by Susan Lewis
Shaking with relief, Claudine leaned back against the wall. Her bluff had worked – so far – and silently she thanked God for General Kahl, for it was undoubtedly his name that had saved the day. But François, where was he, and what in God’s name was happening to him?
She found Blomberg in the circular room, where Solange was bustling around him, patting his arm, pulling back the covers from the bed and calling him Monsieur Allemand. Claudine couldn’t resist a smile. Solange was playing her part well, and the Colonel was clearly irritated beyond words.
‘Get this confounded woman out of here!’ he roared, when he saw Claudine at the door. ‘And tell your cook I’d like dinner served at seven o’clock sharp.’
‘Of course, Herr Colonel,’ Claudine said smoothly. She had scored her victory for that day and wasn’t inclined to fight again – or not just yet. However, there was one point she couldn’t resist scoring. Taking Solange by the hand, she arched her brows, and again making him aware of his lack of height, said, ‘Monsieur, I’m sure you won’t mind my pointing out that it would be more suitable to address my mother-in-law as Madame la Comtesse.’
As she closed the door, she clapped a hand over Solange’s mouth so the Colonel wouldn’t hear her shriek of laughter. ‘Dignity, Maman,’ she hissed. ‘We’re going to make that appalling man shrivel in the face of it.’
Knowing that for all sorts of reasons it would be unwise for her to enquire about François herself, Claudine left it to Solange, who brought the subject up over dinner that very night.
‘My daughter-in-law informs me that you are an acquaintance of my son’s,’ she began, peering with keen interest at the fork the Colonel was holding.
Reddening, Blomberg looked at it too, and Claudine turned away before he could see her smiling. Solange was purposely unnerving him, making him question his table manners, though in fact had been using the correct implements throughout the meal.
‘May I ask when you last saw him?’ Solange continued.
‘At the end of June,’ Blomberg replied, dabbing the corner of his rubbery mouth with a napkin.
‘And where was that?’ Solange said pleasantly.
‘In Germany, of course.’
‘Where in Germany?’ Monique enquired.
Blomberg gave a haughty smile. ‘I am not at liberty to say,’ he answered, nodding to Magaly who was standing at his elbow with the coffee pot.
Solange yawned. ‘In my experience,’ she said, ‘when someone gives that answer it is because they don’t know.’
Watching her over the rim of his cup, the Colonel took a sip of coffee, then set it back in the saucer. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said ‘I spent rather a pleasant evening in Monsieur le Comte’s company – at the home of my brother-in-law.’
‘Are we acquainted with your brother-in-law?’ Solange asked grandly.
‘I should think it unlikely. His name is Max Helber.’
Somehow Claudine managed to keep an expressionless face, as she made a series of quick deductions. If anything had passed between Helber and François, François had clearly not managed to obtain Halunke’s identity or he would have sent word by now. It was appalling to think that François might have submitted himself to Helber to no purpose … She would not even consider that possibility, she must put it out of her mind.
‘No, we don’t know him,’ Solange sighed. She inhaled the delicious smell of freshly mown grass wafting in through the open window. ‘I take it my son was in good health when you saw him, Colonel?’
‘He was – then,’ Blomberg answered.
Not one of them missed the emphasis.
‘What do you mean, then?’ Solange barked.
‘Maman, I think the Colonel is playing games with us,’ Claudine interrupted. ‘As he said, he hasn’t seen François since June and it is now the beginning of September. It is my belief that he doesn’t have the first idea where François is now, so shall we save our breath for a stroll in the water-garden?’
The four of them walked out into the cool evening air, and Tante Céline shook her head warningly at Claudine. ‘He is not a man to cross, chérie,’ she warned. ‘He may be a German, but he is also a colonel. As such, he is used to respect.’
‘Respect is something you earn, Tante Céline,’ Claudine answered crisply, ‘not something you demand.’
