‘I know. I’m sorry. So excuse me, Claire, I am going for a pee.’
As Alain got up from the table, Claire saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. A second later the German officer who had been watching her stood up and walked across to her table. Pretending she hadn’t seen him, she took a book from her shopping bag and began to read.
‘Interesting reading?’ the German asked. Claire had to stop herself from showing surprise, his French was so good.
The nerves on the top of her stomach began to tighten. She looked up into a pair of cold, ice-blue eyes. ‘Er, yes … it is.’
The German moved to her side and looked down at the book, now on the table. ‘Delphine?’
‘Yes, Madame de Staël was my mother’s favourite novelist.’
‘Was your mother interested in politics?’
Claire forced herself to smile. ‘No, she just enjoyed reading historical novels. She wasn’t formally educated and said reading was a good way to learn.’
‘Do you know the book De l'Allemagne?’
‘No. I’m afraid I only read fiction.’
‘That is a shame. Madame de Staël’s book was a great influence on German literature. And your sweetheart? Does he read to you?’ the German asked suddenly, tilting his head in the direction of the toilets.
‘My sweetheart? Do you mean--’ Claire wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘He is my cousin.’
‘Is she talking your head off?’ Alain asked, walking briskly to the table where the German officer was leaning uncomfortably close to Claire.
The German straightened as Alain sat down. ‘No. We were discussing literature.’ Clicking his heels, he bowed his head. ‘Goodbye,’ he said, and left. The men who had been sitting with him jumped up and followed him out of the café.
‘Learn anything?’
‘What? For goodness’ sake, give me a second to gather my wits. My heart’s pounding.’
Claire inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and slowly let the air out of her lungs.
‘He was that good, eh?’
‘He was actually. He asked me a lot of questions in a very short time.’
‘I think he’s sweet on you.’
‘You could be right, or making up to me could have been a smokescreen. I’ll tell you what he said on the way back to the farm. Let’s get out of here, I need some air.’
‘OK, but go to the toilet first. Give me a chance to have a look out front. Don’t rush,’ Alain added. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’
Claire went to the back of the café and opened the toilet door. Instead of going in, she watched Alain stroll across the café to the counter and pay. Outside he lit a cigarette, shifted his weight from one leg to the other and looked at his watch several times. When she thought he had waited for long enough, she left.
As she stepped through the café’s front door, Alain blew out a cloud of smoke. He flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and stamped on it as if he was angry having to wait for her. In a raised voice he complained that she always kept him waiting. Claire argued back saying the toilet wasn’t vacant and she had to wait for ages, because someone was in there. Alain threw his hands up in the air and marched off. Claire ran after him.
On the road to the farm they discussed and dissected the conversation. The conclusion Alain came to was that the German officer was attracted to her. ‘He questioned you about me to see if you were available. You did well,’ he said, ‘especially using the novel. Well done, China.’
Claire tutted and smiled. For once she didn’t tell Alain off for using her code name, or at least half of it.
‘Shush! I can hear vehicles.’ Claire heard them too. ‘Drop back a few paces and stay behind me until they pass. You’re still annoyed with me for shouting at you, right?’
‘Right!’ Swinging her basket in one hand, Claire put the other on her hip in a defiant gesture. She kicked the grass verge in anger. Realising that she had scuffed her shoes, she stopped to look at them for a second. As the German vehicles got closer Claire pretended to hear them and looked back along the road, before running to catch up with Alain. She hadn’t reached him by the time the convoy drove by. In the short time it took the vehicles to turn the bend in the road, Claire had counted how many lorries of soldiers there were, and how many covered trucks carrying equipment and artillery.
When the last truck disappeared out of sight, Alain stopped and Claire caught up with him. ‘We’re not going down the lane to Belland Farm. We’ll carry on as far as the bridge at the back of the house. You fill the water bottle in the river and I’ll go into the trees opening my flies, as if I’m going to have a pee. I’ll be able to see if Gerry’s at the farm from the far side of the copse.’
