EXHAUSTED, AND NEVER having been quite so eager to climb into bed, Claudine dragged back the covers. She checked the time on her watch, snapped off the lamp and snuggled down into the crisp linen sheets Magaly had only moments before stroked with the warming pan.
It was approaching one in the morning, and three times during her cycle ride back from Montsoreau she had been forced to throw herself into a hedge to escape a German patrol. She had been terrified, not only of the Germans, but because it was the first time she had been out after curfew without Armand, and the driving rain, coupled with the almost solid blackness of the moonless night, had thrown up all manner of imaginary evils. But Lucien himself had come to the Château the night before, to ask her and Armand to attend a meeting of the local resistance group at an old barn on the road between Montsoreau and Saumur. Armand had left for Le Mans that morning and wouldn’t be back until the following day, so Claudine had gone alone, her gun tucked safely beneath the blanket in the handlebar basket.
When she arrived at the barn, following the directions Lucien had made her memorize, she had been amazed to count as many as twenty-five faces, although apart from Lucien and the man Jacques – who had come to the bridge several times now – they were all strangers to her. She was introduced as Antoinette, and guessed that all the names she was given in return were also false. The meeting was to tell them of their successes and failures so far, and to see if anyone had any suggestions about how they might improve and expand their network. It seemed that to date they had seen no fewer than twenty-three airmen through their escape-line, and suffered only four arrests – one Résistant and three pilots. Lucien had also managed to locate someone with a radio in Saumur, and had made contact with General de Gaulle’s London headquarters three times in the past two weeks. He was now looking for a new hide-out for the radio operator, as the detector vans had picked up their last transmission. Claudine had immediately offered the cottage, as it was not only secluded but on high ground, which was vital. So the man would be arriving in the next few days, and would stay for about a week before he moved elsewhere.
‘Though we are primarily working for de Gaulle’s intelligence service,’ Lucien said, ‘I have been informed that the British have already started parachuting their own agents into France. I want everyone to dispense with any prejudice they might have towards the British,’ he added hastily as several of the men made noises of protest, ‘because it’s essential we work together. They’re bringing arms with them, small guns, hand grenades and the like, radio transmitters, canned food and even bicycles, all of which we need. These agents are going to need safe-houses, though most of them are fixed up before they leave England. But we must put ourselves at their disposal and help them in every way we can. They, like us, are working towards the liberation of France.’
Lucien cleared his throat. ‘For now we need to store the arms and ammunition, and get as much information as we can back to Britain on troop movements here.’ He turned to Claudine. ‘I want you and the rest of your family to cut all the labels from your French clothes and give them to me. I’m returning to Britain in a few days, so I can take them with me. Also, being half-English, Antoinette, you will know the kind of things British people do that might give them away as not being French. Write them down and let me have that too. They’re setting up training centres around the British Isles to educate their agents in, amongst other things, the habits of the French.’
‘What, you mean like…?’
‘… pissing on the side of the road,’ Lucien finished for her, and they all laughed. ‘Precisely,’ he said.
They went on then to discuss the réseaux – which was what the resistance groups were collectively known as – in other parts of northern France, and how the British were planning to send in their own agents to head them. There were more grunts of disapproval at that, but Lucien let it go; the agents themselves would have to deal with the discontent when they arrived. It was a pity, he thought, that the British had been compelled to blow up the French fleet at Mers-el-Kabir; it would be a long time before the French forgave them for that. But the British had had no choice, the ships would otherwise have fallen into German hands – and besides, the animosity between the two nations went a lot further back than July of 1940.
‘When I return from England,’ Lucien went on, ‘I fully expect to be asking you to form reception committees. That means that you’ll be lighting up fields at night so that the pilots can see where to drop their supplies – and indeed agents. I don’t have to tell you how risky that will be, but none of us is in this for the good of his health. In the meantime, Jacques here is arranging for us to join up with the Jupiter réseau, and Henri over there has found a printer willing to help us. We need a new forger, because Madame Germond has been arrested. As far as we know she’s told the Gestapo nothing yet, but the three men who were in contact with her are now in hiding.’