She hadn’t told any of them what had passed between her and Blomberg in her apartment that afternoon. Nor would she – because if it ever came to the point where François’ life depended on it, she would be forced to succumb to his loathsome blackmail, and she would rather die than have anyone in the world know about it. And now that he had mentioned Max Helber’s name, she could no longer be under any illusion that his presence at the château was a mere coincidence. But what he hoped to do or discover here was something she could only guess at …
The evening had turned chilly. Claudine, looking up at the peachy-yellow sky, suddenly felt her skin start to prickle. She spun round, half expecting to find someone behind her, but there was no one. Even so, she was certain that someone was following her progress through the garden, if only with his eyes, and if it hadn’t been so close to curfew she would have sent someone to the village for Armand.
– 25 –
IT WAS A morning in mid-November. Claudine and Monique were in the village, watching with much amusement as Solange pedalled unsteadily round the square, with Liliane’s bemused face poking up over the rim of the box Armand had attached to the bicycle.
‘It’s a triumph!’ Claudine declared, delighted to see Solange back in spirits again. She had cried herself to sleep in Claudine’s arms the night before, not only because she missed Louis so terribly, but because not one of the young village men who had returned from the front in the past weeks had been able to give her news of Lucien.
‘Isn’t it?’ Solange called back. ‘We can even go into Chinon together,’ she told Liliane. ‘Of course, we shall have to walk up the hill, but going down the other side will be no problem.’
‘It might be wise to get Armand to adjust the brakes,’ Gustave muttered. ‘That hill is quite steep, you know.’
‘Good idea,’ Claudine laughed. ‘I’ll talk to him.’
Her relationship with Armand was easier now. He hadn’t mentioned Estelle since the night he first talked of her, but he definitely seemed calmer, more his old self. It was over two months since she had had that feeling that Halunke was back, watching her, but both she and Armand were still on edge. At least Armand told her he was, but she’d got the impression lately that Armand’s concern was merely a pretence. But then, how could she expect him to care so much any more.
‘How is your colonel settling in at the château?’ Gustave asked as they strolled over to the café.
‘I think he’s comfortable,’ Claudine answered demurely.
Monique gave a shout of laughter. ‘Don’t you listen to a word of it, Gustave! One glance from Madame la Comtesse here, and our Colonel simply withers.’
‘Monique’s exaggerating,’ Claudine grinned. ‘We’ve hardly seen him since the day he arrived.’
‘He’s avoiding you, that’s why!’ Monique said. ‘He really is the most repellent man to look at, though, so perhaps it’s just as well. Have you noticed the way he breaks into a sweat when he’s angry? And he’s always angry with you, Claudine. Incidentally, Hans, his chauffeur, told me he still suspects that you’re responsible for the acts of sabotage on his car.’
‘I’d hardly call three flat tyres and a leaking petrol tank sabotage,’ Claudine protested. ‘Unfortunate, perhaps …’
‘Have you managed to discover who really is doing it yet?’
Claudine shook her head. ‘I thought it might have been Armand, but …’
She turned, hearing someone call her name, and saw Janette and Robert Reinberg running across the square from the river bank, followed by their mother. ‘Ah, seeing Gertrude reminds me,’ she said. ‘I need some new trousers. What about you, Monique? Didn’t yo
u say wanted some too?’
‘I’ll say. The last pair Gertrude made were marvellous. So comfortable. Does she have any fabric, though?’
‘Let’s ask her.’
But as they walked over to talk to her, they were astonished to see Florence Jallais come out of her front door and spit on the cobbles right in front of her.
Both Claudine and Monique were outraged, and seeing Claudine storm across the square towards her, Florence Jallais scuttled back into her house and slammed the door. ‘Open this door now!’ Claudine shouted, banging it with her fist.
‘No, leave it,’ Gertrude said softly. ‘Please, madame.’
‘But she can’t do that to you!’
‘I’m afraid she can.’
‘What’s going on?’ Solange cried, bringing her bicycle to a halt beside them.
Claudine swung round ‘Florence Jallais just spat at Gertrude.’
‘Oh là là!’ Liliane said, opening the little door in her box and climbing out. ‘I spoke to her the last time.’
