The Eden Inheritance

by Janet Tanner

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  ‘And I love you. But now you have to get back before your husband wakes up and finds you missing.’

  ‘I know.’

  He helped her up, watched as she slipped on her kimono and fastened the tie around her waist. Then he kissed her once more, gently loosening her arms from about his neck when she seemed reluctant to release him.

  ‘Good night, my darling. Sleep well, and remember – you may be with him but you and I both know – you’re mine.’

  She nodded, her face rosy and rounded with satisfied love.

  In the doorway she looked back once more; he was standing there, still naked, in the moonlight. He looked young and strong and invincible, like a statue of a Greek god. She blew a kiss and left the room.

  Charies was still sleeping. He stirred slightly as she slipped into bed beside him. She turned her back on him, folding her arms around the body Paul had so lately loved and hid herself away in a world that held nothing but her dreams.

  Chapter Thirteen

  TWO DAYS, TWO wonderful stolen days, snatching what time they could to be together. It was all they might ever have and they both knew it.

  ‘The knowledge gave an edge of bittersweet poignancy to their lovemaking, the danger of discovery added a spice. In the afternoons whilst Guy played in the garden, watched over by Bridget, Kathryn went to Paul’s room and they made love with the curtains pulled against the bright sun, locked in a world of their own; at night when Charles was sleeping she crept away to where Paul lay waiting for her. On the second morning they took Guy for a walk in the burgeoning countryside, sharing his delight in the butterflies that flittered in the sunshine and the discovery of poppies, blazing scarlet in the fields of sprouting crops. They walked, not touching, yet the bond between them was so real it was as if they were joined by invisible strings, and when their eyes met Kathryn felt as if her body was melting, leaving her spirit free to reach out to his. Once when Guy ran on ahead Paul caught her in his arms, kissing her quickly, furtively, one eye on the small figure lost in the waist-high grass, and she laughed, revelling in the thrill that came from daring to risk the forbidden as well as the joy that came from loving and being loved in return.

  I feel young again, Kathryn thought. After the years of disillusion and dissatisfaction and the recent long, stressful months of the occupation it was an exhilarating feeling.

  But the brighter the sun the longer the shadows. At first, determined not to allow anything to spoil these predous days, Kathryn tried to ignore them as she might walk down a tunnel of sunlight never looking to left or right into the forest that bordered it. Yet it was there, all the same, on the periphery of her consdousness, and when the lovemaking was over, she found the courage to explore it willingly, for it was not only his body she wanted to know well but everything about him, everything that made him the person he was.

  In some ways those conversations brought them closer than any more physical union could. He told her about Gerie and his daughter, and his pain became her pain.

  ‘You must have loved them very much,’ she said softly, stroking the back of his hand with her fingers, wanting him to know she was there for him and would be as long as there was breath in her body.

  ‘I do love them still,’ he said. ‘ Just because they are dead I haven’t stopped loving them.’

  ‘Of course you haven’t.’

  ‘Everything we had, all the things we did together, nothing can take them away.’

  She felt a moment’s jealousy for a part of his life she could never share, a brief treacherous ache that this unknown woman, Gerie, had once been with Paul as she was now, only more so, because she had been his wife, and was instantly deeply ashamed. Just because she had never known love like this before did not mean he had to be an emotional virgin too. Loving Gerie had been one of the things that made him the man he was, losing her had brought him to France – and to Kathryn.

  ‘It must have been dreadful for you,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a pain that never goes away. But life goes on. What we can’t change we must accept and put to good use. I am determined to do what I can to make the Nazis pay for what happened to Gerie and Beatrice. That way, at least, I can make sure they did not die in vain.’

  ‘I think you are very brave.’ She twined her fingers in his.

  ‘No, I’m not. Bravery is doing something when you are afraid of the consequences but doing it all the same. I came to France not really caring what happened to me because I had nothing left to lose.’

  And now? she wanted to say. Don’t you have something now you would care about losing? But she did not. In spite of the closeness between them she did not feel she had the right. This thought cast yet another small shadow on her fragile happiness and she tried to thrust it to the back of her mind. These days, these moments, were too precious to spoil with negative emotions, with regrets about the past and fears for the future. Take them, enjoy them for what they are, and be grateful.

  But they slipped by, all the same, those precious days, with terrifying speed, the days became hours – hours she could count on the fingers of her hand.

  The night before he was due to leave she stayed as long as possible in his room, knowing that this was their last chance to be together – at least until his next mission had been completed.

  She still did not know what it was or precisely where he was going. She knew it would be pointless to ask – he would not tell her, for her own good as much as the good of the operation. But the not knowing made her feel trapped and helpless and there was one question she could ask.

  ‘How long will you be away?’

