by Janet Tanner
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Guy, you have a hundred and one things to do. Go and ride your tricyde in the yard. It’s a lovely day – the fresh air will do you good.’
She buttoned him into his coat and got out his tricyde, relieved momentarily at the prospect of at least being able to worry uninterrupted, then thinking anxiously that perhaps she should have kept him indoors so there was no danger of him seeing Paul and Christian return … when they returned … if they returned …
She watched the window, she watched the clock, she sat down, she stood up, she paced from room to room. Something had gone wrong. It must have. They should have been back by now.
Lunchtime was approaching and there was every chance that Charles and Guillaume would come home for something to eat. Her anxiety began to turn to panic.
And then, just when she was almost beside herself, she saw Christian’s car coming up the drive. All her instincts were to run and meet them but she knew that what she must do was make sure Guy and Bridget were out of the way.
She ran to the courtyard, scooped up Guy and called to Bridget.
‘Could you come in here for a moment? I’m sure I saw a mouse behind the grand piano! Come and help me see if we can catch him.’
‘I’ll set a trap,’ said Bridget, who was not keen on the idea of a mouse scuttling around her feet, but when Kathryn insisted, she came anyway and Kathryn kept her there until she heard footsteps in the passage and on the stairs. The door opened and Christian came in.
‘What’s going on here?’ His tone was jovial, and his exhilarated expression told Kathryn that all was well.
‘A mouse,’ she said ‘At least, I thought so. I must have been mistaken. We’ll set a trap like you said, Bridget. See to it, will you?
She followed Christian back into the passage. Bridget, relieved but grumbling, returned to the kitchen, leaving an eager Guy still hoping he might catch the mouse.
‘Well?’ she questioned Christian with her eyes.
‘All passed off without incident. Paul has gone up to his room to rest Go up if you like. I have to get back to the distillery.’
Her feet new up the stairs. Paul was sitting on the bed, his arm bound with a bulky bandage completely covered by a voluminous fisherman’s sweater. He was still pale but he managed to smile at her.
She ran to him, relief of tension removing the last barriers of reticence, and put her arms around him.
‘Oh Paul, I was so afraid I’d never see you again!’ she said.
For the moment nothing else in the world mattered.
Kathryn was having lunch with Guy and Bridget in the kitchen when Charles came home. She looked up as the door opened and knew at once that something was wrong. His face had the sort of hang dog expression he wore when he was worried and Guillaume was not with him.
‘I must talk to you,’ he said with a sidelong glance at Guy, indicating that whatever it was he wanted to say, he did not want it to be in his son’s presence.
Kathryn’s heart came into her mouth.
‘Don’t you want something to eat?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not hungry. I’ll be in the salon.’
‘I didn’t do lessons today, Papa!’ Guy said. ‘Monsieur Curtis wasn’t very well.’
‘Never mind, there’s another day tomorrow.’ Charles ruffled Guy’s hair absently as he passed his chair.
Kathryn put down her soup spoon.
‘Finish your lunch, Guy. I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Aren’t you hungry either, Mummy?’
‘No, not really. Now do as you’re told, there’s a good boy.’
She went through into the salon. Charles was standing by the window, hands thrust into pockets, looking out across the gardens. He turned as he heard her come in.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘There was an … incident … last night. Two German soldiers were shot in a field not very far from here. Von Rheinhardt came to the distillery. There is a big inquiry going on, naturally. Von Rheinhardt wanted to know if we knew anything about it.’
‘You told him we didn’t, of course.’ Kathryn was very cold; she twisted her hands together to keep them from shaking.
‘Of course. But he won’t let matters rest there.’
‘Who do you think could have done such a thing?’
‘I don’t know. I thought everyone round here had more sense than to get involved in something like this. That’s what I told von Rheinhardt too, but of course he’s not satisfied. There is going to be hell to pay if he doesn’t find the person responsible.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh Kathryn, do I have to spell it out? They’ll take hostages, I shouldn’t wonder. This is just the kind of trouble we have been at pains to avoid. And that’s not all. A plane was seen, flying very low. They think someone or something may have been dropped in last night.’
‘A plane. Yes, I heard it.’ He glanced at her in surprise and she felt guilty colour rise in her cheeks. ‘I couldn’t sleep, it never occurred to me though … They think it might have been an agent?’
‘An agent or ammunition and supplies for someone already operating round here somewhere, yes. It might not have been, of course. There were no reports of anyone seeing it land or parachutes or anything of that kind. It could merely have been reconnaissance. But whether it was or was not, the fact remains that someone shot two Germans. And the people round here – our people – will have to pay for it.’
‘Can’t you persuade von Rheinhardt that it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the villagers?’ she asked.
‘I did try. To be honest he was in no mood to listen.’
‘Hmm. So much for your friendship,’ Kathryn said bitterly.
Charles’ eyes narrowed. He looked, momentarily, as he might have done if she had struck him, and in spite of herself Kathryn felt a little ashamed of twisting the knife when he was so clearly worried.
‘He is not my friend,’ Charles said, his voice low and angry. ‘ I hate the Germans being here as much as you do. It’s my homeland that’s being raped, remember.’
