and making sure that her performers weren’t suffering from
last-minute nerves. None were, which was more than she
could say for herself… Returning to the chateau just
before three o’clock, she got up on the stage and in a
cracked and harassed voice declared that there was no more
she could do, and heaven help them all for the lunatics they
were to have got involved in all this in the first place.
Watching her, Armand thought he had never seen her look so pale. He went over to her, turned her round and pointed her in the direction of the chateau. ‘What you need
now,’ he told her, ‘is a long, relaxing bath. After which I
expect to see you in nothing less than the most glamorous
dress you possess, and all your jewels.’
She smiled up at him. Then, on impulse, she hugged
him, wanting him to know that she couldn’t have done any of
this without him, and that, for once, she was happy to obey
his instructions.
When she finally reappeared, she came out of the
darkness of the chateau and stopped at the top of the steps,
waiting for him to look up at her. She was aware of people
milling about, shouting and laughing and pushing past him
as he stood there, simply staring at her. She smiled, a teasing
light in her eyes, but Armand’s face had paled …
Even in the trousers and shirt she had worn earlier, and
with dirt on her face, she had managed to look infinitely
appealing. But now, standing there with her glorious raven
hair piled high on her head, he knew he had never seen her
so lovely. Little defiant corkscrews of hair curled round her
long, shapely neck, her luscious mouth was rouged and
moist, and her full breasts rose with each breath. She was
wearing a black crepe evening dress that plunged to her
waist at the back and front, barely concealing the fullness of
her breasts and hugging the slender length of her figure.
Diamonds glittered at her ears, her neck and her wrists though
nothing, Armand thought, could outshine the
dazzling beauty of her sapphire-blue eyes. But it was the
way she radiated such naked sensuality that dried the words
in his throat and sent the sudden surge of desire swelling
through his loins.
‘Do you like it?’ she said, looking down at her dress.
At first he couldn’t answer, but in the end he managed a
taut smile, and turned to continue organizing the arrivals.
Claudine wondered what had happened to make him
angry. Wandering down the steps, she saw Monique, and
realized that she had been watching them. Then Solange
appeared, sporting a flapper dress from the nineteen
twenties, and Claudine ran to take her arm and carry her off
to greet their guests.
It turned out to be an evening none of them would ever
forget. It began with a brief speech from Louis, welcoming
them all, expressing his regret that his sons could not be
present, but assuring them that he would do his personal
best to make it up to all the pretty girls. Solange shrieked
with laughter at that, which was much funnier than Louis’
gentle attempt at humour, and conceding that his wife had
upstaged him yet again, he laughingly nodded to Joseph
Millerand, the village butcher, to start carving the venison,
while Arlette, Liliane and the kitchen maids from Lorvoire
and Montvisse swarmed out of the kitchens to serve
Liliane’s famous broth.
Next, the Chinon school choir filed onto the stage and
accompanied by a teacher on the piano and their own
tambourines, began to sing songs from the Great War. In no
time at all the audience was joining in, waving their hands in
the air, swaying from side to side and slapping their
neighbours on the back as they bellowed the words at the
tops of their voices. The party spirit had infected them all
and things were off to a magnificent start. However, there
was a chorus of disapproval when after fifteen minutes the
children made their bows and left - but good humour was
rapidly restored when Basile Juette, a juggler from Thierry,
somersaulted onto the stage, caught his nine pins from his
wife and started tossing them in the air, while Luc played
the accordion.
Basile was followed by Fabien Desbourdes and his
performing dog, who caused untold hilarity by sitting with
its head cocked to one side and looking bemused while
Fabien shouted instructions. No matter what poor Fabien
did, the dog seemed perplexed, which turned out to be far
better entertainment than if it had performed the tricks
expected of it. Later, the barber-shop quartet from Huimes
suffered badly at the hands of the local lads, who insisted on
standing on their seats and howling. At first the quartet was
distinctly put out, but then they recovered their spirits and
sang louder than ever, and the local lads were shamed into
silence.
When the light began to fade, the stage was illuminated
by lamps in the trees, and soon it was time for Sleeping
Beauty. It looked like being a triumph - until young Richard,
hotly pursued by Philippe, trotted out of the forest on the
pony, wailing that he was frightened. Not a very auspicious
introduction for Prince Charming, but somehow the day
was saved, he planted a kiss on Janette’s lips, and every child
present whooped and jeered with delight.
Claudine, who had handed over the stage management to
professionals from a theatre in Tours for the evening, was
able to relax and enjoy herself. She sat at one of the long
tables with Solange, Armand, and Dissy and Poppy, who
had managed to come over from London. Every time she
caught Dissy’s eye, they were on the verge of laughing: all
around them, dignified and distinguished guests were
having as wild and wonderful a time as the people from the
villages. Several of them were only too ready to leave their
seats and join in the dancing that was taking place in front of
the chateau between acts. Armand was persuaded to his feet
by one of Tante Celine’s friends, and after that there was no stopping him as he whirled Solange, then Monique, then Dissy, round and round the forecourt to the music of Luc’s
accordion. In fact it occurred to Claudine that Armand was
asking everyone to dance except her …
Then there was more entertainment. Two teenagers
from Candes St Martin gave a lively performance of a song
from an Italian opera, and after them came Raymonds
Loiseau from Lemere who fancied himself as a comedian.