The meeting broke up soon after that, and Claudine was one of the first to leave. ‘I’m glad to have this chance to talk to you,’ she said, as Lucien walked outside with her. ‘I’ve told Monique that I’ve seen you. She’s away at the moment, but when she comes back I want to get her involved as a courier. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. Armand told me about the business with the German.’
‘That’s over,’ Claudine said. ‘It was a touch of summer madness.’
‘In the middle of a wintry spring. Well, you’re the best judge, you see more of her than the rest of us. But remember, it’s not only her We you’ll be putting at risk.’
‘I’ll remember. The other thing is, I think Solange should join us too. She has the perfect cover for going about the countryside, she’s always visiting someone or other. And these days she takes Liliane with her in a box Armand attached to her bicycle. Of course, it takes them hours to get anywhere, but the Germans are so used to seeing them, they’ve become a sort of local attraction. And they look so funny that no one would suspect them of anything but eccentricity!’
Lucien was grinning widely as he pictured the spectacle.
‘And,’ Claudine went on, ‘I hate keeping this from her. She’s so worried about you, and I think she should know that at least one of her sons is alive.’
‘All right,’ he said, relenting. ‘But don’t tell her until I’m back from England. Then I’ll work out a way to see her myself. I take it there’s still no news from François?’
Claudine shook her head, and feeling a sudden and unexpected rush of tears she had turned quickly to her bicycle and started to pedal away …
Now, as she lay in the comfort and safety of her bed, the dreaded tears started to roll down her cheeks. But again she pushed François from her mind, making a mental note to go and see Gertrude Reinberg in the morning, to find out how she was getting on with the overalls and berets which were the uniform of French farm labourers, but were being made for escaping prisoners and pilots …
She had no idea what time it was when the noise woke her but she knew it couldn’t yet be dawn because the room was still in darkness. She was lying on her side, and though her first instinct was to reach out for the light, she stopped herself and listened, praying that it had been nothing more than the wind outside. But there was a cold air in the room as though someone had left the door open, then she heard the curtains rustle in the breeze, and the door clicked quietly closed.
Blind terror galloped through her brain. Her hand moved silently to her pillow, and as her fingers searched for the gun she heard the intruder take a breath. He moved about for some time; then, she suddenly realized, he was standing right beside the bed. The gun! she panicked. Where was the gun? Then she remembered she had turned over, it would be behind her head. Oh, dear God, help me, she prayed. Then, bracing herself, she jerked herself up in the bed, jabbed her hand under the pillow and opened her mouth to scream. But before the breath could leave her body, a hand closed over her mouth and she was being pushed back against the pillows. She tried to wrench her hand free because she now had the gun, but his body was pressing down on her and she couldn’t move. He gave a low chuckle, then his hand moved from her mouth and his lips were there.
‘François!’ she whispered.
‘Qui, chérie. C’est moi.’
‘Oh François,’ she gasped, and throwing her arms around him she kissed him savagely. But then she was angry, and pushing him away, she said, ‘You frightened me half to death! I could have killed you! What are you doing here? Where have you been? Oh, my darling, hold me.’
Laughing softly, he took her back into his arms and pulled her against him. His lips were almost touching hers as he said, ‘How are you, chérie? Have you missed me?’
She couldn’t speak as the fear and the longing she had bottled up for so long were suddenly unleashed in huge, racking sobs. ‘Oh, François,’ she choked. ‘Tell me you’re all right. Tell me everything is all right now. I was so afraid for you. I didn’t know where you were. No one knew. Let me turn on the light. Let me look at you.’ But as she made to reach across him, he pulled her back.
‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘I just want to lie here in the dark and hold you, touch you, breathe you, the way I’ve wanted to for over a year. Take off your nightdress, let me feel you next to me.’
It was only then that she realized he was completely naked, and sitting up, she pulled her nightdress over her head so she would be too. She was still a little dazed, and part of her was wondering if this was only a dream, but as his hands closed over her breasts she no longer cared whether it was or not.
