Keeping busy all day also prevented Claudine from
worrying about Francois, which was why he made no
objection to her becoming one of the vital links between the Maquis - the men in hiding - and the ‘sleeping’ Resistance those in the towns and villages. However, when it came to
going out after curfew he put his foot down. She protested
strongly, even going so far as to hit him - which was nothing
unusual, for they frequently fought as passionately as they
made love - but he would not be moved. So she had to
content herself with the daytime activities of ferrying food,
drink and the vineyard’s smudge-pots to the Forest of
Scevolles, where Lucien’s Maquis group were all but
freezing to death beneath tents made from parachutes and
old blankets. And when she and Monique weren’t running
messages, devising passwords and signals, or closeted in the
larder making invisible ink with powdered aspirin and
lemon juice, they were working on methods of transporting
clothing, radio crystals and an ever-decreasing supply of
arms from one hideout to another. All manner of means
were invented, from scooping out the centre of Monsieur
Bonet’s melons to carry radio transmitters and handguns,
to having fillings removed in order to secrete microfilm in
teeth. And now that agents and much-needed supplies were
at last being parachuted into France, there were reception
committees to be formed and landing grounds to be
prepared.
Claudine longed to join the reception committees herself,
to watch the parachutes float down from the moonlit
sky, to gather them up and bury them, to store the arms and
supplies in the gazogenes - vans that ran at twenty kilometres
an hour on charcoal - and hear them trundle off into the
night. She longed to meet the agents and escort them to
their safe-houses - she felt she was missing out on the real
adventure. But Francois slept in her bed every night, and
mere was no way in which she could evade him.
It was one night towards the end of February that Francois
gave Claudine the news she had been dreading. Earlier that
day they had had a fierce row because he had found out
about her diplomatic mission to the Gestapo headquarters
at the Hotel Boule d’Or, to plead mercy for the seven
Chinonais who had been arrested the day before. He still
seemed preoccupied at dinner, but it was only when he
actually snapped at Monique that Claudine began to realize
there was something much more serious than her indiscretion
playing on his mind. She knew better than to
question him, he would tell her when he was ready. To her
relief it turned out to be sooner rather than later: after
checking that everyone else was in bed, he came into her
room and told her to get her coat.
Claudine hurried into her dressing-room, took off her
nightdress and pulled on her fur coat and hat, woollen
stockings and old fleece-lined boots, and went to join him at
the bridge door. It was a bitterly cold night, but the raging
winds of the past few weeks had at last died down, and every
now again the moon pushed through the clouds, shedding
enough light for them to see where they were going.
They had walked some distance in total silence before
Francois finally said, ‘I’ve received word from von
Liebermann.’
Instantly Claudine felt a cold, pinching fear. It was the
communication they had prayed would never come.
‘What does he want?’ she asked, leaning closer as he
slipped his hand between her fur collar and hat, and gently
massaged the back of her neck.
‘He wants me to meet him in Vichy some time in March.
He’ll let me know when.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘No.’
Taking a breath, Claudine turned to face him, but before
she could speak he put his fingers over her lips. ‘I know what
you’re going to say, cherie? he said, ‘but the answer is no. I
won’t join Lucien.’
She looked up at him with her wide blue eyes and,
smiling, he stooped to kiss her. ‘But if von Liebermann asks
you to do something dreadful… ? she said.
‘Let me worry about that.’ And pulling her head onto his
shoulder, he wrapped her comfortingly in his arms.
She lay against him and he gazed absently out into the
shifting tree-shadows behind her. His summons to Vichy
had inevitably brought with it the preying spectre of
Halunke’s revenge. He felt his mind assailed yet again by
anguish, fury and incomprehension. What in God’s name
could he have done to have incurred such a terrible hatred?
‘What are you thinking about?’ Claudine said.
He let his breath go. ‘Von Liebermann,’ he lied, still
looking past her into the forest.
‘Not Halunke?’
He gave a queer sort of half-smile, then lifting her face in
his hands, he looked into her eyes and whispered, ‘I love
you.’
‘I love you too,’ she murmured, starting to unbutton her
coat so that he could slide his hands inside.
‘Claudine!’ he groaned, as he felt the goosey flesh of her
naked body. ‘Why have you come out like this? You’ll catch
pneumonia.’
‘Not if you hold me very close,’ she purred.
Running his hands down over her thighs, he felt the tops
of her woollen stockings. Then, laughing softly, he cupped
her buttocks in his hands, pulled her hard against him and
pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth.
‘Oh, Francois,’ she moaned, snaking her fingers through
his hair and rubbing herself against his growing erection. ‘I
want you, cheri, I want you now.’
Sucking her lips and twisting her so that he could push a
hand between their bodies, he inserted a finger into the dark
thatch between her legs and started to caress the moist skin
beneath. ‘Is this where you want me?’ he said huskily. ‘Just
here?’
‘Mmmmmm.’ She lifted her leg, circling it about his
waist. ‘Oh yes!’ she cried, as he found her opening and
pushed his finger deep inside.
She moved a hand to his fly and started to unbutton it. Her eyes were fixed hungrily on his mouth while her own lips parted, her nipples puckered with the cold and her chest
began to heave. Their breath mingled in clouds about their
faces, and her eyelids fluttered closed as he started to move
his hand back and forth. Then suddenly she was flying
backwards, through the air as if fired from a catapult. Her
head struck a tree, and she fell awkwardly into the
undergrowth. Through the stars exploding in her eyes, she
watched as Francois heaved something over his shoulder
and threw it heavily to the ground. The polished barrel of a
gun glinted in the moonlight, and she heard the trigger click
as Francois prepared to fire.
