Darkest Longings (45 page)

looking for you, cheri. The girls and I are going to Paris next

week, shopping.’

‘Oh no you’re not,’ Louis answered. ‘You, Solange de

Lorvoire, are staying here until after the boules tournament.

As my wife I order you to share in my humiliation.’

‘Oh, cheri,’ she grumbled, ‘do I have to? You play so badly.

That was why I put you down for the young men’s team. I

thought you would be able to use your age as an excuse.’

When the laughter had finally died down, Solange said,

‘Do you think we shall see Francois in Paris? I haven’t seen

him for so long. I do miss him, cheri.’

‘I know you do.’

‘And Louis misses his father, does he not, Claudine?’

Claudine nodded. No one ever asked her how she felt

about Francois’ absence, it was assumed that she preferred

it. But the fact was that since he had failed to return for

Louis’ first birthday, after telephoning the week before to

say he would try to come, she had hardly slept for worrying

about him. That was over four weeks ago, and as far as she

knew he hadn’t even contacted his father in that time. ‘Do

you know where he is, Louis?’ she ventured.

‘As a matter of fact, I do. He’s on his way back from

London, where I do believe he spent some time with your

father. So we might indeed see him in Paris.’ He frowned,

and peered at Claudine over the rims of his spectacles. ‘You

look a little pale, cherie, are you feeling unwell?’

‘No, I’m feeling fine,’ Claudine said. ‘Perhaps it’s your

beautiful daughter outshining me with her…’ She stopped abruptly as Monique dug an elbow in her ribs, but it was too late, Solange had remembered the engagement, and

Monique was obliged to sit her father down and tell him all

about Karol Kalinowski.

Later, after Solange and Louis had left the apartment,

Claudine said, ‘You still haven’t told me where you met

him.’

Monique seemed hesitant.

‘Did your eyes meet across a crowded room?’ Claudine

said, smiling. ‘Was it love at first sight? Come on, I’m dying

to know!’

Monique sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in telling

you, I’m sure you know about her anyway. We were

introduced by Francois’ mistress.’

It was as if something sharp and burning had been

suddenly plunged into Claudine’s chest. Then, strangely, it

was as though the muscles of her face were trying to drag the

smile from her lips, and her heart started to thud monotonously

in her ears. ‘Francois’ mistress?’ she repeated.

‘Oh no!’ Monique groaned. She had genuinely believed

Claudine must know about Elise by now. ‘I am sorry, cherie. I

thought you knew.’

‘But of course I knew,’ Claudine heard herself say. ‘I was

just a little surprised … Well, surprised that you know her

well enough to…”

‘I don’t really,’ Monique answered. ‘I’ve only met her a

few times, but of course all Paris knows her.’ She winced.

That wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all.

‘And does all Paris know she is Francois’ mistress?’

Claudine asked.

Monique lowered her eyes. ‘I imagine so. But so many

men have mistresses, Claudine. It is normal. And you, you

have Armand.’

So far, Francois had been the only member of the family

openly to acknowledge her affair with Armand, and for a

moment Claudine wasn’t sure what to say. Everything

seemed to be happening rather too fast. ‘Yes, I have

Armand,’ she said slowly. And then, ‘What’s her name,

Monique? Francois’ mistress? I’ve often wondered.’

‘Elise,’ Monique answered reluctantly. ‘Elise Pascale.’

Claudine frowned ‘Haven’t I heard that name before? Do

I know her?’

‘No. But you did see her once, I believe. At the opera.’ At

once Claudine remembered. ‘You mean … ? You mean the

woman who was sitting… ? But she’s so beautiful!’

Monique’s laugh was uneasy. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘my brother

seems to have an uncanny knack of attracting beautiful

women, doesn’t he?’

After Monique had gone, Claudine sat quite still on the

sofa, saying the name to herself over and over again, Elise

Pascale. Elise Pascale. Elise … Of course, she knew now

why the woman had been staring at her during the opera.