‘You mean she’s done it before?’
‘What’s that you’re wearing?’ Solange asked suddenly, seeing the yellow badge on Gertrude’s cardigan.
They all looked at it. There was one word on the badge: Juive. Jewess.
‘We all have to wear them now, madame,’ Gertrude said, averting her eyes to hide her misery.
‘By whose orders?’ Claudine wanted to know.
‘I believe, by Hitler’s own.’
Claudine’s nostrils flared. ‘Monique! Solange! Come along, we’re going to Gertrude’s,’ she ordered.
‘Please, madame,’ Gertrude begged. ‘We don’t want any more trouble. The children are suffering enough as it is.’
‘I’m not going to make trouble, Gertrude,’ Claudine assured her. ‘At least, not for you.’
That evening, when Colonel Blomberg returned to the château for dinner, he found the four women already halfway through their meal. His protruding bottom lip quivered with fury, but he took his seat silently at the head of the table.
It was as the watery vegetable soup was being ladled into his bowl that he noticed the badge Solange was wearing. His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of the other women in turn. They were all sporting the same badge of bright yellow card with the word Catholique emblazoned across it.
The meal continued in silence until the women finished and stood up to leave the room.
‘Madame,’ Blomberg said then, looking at Claudine. ‘I should be obliged if you could spare me a few moments in my room later. I will send for you when I am ready.’
Claudine nodded curtly and followed the others out into the hall.
‘It’s sure to be about our badges,’ Céline whispered, pushing open the door to the sitting-room.
‘Well, I for one am not taking mine off until Gertrude Reinberg is allowed to take hers off,’ Solange stated.
‘Me neither,’ Monique said, looking back over her shoulder at the German soldier stationed outside the dining-room. It was Hans, the one who generally acted as Blomberg’s chauffeur.
Claudine didn’t miss the smile that passed between them, and was glad to think that Monique had won his friendship. They needed all the allies they could get when Blomberg resented them so bitterly. Then she shuddered. Having the Germans in their own home like this, invading their privacy, contaminating their daily lives, was intolerable.
There was no wireless to listen to now; wirelesses had been confiscated soon after the occupation began. Monique, however, had managed to secrete one in her room, but they listened to it only rarely: the penalty for keeping a wireless was twenty-one days’ imprisonment.
‘What do you think Blomberg does all day?’ Céline wondered as she selected a record to play on the gramophone.
‘He goes to the Château d’Artigny,’ Claudine answered. ‘It’s been taken over by the Germans since Admiral Darlan left, it’s their regional headquarters.’
‘Oh? How do you know that?’ Monique enquired.
‘Armand followed him,’ Claudine answered simply.
‘But why?’
‘Because I asked him to.’
There was a tap on the door, and Hans, the handsome young German officer came in. ‘The Colonel wishes to see you now, madame.’
‘Tell the Colonel I will be with him shortly,’ Claudine answered.
‘But …’
‘I’m going to say goodnight to my son. I will be with the Colonel shortly,’ she said with deliberation, and sailing past him, she went upstairs to the nursery.
‘So, you think yourself clever for keeping me waiting?’ Blomberg said when he opened his door to her ten minutes later.
‘Colonel,’ she replied in a bored voice, ‘running this château keeps me extremely busy and you simply have to wait your turn. Now, what is it you would like to discuss with me?’
Scarcely managing to contain his anger, Blomberg said, ‘The badge, madame. Take it off!’
‘There is no law prohibiting the wearing of badges,’ Claudine said coolly.
‘It is a deliberate insult to the Reich.’
‘That I am a Catholic?’ she said incredulously. ‘How can that be?’
‘I am not arguing with you on this matter! Take it off, or I shall take it off for you.’
Claudine looked at him with evident amusement, then calmly folding her arms, she turned to look out of the window.
He caught her a blow to side of her head that made stars dance before her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and turned to look him straight in the eye. ‘Only a coward strikes women,’ she began – then gasped as he took hold of the badge and tore it from her blouse. The fabric ripped, exposing the silk of her camisole underneath.
