The Very Thought of You

by Mary Fitzgerald

  ‘Because I love it,’ she replied. ‘Singing is my life.’

  He swirled the liquid round in his glass, watching it gleam as it caught in the glow of the orange-shaded lamp behind him. ‘We haven’t been friends in the last month. If I’ve done something to hurt you, I’m truly sorry.’

  She turned to face him. ‘Don’t pretend ignorance, Robert,’ she said. ‘Don’t keep up this lie about being fond of me when I know that you’ve only been using me to root out a traitor.’

  It was strange – she’d never actually put that realisation into words in her head, never really understood what was going on, but now, just saying it made everything clear. ‘Those two days at the spy school were not for me to learn about how you go about your trade, but for you to learn about me,’ she continued. ‘About my husband and about my grandparents. They are linked. I know that now.’

  ‘How d’you know?’ He seemed surprised.

  ‘Because Grandmère mentioned Lili this afternoon. She could only know about her if she’d met someone from home. That someone must have been Christopher.’

  ‘Oh.’ He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. ‘Are you certain? What exactly did she say?’

  ‘She just said her name and then we were interrupted. But I intend to find out more tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes. But let me sit with you when you do. I have many questions for her, and she could be so helpful to us. I need to debrief her before she’s … um … got at.’

  ‘What?’ Suddenly Catherine felt very afraid and started to get up. ‘Is she in danger? I must go to her.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Robert glanced to the bar, where the weary manager was flicking through a newspaper, desperate for the last few customers to go to bed. He put a hand on her arm and lowered his voice. ‘I’ve got men stationed outside your room. She’s quite safe.’

  Catherine frowned at him. ‘I didn’t see anyone when I came down.’

  He grinned. ‘Well, that means they were doing their job properly. Believe me, they are on your corridor and closer than you think.’

  She relaxed then and took a sip of her brandy. She watched Robert polishing his glasses on his tie and rubbing his hand over his face before replacing them. ‘You’ve been reading my letters,’ she muttered.

  ‘I’m afraid I have,’ he said almost cheerfully. ‘It’s part of the job.’

  ‘But why did you have to share them with Beau?’

  He looked genuinely astonished. ‘I’ve never shared them with Beau. Whatever makes you think that?’

  ‘Because when I told him this morning that I was going to the farm to look for my grandparents, he said, “But I thought they had disappeared from the face of the earth.”’ Those were exactly the same words as in my mother’s letter. I hadn’t shown it to anybody. But he knew.’

  ‘Perhaps it was an assumption.’ Robert spoke carefully, not giving anything away. ‘Everyone knew that you had family in this area.’

  Catherine gave a short laugh. ‘You don’t believe that any more than I do.’

  He was quiet, thinking. ‘Are you absolutely sure you told no one else?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t even had time to tell the girls.’ Then a memory struck her and she clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Mon Dieu,’ she whispered. ‘I told Guy de Montjoy, on the bus, when we were driving to Amiens, and I told him about Father Gautier. I showed him the other letter.’

  ‘The one about you doing a Christmas show with Bobby Crewe?’ he asked, one eyebrow raised, and laughed when she scowled at him. He got up and, taking her hand, helped her out of her chair. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s too late for all this now. We’ll sort it out in the morning. You must get some sleep, and so must I.’

  He walked with her to the staircase and then bent and kissed her. Almost involuntarily her arms went round his neck and she found herself kissing him back. This is all wrong, she thought, but it was what she wanted, and didn’t care that she might part of his intelligence gathering. Being in his arms was wonderful.

  ‘See you in the morning, my love,’ he said, when they broke away, and she nodded and went up the stairs.

  When she awoke the next morning, she found Béatrice already up and dressed. She was washing her underwear and stockings from yesterday in the washbasin and humming a little tune. Catherine recognised it as ‘Parlez-Moi d’Amour’ from last night’s show. She looked full of energy and almost back to how Catherine remembered her from before the war.

