by Karen Abbott
“Don’t make a sound!” the man’s voice commanded her, as he rose to his feet. “And stay where you are!”
Remaining flat on the ground, Gini twisted her head around to look over to her shop. It was now a blaze of light, both from within and lit by the headlights of two dark trucks that had been driven right up to the front of her shop.
Two figures appeared in the open doorway. The one at the rear was hustling forward the one in front, a dark clothed figure of medium build. She knew immediately, without surprise or relief, that it wasn’t Hugo. She had never really supposed it would be.
The man was assisted into the back of one of the trucks, which was then driven away.
“Stand up, mademoiselle,” the man towering over her commanded.
Gini did as she was told, trying to shake off the hand that tightly gripped her elbow.
“There’s no need ….”
“And who have we here?”
With a sinking heart, Gini recognised the voice of a man who had crossed the road towards them and was now peering into her face. Inspector Tessier!
“Mademoiselle St. Clare? May I ask what you are doing here?”
His voice was sharp and Gini wished, not for the first time that evening, that she was safely home in bed.
“I … er … just wanted to make sure that my shop was all right,” she faltered, wilting under his severe gaze. There was no way she was going to mention her fears about Hugo.
“You almost jeopardised the whole operation!”
In spite of the darkness, she saw his eyes gleam speculatively.
“Or were you hoping to create a diversion, to give your partner a clear run?”
Gini gasped.
“My partner? No!”
Inspector Tessier nodded curtly to the officer still grasping Gini’s arm.
“Take her to the station for questioning!”
“No! You can’t do that! I’m not involved! You know I’m not!”
But the inspector had already turned away and walking back towards her shop.
“Stop! You don’t understand!”
“Come with me, mademoiselle. You will be given every opportunity to tell us what we don’t understand.”
Gini was devastated. Her parents would be furious. And, oh dear, she was in danger of facing, not one prosecution, but two! It really was too much! Why couldn’t she have left well alone?
She spent a very unpleasant hour at the local police station, trying to explain her action, which now seemed completely idiotic, even to herself.
“You not only put yourself in danger by your foolish action, but also the lives of all my officers, mademoiselle St. Clare,” Inspector Tessier reprimanded her. “The person we arrested was armed. He would have had no hesitation in shooting his way out if the situation had got out of hand. You are very fortunate that I am not going to press charges against you. But I never want to see you in here again. Is that clear?”
Gini nodded, weak with relief that the ordeal was over.
“Oui, monsieur. I am very sorry.”
She pushed back her chair and stood up, wondering if she dared ask who the culprit was. She hoped it wasn’t anyone local.
“The man … the intruder. Was it anyone we know?”
The inspector considered her question carefully.
“I cannot tell you that, beyond the fact that it was a former tenant of the building. It was no surprise to us, once we had checked the names given to us by Monsieur Meroc.”
So Hugo was completely in the clear. Whatever his reason for rushing away, it was nothing to do with this. Her heart soared.
Outside in they were in the draughty foyer, her father sprang to his feet.
“Merci bien, monsieur. Bonsoir, monsieur.”
He hustled Gini out into the cold night air.
“What do you think you were doing, Virginie?” he demanded. “Your mother is beside herself. Never before have I been summoned to the police station to collect one of my children. I might have expected it when Luc is a bit older! But, no, it is you. My daughter! We are disgraced!”
She was relieved that the rest of the household were apparently in bed on their arrival home.
“Can we talk about it in the morning, Papa?” she asked. “I am too tired to think straight right now.”
“That much is patently obvious, Virginie.”
In spite of determining to up bright and early, Gini overslept and only her mother was in the kitchen clearing away the breakfast dishes when Gini made her appearance the following morning..
“Maman! I am late! Why didn’t you waken me? I need to get to my shop to tidy everything up before we open.”
“Bonjour, Virginie. Yes, it is a nice day,” her mother replied pointedly.
Gini had the grace to blush slightly.
“I am sorry. Bonjour, maman.”
She leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“I have no time for breakfast. I must see Louise and Simone and decide who is doing what.”
“Sit down and eat your breakfast,” Marie said sternly. “Simone has gone to the shop and Louise is in the sewing-room. Everything doesn’t stop working just because you decide to get yourself arrested for interfering in police matters! I will die of shame if any whisper of it gets out. My only daughter in a police cell!”
“It was an interview-room, not a cell and it was all about nothing! I admit I was foolish. Now can we please forget it? I have loads to do.”
For the time being, that was the end of it, though Gini knew she would never be allowed to forget it, especially if Luc heard what had happened.
Since she had left her car in the car park at St. Trojan, Christi drove her to the shop, where she found Simone had already removed all evidence of the previous night’s disturbance.
“Inspector Tessier came earlier. He said they have finished here. Did they catch the villains?”
“Yes. So now we can concentrate on getting back to business.”