She had never known herself capable of such passion as she showed then, but just like her fear, her desire had been bottled up too, and as it took hold of her she pressed his hands against her breasts, searched for his lips and buried her tongue deep inside his mouth. Then she was pulling him on top of her, her hands on his buttocks, on his thighs, pushing between his legs and taking him in a firm, demanding grip. A groan escaped her as she felt the size of him, and she writhed madly beneath him. As he pushed his fingers hard into her, she tore his hair, bit his face and begged him to take her now.
‘I can feel you,’ she moaned. ‘I can feel you filling me and filling me and oh … Oh!’ Her scream was drowned by his kiss, and as her legs gripped his waist he pushed his hands beneath her and lifted her to meet his thrusts. And then he was so deep inside her that waves of ecstasy broke through her body and she began to sob and whimper and cry into his open mouth.
‘Hold back,’ he groaned. ‘Hold back …’
‘I can’t. Oh, François!’
‘Tell me you love me,’ he panted, throwing his full weight behind the pounding of his hips.
‘Je t’aime!’ she cried. But the words were strangled in her throat as she started to shudder and convulse. He pushed her legs up to his shoulders and drove even deeper inside her, and then he was there with her, releasing his seed into the demanding pressure of her climax.
He fell over her, letting her legs go and feeling them slide down his back and over his thighs. Her arms lay limply across the sheets and her heart thudded loudly against his.
‘I love you, Claudine,’ he murmured, a long time later. ‘I love you, but if you make me do that again tonight …’
She giggled, and turned her face to kiss him.
Gently he eased himself out of her and rolled onto his back, lifting his arm for her to rest on his shoulder. ‘I had envisaged a more tender reunion,’ he whispered. ‘I knew it would be madness to think we might talk before we made love, but … Jesus Christ, Claudine what got into you?’
‘I was afraid,’ she laughed. ‘Afraid that you were only a dream and I had to have you then before you disappeared. You’re not going to, are you?’
Putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted her mouth and kissed her. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m here to stay. At least, for a while. But I won’t make my return for a few days yet.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that the need to see you was so great that I managed to shake off the man who was following me when we reached the outskirts of Paris, and then I drove straight here. I’m not scheduled to arrive until the weekend. The Abwehr are expecting me to report to their headquarters in Paris first thing tomorrow.’
‘Are you going to?’
‘No. I’m staying here to have a brief honeymoon with my wife.’
‘Is that wise?’ she said, pushing her body closer to his.
‘Probably not. But I’ll think up some reason for my mysterious three-day absence, and in the meantime I can make love to you and you can tell me everything that’s been happening while I’ve been away. Incidentally, have you seen Erich?’
‘Not for months. When he came he said he didn’t know where you were …’
‘That’s strange,’ François interrupted. ‘I was expecting him to meet me at the border, but he wasn’t there. Does Corinne know where he is?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll talk to her in the morning. Now, how are we going to find a way to be together for three days without raising anyone’s suspicions?’
‘You can stay right here,’ Claudine answered. ‘The only person who goes into your room is me, to clean it, and Louis for a shave …’
‘A what!’
‘I’ll explain later. But you can stay in the warmth and comfort of your own room, and I shall feed you your meals and we can talk and … François, what’s this on your arm?’ She moved her fingers. ‘And here, and here.’
‘That’s something I’ll explain later,’ he said, wrapping her in his arms and yawning.
‘No! What is it?’ she said, sitting up and reaching out for the lamp.
‘Please, chérie,’ he said, trying to pull her back. ‘Not now.’ She already had her finger on the switch, but as she pressed it, to his eternal relief, it was only to find that the power was off.
There was a long silence, then quietly she said, ‘They tortured you, didn’t they?’
He put his hands into the darkness to find her, but as he tried to pull her back into his arms, she resisted. ‘What did they do to you?’ she said.
He sat up too, and this time as he pulled her head onto his shoulder, she let him.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he whispered. ‘The wounds are healing.’