  ‘Good morning, Grandmère. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Ah, chérie. You are awake at last. I am glad.’ She squeezed out the water from her washing and, after looking around the room for somewhere to hang it, chose the wheezing old radiator. ‘Now, there are things to do today. I must go to the market and get food to take to the farm, but first, I need to see if there is any money in the bank.’ She came to sit on the bed beside Catherine. ‘Do you think that the Boche will have emptied your grandfather’s account? They might have, you know.’

  ‘I don’t know, Grandmère, but I have money if you need it. Let me get up and we can have some breakfast and then decide what to do. Major Lennox wants to talk to you. He has to know about the raid on the farm.’

  Béatrice’s face paled. ‘It was dreadful, ma chérie. I cannot bear even to think about it.’

  ‘But you must, Grandmère. So that the people who did those terrible things can be brought to justice.’

  The old lady sat for a minute, and then nodded her head. ‘You are right, Catherine. It would be cowardly of me to indulge in grief and not tell all that I know. So’ – she stood up and went back to arrange her washing, which was dripping on the floor – ‘you will get up and we can get on with the day.’

  When Catherine came back from the bathroom, she found Frances and Della sitting on the bed chatting to Béatrice. They looked up when she came in.

  ‘Get a move on,’ said Della. ‘We want to find some breakfast. And then Grandmère Béatrice is going to the market.’

  ‘She can’t,’ Catherine said. ‘Robert wants to ask her some questions. Besides …’

  ‘Besides what?’ asked Frances.

  Catherine frowned. ‘Besides,’ she muttered, concerned that although she was speaking in English, which her grandmother wouldn’t understand, some hint of what she was saying might get through, ‘it isn’t safe.’

  ‘What?’ The two girls looked amazed. ‘Who isn’t safe?’ Della looked at Béatrice, who had got up to look out of the window. ‘Not her, surely?’

  Catherine quickly repeated what Robert had said last night and told them about him placing guards in the corridor.

  ‘My God, I saw one of them,’ said Frances. ‘He was loitering on the corridor next to the staircase, pretending to read a French newspaper. He was so patently English.’

  ‘Anyway’ – Catherine put on her coat – ‘we’ll all go to get breakfast and then Robert will interview her here. He wants to find out about Father Gautier, among other things.’

  She needed to know about the other things as well.

  ‘Can we sit in on it?’ asked Della. ‘I’m dying to know what’s going on.’

  Catherine shrugged. ‘I suppose that’s up to him.’

  They breakfasted on coffee and very inferior croissants at a cafe next door to the hotel. Béatrice got out of her seat to grumble furiously to the owner, who stood morosely behind his counter, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

  ‘Call this a croissant,’ she said, holding it up like some sort of specimen.

  ‘There’s a war on,’ he shrugged. ‘Can’t get the flour.’

  Frances smiled and looked to see what the other diners in the cafe thought, but as she looked around, her eyes were caught by someone standing outside, looking in through the window. She gasped and gave Catherine a dig in the ribs. Look,’ she whispered. ‘Isn’t that Father Gautier?’

  ‘What? Where?’ squeaked Della, who had her back to the window.

  ‘Don’t look round,’ France
s said urgently. ‘I think he’s watching Béatrice and waiting for her to come out.’

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked Catherine, trying not to stare at the tall, rather good-looking priest, who was casually watching while all the time smiling at people walking by and greeting him. ‘D’you think there’s a back way out of here?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Frances. ‘Look, he knows that she was rescued by you and some friends, but he doesn’t know what we look like. I don’t think so, anyway. And I don’t think he’s been outside for long, and Grandmère Béatrice is over there giving the cafe owner grief, so as far as Gautier is concerned, we’re not necessarily connected. If Della and I go outside and create a diversion, you can get Béatrice out of the back of here and into the rear entrance of the hotel. What d’you think?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Della grinned immediately. ‘I can divert anyone.’

  The two girls got up as Catherine took out her purse and went to the counter. ‘In a moment, Grandmère,’ she whispered, as she paid their bill, ‘you and I are going through that door there.’ She nodded to a half-open door through which could be glimpsed a courtyard and some bins. ‘The other two are going out of the front. There isn’t time to tell you why, but it is necessary.’

