strolled over to the fireplace and took his cigarettes from the
mantleshelf. ‘You say they control Halunke, but I don’t
understand how.’
‘It’s very easy. The hold they have over him is simply that
if he doesn’t do as they say, they will reveal his identity to
me. And he will know only too well that once I know who he
is, his days are numbered and he’ll never accomplish his
revenge.’
‘But why do the Germans want you so badly? Surely they
have their own agents?’
‘Naturally they do. But the contacts I have here in France,
in Britain, Italy, North Africa, make me an extremely
valuable commodity to them. And having this kind of hold
over me - someone endangering my family the way Halunke
is - suits them perfectly.’
‘And they gave him permission to kill your father because
you deceived them over these Frenchmen? I can hardly
believe it. It seems … Well, it seems so extreme.’
‘Their methods are extreme, cherie. Which is why I can’t
run the risk of deceiving them again.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘God only knows,’ he sighed. ‘All the information I have
given them to date has come from the French Government
itself. Or in some cases, the British. But since the Allies
have discovered that someone has a personal vendetta
against me, they’ve closed ranks - wisely, I must admit which
means they are no longer prepared to give me
information to feed to the Germans. And if the Germans
don’t get what they want, they’ll tell Halunke he’s free to do
as he pleases. Of course, this game we’ve played - the SR,
the Services de Renseignements and I - with the Germans was
bound to come to an end sooner or later, and it’s my guess
the Germans have known for some time they were being
duped, not only by me but by three or four other French
agents as well. Until now it has suited the Germans to play
the game too, but things are changing fast and already the
French Secret Service have pulled my colleagues out of
Germany. They, of course, don’t face the threat of Halunke.
For me, there’s nothing the French can do. They can’t even
run the risk of trusting me any longer. And nor should you.’
‘But surely you’re not saying that you’re going to become
a traitor?’
‘Who knows? In a month, a year from now they may force
me to make a choice between my family and my country.
And when it comes to the crunch - which it will do, if we
don’t discover Halunke’s identity - there’s no knowing
which I shall choose.’
She took a moment to digest this, then looking at him
again, she said, ‘Do you have any idea who Halunke might
be?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Erich has a hunch, though I
think he’s heading down the wrong path.’
‘Have you told him that?’
‘No, because there have been times in the past when I
have been wrong and Erich right. That’s why I trust him so
implicitly. However, there is someone else, besides von
Liebermann, who knows who Halunke is.’
‘Well?’ she said, when he stopped.
‘His name is Max Helber - also a member of the
Abwehr.’
‘Will he tell you?’
‘Perhaps. In return for certain … shall we say, favours?’
‘What kind of favours?’
‘The kind of favours I would rather not discuss.’
She looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes dilated.
‘Do you mean …? Is he …?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, my darling, he is a homosexual.’
‘But you can’t do it!’
‘I may have to if Erich doesn’t come up with an answer
soon.’
They were both subdued when they went to join the
family for dinner, and later, as she lay in his arms, she
wanted to weep for the choices that lay before him. She
knew from the way he made love to her, without the urgency
of the night before, but with a tenderness and feeling that
filled her heart with love, that he was thinking the same. If
only there was something she could do! But she had no
means of providing him with the information the Germans
required, nor was she equipped to satisfy the desires of Max
Helber.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to the steady
rhythm of his breathing and thinking back over the three
years she had known him. It was a terrible pass they had
come to now, but nothing, nothing in the world, would ever
make her regret marrying him.
Halunke’s breath thickened the fog around his face as he
pressed through the forest, his feet slithering in the slimy
undergrowth. Once or twice he chuckled aloud to himself,
elated by his discovery. So, de Lorvoire did love his wife
after all! Even so, there was no reason to make a move on her
just yet. It would be much more intriguing to see how far
down the road of traitordom he could push de Lorvoire
before letting him know that it had all been for nothing…
And in the meantime, should von Liebermann for any
reason require that de Lorvoire be taught another lesson,
why not remove his beloved brother? Or better still, his
wife’s protector the vigneron? The perversity of this idea
appealed to him strongly, and he laughed even louder.
Pity, he thought, as he got into his car, that the old man
had died of his own volition - well, almost. For it was the
revelation of his, Halunke’s, identity that had jolted the old
Comte’s heart into arrest.
In the weeks that followed Francois’ departure from
Lorvoire, Claudine experienced such paradoxes of emotion
that she often found herself laughing and crying at the same
time. Things had moved so quickly between them in such a
short time that she couldn’t get used to the idea that he loved
her, and there were times when she was half-afraid it had all
happened in a dream. But then she had only to picture his
face in her mind’s eye - to see the tenderness of his smile as
he gazed into her eyes, to feel the power of his touch as he
caressed her, to hear the humorous lilt in his voice when he
told her he loved her - for her heart to fill with love and
certainty. That he trusted her, that he had chosen to draw
her so securely into his life, made her almost dizzy with joy
and relief.
But euphoric as she was, she never allowed herself to lose
sight of the danger they faced. In a way she felt almost
grateful for the danger, for that was what had finally brought
them together; but she was never so blinkered by love that
she forgot the terrible dilemma it had forced upon Francois.