‘What will we do if they are there?’
‘Walk on. And we won’t stop until we are far enough away that any suspicions the Germans might have about us won’t be linked to the Belland family.’
Claire filled the water bottle, scrambled up the riverbank and sat on the bridge. She dangled her legs over the edge and began to count the windows on the back of the farmhouse. Suddenly the window of her bedroom flew open, followed by the rug from the side of her bed and Édith’s head. After shaking the thin pegged mat and filling the air with dust, Édith waved. Claire daren’t wave back in case she was being watched.
‘No German vehicles in the farmyard, or on the lane leading to it,’ Alain said. ‘It’s clear.’
‘Good. Can we go in then?’
‘Yes, but not into the house in case the Germans come back. We’ll stay in the barn tonight. Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s go!’
They scrambled up the bank to the road, ran across it and rolled down the other side. As they neared the lane Édith was coming out of the kitchen door. Alain motioned that he and Claire were going into the barn. She nodded that she understood.
‘What has happened?’ Édith asked, joining them ten minutes later.
‘A Boche officer sweet-talked Claire and asked her questions,’ Alain said. Édith took Claire’s hand. ‘She didn’t say anything of course, except about the book she was reading and her bore of an older cousin, but they passed us on the road a mile back, so I think it best if we stay in here tonight, in case they decide to pay you a visit.’
‘Good idea. Get what you need from your rooms, and I’ll bring you some food. It will be cold, I’m afraid. The smell of cooked food would be noticed.’
‘Of course. Anything will do. Thank you, Édith.’
Claire ran upstairs and pulled on a thick woollen jumper. On her way out she grabbed her coat. Returning to the barn, Alain took a ladder from behind bales of hay and held it while Claire climbed up. ‘At the far end there’s a trap door,’ he said. ‘Open it and grab a couple of pillows and however many blankets there are.’
By the time Claire had made up two makeshift beds at the back of the loft, Édith was back with their supper.
‘I shall spread your clothes and toiletries between my room and the room Thérèse and André sleep in when they stay here. And yours, Alain, will be among Frédéric’s things in his room,’ she said, handing Alain the tray of food. ‘I’ll see you both in the morning.’
Alain gave the tray to Claire while he pulled up the ladder. They ate in silence. When they’d finished they discussed what had happened during the day in whispers and sign language. By the time they had analysed and every detail, it was almost dark.
Alain slipped the bolt from the door to the hay pulley, in case they needed to use it as an escape route during the night. Then they settled down on the straw fully dressed.
Claire lay and watched Alain as he slept. He turned over. His face was inches from hers; she could hear the rhythm of his breathing, feel his breath on her cheek. She felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach and closed her eyes.
The following morning, Édith Belland called them to the house for breakfast. ‘Did you sleep well?’ Alain asked Claire as they put away the blankets.
‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘Did y
ou?’
‘Like a log,’ he said, shinning down the ladder. He lifted his arms and stretched. ‘Come on, China, shake a leg. I’m starving,’ he said, holding the ladder for her. As soon as she was on the ground he jogged to the kitchen ahead of her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘China?’ Claire looked up to see Mitch walking along Baker Street towards her. ‘I thought I might see you today. Have you been to see the colonel for your debrief?’
‘Yes. Is that where you’re going?’
‘Yes and no. I’m going to see him but I was debriefed yesterday,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s grab a coffee. Here,’ Mitch said, opening the door of a restaurant a couple of doors along from Baker Street underground station. Claire followed him in. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘No. Just coffee for me, please.’ The butterflies in her stomach that had begun to calm after being debriefed whirled like dervishes the second she saw Mitch.
Mitch beckoned the waitress and asked for two cups of coffee. They didn’t have to wait long. ‘How was the DB?’ he asked, when the waitress left.
‘Fine.’ She hoped she didn’t sound over-confident and said, ‘The colonel wanted to know about troop movements, obviously, the different regiments in Gisoir, and the ranks of the German officers – whether there were fewer high ranking officers around now or more. And more specifically, if I had noticed any very young or much older soldiers.