  ‘Two weeks – maybe three. If I was to turn up back here immediately after the job is done it would look too suspicious – someone might put two and two together and make four. Besides I need to do some co-ordinating in … one of my more far-flung kingdoms. I can’t get there very often, this gives me the opportunity. I can’t tell you more than that, Kathryn. Don’t ask me, please.’

  ‘I won’t. I’d make a good gangster’s moll, don’t you think? Very discreet, very loyal and … very willing.’ She said it lightly but there was a sickness inside her, a weight growing heavier by the second.

  He trailed a hand across her stomach.

  ‘You know very well what I think.’

  ‘No I don’t. Tell me.’

  ‘Kathryn – you are insatiable. Very well. I think you are beautiful and brave and loving. You also have a streak of deceitfulness.’

  ‘That’s not very nice!’ she said, peeved.

  ‘Perhaps not. It may, however, save your life.’

  ‘Oh Paul, I’m so frightened! For you, for me, for all of us …’

  He pulled her close, not offering any words of comfort but running his hands over her body in the way that could usually make her forget everything else. Now, however, it merely deepened her sense of foreboding. It was, she thought, as if he was committing every line, every curve, to memory, something to take with him in case they should never again be together in this very special way.

  ‘You’d better go now,’ he said suddenly. ‘We don’t want Charles waking up and finding you missing. At this stage that could be disastrous.’

  ‘For us, you mean?’

  ‘For what I have to do. Go now, there’s a good girl.’

  He had, she realised, ceased to be her lover and became once again the SOE agent, thinking only of his mission. It was, of course, the reason he was here, his whole reason, perhaps, for being. But it hurt her nonetheless and she felt that although he would not actually be leaving the château until the following morning he had left her already.

  It was, she thought, the loneliest moment of her life.

  ‘The Resistance is becoming very troublesome,’ von Rheinhardt said. ‘There was a huge explosion last night in an arms dump not far from here – in the next district, as a matter of fact. We are quite certain it was the work of saboteurs. They do not seem to realise
how futile such action is.’

  Kathryn glanced quickly at Christian, who was sitting across the table from her, but he was looking not at her but at von Rheinhardt, his good-looking features quite impassive, and she was grateful for it. A look between them might have been noticed, such indiscretions were unforgivably foolish, but she had simply been unable to control that quick instinctive reaction. The past week had been a nightmare of worrying and wondering without so much as the slightest indication of where Paul was or what he was doing, whether he was alive or dead even. She knew, of course, that it was no more than she could expect – Paul would never risk either them or this operation by trying to make contact – but that did not make it any easier. Now at least she knew – or thought she knew – what it was he had set out to do, and that it had been successful.

  ‘You didn’t catch whoever was responsible?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

  Von Rheinhardt glanced at her sharply and for a terrifying moment as his ice-cold blue eyes bored into hers she was quite certain he was seeing right through her.

  ‘No,’ he said after a moment. ‘ No, we didn’t. Our men gave chase, of course, and there was some shooting, but they got clean away. Heads will roll for such abominable security arrangements – the officer in charge of the arms dump is already under arrest. But the real fault, I think, lies in the fact that we have been treating you people too well. We have tried to be reasonable and this is all the thanks we get. It is time, I think, to show those who wish to resist the error of their ways.’

  ‘And how will you do that if you don’t know who is responsible?’ Christian asked. His tone was a little belligerent and von Rheinhardt’s mouth hardened.

  ‘What Christian means is – you have a problem punishing someone if they have escaped your net,’ Guillaume said quickly. ‘I am sure Christian accepts that the culprits deserve to be punished, don’t you, Christian?’

  ‘Of course,’ Christian agreed, but Kathryn knew what the attitude of subservience was costing him.

  ‘There is only one way to persuade renegades like that into line,’ von Rheinhardt said, cutting vigorously into a piece of pork. ‘That is to show them we will not stand for this kind of thing. It is certainly what I would do if anyone in my district were foolish enough to try anything of this sort.’

  ‘You mean …?’

  ‘Reprisals. Every time something of this kind occurred I would take a dozen hostages from the village closest to the outrage and have them shot. I think that would soon put a stop to such nonsense.’

  He said it almost totally without emotion, calmly eating his pork. Kathryn’s blood ran cold and she felt the shock run around the table, touching each and every one of them.

  ‘But those people might be totally innocent!’ Guillaume protested mildly. ‘The chances are they would be villagers who had done nothing wrong at all.’

  ‘Perhaps. It would be unfortunate for them, I agree. But I’ll guarantee that with such a threat hanging over them people would soon miraculously remember suspicious incidents they had chosen to forget and tongues would be loosened. I would get my saboteurs, I think – and if I didn’t, then the people of the village would know what to expect if such a thing happened again. It would, I think, make a very effective form of control.’

  Control by fear, Kathryn thought. That’s what this Nazi regime is all about.

