Beauty Chorus, The (50 page)

He tossed her a silk square. ‘Take this.’

‘Oh Beau, it’s lovely.’

‘It’s not a gift, Evie, it’s a map.’ She held it up in her hands. Beau checked the pistol in his belt. ‘Stay close beside me,’ he said. ‘Look, we are
here, near Argentan.’ He pointed on the map. ‘This is the Forest of Gouffern in the Orne. We’re heading to the Château d’Or, here. If we get separated, head to the
church in the village marked at the base of the valley and ask for Madame Moitessier. They’ll know how to get you back here.’ He pulled a button from his jacket and handed it to her.
‘To be safe, here’s a compass. The screw cover has a left-hand thread.’ He looked at the Spit and shook his head. ‘If the ATA find out you’ve taken a plane to the
Continent you know you’ll lose your wings?’

‘I know, I’ve been very reckless,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t bear the thought of you being shot down.’

‘That’s what I risk every time I set out,’ he said quietly. ‘Come on.’ He skied out onto the field and turned to her. ‘Let’s just hope we can get you
back.’

56

In the moonlight they skied down into the valley, descending quickly through the silent countryside. Evie matched him at every turn. Snow fell softly around them. It was
picture-perfect, impossible to imagine this was a world at war. Eventually she spotted a turreted château below them, encircled by fenced pastures. They followed a faint pathway leading up to
the stables, pushing themselves along the final approach. They skied noiselessly over the bridge across the frozen moat, beneath the steeply pitched mansard roof of the château. Evie gazed
upwards. The countless windows were silver in the night, reflecting the light of the moon. As they skied into the yard, Beau was gasping, his face pale. He tossed his poles to the ground and
unclipped his boots. As he bent down, he keeled over.

‘Beau!’ Evie cried. The kitchen door flew open. A woman wearing jodhpurs and boots and holding a shotgun stood there. ‘Help me! Please help me!’

‘You need to remember you are in France now,’ the woman said in English. She pushed her elegant dark hair behind one ear, and leant over Beau. ‘Alex? Mon amour
…’

Evie took a step back. As the woman turned her face to her, she caught the look of confusion on Evie’s face. ‘You must be Evie,’ she said. ‘I am Françoise, Alexander’s mother. Help me take him inside.’

Beau sat bare-chested on a wooden chair in the kitchen, as Françoise wound a bandage around his shoulder. ‘You are lucky, no? If the bullet had been a few
centimetres closer …’

‘Well it wasn’t,’ he said.

‘You take too many risks,’ she muttered as she tied the bandage tightly and tucked in the ends. ‘Just like Hans.’

‘Maman,’ he complained. In spite of herself, Evie smiled as she sipped at her hot coffee laced with cognac. Beau was so independent it was hard to imagine him belonging to anyone,
being anyone’s son.

‘Are you warm enough?’ Françoise asked Evie. ‘I’m sorry it is so cold in the house. I’ve never known a winter like this.’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Now, you need to get a move on. Alex, there’s a German uniform and papers ready. You need to speak to Marcel at the bar. He can get some men. If they take one of the small tankers
from the farm up to the field they can transfer the fuel, then Evie can get out of here.’

‘Will you be alright?’ Beau took his mother’s hand.

‘Me? Of course.’ She waved him away. ‘No one would risk touching me. I am the wife of the great Count Hans von Loewe. Go on, scoot.’ She led him to the library.

‘Has he been to see you?’ Beau asked her.

‘He wouldn’t dare.’ Françoise placed her hand on the bookcase. ‘Be careful though, I know he is nearby, waiting for his chance.’ She nodded back towards the
kitchen. ‘It is lucky Evie looks like Ingrid, not Leo. They have been …’ She shook her head. ‘A lot of Jews have been taken.’ She pulled out a volume, and a secret
door swung open. ‘She’s very beautiful, in fact she looks rather as I did when I was younger.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Beau kissed her cheek. ‘That’s a bit too Oedipal for my tastes. You’ll give me nightmares.’

‘Now hurry!’ Françoise returned to the kitchen. She pulled her cashmere cardigan tighter around her, and lit a cigarette. ‘So, Evie.’ Françoise sat opposite
her. ‘If you insist on going into town you will stick out a mile in that suit. We must find you something pretty to wear.’ She took her by the hand and led her through to a suite of
rooms.

From the wardrobe she pulled a beautiful silver velvet dress. ‘There, I think we are the same size and height?’ She handed Evie a matching pair of shoes, and sat on the bed as she
dressed. ‘You know, you look like your mother,’ she smiled. ‘The same fine features, beautiful grey eyes—’

‘You knew my mother?’