‘Not so much raped as lying down and begging for it!’ She knew she shouldn’t say it but she could not help herself. ‘Oh, I know we shall pay for it, but at least whoever shot those Germans was putting up some kind of a fight.’
Charles sighed.
‘You won’t see, Katrine, will you, the futility of that sort of gesture? Killing two men out of thousands won’t do anything to change the situation and it may result in the deaths of innocent people. I wonder if you will still feel as bullish if you have to watch them tie up two poor villagers in front of a firing squad? Now, I am going back to the distillery, but I thought I should let you know what had happened in case von Rheinhardt comes here. I wanted you to be prepared.’
‘Very well, I’m prepared.’ But he had shocked her with his talk of villagers being shot in retaliation. The very thought made her stomach turn over.
‘Was Christian at the distillery when von Rheinhardt came?’ she asked suddenly as he crossed to the door.
‘Yes. Why do you ask?’ He fixed her with one of his penetrating looks.
‘I thought I heard him at home during the morning, that’s all.’ She knew she should not have drawn attention to Christian but she needed to know if he too had been warned.
‘I’ll see you this evening. We may have von Rheinhardt as a dinner guest. We invited him in the hope we can talk him out of reprisals. He wouldn’t commit himself, of course – with all this going on he may be too busy. But perhaps you could warn Bridget we may be one extra.’
‘I’ll tell her.’ She was shaking again at the prospect of Paul, with his injured arm, and von Rheinhardt under the same roof.
She went back to the kitchen. Guy had finished his soup and was helping Bridget with the dishes, wiping up plates and cutlery with exaggerated care. Kathryn’s heart lurched. He was such an adorable little boy,
sometimes so serious, sometimes brimming over with high spirits, and in his jersey and shorts he looked wholesome and innocent. Her every instinct was to scoop him up in her arms, protecting him as best she could from all the dangers that threatened him and taking comfort herself from the feel of his firm little body close to hers. But she did not want to frighten him.
‘If you like we could have a game of ludo,’ she offered.
‘Oh yes! Yes please!’
‘Go and get it then.’
His interest in the drying-up forgotten, Guy dropped the cloth and ran off. Left alone with Bridget, Kathryn told her as briefly as possible what had happened and also informed her that von Rheinhardt might make an extra one at dinner.
‘That man – I don’t like him!’ Bridget said, then clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not my place.’
‘It’s all right, Bridget, I don’t like him either. But the Baron and Monsieur Charles think it’s best we don’t show it.’
‘He frightens me,’ Bridget went on. ‘Oh, I know he is very generous but he has the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen. When I see him playing with Guy I want to snatch the child and run away with him.’
‘I know. I feel just the same. But we must be strong.’ Kathryn could hear Guy coming back. ‘ Will you entertain Guy for just a few minutes? I want to take some of this soup up to Monsieur Curtis. He hasn’t been well this morning.’
Bridget’s eyes sharpened.
‘I’ll take it if you like.’
‘No, it’s all right. You go on with what you are doing,’ Kathryn said quickly. Guy came running in, clutching the board and a bag containing dice and counters. ‘Get it all ready, Guy. I’ll be back in a minute,’ she told him.
There was no reply at first when she tapped on Paul’s door. Anxiously she turned the handle, half expecting a recurrence of this morning’s drama, but the door opened without hindrance. Paul was lying on the bed, dozing.
‘Ah – lunch!’ he said with an attempt at a smile.
‘Yes. It’s only parsnip soup, I’m afraid.’
‘It smells very good. And I must say I’m hungry.’
She set down the tray on his knees.
‘They have found the Germans.’
‘Well, yes, they were bound to, weren’t they? I’m only surprised we didn’t meet road blocks and God knows what this morning.’
‘Charles thinks there might be reprisals. He’s invited von Rheinhardt to dinner tonight to try and appease him. You’d better stay here out of the way.’
Paul thought for a moment, then shook his head.
‘No. No, I can’t do that. He’d think it very odd if I didn’t show up.’
‘But your arm …’
‘We’ll put it in a sling and say I’ve sprained my wrist. From what you say they are looking for someone who was dropped in last night. I’ve been here long enough now to be part of the scenery – as long as we’re careful.’
‘It’s terribly risky …’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. But there really is no alternative. We just have to be bold, bluff it out. Charles doesn’t suspect anything, does he?’
‘I don’t think so …’ She broke off, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘But why did he come home especially to warn me? Oh my God, do you think he might …?’
‘You’re the best judge of that. What would he do if he did suspect?’
‘I honestly don’t know. But I think he might turn you over to the Germans to try to avoid them taking hostages.’
‘I suppose,’ he said slowly, ‘you think I should turn myself in for the same reason.’
‘No!’ she said sharply.
‘Yes you do. I can see it in your eyes. If I thought it would do any good I’d do just that. But I’m not sure it would and it would be bound to bring suspicion on you. If Charles betrayed me that would be different. You could pretend you had been taken in by me just like the others.’
‘I couldn’t!’ Tears were pricking her eyes, lack of sleep and the stress of all that had happened weighing heavily on her. ‘I honestly don’t think I could do that!’