  The old lady immediately understood and gave up her haranguing of the proprietor. Suddenly there was a noise outside and Catherine said, ‘Ready?’ and grabbing her grandmother’s arm, hustled her through the door. She looked quickly back over her shoulder as they entered the courtyard and caught sight of Della helping the priest to his feet as Frances brushed down his black suit.

  By the time she and Béatrice had wandered through the back offices of the hotel and were once again in the lobby, Frances and Della were already there, breathlessly squawking with laughter.

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘I barged into the bugger, accidentally on purpose,’ giggled Della. ‘It gave him a hell of a shock. I didn’t realise I was so strong.’

  ‘He couldn’t possibly have seen you,’ said Frances. ‘But it does make you wonder what he’s up to.’

  ‘Who were we hiding from?’ asked Béatrice, a tremor in her voice. ‘Not the Nazis again?’

  ‘No.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘They have gone from here. It was someone else.’

  ‘Who?’ the old lady demanded. ‘Tell me now, Catherine. I am not a child.’

  Catherine glanced at Frances, who nodded. ‘It was Father Gautier,’ Catherine said.

  ‘What’s this about Father Gautier?’ None of them had seen Robert arrive, but all were glad to see him. ‘Don’t tell me you encountered him this morning.’

  ‘We have,’ Frances said, ‘and—’

  Robert interrupted her. ‘Not here,’ he said. ‘Let’s go somewhere more private.’

  He led them into the manager’s office. How he’d persuaded the manager to leave Catherine couldn’t imagine, but he sat Béatrice down on the most comfortable chair, and dragging a wooden one from its place against the wall, he sat in front of her.

  ‘You don’t need to stay,’ he said to Della and Frances. ‘Catherine can help her grandmother.’

  ‘They’re staying,’ said Catherine firmly. ‘They are as much part of it now as I am. They helped me rescue Grandmère from the convent, and they helped me get her away from Father Gautier just now. So, Robert, take it or leave it.’

  Della and Frances grinned as Robert looked a bit nonplussed. He opened his mouth to argue, but Catherine bent as though to take Béatrice’s arm and lead her out, so he shut it again. ‘Oh Christ,’ he said eventually. ‘Let them stay.’

  He began his questions by asking Béatrice about what she and Jean had done at the farm for the Resistance.

  ‘We let the boys stay with us,’ she said. ‘We fed them, and Jean drove them in his van when they needed to get somewhere. Sometimes they would bring weapons for us to hide. We put them in the barn, in the hay. Once, they brought us an English pilot who had been shot down. Him we hid for three weeks before he was handed on to someone who was going to get him on a fishing boat.’ She paused, thinking back. ‘I don’t know what happened to him, but then another Englishman came; Father Gautier brought him.’ She turned to Catherine and reached out her hand. ‘He said he was your husband, chérie. Christopher. He told me all about you and baby Lili. He said he missed you very much.’

  Catherine struggled to hold back the tears, but Robert said sharply, ‘When was this? Can you remember the date?’

  Béatrice shook her head slowly. ‘I am not sure. It was in the spring, before they came for us. March, perhaps. But,’ she added with a smile, ‘he was a good man and so handsome. He told me that Lili looked just like you.’

  ‘What happened to him, Grandmère?’ Catherine said, unable stay silent any more. ‘Please tell me, because they are saying that he’s dead.’

  ‘Oh, ma pauvre petite.’ Béatrice stood up and took Catherine in her arms. ‘I don’t know, child,’ she said sadly. ‘One day, he left with Father Gautier. We never saw him again.’

  ‘Tell me about Father Gautier,’ said Robert. ‘When did he come to the village?’

  ‘That was last year, in the summer. Poor Father Bernard had to go into hospital. He was taken ill one night and then we heard that he’d died. Father Gautier came to replace him, and a good thing too. He’s very active in the parish. He does so many good things. Why, when the British Army came in and opened the prison, he came himself to get me and took me to the sisters. He said I needed to rest.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t need that much of a rest, but how would he know? He’s a man, even though he’s a priest.’

  She turned to the girls. ‘I don’t believe that he ordered that awful medicine for me, no matter what the reverend mother says. He wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘One more thing, for now,’ said Robert. ‘We’ll talk again, but tell me this. Had you seen Guy de Montjoy before yesterday? The man who was driving the car when you left the convent.’