‘Yes, I knew Ingrid very well. And your father … He and I, we had a little rebound fling after I left Hans and your mother left Leo.’ She shrugged. ‘Leo was fun,
exhilarating. Alex’s father, Hans, was the opposite, so brooding, masculine. You know that gut feeling you get about a man?’ She clenched her fist low on her stomach.

Evie thought of Beau. ‘I know.’ She smoothed the dress over her hips, the silk velvet soft to her touch. ‘Will I pass?’

‘Perfect.’ Françoise hugged her. ‘I am glad that you are with my son. You are a better match for him than poor Olivia. Hans was always very keen for them to marry, for
obvious reasons, but she always struck me as a little …’ Françoise twirled her index finger near her temple.

Evie’s eyes fell. ‘That makes two of us. I feel a perfect fool for following Beau out here. I put us both in danger. I don’t know if he will forgive me for all this.’

Françoise put her hand on Evie’s shoulder. ‘You were trying to protect the man you love. I can tell you are a woman who follows her heart, Evie. Don’t worry, Alex would
forgive you anything.’

‘I don’t know where I am with him. I had no idea about all this.’

‘That he was helping the SOE? Of course, no one would know. It’s better that way. He is a very brave man, a good man. He has integrity, courage. He understands he has a duty to all
men, and our freedom depends on people like him, like us.’

‘What will you do now?’

‘I’ll carry on doing what I can for the Resistance until my luck runs out. I help the Maquis, hide agents. No one dares touch me without Hans’ orders, and I have to stay for my
horses.’ She waved her hand at a side cabinet covered with silver-framed photographs of horses and trophies. ‘Do you recognise anyone?’ Evie looked closer as she quickly brushed
her hair. ‘That horse looks just like Montgomery,’ she said.

‘He is Monty’s father,’ Françoise said. ‘When Leo wanted a present for you, there was only one place to come, naturally.’

‘So we’re practically family?’ Evie embraced Françoise. ‘I hope we’ll meet again, in happier circumstances.’

‘So do I. You must go now. Be safe.’ She hesitated, then handed Evie a brooch from her jewellery box. ‘Just in case.’

Evie flipped open the gold cover. ‘A pill?’

‘Cyanide. It’s better than the alternative, trust me. Hans knows no mercy.’

57

‘Evie, you need to listen to me,’ Beau called back to her as the motorbike sped through the dark fields. She clung to him, her head resting against his shoulders.
‘Try not to speak at all once we’re in town. If you are addressed by anyone, say as little as possible. Your father tells me your French is fluent, yes?’ She nodded. ‘Good.
When we get there, I will drop you off around the corner from the hotel. I will go in first. Wait five minutes, cross the main road and the hotel is immediately opposite you. Go to the bar on the
left, the one with all the tables. Sit near the back and watch me. When I leave, go to the bathroom. Follow the corridor around the back of the stage, through the kitchen and out into the alley. I
will be waiting for you there.’

Her heart thumped as they passed a convoy of German soldiers on the way into the town. Beau dropped her by a flower shop, and leant in to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘Evie,’ he
whispered, ‘I love you. If we get out of this, will you—’

‘When.’ Her gaze held his. ‘When we get out of this. Ask me then.’

‘Five minutes,’ he whispered, and as she stepped away he rode off towards the main street.

Evie stood in front of the pavement display. Rich velvet roses gave up their perfume to the cold evening air. She reached out and touched one with her fingertips. As she looked up, she saw her
reflection in the window, traffic streaming by behind her. Fear heightened every sense. Her heart missed a beat as she noticed that two German soldiers had appeared behind her.

‘C’est belle, la rose,’ one of them said in halting French. They were either side of her now. Evie’s hand drifted away from the flower. Coquettishly she turned her face
to his. He was just a boy, pale, fresh faced, younger than her probably.

‘Oui, c’est belle.’ She smiled, and walked away towards the main road, confidently swinging her hips, followed by their low whistles.

She stopped on the pavement. Just as a dark car pulled up outside the hotel, she looked right, stepped out, was nearly hit by a motorbike.

Count Hans von Loewe stared right at her as she leapt back onto the pavement.

‘Follow her,’ he said to his companion. They watched as she strode across the road, pushed open the gleaming door of the hotel. ‘Well, no need.’ Hans smiled slowly.
‘The little bird has walked straight into the cage.’