‘Do you know why they were torturing you?’ she asked, dreading that Blomberg had betrayed her, so that all she had submitted herself to was for nothing.
‘Yes.’ And in his deep, beloved voice he told her.
She couldn’t feel relieved. The thought that he had undergone such pain was terrible.
‘You’re still weak,’ she said. ‘I can tell.’
‘Yes, a little.’
‘Then let me hold you while you sleep.’
They lay down again, and it wasn’t long before she heard the steady rhythm of his breathing.
‘Are you asleep?’ she whispered, and when there was no answer she pressed herself closer against him and kissed his cheek. ‘I love you, my darling,’ she murmured, and closed her eyes.
‘I love you too,’ he said.
The next morning started with a heated argument. One look at François’ scars was enough to convince Claudine that he must see a doctor, but he was adamant that he wouldn’t. He had spent the last three months with doctors, he said, and that was quite enough; and though she shouted, wheedled, cried and even slapped him, he still wouldn’t give in. In the end she told him she hoped he was suffering as he deserved to after all he had put her through. He roared with laughter at that, and it was just as well they were in the shower at the time or Magaly, who was just letting herself into the sitting-room, might have heard.
Half an hour later, François was in his own room talking to Corinne while Claudine went down to prepare their breakfast. Fortunately Arlette was too busy to notice how much bread she was taking, but later poor Jean-Paul was accused of stealing other people’s rations.
‘I was wondering,’ Claudine said, as she fed François with her fingers, then kissed him before he had a chance to swallow, ‘how you managed to drive through the night without being stopped.’
‘I was stopped,’ he told her, grimacing as she slid her hand inside his dressing-gown and started to caress his thighs. ‘Several times, in fact. But as you haven’t yet seen the clothes I arrived in … If you keep that up, woman, you’ll end up flat on your back.’
‘What were you wearing?’ she said, grinning.
‘A uniform. A German uniform. I am, remember, an officer of the Abwehr.’
She pulled a face, then laughed as he turned in his chair, picked her up and sat her astride him. He ran his hands under her skirt and up over her thighs, then raised his brows as he discovered she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
‘Was Corinne able to tell you anything about Erich?’ she said, taking his penis and beginning to stroke herself with it.
‘No,’ he answered, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. ‘I’m afraid we won’t be able to have that honeymoon after all. I shall have to go to Paris and find out where he is.’
‘When?’
‘Today,’ he said, smiling as her breathing started to quicken.
‘But not yet.’
‘Not quite yet,’ he answered, lifting her skirt to watch what she was doing. But as she wriggled forward to take him into her, he pushed her back, lifted her from his lap and walked to the door.
‘François!’ she declared, then relaxed as she saw him lock it.
‘Do you realize,’ he said, taking off his dressing-gown, ‘that I am a forty-year-old man?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Only that I’m wondering if I have the stamina to satisfy an insatiable wife.’
‘Then why don’t you lie down and let your insatiable wife satisfy you?’
As it turned out he stayed all day, and Claudine, pleading a headache, pulled the curtains and locked all the doors. She bathed and kissed the angry scars on his body, and told him all she had been doing while he was away, right up to the meeting she had had with Lucien and the other Résistants the night before. His relief at hearing that Lucien was still alive was evident, but when she offered to try and get word to him to tell him to come to the Château, François said no.
‘I’ll be back on Saturday,’ he said, ‘and as far as I know I shall be staying for some time. I’ll see him then. Has there been any sign of Halunke?’
‘Not since Erich was last here.’ She turned to look at him, suddenly alarmed. It had never occurred to her until that moment that Erich’s absence might have something to do with Halunke. It was clear from the look on François’ face that the same thought was going through his mind.
‘Do you think Erich has found him?’ she said, getting up from the bed.
François got up too, and she saw the harsh look that had come into his eyes. ‘I’m going to get dressed,’ he said, starting towards her bedroom, ‘If I leave now I should be in Paris before midnight. In the meantime, you can stop this going out alone after curfew.’
‘But …’
‘I said it must stop!’ he barked.