His act was greeted with great enthusiasm, and it was while everyone was banging the tables and calling for more that I Claudine noticed Armand had disappeared.
‘What’s the matter?’ Dissy shouted above the din. I
‘Have you seen Armand?’ Claudine yelled back.
‘He’s gone to change - for our song,’ Solange cried.
‘Oh, of course,’ Claudine laughed, and was surprised at I
how relieved she felt that he hadn’t left altogether.
She saw him again a few minutes later, while Luc was
playing the accordion and General Weygand was leading
the dancing with a young girl from Chinon. Armand was
standing in the middle of a crowd beside the stage, talking to
one of the stage hands and trying - though not very hard, it
seemed to Claudine - to disentangle himself from the arms
of Mathilde Dubloc, who had had too much to drink. It was
the first time Claudine had seen him in anything but his
work clothes, and she didn’t know whether it was the white
tie and tails or Mathilde’s amorous attentions that caused
the strange sensation she had when she looked at him. She
found she couldn’t tear her eyes from him.
After a while he turned and started back to the table, and
seeing her watching him, his face broke into a grin. Her
heart very nearly turned over then, at how handsome he
looked. He came up to her and took her hand - but as their
eyes met, something seemed to pass between them and their
smiles froze. Again Armand was aware of the burning desire
he felt for her, but as the blood began to pound through his
body he jerked his hand away and turned to speak to
someone behind him.
Shocked, Claudine looked down at her hand. She felt
suddenly hot, and it was as though the clatter and laughter
around her was fading into the distance. She started when
his arm pressed against hers as he leaned forward to pass a
pitcher of wine to Dissy; it was as if a current of electricity had shot through her body. She turned to look at him, aghast and confused. He was straining to listen to what Dissy was saying, but she knew he was aware of her. A
sudden image of Francois leapt before her eyes - and then
she did something so brazen that when she thought of it
later, she wanted to die of shame. But then it was as if she
had somehow lost control of herself, and she found her
hand slipping gently across Armand’s thigh.
He turned to look at her, and when she saw the naked
desire in his eyes her mouth began to tremble and her
fingers increased their pressure. A soft moan escaped him,
and he found himself leaning towards her. Then suddenly
there was a blare of sound and a stage-hand caught Armand
by the shoulder and told him he was on next.
Claudine was so shaken it was some time before she
could look at the stage. When she did, it was to see Armand
laughing and bowing, the applause growing more and more
deafening as he twirled Solange round the piano before they
took up their positions to sing.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be playing for them?’
Monique’s sour face was staring across the table at her.
Quickly pulling herself together, Claudine walked up the
steps onto the stage.
Armand held out a hand to her, and the smile he gave her
was so warm and so intimate that for a moment she was
seized with panic. But then he turned away, drawing her
with him to present her to the audience who, now that they
had seen her, were treating her to such a tumultuous
welcome that it brought the smile back to her face and
returned the strength to her limbs. Letting go of his hand,
she curtsied, and went to take her place at the piano.
The duet was a disaster: Armand got no further than the
second line of the first verse before a deathly hush fell over
the gathering. Solange sang the next few lines tunefully
enough, but when Armand started to crow again Claudine
could hear sniggers, and to her dismay she felt her own lips beginning to twitch. She glanced up at him, but he seemed oblivious and continued to sing, then gave a charming smile as he turned to Solange for her to take up the next line.
When it came to his turn again, someone at the back let out a howl. It was echoed by a voice a little nearer, then another and another. By this time Claudine was shaking with suppressed laughter, but there was nothing she could do as one by one the audience joined in the cacophony with caterwauls, yelps, barks and groans. She stole another look at Armand, amazed that he could continue under such protest, but as she caught his eye, he winked, then put his heart and soul behind the flattest top note she had ever
heard. And Solange, whose head was vibrating with the
energy she was pouring into her own performance, was
quite clearly in raptures.
The din was terrible. Tears of laughter poured down
Claudine’s face. They had known this would happen,
Armand and Solange, and were now doing everything they
could to encourage it.
When the song was finally over they received a standing
ovation, but Armand modestly declined to sing again.
Regretfully, he said, he must now stand down - to make way
for the surprise they had for Claudine. And it was then that
Thomas Crouy, Yves Fauberg, Gustave from the cafe, and
four other men from Lorvoire bundled out of the kitchens
dressed as can-can girls, lifted their skirts and began to kick
their legs in the air in time to Luc’s accordion.
Claudine had never seen anything so hilarious in her life
as those seven old men in their curly wigs, beauty spots,
fishnet stockings and farmyard boots. To think that, while
flatly refusing to do anything, they had all the time been
planning to steal the show! And steal it they did as they
cavorted round the stage wagging their feet, gleefully
exposing their lace-clad buttocks and throwing saucy kisses
to the young men. They responded handsomely to six
encores, but the seventh was too much and Gustave
collapsed in a heap, taking Thomas and Yves with him.
The only thing left after Les Filles du Moulin Macabre, as
they called themselves, was the fireworks. It was a magnificent
display, set off by the firemen of Chinon at the bottom
of the meadow. Claudine watched Armand fetch his mother
from the kitchens to come and watch, and then, resisting the
urge to join them, she wandered round to the front steps of
the chateau where Dissy and Poppy were sitting huddled in
a blanket.
‘Tired, darling?’ Dissy asked, as she made room for her.
‘Mm, a little.’