The Lavender Keeper (36 page)

Now, Robert took the towel from Luc and then pointed to his father’s shirt, hung on an apple tree nearby. ‘Papa won’t mind.’

Luc glanced at the grandmother again, with gratitude in his eyes. ‘Marie, I will repay your kindness one day.’

The old woman made a hushing sound. ‘We all do our bit. Robert’s been wondering about that pouch around your neck. I must admit, I have too, but I told him not to pry. Is that from Lisette?’

He shook his head. ‘My grandmother gave this to me. She believed that lavender possesses magic.’ Robert’s eyes widened as Luc spoke. ‘She said I was to wear the pouch of seeds always, and it would protect me.’

The woman grinned. ‘Grandmothers know best.’

‘
Oui, madame
. I would never argue with that.’ Luc walked to the tree and took the shirt, grimacing at the pain in his shoulders as he put it on. After recovering consciousness he’d discovered an egg-sized lump on his head, and his back was badly bruised even after weeks of healing. He knew how lucky he was not to have broken any bones. His head had only just
stopped throbbing constantly, and sunlight no longer made him wince in pain.

He did up the buttons slowly, feeling the tension in the air twist at his heartstrings. Robert would not be happy at him leaving, and despite her smiles and wise words, he knew Marie would likely miss his presence and companionship too.

‘I wish you would not go, Monsieur Luc,’ Robert said sadly. He glanced at his grandmother, an apologetic look on his face.

Luc swallowed. He crouched down to be eye level with Robert. ‘I promise that I will come back one day. I have an idea – do you have a sewing needle?’

‘What for?’ Marie asked.

‘You’ll see.’

Marie’s face formed a question. ‘Wait – I will fetch one.’ She was back soon, and handed a needle to Luc.

‘Watch,’ said Luc. He dug the needle into his own thumb and squeezed the flesh until a bead of blood bloomed dark and shiny. ‘Do you think you can do the same?’

Robert blinked at him, uncertain at first, and then took the needle and bravely nodded.

‘It’s called a blood oath. One we can never break.’

That won the boy’s attention and courage. Without hesitation he took a breath and plunged the tip of the needle into his thumb, giving a soft gasp.

‘You’re very brave, Robert,’ Luc soothed. ‘Now squeeze it as you saw me do.’

Robert obeyed and soon had a matching bead of blood. He looked up at Luc. ‘What now?’

‘Now we place our thumbs together like this,’ Luc said, winking at Marie as he brought his large hand next to Robert’s small one. ‘That’s it. Our bloods must mix.’

Robert was entranced. ‘Why?’

‘Because you and I are blood brothers. That bond can’t ever be broken.’

The boy pulled his thumb away slightly so he could peer at their blood, smeared against his thumb. His eyes widened even more. ‘Monsieur Luc, our bloods are one.’

Luc nodded. ‘I, Lukas Ravensburg, also known as Luc Bonet, do solemnly promise to return to this place as soon as I possibly can.’

Marie touched his shoulder gently. ‘Luc, you can never love a woman too much. Don’t delay. Go to her. Marry her. Then bring her to visit.’

Luc offered them both final hugs and, with food in a small sack, he set off looking surprisingly well presented. As he turned for a final wave, he realised his life had been nothing but farewells these past few years. But here he would return, he promised himself, as the teary six-year-old blew him a kiss and yelled, ‘Don’t forget me, Monsieur Luc! Don’t forget your promise.’

Kilian read Lisette’s note again. It hurt to read it because it hurt to be without her. He’d read it several times now, frowning as he tried to imagine what she had to say to him that was so immediate despite his warning.

The last time he’d seen Lisette was just before the Allied landings at Normandy weeks ago. All the radio talk had suggested the port of Calais would be the target, but the Allies had pulled off an inspired trick.

