Darkest Longings (63 page)

strolled over to the fireplace and took his cigarettes from the

mantleshelf. ‘You say they control Halunke, but I don’t

understand how.’

‘It’s very easy. The hold they have over him is simply that

if he doesn’t do as they say, they will reveal his identity to

me. And he will know only too well that once I know who he

is, his days are numbered and he’ll never accomplish his

revenge.’

‘But why do the Germans want you so badly? Surely they

have their own agents?’

‘Naturally they do. But the contacts I have here in France,

in Britain, Italy, North Africa, make me an extremely

valuable commodity to them. And having this kind of hold

over me - someone endangering my family the way Halunke

is - suits them perfectly.’

‘And they gave him permission to kill your father because

you deceived them over these Frenchmen? I can hardly

believe it. It seems … Well, it seems so extreme.’

‘Their methods are extreme, cherie. Which is why I can’t

run the risk of deceiving them again.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘God only knows,’ he sighed. ‘All the information I have

given them to date has come from the French Government

itself. Or in some cases, the British. But since the Allies

have discovered that someone has a personal vendetta

against me, they’ve closed ranks - wisely, I must admit which

means they are no longer prepared to give me

information to feed to the Germans. And if the Germans

don’t get what they want, they’ll tell Halunke he’s free to do

as he pleases. Of course, this game we’ve played - the SR,

the Services de Renseignements and I - with the Germans was

bound to come to an end sooner or later, and it’s my guess

the Germans have known for some time they were being

duped, not only by me but by three or four other French

agents as well. Until now it has suited the Germans to play

the game too, but things are changing fast and already the

French Secret Service have pulled my colleagues out of

Germany. They, of course, don’t face the threat of Halunke.

For me, there’s nothing the French can do. They can’t even

run the risk of trusting me any longer. And nor should you.’

‘But surely you’re not saying that you’re going to become

a traitor?’

‘Who knows? In a month, a year from now they may force

me to make a choice between my family and my country.

And when it comes to the crunch - which it will do, if we

don’t discover Halunke’s identity - there’s no knowing

which I shall choose.’

She took a moment to digest this, then looking at him

again, she said, ‘Do you have any idea who Halunke might

be?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Erich has a hunch, though I

think he’s heading down the wrong path.’

‘Have you told him that?’

‘No, because there have been times in the past when I

have been wrong and Erich right. That’s why I trust him so

implicitly. However, there is someone else, besides von

Liebermann, who knows who Halunke is.’

‘Well?’ she said, when he stopped.

‘His name is Max Helber - also a member of the

Abwehr.’

‘Will he tell you?’

‘Perhaps. In return for certain … shall we say, favours?’

‘What kind of favours?’

‘The kind of favours I would rather not discuss.’

She looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes dilated.

‘Do you mean …? Is he …?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, my darling, he is a homosexual.’

‘But you can’t do it!’

‘I may have to if Erich doesn’t come up with an answer

soon.’

They were both subdued when they went to join the

family for dinner, and later, as she lay in his arms, she

wanted to weep for the choices that lay before him. She

knew from the way he made love to her, without the urgency

of the night before, but with a tenderness and feeling that

filled her heart with love, that he was thinking the same. If

only there was something she could do! But she had no

means of providing him with the information the Germans

required, nor was she equipped to satisfy the desires of Max

Helber.

She lay awake for a long time, listening to the steady

rhythm of his breathing and thinking back over the three

years she had known him. It was a terrible pass they had

come to now, but nothing, nothing in the world, would ever

make her regret marrying him.

Halunke’s breath thickened the fog around his face as he

pressed through the forest, his feet slithering in the slimy

undergrowth. Once or twice he chuckled aloud to himself,

elated by his discovery. So, de Lorvoire did love his wife

after all! Even so, there was no reason to make a move on her

just yet. It would be much more intriguing to see how far

down the road of traitordom he could push de Lorvoire

before letting him know that it had all been for nothing…

And in the meantime, should von Liebermann for any

reason require that de Lorvoire be taught another lesson,

why not remove his beloved brother? Or better still, his

wife’s protector the vigneron? The perversity of this idea

appealed to him strongly, and he laughed even louder.

Pity, he thought, as he got into his car, that the old man

had died of his own volition - well, almost. For it was the

revelation of his, Halunke’s, identity that had jolted the old

Comte’s heart into arrest.

In the weeks that followed Francois’ departure from

Lorvoire, Claudine experienced such paradoxes of emotion

that she often found herself laughing and crying at the same

time. Things had moved so quickly between them in such a

short time that she couldn’t get used to the idea that he loved

her, and there were times when she was half-afraid it had all

happened in a dream. But then she had only to picture his

face in her mind’s eye - to see the tenderness of his smile as

he gazed into her eyes, to feel the power of his touch as he

caressed her, to hear the humorous lilt in his voice when he

told her he loved her - for her heart to fill with love and

certainty. That he trusted her, that he had chosen to draw

her so securely into his life, made her almost dizzy with joy

and relief.

But euphoric as she was, she never allowed herself to lose

sight of the danger they faced. In a way she felt almost

grateful for the danger, for that was what had finally brought

them together; but she was never so blinkered by love that

she forgot the terrible dilemma it had forced upon Francois.