As time passed she became increasingly frustrated by all
the things she had forgotten to ask him. The boxes in the
cellar still remained a mystery, and she would like to have
known what lay behind his break-up with Elise. But what
she now longed most desperately to know was why he had
killed Hortense de Bourchain. She couldn’t explain it, but
she had an uncanny feeling that what had happened then
might somehow lie at the root of what was happening now.
She was even tempted to ask Armand to tell her again what
he had seen, but somehow that seemed disloyal to Francois.
She would ask him herself, the very next time she saw him she
was in no doubt that he would come back, simply
because she refused to consider the possibility that he might
not. That he had gone to Berlin was all she knew; she could
not contact him, and he had made it plain that, except in
case of dire emergency, he would not contact her.
She had no idea if Halunke was still in Lorvoire. Lately,
she had not seemed to sense his presence. And events in the
world outside were taking such a horrifying turn that even
the threat Halunke presented seemed mild by comparison.
The Bodies were coming. Everyone in France knew it,
and the nation was edging towards the brink of panic.
Claudine felt it in the air every time she went out, and inside
the chateau the talk was of little else. It was as though they
were all bracing themselves for the day when their lives
would be trampled by the advancing German army. Again,
people were fleeing Paris, and refugees from the north
streamed through Touraine, leaving a trail of terror in their
wake.
Solange, still heartbroken over the death of Louis, waited
every day for news of Lucien. Claudine did her best to
comfort her, and telephoned their contacts in Paris, but
without Louis to pull strings for them there seemed no hope
of getting any information. All she could gather was that the
Government was in chaos, and though she did her best to
hide it, that alarmed her even more than the whooping cry of
air-raid sirens and the eerie silence that followed. The fear
was becoming oppressive, it seemed to be closing in from all
sides - the Germans, Halunke, and the constant dread of
what might be happening to Francois.
Then one day while she, Solange and little Louis were
helping the one gardener left at Lorvoire to dredge the pond
at the edge of the forest, Magaly called her inside and
handed her a letter.
‘A peculiar little man, with the most dreadful nervous
affliction, just knocked on the bridge door and gave this to
Corinne,’ she said.
Claudine knew at once who it was from. Thrusting her
gardening gloves into Magaly’s hands, she dashed up the
stairs to the privacy of her bedroom, where she tore the
letter open and with her heart in her mouth feasted her eyes
on the words Francois had written.
Cherie, I know I said I would contact you only in an
emergency, but I feel I must tell you this, if only to
reassure you. General von Liebermann has sworn
that for as long as I remain with the Abwehr,
Halunke will cease to be a threat. Naturally I have
reaffirmed my allegiance, though I still have no idea
what will be expected of me. My only hope is that
when I finally come out of this I will be worthy of
your love. I think of you night and day, my love. If I
had known what a difference you would make to my
life, I would never have embarked upon my present
road. But it is too late now for regrets, we must think only of the future.
You will know by now that Belgium has
surrendered and that the Germans are already on
French soil. I hear talk every day, here, how soon
France will be conquered and how poor the morale of
our troops is. Try to prepare yourself, and those
around you, my love, for the fall of our nation, as it is
almost sure to come.
And yet, in spite of this, you must keep heart, my
darling, and please take care of yourself and of our
son. You mean more to me than I can even begin to
express. I wish I could have held you in my arms to tell
you this, but try to imagine I am there, and be in no
doubt of how much I love you. Ton mart, Francois.
She swallowed hard on her tears, and walking over to the
bed, lifted the pillow where his head had lain and hugged it
to her. This moment of weakness would pass, she knew, but
dear God, she missed him! Maybe if they had had more time
together, had shared their feelings sooner … She felt so
cheated, so unfulfilled … She pulled a face, as if mocking
her self-pity, and looked down at the letter. She longed to
keep it, to hold it to her heart and read it over and over again,
but he had told her before he left that she must destroy any
written communication as soon as she had read it. As she
put a match to it, watching it curl and twist in the flames, she
wished her dread were as easy to destroy.
That afternoon she, Monique and Solange went to the
little cinema in Chinon to watch the newsreels. They went
almost every day now, standing in the aisles when there were
no seats to be had, cheering and booing with the others who
had come from miles around to watch the progress of the
war. Sometimes Claudine discussed the war with Armand,
but she always came away angry at his lassitude. He had
changed so much since they had parted: he was a bitter,
rejected man and did little to disguise it. His sarcastic
remarks about Francois sickened her, but she said nothing,
torn by guilt at the way she had so selfishly used him.
Then, at the beginning of June, even Armand was forced
to look beyond himself. The Germans bombed Paris. Of the
two hundred and fifty-four people killed, almost two
hundred were civilians and a great many of them were
children. National outrage was swiftly followed by panic.
Ten million people in the north abandoned their homes, left
production lines unmanned, crops untended, houses
deserted in a bid to escape the enemy. Meanwhile the
Germans were claiming one victory after another, and the
Allies, so rumour had it, were engaged in the most
humiliating retreat. Solange was prostrate with fear as news
of French casualties started to reach them.
‘These are the ones the Government is admitting to!’ she