The Supreme Commander of German Forces for the Western Front had been replaced: a sure sign of panic. Cherbourg had fallen, de Gaulle had set up a provisional government and General Dollmann had died of a heart attack after the defeat at Cherbourg, although rumours were buzzing that he had committed suicide. It was reported that Rommel had been seriously wounded in Normandy. Kilian shook his head. Germany’s hold over France, its last bastion of power, was unravelling.

All of the bad news only made him feel more committed to his private cause. He wished the conspirators had achieved their aims earlier – they might have been able to wrest back an iota of dignity for Germany. But if nothing was attempted soon, the Allies would beat them to it and destroy Hitler. Then there would be no terms, no negotiation of a truce. As it was, he already felt it was too late. Attempts by the German Resistance had failed so many times he didn’t hold out much hope for this one, which felt like a last-ditch effort by desperate men, an honour-salvaging final gasp to topple the leader. Hitler meanwhile continued to spit out angry, nonsensical orders that depressed his generals and crippled his armies.

But Kilian knew his instinct to keep Lisette at arm’s length was right. The Gestapo would just love ‘interviewing’ her. He’d heard one of their favourite ways of extracting information was by near-drowning suspects in a bathtub.

Lisette’s letter was affectionate, but it wasn’t a love letter – that was obvious. She was clearly being cautious. What could she have to say to him? Their last conversation had been strained. He shuddered to remember his allusions to the conspiracy, and that she might be involved.

All would be solved if he could speak to Stülpnagel, but the commander had been away and uncontactable. Kilian cursed his lack of information once again.

As if the gods had been listening, his phone rang.

He snatched at it. ‘Kilian.’

‘Colonel Kilian.’ It was the latest temporary secretary they’d sent him. ‘I have a Lieutenant Colonel von Hofacker waiting to see you. Can I send him in? He said he just needs a few moments.’

His pulse quickened. ‘Yes, bring him up, please.’

‘Very good, sir.’

The line went dead and he stared at the receiver. This was it! Stülpnagel had said von Hofacker was the only other person he could trust. This was surely news that the assassination was about to take place. He steadied his breathing, put Lisette’s letter in his desk drawer and smoothed his uniform.

There was a peremptory knock at the door and it opened. ‘Lieutenant Colonel von Hofacker, sir,’ his middle-aged secretary said, and showed in the man behind her.

‘Ah, von Hofacker. You’ve brought those details I needed, I hope?’

‘Colonel Kilian,’ von Hofacker replied and saluted. ‘Yes, sir. I have them here.’

‘Come in, come in. Can I offer you something?’

‘No, thank you, sir,’ he said and they both smiled at the woman as she left.

When the door closed, Kilian breathed out silently. ‘What news?’ he murmured.

Von Hofacker grimaced. ‘Two aborted attempts this month.’

He stared at the man, momentarily speechless. It was so
quiet in the room Kilian was sure von Hofacker could hear his blood pounding. ‘Why wasn’t I told?’

‘Things are happening so fast and so secretly, even we don’t know.’ Von Hofacker raised his hands in mock defence as Kilian’s chair scraped back and the colonel stood angrily. ‘I know, sir,’ he continued, just above a whisper. ‘I know this is not ideal and that you need warning.’ He shrugged. ‘We are equally frustrated.’

‘Tell me what occurred.’

‘The first attempt was earlier this month.’

Kilian’s expression drooped. ‘And?’

‘The man involved deemed it unsuitable. It’s easy to become frustrated, but neither of us is pulling the trigger. The moment has to be right.’ Von Hofacker had cleared his throat and proceeded. ‘There was another attempt.’

‘When?’ Kilian’s voice rose and then lowered as von Hofacker glanced around nervously. ‘Tell me,’ he urged quietly.

‘The plan was to kill Himmler as well, the rationale being that he might prove a bigger problem than the one we already have. Himmler did not attend the gathering as expected and so the plot was once again aborted at the final moment.’

‘The man has more lives than a cat!’

‘You may be right there, Colonel. You may as well know that a third attempt was planned today, but was once again abandoned when the Führer was called out of the meeting room suddenly. I have only just heard about it myself.’