‘I’ve got a gun,’ she reminded him, walking into her room after him.
‘I don’t care.’ He pulled open the door to her dressing-room and took down his uniform, ‘I know how headstrong, determined and downright stubborn you can be, but in this instance, Claudine, you will do as I say. It may well have seemed that Halunke had disappeared while I was away, but I’m back now, and you can be damned sure he is too. Or soon will be.’ Then he saw the look on her face, and laughed. ‘Don’t you like my uniform?’
‘It’s horrifying,’ she answered, going to put her arms around him. ‘But I am not one of your junior officers, so stop ordering me about. When will you be back?’
‘On Saturday. And you’d better prepare yourself, because I shall drive up to the front of the house in the jeep the Abwehr have so obligingly given me, and I shall be wearing this uniform. You will of course be horrified and digusted.’ He unwound her arms and stooped to pull his boots from under the bed. ‘Incidentally,’ he said, ‘do you have a Colonel Blomberg staying here?’
‘Yes.’ Claudine shivered, but as she started to turn away he pulled her back.
His black eyes were gleaming horribly as he stared down into hers. ‘He made certain threats before he left Germany,’ he said carefully, ‘I trust he hasn’t carried them out.’
‘What threats?’ Claudine asked innocently.
‘Concerning you.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, as you can see I’m all in one piece.’
‘I can see that very clearly,’ he remarked, not without irony as he ran his eyes over her nudity. ‘But if he approaches you, if he as much as …’
‘François, why don’t you let me help you on with your boots?’ she said, and pushing him onto the bed she knelt at his feet in much the same way as she had knelt at Blomberg’s. It had a different feeling altogether when it was her husband watching her, and as she looked up at his sinister face she ran her hands over his legs. The corner of his mouth dropped as his eyes narrowed – but then she remembered that it was already dark outside, he had a long drive ahead of him, and he still wasn’t fully recovered from the injuries inflicted by the Abwehr. So letting him go, she stood up, gave him a lingering kiss on the mouth and walked with him to the door.
‘Bonne chance,’ she said, as he let himself out onto the bridge. Then she heard Corinne coming up the stairs with Louis, and ran back into her room to weep with joy – and frustration that he had gone again so soon.
As he had promised, François was back again by the weekend. He came to the front of the Château in a jeep plastered with swastikas and wearing his commandant’s uniform. It was the middle of the afternoon and Claudine was dusting the books in the library with Magaly. Hearing the commotion in the hall, they both went to see what was happening, and found Solange so beside herself with joy that she had rubbed black lead polish all over her face and hair. Monique was racing down the stairs, and as Claudine watched François embrace her she made a mental note to tell him about the business with Lucien. Tante Céline came out of the kitchens then, her hands covered in flour, and Claudine had to turn away when she saw the look of horror on her face as she took in François’ uniform. But she greeted him politely enough, and Claudine was perfectly composed by the time he turned to her. At least, she thought she was, but he looked so fierce, so horribly sinister yet somehow so devastatingly attractive in his uniform, that she found her knees were trembling.
He saw her reaction, and a flash of humour sparked in his eyes. Then suddenly she was so close to laughing herself that they had to turn abruptly away from one another. François started speaking to Blomberg, who had come in with him. ‘It is obvious that my wife is less than overwhelmed by my return,’ he said, in a voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘Never mind. If you’ll excuse me, Fritz, I’ll go and see my son.’ And putting an arm round each of their shoulders, he drew his mother and his sister up the stairs with him to the nursery.
Blomberg, Claudine noticed, seemed nervous, and could not meet her eyes. Had she known it, he was remembering the words of one of his fellow-officers. ‘I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes, Fritz, if de Lorvoire ever found out how you’ve been humiliating his wife.’ The problem was, knowing that the fun would have to stop now made Blomberg want it all the more. He watched Claudine walk away, tossing her head at him as she went, and swore to himself that he would have the bitch yet.
An hour later, François came down from the nursery alone and went outside. Soon afterwards Corinne and Louis came into the library, and Corinne whispered to Claudine that François wanted to see her in half an hour.
