The Lavender Keeper (37 page)

‘And you’re caught between two worlds, is that right?’

Their meals arrived and were quietly set down.

‘I suppose that’s true,’ Kilian answered, unfolding his napkin. ‘Eat up. By the sounds of things, this may have to last you for a week.’

‘And you shouldn’t eat for another twenty-four hours.’

‘Nor will I,’ he said, smiling.

‘You look thin, Markus. Are you eating at all?’

‘Not much. And it has nothing to do with my routine. I have missed you, Lisette, but I am also a cog in the wheel of the German administration, and even though I do loathe it, I have my responsibilities.’

She cut into her fish. ‘Even as you tell me this, I discount it for being dishonest. Mmm, this looks delicious.’

He put his cutlery down in surprise. ‘Why do you say such a thing?’

Lisette swallowed, dabbed her mouth with the napkin and fixed him with a penetrating gaze. ‘Young, not stupid, remember? You’re lying to me.’ She returned to her food.

It was Kilian’s turn to stare. He watched her eat, wondering what to say next.

‘Eat up. It really is delightful,’ she said.

‘Lisette.’ She ignored him. ‘Lisette! Explain yourself.’

‘Markus,’ she began in a hushed tone. ‘Whatever you’re up to, I know you’re worried. Would you like to know what I think … really?’

He nodded, almost scared of what was coming.

‘I think you’re hatching something very dangerous with high-placed people. It’s so secret that even I represent a threat. Knowing you, I can only think of one thing.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m guessing that you’re up to something that undermines the Nazi hierarchy.’ She was muttering in the lowest of voices but still Kilian looked around.

The waiter sidled up and startled him. ‘Is everything all right with your meal, Colonel?’

When Kilian hesitated, Lisette said, ‘It’s delicious. Thank you,’ and asked how the rich sauce was achieved.

When the waiter had left Kilian stared at her while she finished the last morsel on her plate.

‘Who are you, Lisette?’ he asked softly, stunned by her astuteness.

She looked at him, a baffled expression on her face. ‘You know me inside and out. That’s the problem. I’m trying to help you. But you just push me away.’

She reached for his hand but he pulled it back, placing his fork and knife together on his plate. His appetite had fled.

‘Markus, listen to me. If I’m right, and you are part of something that is trying to bring about the very change that we raised our glasses to, then let me help.’

His gaze narrowed. She seemed to take his silence as his permission to continue.

‘I can move with far more freedom than you. If I can prevent you from exposing yourself or making yourself vulnerable, then I want to. I can be a messenger for you.’ Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. ‘I can even be an interface to the Allies, if you need.’

He sat back, wiped his mouth. ‘We’re leaving.’

She looked surprised.

‘Get your things.’

‘But your food, your—’

‘I said we’re leaving.’ He stood, found the maître d’ and explained that an urgent matter had arisen. He apologised and paid the bill, leaving a large tip. With his mind in tumult, he grabbed Lisette’s arm and propelled her forward along the Seine.

‘Markus, you’re being rough.’

‘Am I? Walk faster.’

They hurried in silence, him pushing her through the sunlit streets back to the Hotel Raphaël, not exchanging a word with her until he’d slammed the door in his hotel room.

He noticed she didn’t look scared, and couldn’t help but be impressed. But he was also angry, mortified and unnerved all at once. This was so much bigger than him. He could not care less about his own life but there were too many others involved in this conspiracy – and he’d be damned if his lover was going to bring the whole thing down.

‘You look as if you could kill me,’ she said, surprising him with her calm.

‘That was very dangerous talk, Lisette. I’d like to know how you formed such an opinion of me.’

‘All right. Your sudden secrecy while we were away, your touchiness at my mention of General Stülpnagel – even though you spoke to him regularly – your deliberate distancing from me, your weight loss, and now this behaviour. I’ve obviously touched a nerve.’

She was so poised he was curious. ‘Do you not think such an accusation would touch a raw nerve in anyone in a public place like that?’

‘Yes, but you’re not offended by my suggestion – as most would be – you’re mystified, and definitely angry.’

‘You’re very observant, Lisette. Very cool.’