Kilian had clenched his jaw with frustration. ‘So what now?’

‘More patience. We try once more,’ von Hofacker replied.

‘Will we have some forewarning this time?’

The man shrugged. ‘The next attempt is in three days. The man involved is resolute. He will not fail.’

Kilian turned quickly towards the windows. He didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified. Both, probably.

‘Colonel?’

‘I’m still coming to terms with the notion that I am committing treason,’ he growled in a low voice.

The man joined him by the window. ‘Sir, you are protected. You know we have deliberately kept you at a distance, for good reason. Once we know that it has been done, the general will order the capture and imprisonment of all SS and Gestapo in Paris immediately.’

‘Do you need my help with that?’ Kilian asked.

They were whispering even though they stood side by side.

‘No, sir. You will act after that, and only when we’re sure it’s appropriate to do so. I will contact you.’

‘And if I don’t hear from you?’

‘Do nothing. Preserve your cover.’

Kilian shook his head. ‘Why can’t we do it all at once, gather up Himmler’s mob, mobilise the Army?’

‘Layers of protection, sir. Please trust the plan.’

‘All right, von Hofacker. Thank you.’

The lieutenant colonel nodded and opened his briefcase. ‘The general asked me to give you this, sir.’

‘What is it?’

‘Cover – it’s all contrived paperwork about church needs, security and so on.’

‘Ah, good.’ Kilian took it without interest and flung it down on his desk.

Von Hofacker paused meaningfully. ‘He suggests you cast an eye over it, sir. It, er, well, it makes for some interesting reading.’

Kilian looked at him, puzzled, but the man turned away.

‘Thank you again for seeing me at such short notice, Colonel,’ he said in a measured tone.

‘Good luck, von Hofacker.’

‘Yes, sir. And to you.’ He paused at the door. ‘
Heil Hitler
,’ he said, and gave a mirthless smile.

Kilian mumbled the same in response, refusing to utter the words unless they couldn’t be avoided.

Von Hofacker left, and Kilian knew no work would be done today, or for the next three days; not until the deed was done and Germany was free of Adolf Hitler.

He looked at the file on his desk that von Hofacker had delivered and gave an angry sigh. He flung open the side drawer and threw it in – he would look at it later, but first he wanted to sort out this business with Lisette.

He glimpsed at her note again. If this all went wrong, he might be arrested, executed. Could he go to his death without holding her in his arms once more?

He picked up the phone and buzzed his secretary.

‘Yes, Colonel?’

‘Can you connect me through to a Mademoiselle Forestier, please?’

‘Of course, sir. May I have the details?’

He gave the bank’s name. ‘And make a reservation at that restaurant down by the water. The open-air one.’

‘Oh, yes. I know the one, sir.’

He was impressed. She was working out quite well, this one. ‘One p.m. today.’

‘Very good, sir. Just hold while I connect you.’

He waited in the silence that followed. It took only moments. ‘Colonel Kilian? I have Mademoiselle Forestier on the line.’

‘Thank you.’ He heard the click of his secretary’s phone disconnecting. ‘Lisette?’

‘Colonel Kilian.’

His throat tightened at the sound of her voice.

‘It’s nice to hear from you,’ she said carefully. Good girl. She wasn’t gushing in case the secretaries liked to eavesdrop.

‘Likewise. I wondered if you’d care to have lunch with me today?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

He could hear in her voice relief and pleasure. He smiled, and gave her the name of the restaurant. ‘Would one o’clock be all right?’

‘Of course. I’ll see you there.’

‘We have much to catch up on.’

As usual, Kilian was early. When Lisette arrived she looked radiant, far too pretty, and he was sure his heart faltered when he first glimpsed her dark hair. It had grown. She wore it in a ponytail, accentuating her youth. He imagined her untying it and those raven waves hitting her naked shoulders …

The maître d’ showed her to his table as Kilian stood, beaming helplessly.