And they did. In the next few days, Gini completed Madame Ridureau’s wedding outfit and summer dress and got on well with the two outfits for a younger woman. She had to force herself to keep enthusiastic.
The surfers had moved on to the Southwest of France, where the next competition would be held in a couple of weeks’ time. Gini wondered if that would be where Hugo would next be found.
She sighed.
They had spent some lovely times together and it now looked as though it might be over, even though he had said he would come back. Her heart felt in turmoil. One minute hopeful. The next in despair.
A week dragged by. On Saturday evening, both Simone and Louise had dates and they left earlier, leaving Gini alone at the shop. In between attending to late customers, she had done some hand-sewing on a few garments and was about to close the shop when the musical wind-chimes above the bamboo curtain signalled another late customer.
She looked up to smile a welcome but the smile froze on her face.
“Hugo!”
He looked so different! His long hair had gone, leaving what was left curling around his neck and ears. He was dressed in tailored knee-length shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt.
“Am I welcome?”
His face betrayed some anxiety, though the corners of his eyes revealed that a smile was not far away.
Gini’s heart leapt. Her mouth felt dry and her heart was beating swiftly. She had wondered how she would feel if and when he returned and had tried to prepare herself for that eventuality. But all preparation fled.
“Of course!”
She was already half way across the room towards him and he swung her up into his arms, high above his head, laughing up into her still-incredulous gaze.
His smile faded and he slowly set her back on her feet, his eyes never leaving her face. Never had anyone looked at her with such tenderness. Her breath caught in her throat. Only then did she realise how much she had missed him; how much she had dreaded him having gone forever.
He drew her towards him.
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Gini melted under his touch. She felt the warmth of his hand as it slid beneath her long silky hair. Trembling, she was drawn towards him, her hands rising as if they had a mind of their own until they were resting against his chest.
She closed her eyes, revelling in the dizzy sensation as his lips explored hers. The ground seemed to slip away from beneath her feet. It was as if the sun had suddenly moved into her shop and was dazzling her with its brilliant light. She was sure she had stopped breathing—but her heart was thudding so loudly in her chest, she knew that couldn’t be so. She felt as though she were on fire.
All too soon it seemed, he raised his head and they drew apart. There were questions to ask and answers to hear—but her heart was singing. It was going to be all right. She knew it was.
“Where have you been?”
Her lips were still tingling. She longed to renew their kiss but she would have to wait for that.
Hugo reached towards her, touching her face gently.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to be secretive, but I also didn’t want to raise your hopes if I couldn’t fulfil what I wanted to do.”
Gini shook her head.
“You’re talking in riddles. I don’t understand.”
Hugo smiled.
“I have been to Paris, to La Maison de Paris. You have been cleared of cheating! A letter is in the post but I wanted to tell you myself. So I dashed down here today. I was afraid I might have missed you and I’m not really sure where you live.”
Gini was no longer listening. Her knees had gone weak and she sank onto a stool. Her face was a picture of amazed disbelief.
“But how? I mean…”
She spread her hands helplessly, still shaking her head. “How …?”
Hugo took hold of both her hands.
“I didn’t tell you very much about myself. When I met you, you had been cheated by that man you thought you could trust and I gathered that the last thing you wanted was to befriend someone who might appear to be anything similar. I am studying to be a lawyer. I’ll be in my final year when I go back in October. You seemed to assume I was a full-time beach-bum and I let you go on thinking that. I intended to tell you but every time I nearly said something, you seemed to pull back and I didn’t want to lose you. If you needed space, then I was willing to give it to you.”
Gini nodded. She knew how furious she had been and had told him that she blamed all men, but she was still puzzled.
“But that doesn’t explain about how you’ve cleared my name. What did you do?”
“Ah!”
Hugo pulled up another stool and perched on the edge of it.
“Another thing I didn’t tell you is that my father runs an investigation bureau. He wanted me to join him in it when I qualify but I want to make my own way in life. However, I went cap-in-hand to him and explained your problem. I’d noted down all you told me about it and I asked him to help me find out what had happened.”
“And did he?”
“Yes. He took me on as a temporary investigator in order to give me the necessary credentials and he told me where to start and what to look out for. When I discovered the name of the other designer, the one whose designs you were supposed to have copied, and who she worked for, I knew I was on to it.”
Gini could barely constrain her curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“Her name is Corinne Lacroix and she works for … guess who?”
Gini shook her head.
“I’ve no idea.”
“Gabrielle Cachart, the friend of Vincent Depretine!”
As the meaning of what he was saying sank in, Gini’s face lightened with understanding.
“She saw my portfolio while Gabrielle had it and copied my designs! Did she admit it?”
“Not at first, especially as she was in line to win the competition! But then we involved Gabrielle. Gabrielle knew she had had access to your portfolio and when I threatened to have it tested for finger-prints the stupid girl said she’d wiped them off! So, that was it! You’re cleared!”
He rose from the stool and drew Gini into his arms. She leaned against him, thankful to have him back once more. Thinking of how she had nearly lost her trust of him, she raised her head.
