Darkest Longings (33 page)

and making sure that her performers weren’t suffering from

last-minute nerves. None were, which was more than she

could say for herself… Returning to the chateau just

before three o’clock, she got up on the stage and in a

cracked and harassed voice declared that there was no more

she could do, and heaven help them all for the lunatics they

were to have got involved in all this in the first place.

Watching her, Armand thought he had never seen her look so pale. He went over to her, turned her round and pointed her in the direction of the chateau. ‘What you need

now,’ he told her, ‘is a long, relaxing bath. After which I

expect to see you in nothing less than the most glamorous

dress you possess, and all your jewels.’

She smiled up at him. Then, on impulse, she hugged

him, wanting him to know that she couldn’t have done any of

this without him, and that, for once, she was happy to obey

his instructions.

When she finally reappeared, she came out of the

darkness of the chateau and stopped at the top of the steps,

waiting for him to look up at her. She was aware of people

milling about, shouting and laughing and pushing past him

as he stood there, simply staring at her. She smiled, a teasing

light in her eyes, but Armand’s face had paled …

Even in the trousers and shirt she had worn earlier, and

with dirt on her face, she had managed to look infinitely

appealing. But now, standing there with her glorious raven

hair piled high on her head, he knew he had never seen her

so lovely. Little defiant corkscrews of hair curled round her

long, shapely neck, her luscious mouth was rouged and

moist, and her full breasts rose with each breath. She was

wearing a black crepe evening dress that plunged to her

waist at the back and front, barely concealing the fullness of

her breasts and hugging the slender length of her figure.

Diamonds glittered at her ears, her neck and her wrists though

nothing, Armand thought, could outshine the

dazzling beauty of her sapphire-blue eyes. But it was the

way she radiated such naked sensuality that dried the words

in his throat and sent the sudden surge of desire swelling

through his loins.

‘Do you like it?’ she said, looking down at her dress.

At first he couldn’t answer, but in the end he managed a

taut smile, and turned to continue organizing the arrivals.

Claudine wondered what had happened to make him

angry. Wandering down the steps, she saw Monique, and

realized that she had been watching them. Then Solange

appeared, sporting a flapper dress from the nineteen

twenties, and Claudine ran to take her arm and carry her off

to greet their guests.

It turned out to be an evening none of them would ever

forget. It began with a brief speech from Louis, welcoming

them all, expressing his regret that his sons could not be

present, but assuring them that he would do his personal

best to make it up to all the pretty girls. Solange shrieked

with laughter at that, which was much funnier than Louis’

gentle attempt at humour, and conceding that his wife had

upstaged him yet again, he laughingly nodded to Joseph

Millerand, the village butcher, to start carving the venison,

while Arlette, Liliane and the kitchen maids from Lorvoire

and Montvisse swarmed out of the kitchens to serve

Liliane’s famous broth.

Next, the Chinon school choir filed onto the stage and

accompanied by a teacher on the piano and their own

tambourines, began to sing songs from the Great War. In no

time at all the audience was joining in, waving their hands in

the air, swaying from side to side and slapping their

neighbours on the back as they bellowed the words at the

tops of their voices. The party spirit had infected them all

and things were off to a magnificent start. However, there

was a chorus of disapproval when after fifteen minutes the

children made their bows and left - but good humour was

rapidly restored when Basile Juette, a juggler from Thierry,

somersaulted onto the stage, caught his nine pins from his

wife and started tossing them in the air, while Luc played

the accordion.

Basile was followed by Fabien Desbourdes and his

performing dog, who caused untold hilarity by sitting with

its head cocked to one side and looking bemused while

Fabien shouted instructions. No matter what poor Fabien

did, the dog seemed perplexed, which turned out to be far

better entertainment than if it had performed the tricks

expected of it. Later, the barber-shop quartet from Huimes

suffered badly at the hands of the local lads, who insisted on

standing on their seats and howling. At first the quartet was

distinctly put out, but then they recovered their spirits and

sang louder than ever, and the local lads were shamed into

silence.

When the light began to fade, the stage was illuminated

by lamps in the trees, and soon it was time for Sleeping

Beauty. It looked like being a triumph - until young Richard,

hotly pursued by Philippe, trotted out of the forest on the

pony, wailing that he was frightened. Not a very auspicious

introduction for Prince Charming, but somehow the day

was saved, he planted a kiss on Janette’s lips, and every child

present whooped and jeered with delight.

Claudine, who had handed over the stage management to

professionals from a theatre in Tours for the evening, was

able to relax and enjoy herself. She sat at one of the long

tables with Solange, Armand, and Dissy and Poppy, who

had managed to come over from London. Every time she

caught Dissy’s eye, they were on the verge of laughing: all

around them, dignified and distinguished guests were

having as wild and wonderful a time as the people from the

villages. Several of them were only too ready to leave their

seats and join in the dancing that was taking place in front of

the chateau between acts. Armand was persuaded to his feet

by one of Tante Celine’s friends, and after that there was no stopping him as he whirled Solange, then Monique, then Dissy, round and round the forecourt to the music of Luc’s

accordion. In fact it occurred to Claudine that Armand was

asking everyone to dance except her …

Then there was more entertainment. Two teenagers

from Candes St Martin gave a lively performance of a song

from an Italian opera, and after them came Raymonds

Loiseau from Lemere who fancied himself as a comedian.