‘Well, then, those attributes should be put to good use, don’t you think? I can move without the scrutiny that you are subjected to daily. Tell me how to help, Markus.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can keep you safe.’

‘Safe from an execution squad?’

She blinked in consternation. ‘I can keep the Gestapo from knowing of your involvement.’

‘I doubt it. The Gestapo already has you under surveillance, from what I hear.’ Had he been duped? It was time to rattle her composure.

It worked. Her shock was evident, ghosting across her face. She quickly adopted a neutral expression, but he’d seen it. He’d even noticed her clench a fist momentarily.

‘So, I see Herr von Schleigel has been stirring up trouble for me.’

‘Yes. He paid me a friendly visit.’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Why would I? I had no reason to mistrust you. Was I misguided?’

She shook her head. ‘Anything I now say just sounds incriminating.’

‘Not really. The truth usually is the best course.’

‘I haven’t lied. I told you myself about von Schleigel.’

‘Yes, you did. Did you tell me the truth about your time in Provence, though?’

‘What do you think I might have to hide?’ she asked, looking at him, aghast.

‘This fellow called Ravensburg, perhaps.’

‘I told you about him as well,’ she replied reasonably.

He nodded, unbuttoned his uniform jacket. ‘Yes, you did,’ he repeated in a weary tone. ‘Frankly, Lisette, that’s all your business, which is why I’ve left it alone. But you don’t follow the same protocol. You are poking your nose into my business.’

‘I’m trying to help you.’

‘You could get yourself killed!’ he snapped.

‘So could you. And then I’d rather be dead anyway,’ she countered.

They were both breathing heavily now. ‘It’s too late,’ Kilian said. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

‘Markus, just tell me. Tell me what you’re doing.’

He shook his head. ‘I want you to go.’

‘No, Markus, please …’ She reached for him.

He needed to be strong but he melted beneath her touch; it had been so long. He allowed her to kiss him and found himself responding. Before he knew it she was guiding him to
the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, her sweet mouth all the while seeking his.

It took all his reserves of willpower to extricate himself from her embrace.

‘I can’t,’ he said, frustration and weariness crowding into his voice.

‘Why?’

‘I won’t endanger you. I really do need you to go now, Lisette.’ He began to rebutton his shirt. She stood, looking confounded. ‘And I won’t be able to see you … not for a long time, not until …’

‘Not until it’s over?’

He nodded. ‘And if you’re a spy, then whatever you think I’m doing is playing right into the hands of the Allies. You could hardly complain. And if you’re not a spy, then I know I’m keeping you safe. You have to trust me. You are stepping into an arena that I have no control over. You are best away from me right now, no matter which side you belong to.’

‘Do you care?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Because it doesn’t matter any more. The war is as good as lost but some of us want to restore our honour in some small way; we’ll find out shortly if we can. As for you, where you belong is irrelevant. If you’ve lied, I don’t want to know about it. Because if I discovered that you’d been lying to me, I would hate myself for being weak enough to fall for your charms – and for what you promised in my life. Right now I can let you walk out of the door believing myself in love with you, and with the memory of our relationship intact. Whatever you are, Mademoiselle Forestier, leave me with my memories.’

He tucked his shirt back in and walked to the door,
opening it before she could say any more. He steeled himself. He had to let her go. She reached for her bag and straightened her hair. Spy, friend, foe … he loved her more than Germany itself, and because of that he had to protect her from Germany.

‘Am I never to see you again?’ she asked in a small voice. Her composure had finally slipped; she looked heartbroken.

He took her hand, bent and kissed it, clicking his heels lightly, as he had the first time they’d met. ‘Let’s just say until next time. Farewell, Lisette.’ He closed the door before she could turn and say any more.

Lisette left the Hotel Raphaël feeling lost. She walked, without direction, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. She had played her last card with Markus, driven by her mission and by her real desire to help him, to keep him safe. But it had failed. And all the time – stupidly – she kept thinking about the meal Markus had left at the restaurant; how many people might actually kill for such a meal? And would he remember to eat again this evening? He was looking so gaunt. Thoughts clashed in her head, and wouldn’t let her return to the bank, to her flat, not even to the familiar streets of Montmartre. And so she walked aimlessly in the sunshine, clinging to her small bag and the overriding notion that she’d seen Markus Kilian for the last time.