‘Yes you could. You’d have to. Oh sweetheart, don’t cry …’
The endearment slipped out quite unintentionally and he reached for her hand, pulling her towards him. He had intended only to comfort her but as his fingers closed over hers he experienced a powerful wave of emotion. Christ, but he wanted her! He shouldn’t, but he did. And the wanting was not only physical, either, but a potent mix of the desire to protect her and make her happy coupled with his own need of her. He held her, feeling the softness of her hair against his chin, smelling the faint sweet perfume which clung to it, knowing he was overstepping all the boundaries he had set himself and wondering if she knew it too.
Perhaps she did, for with abrupt suddenness she pulled away.
‘I’m sorry … I’m being stupid. The tray … you’ll spill your soup …’
‘Never mind the soup, it’s you I’m concerned about.’ The desire of a moment ago gave a hard edge to his voice. ‘ It’s not easy, I know, and I can’t in all honesty promise you it’s going to get any better. I’m afraid you’ll just have to be brave.’
‘I’m trying. I really am. But I’m so bloody scared! Oh hell, I don’t seem to have a handkerchief …’
‘Here, have mine.’ He pulled one from the voluminous sleeve covering his injured arm and gently wiped her eyes with it. ‘Better now?’
‘Yes. I must look a fright …’
Impossible, he thought. Aloud he said: ‘No you don’t. You look fine. You’d better go now or someone will wonder where you are.’
‘Yes, I’d better. Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be OK. But could you come back late afternoon and help me fix the sling when I’m getting ready for dinner?’
‘Of course. Though I’m still not sure it’s a good idea …’
‘Bluff, remember? Off you go now.’
The door closed after her and he laid his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and wondering what was the best way to deal with this turn of events. He should have got out, of course, as soon as he had realised he was beginning to have feelings for Kathryn, but he hadn’t got out. Circumstances had conspired against him and now it was too late. He cared for her more deeply than he had imagined he would ever care for anyone again. It was a reality he could not avoid; he would simply have to deal with it the best way he could.
Chapter Eleven
‘MUMMY – MUMMY – GIVE me your counter. Look – I won again!’
Guy tapped out the spaces to the centre of the board, laughing in delight. Three games in a row and he had won every one of them!
‘All right, Guy, I give in. You’re the champ,’ Kathryn said, laughing a little at his obvious pleasure and knowing that his triumph could be accounted for not only by luck but also by her own total inability to concentrate. ‘I think that’s enough for one afternoon, don’t you? Off you go and find something else to do.’
‘I’ll give you a game if you like, Guy,’ said Bridget, who had just finished preparing the vegetables for dinner. ‘ See if you can beat me too.’
Kathryn smiled at her and escaped gratefully. She did not think she could have played another game if her life had depended on it – and, she thought grimly, perhaps it did, since the ability to behave normally was an absolute necessity. It was also a charade that was difficult beyond belief – and not merely for the obvious reasons. Yes, she was still desperately worried about what was likely to happen, not only this evening but in the future too. Yes, she was terrified that Charles might be beginning to be suspicious of Guy’s tutor. And yes, she was sick with dread as to what von Rheinhardt might do in retaliation for the killing of two of his men. But in spite of all that, in spite of the nightmare that had closed in around her, she was also irrationally, singingly happy. It bubbled in a deep well somewhere inside her, that crazy feeling of anticipation, inexplicable even if everything had b
een normal, and given the present circumstances, quite ridiculous. But there was no denying it, and she knew that the reason for it was what was happening between her and Paul.
Crazy as it might seem, dangerous as it certainly was, she was falling in love. She had not experienced anything like it since she had first met Charles, and she had forgotten how potent an emotion it could be, like drinking a glass of her father-in-law’s fine brandy too quickly. Her head was spinning, she felt like a young girl again, and all the privations of the past year, all the resentment and helplessness, all the fears for the future, paled into insignificance beside it. She was falling in love. That was the reality. Upstairs was a man who had touched her heart in a way she had forgotten it could be touched. The wonder of it transcended everything else.
At five she went to his room. It was too early by far to be getting ready for dinner but she wanted to fix the sling before Charles returned from the distillery. She did not want to have to worry that he might wonder why she should be visiting Paul’s room, and in any case she could not wait another minute to see him again.
The château was quiet. Guy was in the kitchen, having his tea under the supervision of Bridget, who was preparing dinner. Kathryn knocked on Paul’s door, feeling shy suddenly.
‘Come in.’
The sound of his voice made a pulse beat deep within her. She opened the door.
He was standing by the bed and had obviously begun the process of getting himself ready for dinner. He had changed from the sweater and cords into a pair of dark trousers and a white shirt, the sleeve of which strained over his bandaged arm, and which was still open at the neck. His efforts – and the resultant pain – had made him pale again, but he smiled at her and she found herself marvelling at his resilience.
‘Hello.’
‘HelIo. How are you feeling?’
‘Don’t ask! I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know.’
Oh, I do! she thought. I want to know everything about you.
Aloud, she said: ‘I’ve brought this scarf. I can make a sling with it – if you’re sure you can go through with tonight.’