  ‘Oh, the handsome one with the beautiful speaking voice. No.’ She shook her head. ‘I had never seen him before, but I tell you one thing: he was in the Resistance; he has that look about him.’

  Chapter 21

  Afterwards, to Catherine’s relief, Béatrice pronounced that she was tired and she would have a little rest. ‘I was up so early, chérie. It is habit, I suppose, but now what is to become of me? There is much to think about.’

  It was as if reality was suddenly breaking through and she needed time to understand her changed circumstances. ‘You rest, Grandmère,’ said Catherine, giving her a kiss. ‘We’ll decide what to do later.’

  Robert sat with the girls in the bar after Grandmère had gone upstairs. ‘What exactly was Gautier doing this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘We were having breakfast and he was standing outside the cafe, watching Béatrice,’ Frances said. ‘Della and I managed to divert him so that Catherine could get her out the back.’ She fixed Robert with a gimlet eye. ‘What the hell is he up to? If you know, Robert, tell us, for God’s sake.’

  They had cups of coffee in front of them and Robert, after taking a sip, pushed his away. ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ he said. ‘We knew about him, of course, and trusted him entirely. He was part of the line.’

  ‘The line?’ Frances was puzzled. ‘What d’you mean?’

  Robert didn’t immediately answer. He was considering how much to say – that was obvious – and impatient, Frances said, ‘Come on, Robert, we know about the Resistance: Guy and Madame Albert have vouched for that. France is mostly in Allied hands, so I don’t think that Father Gautier’s activities have to remain a secret.’

  ‘You are extremely persistent, Frances Parnell,’ Robert smiled. ‘I know organisations who would love to have you on their books. So, I can tell you this much. Father Gautier was part of a network that helped Allied airmen and a few POW escapees get away from France. Each town had a link, and if such a pilot or whoever it was managed to contact them, they would be kept saf
e until they could be passed on to the next along the line. It worked well. Of course, the Resistance groups were key to all this. Now, in this area, Father Gautier was a contact. Guy de Montjoy was further south, near Caen. He was involved in the more vital activities, particularly leading up to the invasion.’

  ‘And Christopher?’ Catherine looked up. ‘What was his role?’

  ‘He was one of our agents. We dropped him into France to assist with the preparations for the invasion. But’ – he shook his head slowly – ‘he was betrayed and captured by the Gestapo. I told you that much before, Catherine. We lost contact with him in March, about the time your grandmother says he was at the farm.’

  Catherine swallowed hard. ‘Was he sent there deliberately? Did you know about my grandparents?’

  Robert was silent again. It was as if he’d held secrets for so long that he couldn’t bear to give them up. Finally he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We knew that the line had been broken: too many of our agents had been captured. We suspected everyone in this area. Even your grandfather. Christopher’s job was to root out the traitor, or traitors.’

  As Catherine put her hand to her mouth, he added quickly, ‘Your grandfather wasn’t a traitor; we know that now. He paid a terrible price for his courage.’

  ‘But what about Father Gautier?’ asked Frances. ‘Everybody loved him. Even Guy admired him, and Madame Albert won’t hear a word against him.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Robert. ‘We trusted him entirely, but’ – his face clouded – ‘there’s no doubt about it, his behaviour recently has been tricky.’

  ‘Guy said he was with him the night before he was arrested. D’you think …?’ Frances left the question unsaid, and the three girls looked at each other, trying to digest this astonishing information. Robert seemed agitated; he was drumming his fingers on the table, as though counting off the possibilities of what might have happened.

  They were still there at the table when Beau came in through the main door. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I was coming to look for you ladies and you, Robert. We’ll have to call the show off for the rest of the week. Tommy’s cold is worse, and I think Colin’s coming down with it too. All we need is for you girls to catch it and Godfrey to get bronchitis or something and we’re finished.’ He turned to Robert. ‘I’d be grateful if you could get in touch with the military authorities at the places where we were due to perform and explain what’s happened. And as for the rest of us, well, I’ve spoken to Monsieur de Montjoy and he’s quite happy for us to return to the chateau, so we’ll pack up and set off after lunch.’