Darkest Longings (77 page)

Keeping busy all day also prevented Claudine from

worrying about Francois, which was why he made no

objection to her becoming one of the vital links between the Maquis - the men in hiding - and the ‘sleeping’ Resistance those in the towns and villages. However, when it came to

going out after curfew he put his foot down. She protested

strongly, even going so far as to hit him - which was nothing

unusual, for they frequently fought as passionately as they

made love - but he would not be moved. So she had to

content herself with the daytime activities of ferrying food,

drink and the vineyard’s smudge-pots to the Forest of

Scevolles, where Lucien’s Maquis group were all but

freezing to death beneath tents made from parachutes and

old blankets. And when she and Monique weren’t running

messages, devising passwords and signals, or closeted in the

larder making invisible ink with powdered aspirin and

lemon juice, they were working on methods of transporting

clothing, radio crystals and an ever-decreasing supply of

arms from one hideout to another. All manner of means

were invented, from scooping out the centre of Monsieur

Bonet’s melons to carry radio transmitters and handguns,

to having fillings removed in order to secrete microfilm in

teeth. And now that agents and much-needed supplies were

at last being parachuted into France, there were reception

committees to be formed and landing grounds to be

prepared.

Claudine longed to join the reception committees herself,

to watch the parachutes float down from the moonlit

sky, to gather them up and bury them, to store the arms and

supplies in the gazogenes - vans that ran at twenty kilometres

an hour on charcoal - and hear them trundle off into the

night. She longed to meet the agents and escort them to

their safe-houses - she felt she was missing out on the real

adventure. But Francois slept in her bed every night, and

mere was no way in which she could evade him.

It was one night towards the end of February that Francois

gave Claudine the news she had been dreading. Earlier that

day they had had a fierce row because he had found out

about her diplomatic mission to the Gestapo headquarters

at the Hotel Boule d’Or, to plead mercy for the seven

Chinonais who had been arrested the day before. He still

seemed preoccupied at dinner, but it was only when he

actually snapped at Monique that Claudine began to realize

there was something much more serious than her indiscretion

playing on his mind. She knew better than to

question him, he would tell her when he was ready. To her

relief it turned out to be sooner rather than later: after

checking that everyone else was in bed, he came into her

room and told her to get her coat.

Claudine hurried into her dressing-room, took off her

nightdress and pulled on her fur coat and hat, woollen

stockings and old fleece-lined boots, and went to join him at

the bridge door. It was a bitterly cold night, but the raging

winds of the past few weeks had at last died down, and every

now again the moon pushed through the clouds, shedding

enough light for them to see where they were going.

They had walked some distance in total silence before

Francois finally said, ‘I’ve received word from von

Liebermann.’

Instantly Claudine felt a cold, pinching fear. It was the

communication they had prayed would never come.

‘What does he want?’ she asked, leaning closer as he

slipped his hand between her fur collar and hat, and gently

massaged the back of her neck.

‘He wants me to meet him in Vichy some time in March.

He’ll let me know when.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘No.’

Taking a breath, Claudine turned to face him, but before

she could speak he put his fingers over her lips. ‘I know what

you’re going to say, cherie? he said, ‘but the answer is no. I

won’t join Lucien.’

She looked up at him with her wide blue eyes and,

smiling, he stooped to kiss her. ‘But if von Liebermann asks

you to do something dreadful… ? she said.

‘Let me worry about that.’ And pulling her head onto his

shoulder, he wrapped her comfortingly in his arms.

She lay against him and he gazed absently out into the

shifting tree-shadows behind her. His summons to Vichy

had inevitably brought with it the preying spectre of

Halunke’s revenge. He felt his mind assailed yet again by

anguish, fury and incomprehension. What in God’s name

could he have done to have incurred such a terrible hatred?

‘What are you thinking about?’ Claudine said.

He let his breath go. ‘Von Liebermann,’ he lied, still

looking past her into the forest.

‘Not Halunke?’

He gave a queer sort of half-smile, then lifting her face in

his hands, he looked into her eyes and whispered, ‘I love

you.’

‘I love you too,’ she murmured, starting to unbutton her

coat so that he could slide his hands inside.

‘Claudine!’ he groaned, as he felt the goosey flesh of her

naked body. ‘Why have you come out like this? You’ll catch

pneumonia.’

‘Not if you hold me very close,’ she purred.

Running his hands down over her thighs, he felt the tops

of her woollen stockings. Then, laughing softly, he cupped

her buttocks in his hands, pulled her hard against him and

pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth.

‘Oh, Francois,’ she moaned, snaking her fingers through

his hair and rubbing herself against his growing erection. ‘I

want you, cheri, I want you now.’

Sucking her lips and twisting her so that he could push a

hand between their bodies, he inserted a finger into the dark

thatch between her legs and started to caress the moist skin

beneath. ‘Is this where you want me?’ he said huskily. ‘Just

here?’

‘Mmmmmm.’ She lifted her leg, circling it about his

waist. ‘Oh yes!’ she cried, as he found her opening and

pushed his finger deep inside.

She moved a hand to his fly and started to unbutton it. Her eyes were fixed hungrily on his mouth while her own lips parted, her nipples puckered with the cold and her chest

began to heave. Their breath mingled in clouds about their

faces, and her eyelids fluttered closed as he started to move

his hand back and forth. Then suddenly she was flying

backwards, through the air as if fired from a catapult. Her

head struck a tree, and she fell awkwardly into the

undergrowth. Through the stars exploding in her eyes, she

watched as Francois heaved something over his shoulder

and threw it heavily to the ground. The polished barrel of a

gun glinted in the moonlight, and she heard the trigger click

as Francois prepared to fire.