Evie paused in the lobby for a moment. As she walked to the bar beneath the dancing light of the chandelier, her heels tapped on the wooden floor. There were groups of people
already at the tables – a few locals, but mostly German soldiers and officers. She took a table at the back, in the shadows, and as she lit a Gauloises, her hand shook slightly. When the
waiter came over she ordered a glass of red wine in flawless French. Beau was at the bar, talking with the bartender. She thought he looked perfectly at home among the German soldiers in a way he
never did at home; strong, blonde, the Aryan ideal.

Some of the soldiers near the door stood to attention and gave the Nazi salute as a senior officer entered. He shrugged off his long leather coat and gave it to his companion.

‘Leave me,’ he told him as he took off his cap.

Evie gasped when she saw his face. At that moment Beau turned and looked at him, and it was as if time stood still.

‘Well, Alexander, we meet again.’ Hans leant against the bar, made no attempt to shake hands with him.

Evie strained her ears, trying to follow the conversation. She was horrified – this had to be Beau’s father, it was as if he was looking in a mirror.

‘Hans,’ Beau said steadily.

‘What an unexpected pleasure.’

‘Unexpected? I heard Olivia’s father had alerted you.’

Hans pursed his lips. ‘No, no, no. One of our pilots reported British aircraft nearby.’

‘So you got lucky.’

‘Luck? No. You were followed. I’ve had a patrol watching the château for months. I knew it was only a matter of time before you paid your mother a visit.’

‘I’m flattered you’d go to such trouble.’

His eyes were cold as he turned to his son. ‘How is Olivia? You will marry her soon.’

‘No.’ Beau clenched his fist.

‘We’ll see,’ Hans said lightly. ‘You know, I lost track of you when you left your squadron. I wondered where you would turn up. But here we are.’ He smiled at his
son but his ice blue eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Still drinking alone, Alexander? Always alone, even as a little boy, so sad.’ Hans raised his finger, beckoning the barman. ‘Two
cognacs, Marcel.’

‘You think I would drink with you?’

Hans leant towards him and said in a low voice, ‘I think you will do whatever I tell you. If you don’t, I will have your little friend arrested immediately.’ His eyes travelled
to Evie.

‘Who? I’m here alone.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence. My men saw two people arrive at the château. Perhaps you are wondering how I spotted her?’

‘No doubt you are going to tell me.’

‘You’d think they would train these SOE girls better, it’s just sloppy.’ Hans sipped his cognac. ‘She looked the wrong way crossing the road, silly girl.’

‘I told you I don’t know her. Let’s not drag this out shall we? It’s me you want.’ He winced as he turned to the bar.

‘So, you are injured?’ Hans laughed, squeezed his shoulder. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No.’ His jaw set hard.

‘No doubt you ran home to Mummy to get patched up.’ Hans released him. ‘My pilot thought he got a few shots in on the way home. Still, you survived. Your flying must be
improving.’

‘But it’s not as good as yours I suppose?’

‘I’ve had more practice. They always say there comes a moment when the son surpasses the father, but I can’t see it myself. I want a rematch. There’s no sport in
capturing you here.’ Hans lit a cigar. ‘I’m going to give you a head start. No doubt you are planning to take off in the Spitfire that followed you tonight? The Lysander was too
badly damaged wherever you landed it.’

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,’ Beau said.

‘You will. I know you. Efficient, like me. You’ve carried out your mission – delivered your package.’ He tilted his head towards Evie. ‘You can go. I have my
entertainment for the night. Another little SOE dove. How I love it when they sing for me …’

‘I don’t know her.’

‘Are you sure?’ Hans beckoned Marcel over again. ‘Who is that?’

While Hans was looking at Evie, Beau pointed to a piece of sheet music among the newspapers on the bar.

‘She is the singer. Tonight we have a cabaret.’ Marcel put down the glass he was polishing and gathered up the music. ‘Alphonse!’ He called to an old man at the end of
the bar, and handed him the music. ‘Are you ready? The singer is here.’ Alphonse shuffled to the piano by the small stage, and Marcel dimmed the lights, the silver-sequined curtain
glimmering softly. He walked over to Evie’s table. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘I hope you have a good voice. It is your only hope.’

‘You want me to sing?’ she said incredulously.

‘Come with me.’ Marcel took her arm. Without looking at Beau, she went over to Alphonse and checked the music. ‘Smile,’ Marcel whispered. ‘You need to look as if you are relaxed and enjoying yourself.’ She selected a song and took to the stage to whistles and clapping from the soldiers. As she began
to sing the room fell quiet.