‘And were you specific?’
‘Of course. You know, some of the youngest soldiers we saw were only boys. They should have had pens in their hands, not guns. And the older soldiers had probably fought in the Great War.’ Claire thought for a moment. ‘Why do you ask? Do you doubt my accuracy?’
Mitch laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare, China.’
‘Stop it,’ Claire said, ‘I’m being serious.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘There was one thing I might not have been as specific about as the colonel hoped. Don’t get me wrong, I was positive about everything I reported, but he asked me over and over again about--’ Claire stopped speaking and looked around to make sure she couldn’t be overheard, ‘Panzer Divisions. He said it was of the utmost importance that he knew whether there had been an increase or a decrease in armoured vehicles, specifically in Panzer Divisions. I told him there had been a decrease, that the only armoured tanks, motorised infantry, rifle battalions or artillery regiments I’d seen in the last month were on main roads going north. He seemed relieved.’
‘He would be. The Germans are hitting the Soviets with everything they’ve got. The last intelligence received from the Eastern Front reported Panzer Divisions a hundred miles from Moscow. They’re gearing up in the north and south to take the capital. The only thing that will stop them now is the weather. It’s thirty degrees below zero over there, and it’ll get colder as winter sets in. The Soviet Army is used to severe weather conditions and will dress accordingly, but the Germans aren’t. If the Germans don’t take Moscow soon there’s a good chance their army will freeze to death.’
‘So the briefing was to make sure the intelligence was correct?’
‘And it appears it is.’ Mitch finished his coffee. ‘You did well,’ he said, putting his hand on hers. Claire was about to thank him when he looked at his wristwatch. ‘Hell, I have to go,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘The colonel doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’ Claire’s heart sank. ‘See you soon, China.’ He leaned across the table and kissed her on the cheek.
The note Claire received took her by surprise. “Hi China. Are you free to meet for coffee tomorrow? I’ll be in Lyons Corner House, Piccadilly, at twelve. Hope you can make it. Mitch.”
Unable to sleep, Claire rose early, bathed, and took extra care styling her hair and applying her makeup. She slipped into a close-fitting navy blue two-piece with a white collar and put on the hat she’d dashed out and bought after receiving Mitch’s note.
A last quick look in the hall mirror showed that the jaunty angle at which she wore the hat looked quite chic. A girlish giggle escaped her lips. Unlocking the door, she grabbed her coat, gas mask and handbag, and left the flat. She crossed Oxford Street to a passageway with steps that eventually took her to Soho Square. She stopped for a second to enjoy the warm dappled sunshine. It had been a long winter and even though spring was round the corner, the sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to shine on the narrow streets leading from Soho to Piccadilly. She looked up. Smoke clung to the roofs of tall buildings and the stench of burnt wood and oil from incendiary bombs hung in the air.
Entering the Corner House in Piccadilly, Claire joined the queue of people at the shiny steel and glass counter. Nerves like jumping beans played havoc in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Mitch since the weekend they were debriefed. She had hoped he would telephone – and dreamed that he would come to Coltishall to see her. He hadn’t done either. But why would he? She let her mind wander to the night they lay next to each other in the hayloft in France. He had slept soundly while she, unable to sleep, laid and watched him. She felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach and inhaled slowly.
‘Can I help you, madam?’
‘Excuse me?’ Claire felt someone tap her on the shoulder. ‘It’s your turn.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Claire blushed. ‘I was thinking, deciding, what to have.’ She was thinking how wonderful it would be to be made love to by Alain Mitchell.
The girl behind the counter sighed. ‘Have you thought yet, madam?’
‘A pot of tea and…’
‘And?’ the girl snapped.