‘He said, take one of the horses, as if you were going for a normal afternoon ride, and he’ll meet you by the old fishermen’s huts on the river bank.’
Claudine kissed Louis, much to his disgust, and went upstairs to change. Within fifteen minutes she was galloping down over the meadow towards the lower part of the forest, then ploughing through the trees on her way to the river.
François was already there by the time she arrived. He held out his arms to catch her as she cantered up to him, and she all but threw herself into them.
‘Why are we meeting here?’ she asked, when he had kissed her. ‘Why not in our rooms?’
‘Because they might be bugged and we have to talk.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘A quarter to five,’ he said, ‘that gives us a few hours before curfew.’
‘Do you think they were bugged the other night?’ she said, aghast.
‘I’ve no idea, but I doubt it. They weren’t expecting me back until now. God, you’re beautiful,’ he murmured, running a hand over her hair. ‘Come along, we’ll go into old Thomas’ hut.’
He led her to one of the huts, set back in the trees. Inside, as well as the tangle of fishing rods, nets and baskets, there were two dilapidated armchairs and a damp mattress rolled up in one corner.
‘No prizes for guessing where Thomas comes for a bit of peace and quiet,’ François grinned, unrolling the mattress and laying his coat over it.
‘Well?’ Claudine said, sitting cross-legged in front of him. ‘Did you find Erich?’
He sat down too, and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Erich is dead,’ he said flatly. Then he reached into his pocket and handed her a letter. ‘This was waiting for me at the Bois de Boulogne.’
She opened it, read the one word ERICH, and felt a cold finger of dread start to run down her spine. ‘Oh God, François,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. He was such a good friend to you. Do you know when it happened?’
‘The concièrge at his apartment couldn’t remember the date,’ he said bitterly. ‘All she could remember was that it was before Christmas. She doesn’t even know where he was buried.’
Claudine sighed, and taking his hand she gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘You know what it means, don’t you?’ he growled.
She nodded. ‘That he had found out who Halunke was.’
‘Yes. But he didn’t tell anyone, so we’re still none the wiser. Now listen, has Lucien returned to England yet?’
‘I think so.’
‘Damn!’
‘Why?’
‘When he comes back, I want to see him. I want him to arrange for you to …’
‘No! I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not going, François. We’re in this together now, and I’m not leaving you. We’ll find out who Halunke is, and we’ll find out together. That’s my final word on it.’
‘Well, it’s not mine. You’ll do as I say, damn you, and get the hell out of here. I don’t want you messing around with this. Two people have already died …’
‘Ssh!’ she said, cutting him off. Making as little noise as possible, she got up and went to peer out of the broken window.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. It must have been the horse.’ She sat down again. ‘Now, you listen to me. I’m co-ordinating a network of Résistants here in this area. They, and Lucien, are depending on me, and I’m not going to let them down. Also, I’ve been cheated of too much of my married life already by this vendetta, and I won’t put up with losing any more. I love you, François, I want to be with you, and I’m going to be. You needed Erich before, which goes to show you couldn’t manage on your own. Well, now you’ve got me. We have to work this thing out together. We’d better begin with what you know, what Erich last told you and …’
‘Claudine, shut up and for God’s sake kiss me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’d like to know that you’ll do a least one thing I tell you to.’
‘I’ll kiss you later,’ she said.
He gave a shout of laughter, and just for a moment she was almost light-headed with joy. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and suddenly they were both quiet again, staring down at the letter with Erich’s name on it, which was still lying between them.
‘We’d better begin with why I’m here,’ François said. ‘Why the Abwehr have sent me back to Lorvoire. You have to know because it’s going to affect you in a way you’re not going to like very much. They know there’s a Resistance group in the area with the code name Jupiter. No, don’t say anything until I’ve finished. They also know that there are several local escape-lines taking British pilots to safety, and that one of them runs through Touraine. The Abwehr want me not only to destroy the Touraine escape route but to arrest as many as I can of those involved. The same goes for the Jupiter réseau.’
