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’lle 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 Francois’ 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 Francois’ 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.
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 chateau 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 Resistant 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 hideout
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 I 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 reseaux - 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 reseau, 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 life 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 Francois?’
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 Francois 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.
‘Francois!’ she whispered.
‘Oui, cherie. C’est moi.’
‘Oh Francois,’ 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, cherie! 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, Francois,’ 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