Dark Summer in Bordeaux (13 page)

‘No God?’ Lannes said. ‘No God of Israel?’

‘No God, even of Israel. Have some more brandy. Sometimes I believe in brandy.’

Not very often, Lannes thought, looking at the dust-smeared bottle.

‘There was a paper,’ he said. ‘I think the professor entrusted it to you.’

‘And if he did, should I break his trust?’

‘Is there trust between the living and the dead?’

‘More perhaps than between the living since there is only one who can betray it. Still you are right, not so foolish after all. But you are also wrong. I refused.’

‘You refused? Why?’

‘Because there is nothing left for me but refusal. Perhaps that was why. I don’t know. Perhaps because I have had enough. I don’t know. Perhaps because I was afraid, but that is not why. When I’m afraid I drink brandy. That is why a bottle lasts me a long time. I am too old to be afraid. What is there for me to be afraid of? Death? There is nothing fearful in death. In the moment of death? Perhaps. But death itself? No. I refused because it is my habit to refuse. So I can’t help you, Monsieur Lannes. I won’t say I would if I could, because it is unnecessary for me to tell a lie. I can’t help you and I no longer care. That is why I refused. Perhaps.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Lannes said, later, to Moncerre and René Martin, ‘we have made progress. We know the two cases are connected – through Pilar – and we know that the professor had a paper which he wanted to hide – and I think that he came to this decision after his meeting with Sombra. The question is whether he found a hiding-place, someone to entrust it to, or whether it was among the papers your office-boy, René, collected for his master. Tomorrow we’ll act as if we are sure that’s the case.’

XX

There were three customers in the shop when Aramis entered. Léon was startled, then pleased, and was about to speak when Aramis smiled and gave a small shake of the head. His mouth was still swollen. Then he turned away and began to scan the shelves, removed a book, and settled himself on the floor. He was wearing a high-necked pale-blue jersey and loose fawn-coloured trousers. Sunlight slicked through the window, making particles of dust dance, and lying restfully on the boy’s blondness. Léon was both pleased and alarmed to see him, and eager for the other customers to make their purchases, or grow weary, and leave; in any case leave. When at last they did so, Aramis seemed for a moment not to notice that they were now alone, then was on his feet with a dancer’s lightness, and held out the book to Léon; it was Alain-Fournier’s
Le Grand Meaulnes
.

‘Don’t you love this?’ he said. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve read it but I don’t believe I could ever tire of it. Surprised to see me?’

‘Did you know I worked here?’

‘Hoped. Suspected.’

‘But why?’

‘My mother’s a friend of Henri. She was in here last week – you won’t remember – why should you? – and happened to say he had a nice boy working for him. I hoped it might be you.’

‘Why should you have thought so?’

Aramis looked away.

‘It’s a bit shameful, I’m afraid. She said someone had told her the boy was Jewish. She’s not really anti-semitic, you know. She did say you were nice. You don’t mind, do you? You don’t mind that I’ve come?’

Léon said, ‘No, not at all. I’m pleased really. Only . . . ’

‘Only what?’

‘Our incognitos, noms de guerre. We’re supposed, aren’t we, not to know each other, so that . . . .well, you know. What would Alain say if he knew?’

‘D’Artagnan you mean.’

And again, as in the changing-room at the swimming pool, they found themselves, simultaneously, giggling.

‘It’s a bit silly,’ Aramis said, ‘when we all know him. But of course, if you like, we can remain Aramis and Athos to each other. But I really wanted to see you, that’s all. You don’t mind? Truly? You are pleased?’

‘Yes, of course I am. I’ll make some coffee, shall I?’

Aramis followed him through to the back room. When Léon had filled the pot and put it on the little stove, he felt Aramis lay his hand on his shoulder, and turned round.

‘Your poor mouth,’ he said. ‘It’s still sore, isn’t it?’ and touched it with his finger. ‘You were brave to speak as you did.’

‘I just didn’t think. The words came out. If I’d thought I might have remained silent.’

‘All the same, it was brave. I was frightened. I think I’m a coward really.’

