wailed. ‘How many men are really dead or wounded? Or
captured!’ she screamed, burying her face in her hands.
‘I’m sure Lucien and Francois are safe,’ Claudine said
gently, with a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘We’d
have heard by now if anything had happened to Lucien, and
Francois will get word to us somehow, I promise you.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that,’ Tante Celine, who had
stayed on at the chateau after Louis’ death said later, when
Claudine related this conversation to her. ‘Francois has
never shown any such consideration for anyone in the past,
so I fail to see why he should do so now.’
The hell of being unable to defend him was terrible, but
somehow Claudine managed to bite back an angry retort. Then
the door flew open and Monique came running in. ‘Quick, turn
to the BBC!’ she cried. ‘Something incredible has happened! I
was just listening in my room and came to find you. No, no, it’s
too late now, the broadcast is over.’ She was so agitated that
Claudine poured her a cognac and made her sit down.
‘Well, what is it? What did you hear?’ Celine asked,
waiting only as long as it took for Monique to take a first sip.
‘It’s terrible!’ she answered. ‘Or is it? I don’t know! The
British have taken over a quarter of a million troops out of
France.’
‘What!’ Celine and Claudine gasped in unison.
‘No! No, it’s not like that,’ Monique said hurriedly.
‘They’ve saved them. That’s what they said, they’ve saved
them. They sent the Royal Navy and, oh everyone, all their
small boats, hundreds and hundreds of them …’ Tears
started to stream down her face. ‘They didn’t only rescue
their own men, they took ours too. They’ve been saving our
men, Claudine. For the past ten days they’ve been sailing to
Dunkirk and rescuing them.’
‘So who is to defend us now?’ Celine asked indignantly.
‘We’re just sitting here like hens in a coop, and the damned
British have opened the door to the fox.’
‘Be quiet!’ Claudine interrupted firmly. ‘If the British
really have got so many men out, at least they’re alive to fight
another day. Remember that!’
‘Yes, but what about us? The women and children left
here in France?’ Celine argued.
‘Our army won’t abandon us,’ Claudine answered. ‘Nor
will the British.’
‘For heaven’s sake, child, be realistic! They aren’t in
France any longer, so how can you say they haven’t
abandoned us?’
‘Look, I’m not going to argue about it,’ Claudine declared
fiercely. ‘I’m going down to the cafe to see Gustave. Are you
coming, Monique?’
‘No, I’ll go and break the news to Maman. I don’t know
how she’ll take it, but she must be told.’
The cafe was crammed with the old men of Lorvoire and
the surrounding villages, and the talk was solely of the
evacuation of troops from Dunkirk. Opinion was as divided
as it had been at the chateau, some felt deserted, other were
hopeful. Armand was one of the hopeful ones, and to
Claudine’s relief she saw that something of his old spirit had
returned. Nevertheless, she was wary; his mood could
change at a moment’s notice.
‘You hold me responsible for your not being able to fight,
don’t you?’ she said, when later he walked her back through
the dusk to her car. ‘I don’t blame you. After all, it is my fault
really. If it weren’t for Halunke…’
‘It’s too late for recriminations now,’ he interrupted.
Then he laughed softly. ‘No longer your lover, but still your
protector. Ironic, isn’t it?’
Despite the warm night, she shivered. It wasn’t the first
time he’d said that, and there was an undercurrent to it that
left her with a distinct feeling of unease.
‘There’s something I want to tell you,’ he said as they
stood beside the Lagonda. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you for
some time…’ He paused. ‘I’ve met someone else. Actually,
I’ve known her for some time. Her name is Estelle. You
know her too, she works at the beauty parlour in Chinon.’
‘Yes, yes, I know her,’ Claudine said, unable to hide her
surprise.
‘It might seem a bit sudden to you,’ he went on, ‘but the
truth is, I was seeing her before you came to Lorvoire. In
fact, I never really stopped seeing her, even when we were
together.’
Claudine couldn’t have been more shocked. ‘I see,’ she
said, wondering if what she was feeling was jealousy. ‘Well,
under the circumstances I suppose I have no right to be
angry.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t blame you if
you were. After all, there were times when I was making love
to her within hours of making love to you.’
His bluntness took her breath away. ‘Why are you telling
me this?’ she asked, after a pause.
‘For two reasons. The first is because I don’t want you to
think that, if Francois doesn’t return, you and I can ever go
back to the way we were. Once everything is sorted out, the
war and Halunke, I’m going to ask Estelle to marry me, so
that will be an end to it. La belle dame du chateau can find
herself another lover. In the meantime I’ll carry out
Francois’ dirty work for him for as long as it takes, but after
that I want no more to do with you - either of you. And the
second reason is because Estelle and I would like to use the
old cottage. It’s on your land, so I need your permission.’
Inwardly she was appalled, but her voice was perfectly
steady as she said, ‘If Estelle doesn’t mind that you once shared the cottage with me, then please feel free to use it.’
He nodded, and their eyes met. There were several moments of silent antagonism between them, then Claudine saw the hostility retreat from his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’
he sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have told you like that. But we should
be honest with each other, and …’
‘Armand,’ she interrupted, ‘if you feel so badly about
carrying out Francois’ wishes, perhaps we should try to
come to some other arrangement.’
He shook his head. ‘I gave him my word, and despite what
I said just now, I’d never forgive myself if anything
happened to you.’
Smiling, she put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m glad about Estelle,’ she said - and immediately could have kicked herself. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, he wanted her to be jealous.
