ‘having a shave.’
‘What?’ Solange shrilled.
‘It’s all right, there aren’t any blades,’ Claudine laughed, as Solange hurtled off in the direction of François’ room, ‘he’s just pretending.’
Damn it, Claudine thought, what was she going to do about Monique? It was maddening to think that she was putting herself through such unnecessary misery. But there was nothing she could do about it for the moment, Claudine thought. She would just have to wait for her return.
As it turned out, it was almost five weeks before Monique came back. And the night before she returned, something happened to put Monique’s problem, and everything else, right out of Claudine’s mind.