‘You look divine in that dress.’ It was a pale floral one he’d bought her while they’d been travelling, which showed off her slender arms and figure. It was cut low enough that he was prompted all too painfully to remember what she looked like without the encumbrance of the soft cotton dress. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s my favourite.’

She didn’t say anything at first, just gazed at him with a wide smile. Then she kissed him softly on the lips in her uninhibited way and whispered, ‘It’s so good to see you, Markus.’

He felt a fresh thrill of desire and quickly glanced at the head waiter who had approached. ‘Please give us a moment,’ he said, turning eagerly back to Lisette. ‘How have you been? Although I needn’t ask – you thrive on loneliness, obviously. Or maybe I shouldn’t be so presumptuous. Perhaps you haven’t been so lonely?’ He cursed himself inwardly – now he sounded jealous.

She regarded him with a pensive smile. ‘I’ve missed you every minute of each of the thirty-six days we’ve been apart.’

‘You kept count,’ he observed in a soft voice.

‘I always keep count,’ she said. ‘You should know that.’

He looked down. ‘Thank you for your note.’

‘I’m glad it prompted this.’

‘No. That’s not the only reason I wanted to see you.’

‘Good. For someone who claims to love me, you have a strange way of showing it.’

‘Don’t do that, Lisette,’ he said, wounded.

‘What, complain?’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘How hard do you think this separation has been for me, Markus?’

‘As hard, I imagine, as it has been for me,’ he answered.

‘It’s mysterious and uncomfortable.’

‘You know I would not ask this of you without good reason.’

Her deep-blue eyes flashed anger at him. ‘Then give me that good reason. I deserve it.’

A waiter was back, handing out menus. Kilian tried to look interested in the selection. ‘The
sole meunière
here is unrivalled.’

She gave a wan smile to the waiter. ‘I’ll have the sole and some steamed potatoes, thank you.’

He looked at Kilian.

‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘For two.’

‘Wine, sir?’

Kilian shook his head. ‘Water is fine. Lisette?’

She nodded and the man left.

‘I didn’t come to argue with you,’ Kilian began.

‘Neither did I. It was the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, I’ve been feeling like an excited schoolgirl since you called.’

He broke into a grin. ‘Ah, there you are. I knew you were in there somewhere, behind that anger.’

She gave him a stern gaze before shaking her head and making a point of casting a glance around her surroundings, as they sat in the open-air restaurant in the height of the Parisian summer.

‘What?’ He frowned.

‘This,’ she said. ‘What are we doing here? The war is coming to us. Paris is the jewel for the Allies. And yet here we sit and calmly order
sole meunière
, while the locals,’ she murmured, pointing out towards the bank of the Seine, ‘have never been more famished, more without, more despairing … and yet so excited that change is coming.’

His expression straightened and he became serious. ‘And how about you? How do you feel?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Are you happy about the landings?’

She looked taken aback. ‘If I’m truthful, yes.’

‘I see.’

They paused while their glasses were filled from a silver jug of chilled water.

‘Don’t we all want change, Markus?’ she continued once the waiter had disappeared again.

He sighed. ‘Yes. I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t agree.’

She picked up her glass. ‘To change, then … for the better.’

He clinked his glass with hers. ‘I will certainly drink to that.’ He smiled. ‘No more angry words. You are even more beautiful than in my dreams. Summer suits you. Are you busy at the bank?’

‘Not really. There’s so much uncertainty now. I feel like we’re all just shuffling papers around our desks. Did you ever mention me to General Stülpnagel?’

His eyes clouded. She wasn’t going to leave it alone. ‘Actually, he mentioned you to me,’ he said.

She paused and looked puzzled. ‘How come?’

‘Word had got around of our trip.’

‘Were you embarrassed by it?’

‘Not at all. It was my idea.’

‘Did he reprimand you?’

‘I don’t answer to Stülpnagel.’

‘But you do respect him.’

‘Yes, of course. I admire him. He is one of the old guard.’