As time passed she became increasingly frustrated by all

the things she had forgotten to ask him. The boxes in the

cellar still remained a mystery, and she would like to have

known what lay behind his break-up with Elise. But what

she now longed most desperately to know was why he had

killed Hortense de Bourchain. She couldn’t explain it, but

she had an uncanny feeling that what had happened then

might somehow lie at the root of what was happening now.

She was even tempted to ask Armand to tell her again what

he had seen, but somehow that seemed disloyal to Francois.

She would ask him herself, the very next time she saw him she

was in no doubt that he would come back, simply

because she refused to consider the possibility that he might

not. That he had gone to Berlin was all she knew; she could

not contact him, and he had made it plain that, except in

case of dire emergency, he would not contact her.

She had no idea if Halunke was still in Lorvoire. Lately,

she had not seemed to sense his presence. And events in the

world outside were taking such a horrifying turn that even

the threat Halunke presented seemed mild by comparison.

The Bodies were coming. Everyone in France knew it,

and the nation was edging towards the brink of panic.

Claudine felt it in the air every time she went out, and inside

the chateau the talk was of little else. It was as though they

were all bracing themselves for the day when their lives

would be trampled by the advancing German army. Again,

people were fleeing Paris, and refugees from the north

streamed through Touraine, leaving a trail of terror in their

wake.

Solange, still heartbroken over the death of Louis, waited

every day for news of Lucien. Claudine did her best to

comfort her, and telephoned their contacts in Paris, but

without Louis to pull strings for them there seemed no hope

of getting any information. All she could gather was that the

Government was in chaos, and though she did her best to

hide it, that alarmed her even more than the whooping cry of

air-raid sirens and the eerie silence that followed. The fear

was becoming oppressive, it seemed to be closing in from all

sides - the Germans, Halunke, and the constant dread of

what might be happening to Francois.

Then one day while she, Solange and little Louis were

helping the one gardener left at Lorvoire to dredge the pond

at the edge of the forest, Magaly called her inside and

handed her a letter.

‘A peculiar little man, with the most dreadful nervous

affliction, just knocked on the bridge door and gave this to

Corinne,’ she said.

Claudine knew at once who it was from. Thrusting her

gardening gloves into Magaly’s hands, she dashed up the

stairs to the privacy of her bedroom, where she tore the

letter open and with her heart in her mouth feasted her eyes

on the words Francois had written.

Cherie, I know I said I would contact you only in an

emergency, but I feel I must tell you this, if only to

reassure you. General von Liebermann has sworn

that for as long as I remain with the Abwehr,

Halunke will cease to be a threat. Naturally I have

reaffirmed my allegiance, though I still have no idea

what will be expected of me. My only hope is that

when I finally come out of this I will be worthy of

your love. I think of you night and day, my love. If I

had known what a difference you would make to my

life, I would never have embarked upon my present

road. But it is too late now for regrets, we must think only of the future.

You will know by now that Belgium has

surrendered and that the Germans are already on

French soil. I hear talk every day, here, how soon

France will be conquered and how poor the morale of

our troops is. Try to prepare yourself, and those

around you, my love, for the fall of our nation, as it is

almost sure to come.

And yet, in spite of this, you must keep heart, my

darling, and please take care of yourself and of our

son. You mean more to me than I can even begin to

express. I wish I could have held you in my arms to tell

you this, but try to imagine I am there, and be in no

doubt of how much I love you. Ton mart, Francois.

She swallowed hard on her tears, and walking over to the

bed, lifted the pillow where his head had lain and hugged it

to her. This moment of weakness would pass, she knew, but

dear God, she missed him! Maybe if they had had more time

together, had shared their feelings sooner … She felt so

cheated, so unfulfilled … She pulled a face, as if mocking

her self-pity, and looked down at the letter. She longed to

keep it, to hold it to her heart and read it over and over again,

but he had told her before he left that she must destroy any

written communication as soon as she had read it. As she

put a match to it, watching it curl and twist in the flames, she

wished her dread were as easy to destroy.

That afternoon she, Monique and Solange went to the

little cinema in Chinon to watch the newsreels. They went

almost every day now, standing in the aisles when there were

no seats to be had, cheering and booing with the others who

had come from miles around to watch the progress of the

war. Sometimes Claudine discussed the war with Armand,

but she always came away angry at his lassitude. He had

changed so much since they had parted: he was a bitter,

rejected man and did little to disguise it. His sarcastic

remarks about Francois sickened her, but she said nothing,

torn by guilt at the way she had so selfishly used him.

Then, at the beginning of June, even Armand was forced

to look beyond himself. The Germans bombed Paris. Of the

two hundred and fifty-four people killed, almost two

hundred were civilians and a great many of them were

children. National outrage was swiftly followed by panic.

Ten million people in the north abandoned their homes, left

production lines unmanned, crops untended, houses

deserted in a bid to escape the enemy. Meanwhile the

Germans were claiming one victory after another, and the

Allies, so rumour had it, were engaged in the most

humiliating retreat. Solange was prostrate with fear as news

of French casualties started to reach them.

‘These are the ones the Government is admitting to!’ she