It had all happened in a matter of seconds. If Lucien had

not that instant cried out, Francois would have shot him.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Francois snapped, as he took his

brother’s arm and hauled him to his feet. ‘What the hell are

you doing creeping about the forest like that? I might have

killed you.’

Lucien’s white teeth gleamed in the darkness as he

watched his brother stoop over Claudine to check that she

was all right. ‘I was testing you,’ he said jauntily. ‘The

reflexes are still good, monfrere.’

‘Obviously better than yours,’ Francois remarked dryly,

as he covered Claudine’s nudity and helped her to her feet

‘Now, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’re doing here?’

‘As a matter of fact, I’m here to see Claudine.’ There was

enough moonlight for Francois to see the very appreciative

way Lucien was looking at her, and when he heard his

brother mutter something that sounded like charmante under his breath, and Claudine stifled a laugh, he pulled her into the circle of his arm and clamped the front of her coat

together with his fist.

Collecting himself, Lucien said, ‘I have a message for

Claudine. Can I give it to her?’

‘If you must. But if it involves her going out after curfew

you can save your breath.’

‘I know, I know,’ Lucien said. Then with a grin he added,

‘Sorry if I interrupted. But if you don’t mind my saying so,

it’s a bit chilly to be doing it alfresco, isn’t it?’

‘Mind your own business,’ Francois retorted. ‘And don’t

keep her long. I’ll wait at the bridge.’

When he was safely out of earshot, Lucien took

Claudine’s arm and they started to follow him slowly.

‘Jacques is in Paris,’ he said quietly, ‘and I have to leave

tonight, to join him there for a few days. But a message came

through earlier from the British, asking for our help. They

want to parachute in two agents and a supply of arms at the

next full moon, but it seems three of their own people in the

district have been arrested, and the others have gone to

ground. I’ve said we’ll do it, but as I’m not going to be

around-for a while I want you to start organizing the

reception committee alone. Do you think you can do it?’

Without hesitation Claudine said, ‘When’s the next full

moon?’

‘Three weeks tomorrow. Jacques and I will be back by

then, so count us in.’

‘How many more do we need?’

‘Ten. Twelve if possible.’

‘Mm,’ she pondered. ‘Old Thomas and Yves Fauberg

have volunteered to help in any way they can. Gustave,

obviously. Monique and me. You and …’

‘Didn’t you hear what Francois said?’ he interrupted.

‘Armand,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. She

turned to face him. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll come up with five

more, don’t worry.’

‘Not yourself, though.’

‘Lucien! If I…’

‘No! You might be prepared to face Francois’ wrath, but

I’m not’

They had reached the edge of the forest by now, and

could see Francois leaning against the bridge smoking a

cigarette. ‘Two more things,’ Claudine said, tearing her

eyes away from the awesome aquiline profile she loved so

much and neatly changing the subject. ‘First, do you have

the map coordinates?’

‘You’ll find them in the usual bible down at the church on

Friday morning,’ Lucien answered.

‘Second, did you get my message about the guns?’

‘Yes. I’ve just put them in the cottage. Who wants them?’

‘Someone in Langeais. I’ll get Solange and Liliane to take

them over tomorrow on their bicycle. Will we have any left

after that?’

‘No. But we’ll syphon some off from the British when

they arrive. If they bring any.’

‘Let me know when you’re back from Paris,’ she said, and

giving him a brief peck on the cheek, she ran off to join

Francois.

Lucien stepped back into the shadows to watch as

Francois threw away his cigarette and folded her into his

arms. After a long and unmistakably intimate kiss, Francois

parted the front of her coat to slip his hands inside - but

Claudine shrieked and jumped away from him, complaining

that he was cold. Lucien continued to watch as Francois put

a hand on the back of her neck and propelled her into the

chateau. Before closing the door he turned, and for a long

moment looked straight into Lucien’s eyes. Then, as the

door closed, Lucien started back into the forest.

The following afternoon, as Claudine was preparing to go down to the cafe, Magaly came into her room and told her

that Francois wanted to see her immediately.

‘He says you’ll know where, madame? she added. ‘He was

in a terrible temper …’ Her eyes were round and her lips

trembling with fear for her mistress.

Claudine gave her a quick hug, told her it would be all

right and ran off to the stables.

When she galloped up to Thomas’ hut, Francois was

waiting. He all but dragged her from the saddle and spun

her round to face him.

‘Whose idea was it to use my mother as a courier?’ he

raged.

‘What!’ she gasped, wincing as his fingers dug into her

arm. She wasn’t unduly alarmed, for Solange and Liliane

had returned quite safely from Langeais half an hour

before. ‘But I thought you knew!’

‘Of course I didn’t damned well know. What the hell has

got into you, Claudine? She’s an old lady. So is Liliane.’

‘We all have to play our part,’ she argued. ‘And if they’re

willing, I don’t see any reason why Solange and Liliane

shouldn’t too. Anyway, how did you find out?’

‘Never mind that. Does Lucien know they’re involved?’

‘Of course he does.’

Francois’ face turned to thunder. ‘Tell him I want to see

him. Tell him to get himself to the chateau within the week.’

‘I’ll do no such thing.’

‘Claudine!’ he said dangerously.

‘You don’t frighten me with that tone,’ she said loftily, all

the while thanking God that he didn’t appear to know what

Solange and Liliane had been carrying when they’d cycled

over to Langeais. If he’d known there were guns in the false

bottom Armand had made for the passenger-box, she

dreaded to think what he might do. And the way Liliane had

cheekily informed a German officer at a roadblock that she