She remembered too, how she had seen Francois speaking

to her after. She wondered if Elise bore her any resentment

for being Francois’ wife. She had no need to, since it

seemed Francois had remained as faithful as he could to

Elise despite his marriage. For a moment Claudine felt as

though she was drowning, then suddenly she jerked herself

to her feet, snatched up her purse and stalked out of the

room.

Later that day, as they were sitting together outside the

cottage, Claudine told Armand Monique’s news. Armand,

who had grown up with the de Lorvoire children, was

almost as pleased for her as Claudine.

‘Perhaps this time the relationship will be a success,’ he

said, stretching out on his back and holding up an arm to

shield his eyes from the sun. ‘She deserves some happiness

after being let down so many times in the past.’

Claudine hugged her knees, and stared thoughtfully into

the forest. ‘I’ve never been able to understand that,’ she

said. ‘I mean, she’s so beautiful. And she’s such a good

catch.’

‘I think it could have something to do with the fact that

she appears so desperate - it really puts men off. For some

reason, you know, she’s always been like that. There was a

time when Francois and Lucien were afraid to invite anyone

home, not only for the embarrassment it caused them later,

but because she was so hurt when she was let down.’

‘Well, let’s hope she’s found true happiness at last.’

Claudine was silent for a moment. ‘I’m envious, you know,’

she said.

‘Envious?’

She nodded. ‘Because she can announce her love to the

world and we can’t. She told me this morning that Francois

has a mistress, someone the whole world knows about. It

just doesn’t seem fair, does it? I know it sounds childish, but

it makes me hate him even more.’ She leaned forward to

pick up her wine, her eyes suddenly stinging with tears.

‘I wonder how I’m going to survive without you while

you’re in Paris? Armand sighed. ‘It’ll be the first time we’ve

been separated and I can’t say I’m much looking forward to

it. When did you say you were leaving?’

When she didn’t answer, he reached out for her hand. To

his amazement she snatched it away. ‘Don’t!’ she snapped.

He sat up. ‘What is it? What on earth’s the matter?’ But

already she was on her feet and walking back to the house.

He went after her. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’ he

asked catching her up and taking her by the shoulder.

‘No, no. It’s not you, it’s …’ She turned away, looking

back at the trees.

‘I see,’ he said, suddenly understanding. ‘You think

someone’s there?’

‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘Maybe it’s just that I’ve

become paranoid since Francois told me. But…’ She

looked up at him. ‘Do you feel it too? Do you think someone

is still there?’

Slowly he shook his head. ‘Not really, no. Or perhaps I’ve

just become used to it.’ He pulled her to him and rested her

head on his shoulder. ‘Didn’t you say that you might see

Francois in Paris? You must tell him about this, Claudine.

Tell him you think there’s still someone here. Then …’ He

stopped, and to her surprise Claudine saw that he was

smiling. She turned to follow his eyes and saw walking

through the trees towards them Corinne and little Louis.

Corinne’s toothy smile was dazzling. If it hadn’t been for

that, and the yellow softness of her plaited hair, Claudine

often thought she might have found her intimidating, for

she was bigger and brawnier even than Armand, who, since

Francois had told him of her formidable skills in unarmed

combat, was forever challenging her to a fight. Her name Corinne

Pichard - was French, and she spoke the language

like a native, but with her green loden suits, feathered

trilbies and bib-front dresses she looked positively

Tyrolean. Claudine had no idea where Francois had found

her, but she was glad he had, for the nursery had become an

even jollier place since her arrival.

‘He was crying for his mother,’ Corinne said, ‘so I

thought I would bring him to you, madame. Mam’selle

Monique told me where to find you. I hope you do not

mind?’

‘Of course not, Corinne,’ Claudine smiled. She held out

her arms to Louis. ‘Hello, my darling,’ she said and for the

moment her painful preoccupation with Elise Pascale, and

dangerous strangers in the forest, was forgotten.