‘That makes you all the braver, to be doing what we are doing. Especially since you’re Jewish.’

He took a piece of blue chalk from his pocket.

‘Do you know what I did on my way here? Chalked V for Victory on a number of walls. I would have drawn a Cross of Lorraine too, but I couldn’t remember how to do it. Isn’t that silly?’

‘I’ve duplicated lots of them,’ Léon said. ‘I’ll give you some to scatter about. But carefully.’

‘Carefully, of course. Actually I wanted to speak with you about Porthos. I hope he didn’t offend you. He’s a bit of an ass, you know.’

‘I wasn’t offended but I didn’t much like him.’

‘Can’t say I do either, not much anyway, but he’s all right really. He’s one of Alain’s rugby-playing mates.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘Certainly not. Do I look as if I might be?’

‘I suppose you don’t.’

They took their cups through to the bookshop and sat opposite each other at the table. Aramis leaned forward and cupped his chin in his hands, looking Léon in the face.

‘I’ve a confession,’ he said, ‘that’s the other reason I wanted to see you alone. You remember I said I thought we had met somewhere? I was wrong, but I did recognise you. My grandmother – my other one, not the one who lives in Nice – has a house in Bergerac. I often visit her there. One day she took me to see her friend Gaston – she was very fond of him – and there was a photograph of a boy on his desk. That’s how I thought we’d met. Poor Gaston, it was horrible what happened to him.’

Léon felt himself blushing. And it was extraordinary surely that Aramis should have taken note of that photograph and remembered it.

‘It’s all right,’ Aramis said, ‘I understand. I understand completely. My mother wanted a daughter. I’ve always done my best to oblige.’

He brushed his hair off his brow.

‘You’re in love with Alain, aren’t you? There’s no need to be embarrassed. I was myself, two years ago, but it was no good.’

‘No, it’s no good, it’s hopeless, I know that,’ Léon said. ‘How did you guess?’

‘The way you look at him.’

‘You won’t tell, will you?’

‘No, of course I won’t. I didn’t tell him I was, so I certainly won’t say you are. It’s our secret. I often thought, if I’d been a girl instead of being girlish, he might have guessed how I felt, and even responded. But there you are, that’s life.’

Léon thought, I could tell him about Félix and Schussmann, and my fear, and he would understand, but of course I can’t and so I won’t, and even though he would understand, he would feel obliged to tell Alain that I couldn’t be trusted even though he might not say why or how he knew.

‘Alain’s so innocent,’ Aramis said, ‘so single-minded. You and I know more about ourselves, because we’ve had to ask questions. That’s our penalty for being what we are and our reward and our strength too. I’ve thought a lot about it. I expect you have too. That’s because we’re outcasts. They call us inverts.’

‘I don’t like the word,’ Léon said. ‘But at least you’re not a Jew, Aramis.’

He pushed a pack of Gauloises across the table.

‘Take one.’

‘Are you sure you can spare . . . ’ ‘It’s all right. My aunt keeps a tabac. So cigarettes are one thing I’m not short of.’

Aramis took one, lit it, and, turning it round in his hand, stretched over the table and put it between Léon’s lips. Then he lit another for himself.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not a Jew. I don’t know any, not really, you’re my first Jewish friend. But I hate these laws. They’re disgusting.’

‘You won’t be surprised to know that I agree,’ Léon said, and remembered how he had spoken that exact sentence to Alain, months ago, perhaps the first day Alain came into the shop, and they got talking and Léon had hoped he would never leave, which was absurd.

‘It makes it natural for me to want to engage in resistance,’ he said. ‘I hate Vichy almost as much as I hate the Boches. Maybe I hate it even more. The Boches are at least our enemies, but Vichy just makes me sick. What about you, though? Didn’t you say your father thinks the Marshal is our saviour?’

