by Pirate Irwin
*
Lafarge drove himself out to Oradour–sur–Glane, quite a pretty little village near Limoges, where he was then to be met by Aimée and given a lead to the farm house.
He settled himself at a café and ordered a pastis, and brooded over the conversation with Bousquet which had gone as badly as he had predicted but he didn’t feel any the worse for it. Bousquet could interpret the phone call with Gerland in the worst possible sense but it wouldn’t get him very far.
Lafarge had drawn up divorce papers after his conversation with Bousquet, backdated of course. He had then driven over to Gerland’s who he had found at home, sitting out in his garden, and whose gratitude for being forewarned over the attack made him into a willing accomplice in the deceit.
The papers of course were only to be used in the event that Bousquet questioned Lafarge’s role in the leaking of the information. Gerland promised Lafarge he would draw up legal documents, also backdated, and that there could be no argument about their authenticity and thereby their phone conversation.
Lafarge had thanked him and then asked whether de Chastelain had been in touch, whilst revealing to Gerland that he had seen him and told him to make his way to the lawyer’s house. They could then put into action their plan while assuring him that he would not fall into Bousquet’s hands.
Gerland told him yes he had and he would be there the next day. Lafarge said good and told him he would be back at his desk early afternoon, and to call him.
Thus he now sat at the café and looked on as the local folk took their midday strolls with their children. Some stopped at the café to enjoy their pre–prandial aperitif, usually on seeing a friend that became plural indeed several, and he started to wind down and look forward to his hostess’s arrival.
He was on his third pastis by the time Aimée showed up, some newly–acquired goods in the wicker basket on her arm. She looked stunning, even without too much make–up, enhanced by the simple blue gingham dress she was wearing which was not so conservatively cut that it blinded one to her fine bosom.
He downed his pastis, after she declined his offer of a drink, and he indicated where his car was as she said her brother had dropped her at the village but had returned home. The drive was only a short one, 10 minutes down winding peaceful tree–lined lanes, a wonderful contrast to the grimy buildings and noise of the urban neighbourhoods he had become so used to.
They chatted away gaily, without touching on anything to do with his work, while he asked about any sign of her returning to Paris, to which she replied there was no set date but Guitry was keen for her to return soon. For sex or for professional reasons mused Lafarge as Guitry’s libido was almost a match for his ego, though nothing beat the size of that.
Their chattering almost made her forget to tell him to turn into the driveway of the farm house. Fortunately, he was adept at making awkward sharp turns from his times in pursuing criminals through the streets of Paris. The drive snaked along for about half a mile, passing, contrary to what Aimee had told him, well–stocked fields, 20–30 cattle and a flock of sheep munching on fertile enough looking pasture.
As they drew into the yard at the back of the farm house, which was a well–kept three storey grey stone building, chickens and ducks and geese scattered. Certainly no hunger rations here, thought Lafarge, already looking forward keenly to lunch.
As if reading his thoughts Aimée laughed.
“Yes, Gaston, there is no danger of famine here. One of the joys of leaving Paris is there are no long queues for shops that rarely have anything in them. Here everything, almost, is just outside our front door, or rather back door,” she said grinning.
While they were getting the shopping out of the back of the car, Bernard and Lisette both emerged from the house, greeting him warmly.
After dumping the cheese and other food in the large kitchen, Bernard suggested, as it was a warm sunny day, to have a drink on their terrace which looked out over a neat and well–kept large garden.
Aside from his soft hands, Bernard was an impressively built man, about six foot in height with black hair, steely grey eyes, broad shoulders and no belly on him.
Lisette, Lafarge wanted to say, was coquette but reproached himself and said less of the humour. She was cute looking, of average height, brown straight hair, grey eyes as well, a longish upturned nose, full lips, large bosom and shapely legs. They were both friendly, quite witty but careful in their language and topic of conversation noted Lafarge.
He didn’t know whether that was because they thought he preferred not to have questions asked of his work or whether they were on their guard over their own political affiliations and loyalties. In any case there was enough superficial chat to be had that such questions disappeared to the back of his mind for the moment.
Aimée was very attentive to him, almost as if they were husband and wife or lovers, of which they were neither, but even so he enjoyed that enormously, not having been used to such undivided and affectionate attention for so long.
It being so warm they decided they would eat lunch outside and so both Lisette and Aimée repaired to the kitchen, leaving the two men alone.
The amiable atmosphere continued as they discussed their families, Bernard offering the information that his and Aimée’s parents had gone to live out the war in Switzerland while he had been left to look after the farm and Aimée could pursue her love of dramatics in Paris.
“They wanted to leave this behind? I would have thought this would be an idyllic place to see out the war,” said Lafarge, incredulous that anyone would wish to leave such a spot where the war appeared to be in another world.
“Well, they are ageing and things might be ok here for the moment, but they are old enough to remember firsthand the two previous visits by the Germans and a third time was just too much,” said Bernard.
Lafarge nodded, empathizing with what must have been for people of their generation too much to endure the horror and the shame for a third time.
