Cold Harbour (21 page)

“But how?”

“I’ll think of a way,
chérie.
Depend on it.” Hortense patted her cheek. “Now, leave me for a little while. I need to rest.”

“Of course.” Genevieve kissed her and crossed to the door.

As she reached for the handle, Hortense said, “And one more thing.”

Genevieve turned. “What’s that?”

“Welcome home, my darling. Welcome home.”

WHEN SHE GOT
back to her room, she found that she was really tired. Her head was throbbing, hurting almost to the point of nausea. She drew the curtains and lay down fully clothed on the bed. So, Munro had been less than honest with her. In a sense, she could accept his actions, but Craig
Osbourne . . . On the other hand, it had brought her back to Hortense. For that, at least, she was grateful.

She woke to find Maresa shaking her gently by the shoulder. “I thought Mamselle would wish a bath before dinner.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said.

Maresa was obviously slightly bewildered by the gentleness of her tone and Genevieve realised at once that she wasn’t playing her part.

“Well, go on, girl!” she said sharply.

“Yes, Mamselle.” Maresa disappeared into the bathroom and Genevieve heard the sound of running water. When the maid came back she said, “You can unpack and tidy up here while I’m having my bath.”

She moved into the bathroom, dropping her clothes on the floor in an untidy heap as her sister had done since the age of five, and got into the bath. She wasn’t sure about Maresa at all and wondered whether she kept a watching brief on Anne-Marie Trevaunce for anyone. She was beautiful in a heavy, passive kind of way and not stupid. Apparently quiet and correct, and yet there had been that look of hate in her eyes when Genevieve had first arrived.

She luxuriated in the hot water and after a while, there was a discreet knock. “It’s half-past six, Mamselle. Dinner is at seven tonight.”

“If I’m late, I’m late. They’ll wait.”

For a while, she’d thought of snatching a further breathing space by staying in her room and pleading tiredness, but there was the General to consider. The sooner they met, the better.

She abandoned the bath reluctantly, reached for the silk dressing gown behind the door and went back into the bedroom. She sat down in front of the dressing table and
Maresa immediately started to brush her hair, something Genevieve had always found intensely irritating, but she forced herself to sit there as Anne-Marie would have done.

“And what will Mamselle wear tonight?”

“God knows. I’d better have a look.”

Which was the only sensible solution for the wardrobes were crammed with dresses of every description. Her sister had style, there was no doubt about that, and expensive tastes to go with it. In the end, she slipped into something in chiffon, subdued blues and greys, floating and elegant. The shoes were a little tight, but she’d have to get used to that. She glanced at the clock. It was five-past seven.

“Time to go, I think.”

Maresa opened the door. As Genevieve went past, she could have sworn the girl was smiling to herself.

CHANTAL APPEARED FROM
the stairway carrying a covered tray.

“What’s this?” Genevieve demanded.

“The Countess has decided to eat in her room tonight.” She was angry as usual. “He’s in there.”

Genevieve opened the door for her. Hortense was sitting in one of the wing-back chairs by the sitting room fire, wearing a spectacular Chinese housecoat in black and gold. General Ziemke leaned against the back of the chair, resplendent in full uniform. He really did look rather handsome. When he turned and saw Genevieve, his face broke into a smile of welcome that was very real.

“At last,” Hortense said. “Now perhaps I can get a little peace. There are times when I seem to be surrounded only by fools.”

Ziemke kissed Genevieve’s hand. “We’ve missed you.”

“Oh, get out of here,” Hortense said impatiently. She beckoned to Chantal to bring the tray forward. “What have you got there?”

Ziemke smiled. “An essential quality for any good general is to know when it pays to retreat. I suspect this is one of those moments.”

He opened the door for Genevieve, inclined his head and she went out.

THERE WERE ABOUT
twenty people at the dining table, mostly men. A couple of women who looked like secretaries and wore evening gowns and two rather pretty girls in uniform with a lightning flash on their left arms. Female signal personnel from the radio room. René had warned her about them. Much in demand amongst the officers, he had said. Looking at them, Genevieve could well believe it.

Max Priem sat opposite her and she noticed Reichslinger at the far end of the table with some other SS officers. When he glanced towards her, his eyes glittered with hate, reminding her strangely of Joe Edge. She’d made an enemy there, for certain.

A couple of orderlies in dress uniform and white gloves came round with wine and she remembered that Anne-Marie couldn’t stand red, but was capable from an early age of putting away far larger amounts of white than Genevieve ever could. She also noted, wryly, that the wine was a Sancerre, the pride of her aunt’s wine cellars which must have been pretty ravaged by now.

Reichslinger laughed loudly above the buzz of general conversation. From the expressions on the faces of his companions, he wasn’t exactly popular.

Ziemke leaned close. “I trust the Countess will feel in better spirits tomorrow?”

“You know her moods as well as I do.”

“The day after, Field Marshal Rommel himself visits us. We are naturally giving a reception and ball for him afterwards and if the Countess were to have one of her headaches . . .” He shrugged. “It would be most unfortunate.”

“I understand you perfectly, General.” Genevieve patted his hand. “I’ll do my best.”

“I would be loath to order her to be there. In fact,” he added frankly, “I’d be afraid to. You weren’t here at the time, but the day Priem and I arrived here . . . My God, how she ran rings around us. Isn’t that so, Priem?”

“I fell in love with her instantly,” the Colonel said.

“People have a habit of doing that,” Genevieve told him.

She found his smile so disquieting that she had to look away from the penetrating blue eyes, her heart beating quickly. She had the strangest feeling that he could see right through her.

The General was speaking again. “The day we came, you were in the village as I recall. Your aunt barred the door to us for quite some time. When we finally gained admittance, there were several conspicuous spaces on the walls.”