His act was greeted with great enthusiasm, and it was while everyone was banging the tables and calling for more that I Claudine noticed Armand had disappeared.

‘What’s the matter?’ Dissy shouted above the din. I

‘Have you seen Armand?’ Claudine yelled back.

‘He’s gone to change - for our song,’ Solange cried.

‘Oh, of course,’ Claudine laughed, and was surprised at I

how relieved she felt that he hadn’t left altogether.

She saw him again a few minutes later, while Luc was

playing the accordion and General Weygand was leading

the dancing with a young girl from Chinon. Armand was

standing in the middle of a crowd beside the stage, talking to

one of the stage hands and trying - though not very hard, it

seemed to Claudine - to disentangle himself from the arms

of Mathilde Dubloc, who had had too much to drink. It was

the first time Claudine had seen him in anything but his

work clothes, and she didn’t know whether it was the white

tie and tails or Mathilde’s amorous attentions that caused

the strange sensation she had when she looked at him. She

found she couldn’t tear her eyes from him.

After a while he turned and started back to the table, and

seeing her watching him, his face broke into a grin. Her

heart very nearly turned over then, at how handsome he

looked. He came up to her and took her hand - but as their

eyes met, something seemed to pass between them and their

smiles froze. Again Armand was aware of the burning desire

he felt for her, but as the blood began to pound through his

body he jerked his hand away and turned to speak to

someone behind him.

Shocked, Claudine looked down at her hand. She felt

suddenly hot, and it was as though the clatter and laughter

around her was fading into the distance. She started when

his arm pressed against hers as he leaned forward to pass a

pitcher of wine to Dissy; it was as if a current of electricity had shot through her body. She turned to look at him, aghast and confused. He was straining to listen to what Dissy was saying, but she knew he was aware of her. A

sudden image of Francois leapt before her eyes - and then

she did something so brazen that when she thought of it

later, she wanted to die of shame. But then it was as if she

had somehow lost control of herself, and she found her

hand slipping gently across Armand’s thigh.

He turned to look at her, and when she saw the naked

desire in his eyes her mouth began to tremble and her

fingers increased their pressure. A soft moan escaped him,

and he found himself leaning towards her. Then suddenly

there was a blare of sound and a stage-hand caught Armand

by the shoulder and told him he was on next.

Claudine was so shaken it was some time before she

could look at the stage. When she did, it was to see Armand

laughing and bowing, the applause growing more and more

deafening as he twirled Solange round the piano before they

took up their positions to sing.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be playing for them?’

Monique’s sour face was staring across the table at her.

Quickly pulling herself together, Claudine walked up the

steps onto the stage.

Armand held out a hand to her, and the smile he gave her

was so warm and so intimate that for a moment she was

seized with panic. But then he turned away, drawing her

with him to present her to the audience who, now that they

had seen her, were treating her to such a tumultuous

welcome that it brought the smile back to her face and

returned the strength to her limbs. Letting go of his hand,

she curtsied, and went to take her place at the piano.

The duet was a disaster: Armand got no further than the

second line of the first verse before a deathly hush fell over

the gathering. Solange sang the next few lines tunefully

enough, but when Armand started to crow again Claudine

could hear sniggers, and to her dismay she felt her own lips beginning to twitch. She glanced up at him, but he seemed oblivious and continued to sing, then gave a charming smile as he turned to Solange for her to take up the next line.

When it came to his turn again, someone at the back let out a howl. It was echoed by a voice a little nearer, then another and another. By this time Claudine was shaking with suppressed laughter, but there was nothing she could do as one by one the audience joined in the cacophony with caterwauls, yelps, barks and groans. She stole another look at Armand, amazed that he could continue under such protest, but as she caught his eye, he winked, then put his heart and soul behind the flattest top note she had ever

heard. And Solange, whose head was vibrating with the

energy she was pouring into her own performance, was

quite clearly in raptures.

The din was terrible. Tears of laughter poured down

Claudine’s face. They had known this would happen,

Armand and Solange, and were now doing everything they

could to encourage it.

When the song was finally over they received a standing

ovation, but Armand modestly declined to sing again.

Regretfully, he said, he must now stand down - to make way

for the surprise they had for Claudine. And it was then that

Thomas Crouy, Yves Fauberg, Gustave from the cafe, and

four other men from Lorvoire bundled out of the kitchens

dressed as can-can girls, lifted their skirts and began to kick

their legs in the air in time to Luc’s accordion.

Claudine had never seen anything so hilarious in her life

as those seven old men in their curly wigs, beauty spots,

fishnet stockings and farmyard boots. To think that, while

flatly refusing to do anything, they had all the time been

planning to steal the show! And steal it they did as they

cavorted round the stage wagging their feet, gleefully

exposing their lace-clad buttocks and throwing saucy kisses

to the young men. They responded handsomely to six

encores, but the seventh was too much and Gustave

collapsed in a heap, taking Thomas and Yves with him.

The only thing left after Les Filles du Moulin Macabre, as

they called themselves, was the fireworks. It was a magnificent

display, set off by the firemen of Chinon at the bottom

of the meadow. Claudine watched Armand fetch his mother

from the kitchens to come and watch, and then, resisting the

urge to join them, she wandered round to the front steps of

the chateau where Dissy and Poppy were sitting huddled in

a blanket.

‘Tired, darling?’ Dissy asked, as she made room for her.

‘Mm, a little.’