“I know you are a policeman, so I do not wish to be impolite or impolitic but they just couldn’t bear the humiliation of France collaborating with the invaders. The Huns or Boches, as my father gleefully taunted them with when they sequestered his house in Neuilly,” said Bernard bitterly to which Lafarge could sympathise at the loss of their house in one of the smartest suburbs of Paris.
“Luckily for him, the German officer who took over the house, rent free of course, was a cultured and almost one would say humane man. He issued the passes for my parents to leave the country, on condition of course that they were not to return.”
“I understand their sentiments, I can’t of course sympathise with them, but they are not alone in the way they feel,” said Lafarge, wishing not to go any further lest he compromise himself.
Bernard smiled and poured himself and Lafarge another glass of passable red wine. Lafarge had brought three very fine bottles that he had procured from the brasserie owner, at double the price but still worth it, and had set them aside for lunch.
Lunch was duly brought forth by Lisette and Aimée and Lafarge was not to be disappointed.
They tucked into a duck terrine followed by a gigot d’agneau and flageolets with mashed potato and a salad and cheese followed by a chocolate mousse made with real chocolate and not the ersatz stuff one got in Paris if one was lucky enough to find any at all.
Lunch was conducted to the background of the noise of the sheep and lowing of the cows, a gentle breeze cooling the hot afternoon temperature. The conversation remained lively and not stilted, based largely round tales of the family of Aimée and Bernard and the fun days they had had down on the farm.
Lafarge remarked that little was asked of his family and their background or where they were, which he found slightly suspicious. However, he surmised perhaps with their parents not with them anymore, they just wanted to remember the good and happy days when they were all together.
Lisette’s, it turned out, were living in Toulouse, her father was a banker but
had resigned when his largely Jewish clientele started being victimized and persecuted.
He and his wife had thought of leaving France too but with a lovely chateau down in the Toulouse area, they had opted to stay and felt that they were safe despite his public protests over the maltreatment of the Jewish clients and the theft by the state of their funds.
With the evening drawing in and the lunch cleared, Aimée asked Lafarge if he would like to go for a walk. He accepted willingly and accompanied by a black Labrador, they strolled arm in arm down into the wood that bordered the garden and the rest of the property.
They progressed through the wood, mainly oak and elm trees and alighted upon a little lake.
Aimée produced a bottle of champagne from the basket which she rarely seemed to be without.
She also laid out a rug and having shooed away the Labrador so that he moodily prowled round the edge of the lake, they lay on it and drank from two flutes.
She told him how much Bernard and Lisette had taken to him, he replied it was mutual, and apologized for the conversation having been so dominated by their family and their nostalgic stories.
He said it didn’t matter and that in any case, describing his family would be best done to a psychiatrist rather than three normal rational human beings.
“I guess generations before us were just the same, I mean my parents probably lay in this spot discussing happier times during the Great War, although they were already married and had us to worry about,” said Aimée sadly.
“I guess so, and now their daughter is doing it but with a married man, and a policeman to boot, employed by the invading Boches,” said Lafarge smiling.
Aimée shot a glance at him and Lafarge did not hesitate this time, pushing himself up off his elbows and taking her head in his hands and kissed her passionately, Aimee offered no resistance and kissed him as vigorously.
A couple of hours later, after as passionate a session of making love as he had ever experienced even with Isabella, and then a quick swim, they made their way back to the house with the Labrador ambling along in front of them.
There was no regret from either party, Lafarge did not feel the slightest pang of guilt for, for him, Isabella no matter how much he loved her was far away looking after his and her future, the children. For Aimée it was a blissful moment before she had to return to the challenge of life in Paris and fighting for a role, one that sometimes necessitated such acts but without the feeling.
Dusk was falling as they walked up to the house where they could make out Bernard standing on the terrace illuminated by the lights on inside.
“We thought we’d lost you both! Or that you had been arrested, Aimée,” joshed Bernard as he moved aside so they could enter the house.
They both laughed and waved their fingers at him. On entering the drawing room they were greeted by a smiling Lisette and a table covered in canapés and four champagne flûtes. Bernard popped the cork and they sat around before dinner was served.
Everything was as sweet and harmonious as it had been until Lafarge returned to the table after excusing himself for a quick bathroom break.
In fact, he hadn’t taken one at all but instead, suspicious of this Utopian atmosphere, he thought a spot of eavesdropping might either assuage his suspicions or confirm them. It was to be the latter.
“Christ sake, Aimée, I’m getting weary of all this pussyfooting around. I am nervous he is going to rumble us soon,” said Bernard, his tone a long way from the amiable and equable one he had employed through the day.
“Yes, you’ve got to get rid of him tonight. We’ve got to go out and we don’t want him around because he might follow us or worse, pretend nothing has happened and then once he returns to Limoges, alert his colleagues,” interjected Lisette, her tone nervous.
“Look, calm down both of you. He’s fine, he’s different to the majority of them. I wouldn’t have risked bringing him here if I thought he would cause us trouble. Besides he’s staying and I will keep him occupied,” said Aimee.
“Why do you trust him Aimee? You hardly know him for heaven's sake. Of course he is very charming and good company, far more so than any of the ones I have met, but it could all be an act, a ruse, so he snares us,” said Bernard.