‘Stepfather actually, though I call him Papa and think of him as that really, because I was only four years old when he married my mother after my real father was killed in North Africa. He was an officer in the Chasseurs d’Afrique. I suppose I would have been a disappointment to him with my pansy manners. Fortunately Gilles – that’s my stepfather – is more tolerant. He’s a novelist, not a very good one, I’m afraid, you won’t have heard of him, I’m sure. Mostly about priests who have a crisis of conscience or fear they are losing their faith. No, my whole family’s on the Right, Action Française and all that, bring back the monarchy, France needs a king, that’s how I was brought up.’

‘And so?’

There was a touch of mischief or mockery in the smile Aramis offered to Léon, as if to say that these attitudes were nonsensical. Then, before he could continue, they heard footsteps on the stair and Henri came in with Toto on a lead. He was bleary eyed and unshaven.

‘Léon, Toto needs to go out. Would you mind taking him? I don’t feel up to facing the world outside.’

‘Of course,’ Léon said, getting to his feet.

‘Why, Jérôme – it is Jérôme, isn’t it?’ Henri said. ‘I didn’t know you two knew each other.’

‘We don’t really,’ Aramis said. ‘I was just browsing and we fell into conversation.’ He held up the book. ‘About this.’

‘Ah,’ Henri said. ‘Ah yes.’ His jowls shook. He coughed several times, rackingly, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘The lost domain, the enchanted estate, how we all dream of such a place now, long for it precisely because we know it is unattainable. And how is your mother, dear boy? Well, I hope. Please give her my best regards. Does she still read books? Not that there is much new to appeal to her. Thank you, dear boy,’ he said, handing Léon Toto’s lead. ‘Lock the door behind you, please. I’m not up to dealing with customers, especially if they should turn out to be Germans. To think how I used to love Germany and German literature. I suppose that barbarian has burned most of the books now.’

Outside in the street, Léon said, ‘Toto doesn’t like to go far, he’s a lazy old thing. We might just go to a bar in the rue du Vieil Temple. I’m quite welcome there. Of course we don’t yet have to wear a yellow star like in Germany.’

There were tables outside the bar. They ordered lemonade. Toto snuffled and sniffed busily around the chair-legs.

‘Henri’s in a bad way,’ Léon said. ‘I don’t know what I would do without him, but the only people he likes to see now are my Aunt Mirian and Alain’s father, and he spends most of the day drinking. Go on with what you were saying. About your family and why you . . . You know. There’s no one who can hear us.’

‘That’s how I was brought up then,’ Aramis said, ‘to believe that France was being ruined by corrupt politicians, by the money power and – I’m sorry to say this, Athos – no, it’s too silly when we are alone, Léon – by the Jews. So when we heard that the Marshal had replaced Reynaud as Prime Minister, I was overjoyed. We might have lost the first battles of the war but now France would be saved. The Hero of Verdun would deliver victory – the Loire would be a second Marne. With Pétain in power, everything was possible. And then came his broadcast. You heard it, we all heard it. And I had an immediate revulsion of feeling. We are betrayed. The Marshal has betrayed us. It was appalling. You were probably wiser than me and never trusted him, but for me, it was as if someone had picked up my idol and dashed it to the ground. You understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘But I must tell you because I want you to know and because I wouldn’t want you to hear it from someone else, that I remain a member of a Cercle Charles Maurras and that, at my father’s suggestion, I signed up to join the Légion des Jeunes d’Aquitaine which, as you know is devoted to the service and person of the Marshal. I’m happy with this, Léon. If we are serious in our resistance – and we are, aren’t we? – it’s good cover. Porthos refused to join – he says, ‘I don’t like associations’ and Alain also, of course, though his brother Dominique is now favourable. But I think it wise and, besides, I have a conspiratorial nature, I’ve discovered.’

He laughed.

‘Now you know everything, you know the worst. Except one thing. There’s a boy there in the Légion I’m mad about, hopelessly because he is equally mad about girls and anyway I fear he despises me. What’s more, he’s a Fascist, a natural one, I’m afraid. And yet I adore him. Isn’t life stupid?’

XXI

To Lannes’ surprise the advocate Labiche presented himself at his office as requested and only half an hour late. He settled himself, dark-suited, squat and assured, in the chair where so many suspects had found themselves sweating with anxiety.