Rudolf von Liebermann heaved his bulk from the chair and

moved across the barren room to the window. Through the

grime he could see the blur of red lights and winking signs in

the street below. The depressing sound of a languid female

voice chanting ‘Lili Marlene’ drifted through the night. He

rubbed a circle in the grime, and followed the progress of a

huddled figure shuffling through the rain until it disappeared

around the corner. ‘When did he leave England?’

he said eventually, without turning round. Behind him,

Bruning and Grundhausen sat stiffly in their chairs. Max

Helber was in Paris.

‘He left four days ago,’ Walter Bruning answered.

‘And no one knows where he is now?’

Silence.

‘You mean to tell me he has disappeared from the face of

the earth?’

Again silence.

Wiping his finger with a handkerchief, von Liebermann ;

turned back into the room. ‘Where is Halunke?’ he snapped.

‘At Lorvoire.’

‘And he doesn’t know the whereabouts of the Wine

Supplier either?’

‘No,’ Bruning confirmed. ‘But as we know, it is the Wine

Supplier’s family he is after, not the Wine Supplier himself.’

‘Then he must be stopped!’ von Liebermann roared.

Nobody spoke. After a while, von Liebermann said more

calmly, ‘This is a crucial time for the Fatherland. We need de

Lorvoire, and if Halunke harms his family we shall lose him.

Have we discovered anything further about this nanny?’

Bruning and Grundhausen appeared uncomfortable. As Bruning loosed his collar, von Liebermann’s piercing eyes fell upon him. ‘Well have we?’

‘Not yet, Hen General. Max has spoken with both

Halunke and the Pascale woman, but neither has been able

to throw any light on the nanny’s true identity.’

There was a long silence. Bruning and Grundhausen

glanced at each other several times, then Grundhausen

said, ‘The Pascale woman is threatening to stop supplying

information if we don’t do something about the Wine

Supplier’s wife. She says we made a bargain, that she is

keeping to her side but we are failing…’

‘Instruct Halunke to pay her a visit,’ von Liebermann

snapped. Then his gruesome, wart-infested face broke into

a smile. ‘That is a good idea,’ he chuckled. ‘It will keep them

both quiet for a while - Halunke will enjoy raping de

Lorvoire’s mistress a second time. But my concern now is

the whereabouts of de Lorvoire himself. How long ago did

he warn the French High Command of our prospective

operations against Belgium and Holland?’

‘In January of this year,’ Grundhausen answered.

‘And the French still disbelieve him? That is good. But

what I want to know is, do the British disbelieve him too?

Have we any reason to think that he might have gained the

information we asked of him from the British?’

The information regarding the Royal Air Force?’ Bruiting asked.

‘Of course regarding the Royal Air Force! Hermann Goering needs to know its strength before we make an attack on Poland.’

“Then you think the Allies will stand by their promise to defend Poland?’ Grundhausen asked - and immediately wished he hadn’t.

‘You stupid dog!’ von Liebermann snarled. ‘They are on the brink of signing a formal alliance with Poland. If they do that, they won’t back down.’ He wiped the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand. ‘Find the Wine Supplier! If we need to bargain with him again, give him details of the euthanasia plan for the Gypsies and the insane. No one will come to their rescue, any more than they have with the Jews. And remind Halunke that if he wishes his identity to remain secure, he will do nothing to harm the de Lorvoire family

until I have the information I require. Then, he may do as he

pleases. Unless, of course,’ and here his thin mouth broke

into a smile, ‘de Lorvoire succeeds in proving his fealty to

The Reich.’

He paused for a moment, then looked at Grundhausen.

‘Tell Halunke not to hold back with the mistress, and this

time to leave his calling card. It will do de Lorvoire no harm

to understand what lengths we are prepared to go to to get

him.’

Paris hadn’t been so hot for years. The grey stone buildings

shimmered in the heat like desert mirages, insects swarmed

over the declining waters of the Seine, and pavement cafes

had never seen so much trade or so many lovers. With all the