‘Oh God,’ she murmured. ‘You do know what you’re saying, don’t you?’
‘I’m afraid I do. But I don’t want you to tell me anything. I don’t want to know who’s involved. You’re to tell me nothing, do you understand? And I can’t promise that I’ll give you information, either.’
‘But you have to!’ she protested.
‘No! If you act on information I give you, the Abwehr will know instantly where it has come from. That doesn’t only put me in danger, it puts Halunke back in action. You won’t have forgotten what they’re doing to keep me loyal. If I make one slip, then God knows what will happen to you.’
He turned away as an image of Élise came to his mind. He had called on her while he was in Paris, and she had been so pathetically grateful to see him that he had ended up staying the night. Béatrice had told him what was happening with the Abwehr officers, and he had known such a murderous rage that it was some time before he had himself back under control. He had decided then that he didn’t want her in Paris any longer, where they could abuse her like that, so he had made arrangements to move her out some time in the next few weeks.
‘So remember,’ he said to Claudine, ‘and keep this in your mind the whole time: I am not only a collaborator, I am the very worst kind of collaborator. I shall be wearing a German uniform, and I shall be turning my own countrymen over to the Gestapo.’
Her face was ashen. ‘You won’t!’ she breathed. ‘You can’t do it! François …’
‘Of course I won’t be doing it!’ he cried. ‘But you have to believe that I am. Everyone must believe it, even the Abwehr. Though God alone knows how I’m going to convince them.’
‘What about Lucien?’ she said. ‘Don’t you think we should take him into our confidence? In fact,’ she added, ‘I think we have to. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the Resistance already has weapons. Not many, but there could come a time when they start using them …’
‘The FTP are already using weapons,’ François butted in.
‘The Communist Résistants? There you are, then. And you’ll be one of the first targets for the Resistance in this area. We – they – hate collaborators almost more than Nazis. Lucien might be able to tip you off if someone is planning to kill you.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, there’s Halunke.’
‘The last time we spoke about this,’ she said, ‘you thought Erich was drawing the wrong conclusions. But now he’s been killed … Well, perhaps he was on the right track.’
François gazed into her vibrant blue eyes, then looked down at the torn and faded patterns of the mattress.
‘François,’ Claudine said quietly, ‘is Halunke’s identity tied up with what happened to Hortense de Bourchain?’
His head came up, and she could see that he was both annoyed and surprised. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. It was just a feeling I had. Has it got something to do with her? Is that the line Erich was pursuing?’
François nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, it was.’
‘Then don’t you think it’s time, chéri, to tell me what happened?’
He stood up and walked over to the door. For a moment she thought he was going outside, but then he turned back to look at her. ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, ‘but I still don’t think that’s where the answer lies. I hadn’t seen Erich for some time before he died, he might have discovered something else, nothing to do with Hortense at all.’
‘But we don’t know that. All we have to go on is what he said to you when he came to the Château. And we have to start somewhere, so it had better be there.’
‘All right,’ he sighed. He went to sit in one of the chairs. Running a hand over his jaw and fixing his eyes on the fishing paraphernalia at his feet, he began. ‘Hortense was in love with me,’ he said. ‘She wanted me to marry her, she even went as far as getting her father to speak to mine. My father was in favour of the match; it was eminently suitable, and as you know, he wanted grandchildren. I was fond of Hortense, I suppose I did love her in a way. But it was all happening at the time your father was introducing me to the Secret Service. I told her to wait, that maybe in a year or two I would be ready to marry her.’
He sighed. ‘Hortense flew into a royal rage at that and told me I was a philanderer. She said we were practically engaged already, and I couldn’t treat her like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t see her for three or four weeks. Then she came to the house in Paris one night when she knew I’d be there alone and … She was a very attractive woman, she wanted me to make love to her, so I did. She said I had to marry her then, that I was honour-bound to do so. It was my turn to fly into a temper and I ordered her out of the house. She came back the following day, begging forgiveness and promising she would wait for as long as I wanted, provided I did marry her in the end. We continued to see one another, though we didn’t make love again. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was just that I knew she was hoping to become pregnant so that then I’d be forced to marry her. I didn’t want to be trapped like that. The truth was, though I did love her in a way, I didn’t want to be married at all.