‘I hope that makes you feel better,’ she said. ‘Now, if you have quite finished I should like to return to my family.’
‘Don’t you mean your husband’s family?’ he said, as she reached the door.
His emphasis on ‘husband’ made her turn back. There was a new glint in his eyes, and she suddenly realized they were only now coming to the point of why he had asked her here. ‘I have news of your husband,’ he said, strolling across the room and settling himself on the sofa beneath the window. Behind him the sun was setting in a blaze of orange, and she could no longer see his face. ‘How long has it been since you saw him now?’ he said. ‘Six months? Seven?’
‘I have no idea,’ she replied. ‘I don’t keep count.’
Blomberg chuckled. ‘I was told there was no love lost between you. So I take it you are not in the least interested in knowing what he is doing – or where he is?’
‘Not in the least,’ she confirmed.
‘Then I shall inform my brother-in-law that the efforts he has made to keep you abreast of your husband’s career are wasted.’
‘Yes, you tell him that,’ she smiled, and opened the door to leave.
‘Oh, no, no, no,’ Blomberg’s voice said behind her, and immediately the German officer Hans stepped into her path, indicating that she should return to the room.
Claudine sighed with exasperation as the door closed behind her. ‘All right,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘You clearly want to tell me something regarding my husband, so get on with it.’
‘I must inform you, madame, that this is the last time I shall overlook your insolence. If you speak to me in that tone again, it is not you who will suffer but your husband.’
Claudine closed her eyes. ‘As I have no regard for my husband, or his welfare,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘you are wasting your time …’
‘I doubt if your mother-in-law would take that attitude,’ Blomberg interrupted. ‘I heard just the other day that the fingers of Monsieur le Comte’s left hand have been broken, and I could not help wondering how his mother would react to a graphic description of his – what shall we call them? – injuries, and how they were obtained. There are other injuries too, of course, but I shall save the details for la Comtesse. Unless you would prefer I di
dn’t tell her at all. The choice is yours, madame.’
Claudine’s face had paled. ‘You’re lying!’ she hissed.
‘Am I?’
‘I know why you are doing this,’ she seethed, ‘but unlike you, Colonel, I don’t make threats. I make promises, and here’s one for you. If you lay so much as a finger on me, I give you my word I’ll kill you.’
Blomberg laughed. ‘I think not.’
‘Then you’re a fool.’
‘Even if you were able to carry out your promise – which I doubt – think what repercussions such an act would have on your family, Claudine.’ He saw how her nostrils flared at his use of her Christian name, and could not suppress a smile. ‘Oh,’ he went on, ‘and before you threaten me again with the intervention of General Kahl, I should inform you that I have now been given sole – and unequivocal – authority to deal with this family as I see fit. I have no intention of, as you put it, laying a finger on you; I want only to see you humiliated, in the way you have tried to humiliate me. You may start by removing your clothes.’
‘You must be out of your mind!’ she sneered.
‘Madame la Comtesse, your mother-in-law,’ he said, getting to his feet, ‘is not of stable mind, is she? It would be a shame, would it not, to unhinge her further for the sake of your dignity? After all, that is all I require from you, madame. Not such a great price, when one weighs it against the one la Comtesse would have to pay if you refuse me.’
‘You are a disgusting little man!’ Claudine spat.
‘You make things worse for yourself by addressing me in that fashion,’ he replied smoothly, and with a quick flick of his wrist he slapped his gloves across her face.
Claudine saw red. Before she could stop herself, she had twisted his arm so brutally behind his back that she heard the bones crack.
‘Hans! Hans!’ he squealed, and the door flew open to admit the young soldier. A gun was pressed between Claudine’s shoulder-blades, and knowing she could do nothing else, she let the Colonel go.
‘All right, Hans,’ Blomberg said, purple in the face and puffing as he massaged his shoulder. A thin film of sweat had broken out on his skin, and his grotesque bottom lip was coated in saliva.