Darkest Longings (84 page)

had sent Armand to his death. ‘Lying,’ she mumbled

through her swollen lips. ‘You’re lying.’

Blomberg seemed not to hear as he loomed over her,

unbuckling his belt. ‘Take off your trousers,’ he snarled.

‘Take them off!’ And when she made no move and her eyes

stayed closed, he whipped his belt from its loops and

smashed his foot into her again.

She dragged her eyelids apart and watched as his hand

reached inside his trousers. As he pulled out his penis her

mouth flooded with bile.

‘Do as I say!’ he roared, and the belt slashed across her

thighs.

Her fingers moved to her waist, but before she could get

the first button undone the buckle smashed into her hands.

She screamed, which only seemed to excite him more.

‘Get on with it!’ he panted, and lifted his hand to strike

again.

She cowered away, curling herself into a ball, and as his

hand came down again and again, flogging her mercilessly

with the belt, she willed herself to pass out. But she

remained conscious, choking as she felt his hands fumbling

with her trousers and breathed the nauseating stench of his

sweat. She heard the fabric rip as he lost patience and tore

her trousers open. Using his foot, he pushed her over and

dragged them to her knees. The belt whistled through the air as he brought the buckle down on her naked buttocks.

He raised his arm again and again, so aroused now that he ‘

was on the point of ejaculating. He circled his penis with his other hand and frenziedly jerked it back and forth. Her .

white flesh quivered beneath the strap, and huge red weals striped her buttocks and thighs. Feeling the semen start to

leap from his body, he triumphantly raised his arm again.

He heard a noise behind him, but he was too far gone now to

care. He jerked the belt for one last savage assault, saliva

dribbling from his mouth. Then an unholy scream erupted

from his lips as his arm was wrenched over his shoulder, and

with a sickening crunch the bone was snapped clean from

the joint. Then a fist smashed into his face. He flew across

the room and sprawled in a heap on the floor.

For a moment Francois stared down at him. Then,

slapping down on the floor beside him the order von

Liebermann had issued for Claudine’s release, he turned to

his wife.

With the utmost gentleness he covered her nudity. Then

he lifted her carefully into his arms, and without uttering a

word to any of the officers who had followed him, carried

her from the chateau. He put her into the jeep, smoothed

the blood-sodden hair from her face and closed the door.

Then getting in beside her, he started the engine and drove

away.

Claudine was barely conscious. She felt as if she was

inside a dream. Sometimes she could not seem to understand

what was happening. They passed a river, the evening

sunlight dancing on the water, and French people and

German soldiers walking together along the embankment.

Surely that was the bridge at Chinon? What was happening

to her? But behind the confusion, and the terrible pain of

her bruised and bleeding body, there was a sense that she

was safe. And though she could barely manage to turn her

battered head to look at him, she knew he was there beside

her. Francois.

Only one thing she said before they reached the chateau.

‘Have I been released?’ she croaked. ‘Are we going home?’

‘Yes,’ Francois said. ‘Yes. We’re going home.’

He carried her from the jeep and up the steps. She was

dimly aware of people in the hall - Solange, Tante Celine,

Jean-Paul - of shocked faces, cries of alarm. And then of

everyone receding, and Francois carrying her up the stairs

to their apartment.

She shut her eyes then, and tears of exhaustion started to

seep from under her lids. She felt him lay her down on the

sofa, and heard him close the door behind them. Then she

opened her eyes. He was standing beside her, looking down

at her.

She heard herself say, her voice so constricted with

misery that the words were barely audible, ‘Did you spend

the night with Elise before you went to Vichy?’

He only looked at her, but there was such love and

passion in his eyes that she could not bear it. ‘Oh, Francois!’ she choked. ‘Francois. Francois.’ And suddenly he was on his knees beside her, and she was in his arms,

and he was saying. ‘It’s all right now, my darling. It’s all

right now.’

‘I thought you loved me,’ she said, her face buried in his

neck. ‘I thought it was over, you and Elise … Tell me it’s

not true … Tell me you don’t love her…’

‘Sssh,’ he said gently, sliding his hand under her hair and

stroking her neck. ‘Sssh. I love you, Claudine. I love you

with all my heart.’

She clung to him then, and cried as he had never known

her cry before. He held her tight, feeling the tortured sobs

shudder through her body and into his. And Claudine felt

the warmth and strength of his body draw out her fear, as if

he was telling her to let it go, to let him take it, and just to let

him love her.

But she couldn’t. Armand. Armand. Armand. His name

echoed round her head as if it was blasting from the guns

that had shot him. But it couldn’t be true, what Blomberg

had said. It couldn’t. She concentrated on Francois, pressing

herself to him, pushing her face into his neck and choking

his name.

At last she. grew a little calmer, and taking her ravaged

face between his hands, Francois said, ‘We have to talk, cherie. I have a great deal to tell you. But I don’t think you are up to it now. Let me …”

She was shaking her head. ‘No, Francois. I don’t want to

wait. I have to know… about you and Elise, I have to know

now.’

He looked hard into her grimy, battered face. ‘All right,’

he said at last, and sitting beside her on the sofa he told her

about Halunke’s attack on Elise, how damaged Elise’s mind

had become as a result, and the terrible burden of

responsibility it had laid upon him. All the more terrible

now, because he knew that it had been carried out by his

own brother - but he wasn’t going to tell Claudine that part

of it yet.

‘So that’s why I lied to you about the time I was expected

in Vichy,’ he said. ‘She needs me to spend time with her

whenever I can, and I simply can’t refuse it, not after all

she’s suffered. And because of the way she so often claims

that she’s arranged to have you killed, neither Beatrice nor I

took any notice of her warning.’