And she was jealous, a little. For much as she loved Francois
she could not deny that for a while she had loved Armand too,
and the days and nights they had spent together in that cottage
would always be a very special memory for her.
‘Have you had any news of Francois or Lucien?’ he asked,
opening the car door for her.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘I’m sure there will be some soon,’ he said comfortingly.
‘Meanwhile, what are you doing driving about in this vehicle
when no one else can get petrol for love or money?’
‘We found some that Louis had stored in the stables,’ she
answered. ‘But you’re right, I should only be using it for
emergencies.’
‘I’ll tell you what, we’ll get you a bicycle. And one for
Solange too. I rather think she’ll enjoy being a cyclist. Why
don’t we go into Chinon tomorrow, the three of us, and see
if we can fix you up?’
‘It’s a date,’ Claudine smiled. ‘And I think we should put
it to Tante Celine as well. I can just picture her cycling down
the hill into Lorvoire, can’t you?’
‘No, but I’d like to!’ And he waved her off into the night,
then turned to walk back across the square towards home.
He knew it was pointless trying to hurt her as he had with talk
of Estelle. It was only driving them further apart, which wasn’t
what he wanted at all. Not that he’d been altogether lying about
Estelle; he had been seeing her before Claudine came to
Lorvoire, and he was seeing her again now, but he had always
been faithful to Claudine during the time they were together.
And he would continue to be faithful to her, if only as a
friend. He would control this loathsome bitterness - he
would stick to the promise he had made Francois, and do all
he could to protect Claudine from Halunke. And there was
always the timid, submissive little Estelle to provide a
frequent and welcome escape from his pain.
‘You must be out of your mind if you think I’m getting onto that contraption,’ Celine declared the following day, as they stood in the middle of the bicycle shop in Chinon.
‘It’s either that or roller-skates,’ Claudine informed her.
‘Roller-skates!’ Solange cried. ‘Now why didn’t I think of
that?’
‘No, Maman, I strictly forbid you even to entertain the
idea,’ Monique said firmly. ‘Now, is that the bicycle you like
best?’ She nodded towards the gleaming red machine
poised between Solange’s legs.
‘I think so. But I shall have to buy some trousers. No, I shan’t, I shall wear Louis’. Come along, Celine, lift up that
dress and get onto the saddle. Oh, don’t mind old Claude
there, he’s seen plenty of pretty legs in his time, haven’t you,
Claude?’
‘Si, si, madame,’ Claude chuckled, quite overcome by the
fact that for the first time in months someone had come into
his shop with real money to spend. He held the bicycle steady, and Armand offered Celine his hand. Both men caught a glimpse of her suspenders, but only Armand and Claudine realized that this was what Celine intended; she was extremely proud of her legs.
Their bicycles were delivered the following day, and by the time they had finished practising - in the ballroom, because the gravel outside was too difficult for beginners Celine was as dedicated a cyclist as any of them. Liliane,
who watched from the piano stool, bemoaned the fact that
she was too fat to ride one herself, and Solange instantly told
Armand that he was to build a box to put on the side of hers,
so that she could cycle her friend about the countryside.
Claudine caught Armand’s eye, and he winked. ‘Thank
you,’ she said, walking her bicycle across the room to join
him. ‘It was your idea, and Solange likes nothing more than
a new challenge.’
‘She does look better, doesn’t she?’ he said. ‘And do you
know, I think I will build the box. Even if she can’t manage it
with my mother inside, it’ll always come in useful for
carrying things.’ He glanced at his watch, and seeing the
time Claudine clapped her hands and cried, ‘The news!
Everyone into the sitting-room to listen to the news!’
The headline that day was that Monsieur Paul Reynaud,
who had succeeded Edouard Daladier as Prime Minister
two months before, had appointed General Charles de
Gaulle as Under-Secretary for Defence. Then Solange’s
hand found its way into Claudine’s as it was reported that,
despite the unprecedented success of the Dunkirk evacuation,
forty thousand prisoners had been taken. It wasn’t yet
known how many of them were French.
The last part of the bulletin was given over to a speech
made the day before in the British House of Commons by
Prime Minister Churchill. His strange, hypnotic voice came
over the airwaves in tones of such passionate patriotism that
it seemed to hang in the air like the thin, curling tendrils of
cigarette smoke, and not one of them remained unmoved.
‘We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end.
We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas
and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence
and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our
island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on
the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we
shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender!
And even if, which I do not for a moment believe,
this island or a large part of it, were subjugated and
starving, then our empire beyond the seas, armed
and guarded by the British fleet, would carry on the
struggle until in God’s good time the New World,
with all its power and might, steps forth to the
rescue of the old.’
For the listeners who did not understand English the
speech was delivered again in French, spoken by an actor.
Claudine got up and turned off the wireless.
‘He speaks as though France were already lost,’ Liliane
said, speaking the thought uppermost in everyone’s mind.
Claudine looked at her aunt, and Celine looked away.
‘The speech was made for the benefit of the British,’
Claudine declared. ‘And let’s not forget that their Government has a pact with France that neither country will agree to peace without the other.’
‘But even so, he talked only of “this island”,’ Armand
reminded her. ‘I think Maman is right, he already believes
France to have fallen.’
‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Claudine retorted. ‘And
now that General de Gaulle is Under-Secretary perhaps we
shall see some changes.’
‘If it’s not already too late,’ he said sourly. And as if to add
menace to his pessimism, the distant wail of an air-raid siren
started its eerie crescendo across the countryside. They