“Did you never have any doubts about me?” she couldn’t help asking.
Hugo shrugged.
“Not really. I knew it wouldn’t have been deliberate cheating but at times, I did wonder whether or not the two of you had both seen something similar and had unwittingly taken the idea in the same direction as each other. She tried to suggest it at one point but I knew then, that she was wavering and I pressed on.”
He kissed her lips.
“Did you think I had run out on you? I knew I was taking a chance on you thinking that but I hoped to be back before you’d had time to go off me completely!”
He drew the back of his finger nail down the side of her cheek and across her lips. His eyes were twinkling.
“Am I back in time?”
Gini decided to be honest.
“I did have niggling doubts but I didn’t want to believe them! And it was about more than you running off.”
She quickly told him about the discovery of the drugs and how it was just before he disappeared.
“I knew it wasn’t you but I also knew I’d been wrong before ... about Vincent Depretine. But, even though I had to make sure, I knew deep in my heart that you weren’t involved!”
Hugo kissed the tip of her nose.
“I’ll forgive you” he said, smiling. “I hadn’t been entirely honest about myself. But now we can begin to get to know each other better, if you want to, that is.”
Gini laughed happily.
“Yes, I do want to. And if I win the competition, I may be living in Paris for another year before starting up again here next summer. Would you like to live on the island, do you think?” she asked shyly.
Hugo nodded.
“It’s the most wonderful place on earth. And if you persist in interrupting police-work, I think you will need a good lawyer on hand.”
Any reply Gini might have made was prevented by his lips claiming hers once more … and Gini didn’t mind in the least.
The End
A Heart Divided By War
(Book 3 in The Domaine St. Clare series)
by
Karen Abbott
Chapter 1
When Corporal Francine Devreux was summoned to appear before her commanding officer at the HQ behind the Allied lines, her mind ran swiftly over the previous twenty-four hours, wondering what sin she had committed to merit the summons.
She could think of nothing.
It was springtime of 1944 and the lives of millions of people had been turned upside down by the war that had swept across Europe during the past years and spilled over onto other continents. The war wasn’t over yet … but a confidence was growing among the allied armies that the end was in sight!
The depth of understanding in her commander’s expression as she entered the room simultaneously both comforted and alarmed Francine. It wasn’t going to be a rollicking—so what was it? Sudden panic! Surely not her family!
Her mind flickered quickly over them, dreading that anything had happened to any of them ... her maman, her papa. When had she last heard from them? A few weeks. Anything could have happened!
“Corporal?”
Francine pulled her mind together and focussed her gaze on her commander.
“You have been commended for a ‘bravery-in-action’ medal, Corporal Devreux,” Commander Tranter said with a smile. “It is for your recognising the need for immediate action when the sergeant in charge of your platoon was killed; and for deploying the rest of the platoon effectively whilst under fire. Your actions showed clarity of thinking under stressful conditions, coolness of mind and an ability to take command.”
“Oh!”
Francine reddened slightly, a few chestnut curls choosing that moment to spring from the c
onfines of her regulation cap and dance around her face.
“Ze ’ole unit deserves ze commendation, ma’am,” Francine said quietly, her dropped ‘h’ and inability to pronounce the ‘th’ sound betraying her French nationality.
“Maybe so, but you were the one who took action and brought everything under control. In consequence of which, I now have the pleasure of promoting you to the rank of sergeant. Congratulations, Sergeant Devreux!”
Francine took hold of her extended hand in a daze, her thoughts whirling. Far from a ‘rollicking’ or bad news, it was a commendation and her sergeant’s stripes all in one day! Wow!
“Thirdly, Sergeant Devreux, I now offer you your honourable discharge from the army.”
Francine’s mind did a double take. Had she misheard? Honourable discharge? Surely not? She must have mis-heard.
“Pardon, ma’am?”
Commander Tranter repeated her words, a flicker of amusement in her eyes as she took note of Francine’s confusion.
Francine frowned. It didn’t make sense. The army wasn’t in the habit of discharging promising personnel, especially after just having promoted them!
“I … I don’t understand, ma’am.”
“Stand easy, Sergeant Devreux.”
Francine did so, still trying to make sense of the words her commanding officer had spoken so calmly; words that were about to turn her life upside down. Her eyes, the colour of dark honey, now sported bright highlights as the information so far given had penetrated into her agile brain. There was more to come, she was sure. Something exciting was afoot!
She was right.
Her commander continued briskly, “As you know, Sergeant, the Allied armies have been moving forward through France after the successful landings in Normandy in June. Paris has been liberated but the German army refuses to surrender.”
Commander Tranter paused and seemed to weigh her words before she continued in a softer tone. “The ‘powers-that-be’ have realised that a specific area of occupied France, Ile d’Olèron, to be exact, must be liberated before we can consolidate our gain.”
Francine’s hear began to beat faster. That was her home place. Her beloved island.