‘A pot of coffee, please.’ Claire watched as the girl poured boiling water into the tea and coffee pots. She put both on a tray with cups and saucers, milk jug and a dish with two sugar cubes and put it down in front of Claire with a clatter. ‘And two tea cakes please. Sorry,’ Claire said politely to the woman standing behind her, who rolled her eyes and pouted pinched pencil-thin lips. Blushing with embarrassment, Claire looked along the queue. It had grown. ‘Don’t worry about the teacakes, if--’
‘I’ve taken them from the cake stand now!’ Wishing she was invisible, Claire paid and found a table with a clear view of the door. Today it wasn’t because she needed to watch for Germans, or because she might have to leave in a hurry, it was because she wanted to see the man who had woken so many feelings in her; feelings she hadn’t been aware of until that night in the barn. She poured a cup of tea and cut one of the teacakes in half. She was too nervous to eat but, keeping her eyes on the door, she sipped her tea.
The door opened and her heart soared – then crashed. A small child ran in, followed by a large lady. Claire looked at the man behind them, expecting to see the child’s father. Instead she saw Mitch. She stood up and waved. He saw her and, smiling broadly, weaved his way through the tables until he was standing next to her. She expected – hoped – he would kiss her on each cheek. Instead he put his arms around her and kissed her full on the lips. ‘Boy, have I missed you, China!’ he said and, keeping his arms round her, hugged her to him.
Claire laughed. She didn’t have to remind him not to call her China in London. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she said.
Mitch let her go and held her at arm’s length. He looked into her eyes for what felt to Claire like minutes. She searched his face, sure that he wanted to say something. Instead he looked down at the table. ‘This coffee for me?’
‘Yes. It isn’t a patch on the coffee Édith makes, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m not here for the coffee, China,’ he said, dropping his shoulder bag and gas mask on the floor and sitting down.
Her heart began to pound with excitement, and she felt her cheeks flush. It had been three months since they were in France together and she had thought of him every day; wondered where he was, how he was. She sat down and picked up her cup. The tea was cold; she didn’t care. ‘What have you been up to since we got back?’ she asked.
‘I’ve been putting young British women through their paces down in Hampshire. You?’
Claire felt a stab
of jealousy. ‘I spent a couple of weeks in the north east with my French professor friend and his family. I promised his son, again, if I was ever in Paris I’d look his mother up.’ Claire saw Mitch tense. ‘Don’t worry, he’s just a boy who is missing his mum. He has no idea what I do.’ Claire wasn’t sure that was true. Although they had never spoken about her work, the professor probably knew – and Éric was a bright boy. She decided she had said enough about the professor and his son. ‘But for most of the time, I’ve been mentoring new recruits at Coltishall. I went to a couple of dances with Eddie. And I didn’t get into any fights.’ They both laughed. ‘Eddie has finally cracked French grammar. She is hoping to take the fluency exam soon, so we had to speak French whenever we were alone. It was good for me, too, in case the colonel wants me to go back into the field,’ she whispered.
Mitch leaned towards her. ‘What do you want to do, China?’
‘Go back to France, of course. I’m hoping that’s why I’ve been called back to London.’
‘In the meantime,’ Mitch said, ‘let’s see some of this wonderful city while there is some of it left to see.’
Claire picked up her bag and gas mask and followed Mitch out into the fading sunshine. After buttoning her coat she caught hold of his outstretched hand and together they strolled through Piccadilly, past the theatres on the Haymarket and down to Trafalgar Square, where Mitch bought some stale bread from a shabbily-dressed boy of about twelve who was leaning on a sign that said Do Not Feed the Pigeons.
‘My baby sister, Aimée, made me promise to do two things while I was in London. One was feed the birds in Trafalgar Square, and the other was send her a photograph of me doing it. Come on,’ Mitch said, taking Claire by the hand and running across the square to a lion. As if she was a feather, Mitch lifted her onto the plinth. ‘Stand close to the lion. I want to get you both in the picture.’ Claire leant into the lion and looked over her shoulder. ‘Perfect. Now turn and face me. Keep still and… smile! Okay! Now you take one of me.’ As he lifted her down, Mitch held her close. She felt his warm breath on her face when he said, ‘Did I tell you I’ve missed you, China?’
China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) Page 11