Sorrow gripped her, fisting into her belly, making her feel nauseated. She didn’t want to examine herself too closely. Underneath there was fear – not only that her mission might just have blown up in her face, but that Colonel Markus Kilian had just seen her for the impostor she was. Had she broken his heart? Had he broken hers?

They were over.

If only she could tell him that she’d never wanted to hurt him. How overworked that phrase sounded, and yet it expressed her genuine sentiments. How could she ever want to hurt him? She had compartmentalised her life so skilfully that she had discovered two Lisettes. One was pro-German but pro-peace, in love with a German colonel with an easy smile, a quick wit and an heroic approach to life. She had even daydreamed of a life for them in Germany, beyond the war. It was a life of privilege, where Lisette would rediscover her love of painting, perhaps plan a grand garden, entertain society people and mother a brood of golden-haired children with perfect manners. She told herself these daydreams were important in strengthening her cover; the problem was that Kilian had affected Lisette in ways she didn’t want to admit to herself. She did fear for him, she did want to see him again … she did love him.

But then there was the other Lisette – the one whose heart was lost to a troubled, enigmatic lavender farmer, as damaged by loss as she was. It was his sorrows, his sentimental nature and his painful past as much as the truth of who he was that had first attracted her to him. He trusted her. And their shared adventure in the south had bound them in intangible ways. She didn’t daydream about a life with Luc, or about having his children. She could barely bring herself to think about him because she was frightened that she’d already lost him to the war. He was probably fighting in the south, where men were dying by the hundreds every day. She felt sure it was her determination to put her mission first that had sent him south. It wasn’t right that she felt this way – Luc made his own decisions, after all – but she felt the burden of guilt all the same.

She loved him. She’d been in love with him from the moment she’d first seen him, but hadn’t realised until he kissed her … so tenderly, so full of grief, coupled with desire. Luc was exciting, dangerous even, while Kilian was measured, stoic. Both were courageous – and now they were fighting for the same side!

Choose!
the voice she feared from the back of her mind warned again.
It will come to it.

And she knew it was true.

Lisette looked up and found herself standing in front of the café on the Rue Pergolese. She must have walked in circles for more than an hour, for it really wasn’t that far from where she’d left Kilian.

Inside, a woman was working behind the counter, a red tea towel over her shoulder. She was the owner’s cousin.

‘Café?’ the woman asked in a bored tone.

‘Thank you,’ Lisette said. ‘I’ll just visit the bathroom.’

The woman nodded.

Inside the bathroom Lisette hurriedly wrote out a note on cigarette paper, explaining that her mission had been compromised – Gestapo was involved and she had to distance herself immediately. Within moments she was back at the counter, waiting for her coffee to be poured.

‘Do you have a spare newspaper, please,
madame
?’ she asked as she paid the woman.

‘I’ll check.’ The woman walked to the end of the counter and reached beneath. ‘It’s yesterday’s. Best I can do,’ she said, looking away immediately.

‘That’s fine, thank you.’ Lisette took her coffee to a table. There was only one other patron at the counter and he was far away with his back to her. She checked that there were no
mirrors, nothing reflective around that he could be watching her in. Satisfied, she surreptitiously stuck the note into the newspaper and began her usual routine of flicking absently through the pages.

She was surprised to discover a note a few pages in for her. It was from Armand, and as he’d promised, he had a job for her. It seemed to jolt her out of her mist. Her fuzziness cleared as she sat and took stock of her situation; she couldn’t stay in her flat any longer. In fact, she couldn’t go home at all. If the Gestapo really had decided to put her under surveillance, then she’d be mad to tempt fate any more than she already had. She experienced a brief moment of regret for Kilian’s birthday gown and her precious perfume, but she had to let those go. Thank goodness she had all her ID papers with her and her money. Her clothes, her small suitcase, were all that was left in the flat. She hoped the new tenant enjoyed her soap!