“Look Bernard, I wouldn't do anything to endanger you or Lisette, and I vouch for Gaston. I really feel he would rather be on our side than the one he works for. I haven't felt like this about a man since the death of Eric. I assure you I will ensure he doesn't stray from the house tonight,” said Aimee her tone emphatic.
“Alright Aimme your instinct is usually correct so I will give in to you. However, you better make sure he stays in the house, because if he does cause us any grief then I am afraid we will have to act, regardless of the potential consequences,” said Bernard.
“Okay, okay, leave him to me. There’ll be no trouble I promise you,” insisted Aimée.
Lafarge pushed the door open to the dining room and they all resumed their previous sweetness and light expressions. He had decided to take another course of action to ruffle a few feathers and they weren’t those of the birds outside in the yard.
“Forgive me, Bernard, but with my policeman’s instinct I noticed your hands are very soft, too much so for daily chores on the farm. I was wondering who you got to do all the work. I mean coming from Neuilly as you did, farm labour wouldn’t have come naturally to you or to Lisette,” said Lafarge, his tone cordial.
Bernard didn’t let his mask slip one instant, nor for that matter, as Lafarge noticed, did Lisette. As for Aimée, she was opposite him but he was more interested in his hosts’ reactions.
“Well, you are right Gaston, and I raise my glass to you for your powers of observation. No, neither myself or Lisette would be naturals at tilling the land or milking a cow, so we have several more experienced hands to help us out and for that they get the reward of being regularly fed,” said Bernard.
“It also stops the buggers from poaching as we look after them,” he added smiling.
“Quite, quite. That is a sensible strategy, but what about the more lawless elements that are quite prevalent in the region, like the resistance fighters? They must be fed and I imagine with the severe penalties in place for doing so, you run the risk of being regularly pillaged,” said Lafarge.
“Oh they, if they are near here, haven’t troubled us and I haven’t heard of any such incidents. I’m sure they have their own resources, hunting in the woods or fishing,” he replied evenly.
“If they’re good enough to cause the local police trouble, then they are more than capable of getting the better of some animal.
“Besides, perhaps some of them are farmers too!” he added chortling at his own joke.
Lafarge laughed along with him, thinking he is a cool customer indeed, and wondered exactly what was his and Lisette’s game.
He wondered too whether all the stories about their respective families were true and even if Aimée and he were siblings. It was all rather confusing but also becoming clearer if that were possible.
“Anyway Gaston, at least few people if any go hungry round here, not like in Paris where starvation is never far away.
“Even before I left Paris, there were queues lining the pavements to the butcher and the baker for the smallest slice of bread, or morsel of meat which was usually gristle. You of course wouldn’t have to suffer such indignities and deprivations, being a member of the collaborationist establishment,” said Lisette in a sudden vitriolic outburst that caught all by surprise.
“Lisette please, don’t be rude to our guest. He is not responsible for the food shortages or for the policies, he acts for those that are, but then many reasonable people do,” said Bernard, admonishing his wife.
“I’m very sorry Gaston, Lisette tends to get quite emotional like her father did and she has these occasional losses of temper,” said Aimée.
Lafarge laughed it off and got to his feet and by way of easing the atmosphere, picked up one of his bo
ttles from the elegant oak table which was situated against the far wall.
They sat round drinking it, Lafarge even started to tell them tales of police cock ups, from before the war of course, and by the time he came to bid them farewell, he was told to sit himself back down and Bernard suggested they round off the evening with a bottle of cognac.
Thus it was seemingly four rather drunk but happy people who rose to their feet near midnight and made their way to their two bedrooms, Aimée having insisted that Lafarge should stay, to which he put up little resistance.
What he hoped no–one had noticed was that while they had been throwing back the cognac, he had been sipping his and pouring the rest into a potted plant just beside him.
He had to remain sober for what was to come for the rest of the night, the pleasure that lay ahead in the bed and for the more serious business that lay outside the house.
*
Lafarge rose from the bed a couple of hours later. Aimée was sound asleep, the concoction of drink, sex and conversation had weakened her resistance and she had drifted off around 20 minutes before.
Lafarge, not exactly too far from lapsing into the arms of Morpheus’s warm embrace either, had stirred himself when he heard the floorboards outside the bedroom creaking as someone or perhaps people made their way down the corridor and to the stairs.
He threw some clothes on and with his shoes in his hand crept to the door and as silently as possible opened it. He was met by complete darkness but he heard clearly enough stepfalls on the stairs.
He waited until they had reached the bottom and then he furtively crept along the corridor, something he was increasingly getting used to over the past few days in Limoges and its environs.
He had enjoyed his previous forays into corridor creeping.
But that had been years ago when he had stayed at girlfriends’ houses and despite every possible barrier being put in front of him, by suspicious parents, he had risen to the challenge almost every time and successfully reached his target’s bedroom.
That was until he had upset his hosts and been cast out into the night, fortunate to have his clothes with him but with no money and had to walk back across Paris in a sorry and dejected state feeling humiliated.