“Have you tried the cellars?”

He laughed delightedly and for the rest of the meal was in the highest of spirits. As for Genevieve, the strain of playing her role was beginning to tell and she found that she was becoming increasingly tense.

“Coffee in the drawing room, I think,” Ziemke finally announced.

There was a momentary confusion as everyone rose and she was aware of Priem at her shoulder. “May I have a word?”

But he was definitely someone to avoid, at least for the moment. “Perhaps some other time,” she said and moved towards the General.

“My dear,” he said, “I must introduce you to a countryman of yours, now serving with the Charlemagne Brigade of the SS, here for tonight only with dispatches.”

The officer bowed to her. She noticed his cuff title, the tricolour on his left sleeve as he smiled and carried her hands to his lips as only the French can. He was blond, blue-eyed, handsome, more like a German than anyone there, an incredible contrast to Max Priem standing a few feet away.

“Enchanted,” he said and she noticed how well the uniform suited him and wondered what would happen if the Maquis ever got him up a back alley, this Frenchman in the SS.

Ziemke steered her across the room and out through the french windows to the terrace. “That’s better,” he said. “Fresh air. Cigarette?”

As she took it, she said, “You’re worried about this conference. Is it so important?”

“Rommel himself, my dear. What would you expect?”

“No, it’s more than that,” Genevieve said. “You don’t agree with them—not any more. Isn’t that it?”

“You make it too complicated,” he said. “We’ll be talking about defences and I know what most of the others think.”

This, of course, was exactly the kind of conversation she’d come to hear. “And you disagree?”

“I do.”

“But surely this is only a preliminary?”

“Yes, but the conclusions, in the main, will hold. Unless the Führer makes a sudden decision to change it all.”

“He’s got you this far,” she said lightly.

“We will lose the war.”

She reached for his hand. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly if I were you.”

He held her hand and stared out into the dark grounds, seemingly lost in thought. She didn’t mind, that was the strange thing. He was kind and he was unhappy and she liked him and that hadn’t been part of the scheme at all. There were footsteps and she pulled away.

“Sorry to disturb you, Herr General,” Max Priem said, “but there’s a call from Paris.”

The General nodded heavily. “I’ll come.” He kissed her hand. “Goodnight, my dear,” and went back into the drawing room.

Max Priem stood to one side. “Fräulein,” he said formally. She caught the mocking in his eyes and, strangely, something else too. Anger.

She slept well and didn’t dream and woke so suddenly that she knew something must have caused it and lay there, trying to work out what it was. Then the shots came and she was out of bed very fast, reaching for her dressing gown and running to the balcony.

Someone shouted in German, an object spun up very fast and was shot to pieces. She looked down. Just below, Priem was reloading a shotgun, snapping the barrels back into position. Behind him, an orderly crouched on the ground beside a box. They were clay pigeon shooting.

Priem shouted, the soldier released the spring and another disc spun into the blue sky. The barrels of the gun were up and following, he squeezed the trigger. She watched the disc explode, shading her eyes against the bright sky.

“Good morning,” she called.

He paused in the act of reloading and looked up. “Did I wake you?”

“You could say that.”

He handed the shotgun to his orderly. “Breakfast in the dining room in ten minutes. Are you joining us?”

“No, I think I’ll have a tray in my room this morning.”

“As you wish.” He smiled. She turned, slightly breathless and went inside.

HORTENSE SENT CHANTAL
for her just after she’d finished breakfast. She was in her bath when Genevieve went in.

“I’ve decided to go to Mass this morning. You can come with me,” her aunt said.

“But I’ve already eaten.”

“How inconsiderate of you. You will come anyway. It is necessary.”

“For the salvation of my immortal soul?”

“No, to give that little slut, Maresa, a chance to search your room. Chantal overheard Reichslinger giving her her instructions late last night.”

Genevieve said, “He suspects me then?”

“Why should he? You made a bad enemy there, that’s all. This is probably just the start of his campaign to get back at you any way he can. An RAF propaganda leaflet would be enough for that one to denounce you as an enemy of the Reich. We must see if we can’t make his little plan backfire.”

“What do I do?”

“When you return you will make the unpleasant discovery that your diamond earrings are missing, which they will be because by then, Chantal will have transferred them to some suitably stupid hiding place in Maresa’s bedroom. You will naturally raise the Devil. Go straight to Priem who is, after all, in charge of security.”

“And then what happens?”

“Oh, he is a very astute man. He will find the earrings in Maresa’s bedroom very quickly. She will protest her innocence, but the facts will speak for themselves. It is at that point that the silly girl will begin to cry . . .”

“. . . and will confess that she was acting under Reichslinger’s instructions?”

“Exactly.”

“You could beat the Devil himself at cards, I suppose you know that?”

“Of course.”

“But will Priem believe her?” Genevieve said.

“I think we may rely on it. No public announcements—no fuss. He’ll deal with Reichslinger in private perhaps, but he’ll deal with him. He is, I think, a hard man, this Colonel of yours, when he has to be.”

“Mine? Why do you say that?”

“Poor Genny.” Nobody had called her that for years. “Since you were old enough to climb on my knee, I have been able to read you like an open book. He fills you with unease, this man, am I not right? Your stomach turns hollow with excitement just to be near him.”

Genevieve took a deep breath to steady herself and stood up.

“I’ll do my best to resist the temptation, I think you can rely on that. Have you told Chantal?”

“Only that Anne-Marie is up to her neck in subversive activities. I think you will find that she will smile on you more warmly now. Her brother, Georges, is in a labour camp in Poland.”

“All right,” Genevieve said. “Now, as to a plan of campaign.”