‘Over the next year or so, things went from bad to worse. I tried to stop seeing her, but wherever I went she was there. Then one night, when we were all staying at Lorvoire, she asked me to go outside with her, into one of the caves. She told me then that she’d been sleeping with Lucien and that Lucien was in love with her. I made the great mistake of laughing. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, it was simply that her motives were so transparent. And sure enough, she told me that she would continue sleeping with Lucien if I didn’t promise to marry her within the month. I told her she could sleep with Lucien as often as she liked, that as far as I was concerned she could sleep with any number of men, and I wished her well.’
François paused, and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. ‘It was then that she pulled out a knife. A dagger. God only knows where she got it, but she had it. She said that if I didn’t promise, she would kill herself. I tried to get the knife from her, but she just went crazy. In the struggle she managed to slash my face, and it was then, in the moment that I let go of her, that she lifted the knife to plunge it into her chest. Again I managed to get hold of it, but as I wrenched it away from her my hand jerked downwards, she pushed herself against me, and the next thing I knew I had stabbed her. I didn’t even give myself a moment for disbelief, I simply picked her up and ran with her to the car. All I could think of was getting her to a doctor. As I drove off I looked in the mirror and saw my father talking to Armand. I had no idea how much either of them had seen, but it hardly mattered at the time. I had to get Hortense to a doctor.
‘It was her parents who wanted the whole matter hushed up. They knew what had been going on, and when my father told them exactly what had happened in the wine cave, well I think they wanted the whole episode to receive as little attention as possible. Armand never mentioned it, though my father told me he had spoken to him, and he had promised to keep everything to himself. Lucien never mentioned it either. Whether he and Hortense had been sleeping together I don’t know, it never seemed appropriate to ask. But I think they had.
‘So there you have it, the murder of Hortense de Bourchain. Why Erich thought it had some vital connection with Halunke I simply don’t know. He checked on Hortense’s family and none of them were in France at the times that mattered. The only other people who know what happened are Doctor Lebrun, my father, Lucien and Armand, and as none of them could conceivably be Halunke …’
Looking up, François saw in the fading light that Claudine’s eyes were shining with tears. ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked softly.
‘I’m not. Not exactly. I just feel so sad. But you’re right, none of them could be Halunke. The only one who has anything approaching a motive is Lucien – if he loved Hortense. And Lucien wouldn’t have killed his own father.’
‘So, we’re right back at the beginning. Erich must have discovered something else, and we – I – have to find out what that was.’
‘We,’ she corrected. ‘Will you come here, please? I want to give you that kiss now.’
As he knelt in front of her, she put her arms round his neck and said, ‘How does a man with such an ugly face and such a chequered past manage to fill my heart with so much love?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m glad I do,’ he smiled, lowering his mouth to hers.
Five minutes later he was handing her up onto her horse.
‘That wasn’t enough,’ she said, looking down at him sulkily.
‘I didn’t think it would be,’ he answered with a wry smile.
‘Can we make love tonight?’
‘If you can make it sound like rape.’ He thought about that, then his eyes met hers and they laughed.
‘How are you getting back?’ she asked, turning her horse.
‘There’s a tunnel. It leads from the river bank over there, into the middle cellar.’
‘The middle cellar!’ she gasped. ‘The boxes!’
‘Don’t tell me,’ he groaned. ‘You’ve opened them.’
‘It was your father’s idea,’ she said sheepishly. ‘But where did all those valuables come from?’
‘Jews,’ he answered. ‘They belong to wealthy Parisian Jews. I’m keeping them until they, or their descendants, can come to collect them.’
Claudine smiled widely as tilting her head quizzically to one side, she said, ‘Is that a halo I can see shining over your devilish face?’
‘Get out of here,’ he laughed, and giving the horse a slap, he sent her galloping off into the forest.