It had all happened in a matter of seconds. If Lucien had
not that instant cried out, Francois would have shot him.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Francois snapped, as he took his
brother’s arm and hauled him to his feet. ‘What the hell are
you doing creeping about the forest like that? I might have
killed you.’
Lucien’s white teeth gleamed in the darkness as he
watched his brother stoop over Claudine to check that she
was all right. ‘I was testing you,’ he said jauntily. ‘The
reflexes are still good, monfrere.’
‘Obviously better than yours,’ Francois remarked dryly,
as he covered Claudine’s nudity and helped her to her feet
‘Now, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’re doing here?’
‘As a matter of fact, I’m here to see Claudine.’ There was
enough moonlight for Francois to see the very appreciative
way Lucien was looking at her, and when he heard his
brother mutter something that sounded like charmante under his breath, and Claudine stifled a laugh, he pulled her into the circle of his arm and clamped the front of her coat
together with his fist.
Collecting himself, Lucien said, ‘I have a message for
Claudine. Can I give it to her?’
‘If you must. But if it involves her going out after curfew
you can save your breath.’
‘I know, I know,’ Lucien said. Then with a grin he added,
‘Sorry if I interrupted. But if you don’t mind my saying so,
it’s a bit chilly to be doing it alfresco, isn’t it?’
‘Mind your own business,’ Francois retorted. ‘And don’t
keep her long. I’ll wait at the bridge.’
When he was safely out of earshot, Lucien took
Claudine’s arm and they started to follow him slowly.
‘Jacques is in Paris,’ he said quietly, ‘and I have to leave
tonight, to join him there for a few days. But a message came
through earlier from the British, asking for our help. They
want to parachute in two agents and a supply of arms at the
next full moon, but it seems three of their own people in the
district have been arrested, and the others have gone to
ground. I’ve said we’ll do it, but as I’m not going to be
around-for a while I want you to start organizing the
reception committee alone. Do you think you can do it?’
Without hesitation Claudine said, ‘When’s the next full
moon?’
‘Three weeks tomorrow. Jacques and I will be back by
then, so count us in.’
‘How many more do we need?’
‘Ten. Twelve if possible.’
‘Mm,’ she pondered. ‘Old Thomas and Yves Fauberg
have volunteered to help in any way they can. Gustave,
obviously. Monique and me. You and …’
‘Didn’t you hear what Francois said?’ he interrupted.
‘Armand,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. She
turned to face him. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll come up with five
more, don’t worry.’
‘Not yourself, though.’
‘Lucien! If I…’
‘No! You might be prepared to face Francois’ wrath, but
I’m not’
They had reached the edge of the forest by now, and
could see Francois leaning against the bridge smoking a
cigarette. ‘Two more things,’ Claudine said, tearing her
eyes away from the awesome aquiline profile she loved so
much and neatly changing the subject. ‘First, do you have
the map coordinates?’
‘You’ll find them in the usual bible down at the church on
Friday morning,’ Lucien answered.
‘Second, did you get my message about the guns?’
‘Yes. I’ve just put them in the cottage. Who wants them?’
‘Someone in Langeais. I’ll get Solange and Liliane to take
them over tomorrow on their bicycle. Will we have any left
after that?’
‘No. But we’ll syphon some off from the British when
they arrive. If they bring any.’
‘Let me know when you’re back from Paris,’ she said, and
giving him a brief peck on the cheek, she ran off to join
Francois.
Lucien stepped back into the shadows to watch as
Francois threw away his cigarette and folded her into his
arms. After a long and unmistakably intimate kiss, Francois
parted the front of her coat to slip his hands inside - but
Claudine shrieked and jumped away from him, complaining
that he was cold. Lucien continued to watch as Francois put
a hand on the back of her neck and propelled her into the
chateau. Before closing the door he turned, and for a long
moment looked straight into Lucien’s eyes. Then, as the
door closed, Lucien started back into the forest.
The following afternoon, as Claudine was preparing to go down to the cafe, Magaly came into her room and told her
that Francois wanted to see her immediately.
‘He says you’ll know where, madame? she added. ‘He was
in a terrible temper …’ Her eyes were round and her lips
trembling with fear for her mistress.
Claudine gave her a quick hug, told her it would be all
right and ran off to the stables.
When she galloped up to Thomas’ hut, Francois was
waiting. He all but dragged her from the saddle and spun
her round to face him.
‘Whose idea was it to use my mother as a courier?’ he
raged.
‘What!’ she gasped, wincing as his fingers dug into her
arm. She wasn’t unduly alarmed, for Solange and Liliane
had returned quite safely from Langeais half an hour
before. ‘But I thought you knew!’
‘Of course I didn’t damned well know. What the hell has
got into you, Claudine? She’s an old lady. So is Liliane.’
‘We all have to play our part,’ she argued. ‘And if they’re
willing, I don’t see any reason why Solange and Liliane
shouldn’t too. Anyway, how did you find out?’
‘Never mind that. Does Lucien know they’re involved?’
‘Of course he does.’
Francois’ face turned to thunder. ‘Tell him I want to see
him. Tell him to get himself to the chateau within the week.’
‘I’ll do no such thing.’
‘Claudine!’ he said dangerously.
‘You don’t frighten me with that tone,’ she said loftily, all
the while thanking God that he didn’t appear to know what
Solange and Liliane had been carrying when they’d cycled
over to Langeais. If he’d known there were guns in the false
bottom Armand had made for the passenger-box, she
dreaded to think what he might do. And the way Liliane had
cheekily informed a German officer at a roadblock that she