He was holding her hand, and watching her. When finally

she looked up at him, her eyes were swimming with tears,

tears that he knew were for Elise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all

this before?’ she said huskily.

He sighed deeply. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I was afraid

you would want to see her, that you’d want to try and help

her in some way, and I had to keep you away from her.’

Claudine smiled briefly. ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘I would

have wanted to help her. I still do. But if you forbid it I won’t

argue. I won’t ever disobey you again.’

Francois couldn’t help smiling at that. ‘I know you don’t

believe me,’ she said solemnly, ‘but if I’d done as you told

me before, if I hadn’t gone out after curfew, none of this

would have happened.’

‘It would,’ he said. ‘Maybe not in quite the same way,

but it would have happened. It was all arranged by

Halunke.’

Claudine’s heart lurched. ‘Francois, there’s something I

have to tell you - about Halunke,’ she said. She could feel

the hammer of dread start up in her head again, but she

pressed on, telling him everything, from the day she had first

suspected Armand, to Estelle’s murder, right through to the

moment the guns had fired outside her cell. Yet all the time

she was speaking, she could hear Blomberg’s voice. ‘I am

sure it must have already occurred to you, madame, that you

may have made a terrible mistake there too.’

‘But I didn’t see a thing,’ she finished. ‘And I think, no I

know, that it was all a sham right from the minute they

started torturing him. It was, I know it was,’ she cried, her

voice beginning to shrill as Francois’ expressionless eyes

stared into hers. ‘Why else wouldn’t they let me see him?

Why else wouldn’t they let me see the body? It was a trick,

Francois, don’t you see? They wanted me to think …

Francois! Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘I’m sorry, cherie,’ he said sadly.

Panic threatened to engulf her. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ she

breathed. ‘Armand is dead.’

Slowly, Francois nodded.

‘Oh my God!’ she spluttered. ‘No! Francois, you’re

wrong! Don’t you see, everything I told you, everything…’

‘Cherie, Lucien escaped from the Chateau St Hilaire

where they were holding you. He escaped the morning after

you were all arrested. In other words, they let him go.’

‘No!’ She buried her face in her hands, wishing this

nightmare would end.

Francois rose, and pulled her gently to her feet so that she

stood facing him. ‘You must be strong, cherie’ he said, taking

her hands in his. ‘You must listen to what I tell you now, and

you must be strong.’

Her tormented eyes gazed up into his as, sparing her the

details of his degradation, he told her everything Max

Helber had told him the previous day. ‘And when I returned

to the chateau last night,’ he finished, digging his hand into

his inside pocket, ‘this was waiting for me.’

He passed her the note, and her fingers started to shake

uncontrollably as she unfolded it. She looked down, and as

Armand’s name danced before her eyes it was as though the

hands of death had closed around her heart. ‘No,’ she

whispered brokenly. ‘Francois… Oh my God, what have I

done?’

She slumped forward against him, and for a moment he

thought she had fainted, but then she straightened herself

and looked at him. And it was only then, when she saw the

anguish and bewilderment in his eyes, that she realized what

all this meant to him. She was stunned by her selfishness.

She had thought no further than her own guilt and grief, but

what must he be feeling, knowing that his own brother… ?

‘Did Helber tell you why?’ she said.

‘Apparently Lucien himself will tell me, when he is

ready.’

A silence fell between them, and Claudine shivered.

‘Does that mean… ?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Francois. He looked away, and for a

moment he could not speak. ‘Oh yes, I’m afraid Halunke is

still intent on his revenge, my darling.’ He looked back at

her, and in the fading light she could see how he was

suffering. ‘I want to kiss you,’ he said, forcing himself to

smile, ‘but your mouth looks too painful.’

She touched her fingers to her swollen lips, then pressed

them to his. But it wasn’t enough, so she took him in her

arms and kissed him.

When finally she let him go, the cuts on her mouth had

reopened and he dabbed at them gently, saying, ‘For the

first time in my life, Claudine, I know what it is to need

someone. And I need you, my darling. I need and love you

so much that if anything were to happen to you I know I

couldn’t go on living.’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to me, Francois,’ she whispered.

‘Not now.’

He gave her a bath then, dispensing with Magaly’s

services and undressing her himself. Now that she was in

the sanctuary of her own home, her exhaustion had finally

caught up with her, her head lolled against his shoulder and

her arm hung limply in the air as he carried her into the

bathroom. But she was still fighting it, he could see her

eyelids fluttering as she struggled to keep them apart. What

strength and resilience she had. Her head was painfully cut

and bruised, and there were terrible weals on her buttocks

and her hands where Blomberg’s belt had caught her - but

she had not once complained. He must get Lebrun to her in

the morning…

He wondered about the internal wounds. It would be a

long, long time before she came to terms with Armand’s

death - sometimes, scars like those never healed. He’d

already decided that it would be better if she never told

Liliane what she had believed, just as he would never tell his

mother about Lucien. Of course Solange already knew that

Lucien was being hunted for Estelle’s murder, but she was

convinced the gendarmes had made a mistake. However, if

Lucien were caught… Well, that was a bridge they would

have to cross when they came to it.

‘I got Magaly to put some salt in it,’ he said, lowering her

gently into the bath. ‘It’ll help those wounds to heal.’

Claudine looked up at him. She felt her heart might

almost dissolve with love, just as her body felt as if it was

dissolving in the healing warmth of the water. ‘Have I ever

told you,’ she said, ‘how much I love you?’

Francois smiled. ‘Several times,’ he said. ‘But I don’t