  ‘Perhaps, my dear Baron, you will explain this once again to your own people when next you speak to them. It would give me no pleasure to have to arrange the deportation or execution of men, women and children from Savigny.’

  But you’d do it anyway, Kathryn thought. And I don’t believe you when you say you wouldn’t enjoy it – you most certainly would! Already, simply stating his intentions, von Rheinhardt had a salacious look about him.

  How could Guillaume continue to fraternise with such a man? All very well to pretend it was expedient – from what he had just said it was obvious that von Rheinhardt would not be swayed in the slightest from his purpose by any supposed friendship. He would go right on with running the district in whatever way he considered most appropriate, and if that meant taking lives or property then he would do it just the same, pretending regret but secretly enjoying every sadistic moment.

  Suddenly she could not bear to sit at the same table as him a moment longer. She felt nauseous and dizzy and her stomach was revolting against the food she had already eaten.

  ‘Please excuse me for a moment,’ she said, pushing back her chair and rising unsteadily to her feet.

  She fled to the bathroom and was violently sick.

  As she made her hasty exit Louise turned to Charles, a sharp, almost knowing look replacing her usual vacuous expression.

  ‘Is Kathryn all right, do you think? She looked very pale and she has hardly eaten a thing.’

  ‘I don’t know, Maman. She’s not herself these days.’

  ‘A very highly strung girl,’ Guillaume remarked, helping himself to more potatoes. ‘Spends too much time alone or with the child, if you ask me.’

  ‘And what else is she supposed to do?’ Christian demanded.

  ‘She could keep me company,’ Louise grumbled. ‘She has never been the wife I would have wished for you, if I am honest, Charles. I had always hoped that when you married I would gain another daughter. But Kathryn …’ she hesitated, her face becoming even more vixenish, ‘ why, she seems to spend more time with Guy’s tutor than she does with any of us. I’m surprised you allow it, Charles.’

  The familiar shut-in look darkened Charles’ features.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Maman, what are you suggesting?’ he demanded.

  ‘Nothing, nothing at all …’

  ‘Guy’s tutor. We do not have the pleasure of his company tonight,’ von Rheinhardt remarked casually, but his eyes were sharp.

  ‘He went to visit friends in Bordeaux,’ Christian said quickly.

  ‘And probably won’t be coming back,’ Charles said.

  They all turned to look at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Guillaume asked.

  ‘I’m not very happy with his work. I don’t think he’s the right tutor for Guy. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, Papa.’

  ‘Really?’ Guillaume remarked mildly. ‘I thought he was very good with Guy.’

  ‘He’s well qualified I know, but his speciality is dealing with much older children. I am seriously considering dispensing with his services when he returns … if he returns, which I somehow doubt. I imagine he is as bored with Guy as Guy is with him.’

  ‘You surprise me,’ Christian said sharply, alarmed at the prospect of Paul losing his base here at the château. ‘Like Papa, I thought he was just the man to give Guy a good start. What does Kathryn think? Have you discussed it with her?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ Charles’ tone was bombastic. ‘Kathryn is unreasonably biased, since he’s an old friend of hers. I think I am the one to judge what is best for my son’s education.’

  ‘We don’t have to discuss it now, though, surely?’ Louise put in with an anxious look at von Rheinhardt. ‘We shouldn’t be boring the General with our domestic trivia. And Charles, I really think you should go and see if Kathryn is all right. She didn’t look at all well to me.’

  ‘Stop fussing, Maman,’ Charles began irritably, then broke off at the unexpected sound of voices raised in greeting in the passageway outside the door and the clatter of high heels on the flagstoned floor. ‘What is going on out there?’

  The door opened; a slender girl with long straight hair stood there. Her eyes were red-rimmed with dark shadows beneath, her cotton blouse and skirt crumpled, and she clutched a canvas holdall to her chest.

  ‘Celestine!’ Louise gasped, ‘ I don’t believe it! You are supposed to be in Paris!’

  She spoke for all of them.

  ‘I’ve come home,’ Celestine said. ‘I couldn’t bear it any longer. It’s terrible there. I got a train but it was delayed and …’ She broke off, s
uddenly becoming aware of von Rheinhardt. His back was towards the door but like the others he had turned his head. Celestine’s already pale face turned even whiter.

  ‘Who is he? What is a German officer doing here?’

  ‘Celestine!’ Louise spoke sharply, wamingly, and Guillaume tried to intervene.

  ‘My daughter is obviously tired. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’

  But nothing and no one could stop Celestine.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ she cried. Tears had begun to run down her face. ‘You get everywhere, don’t you? Even here in my own home! Oh, I can’t bear it! The Boche – even in my own home!’

  It was the first time that anyone at the château had actually voiced aloud a condemnation of the Germans. It hung in the air like a portent of what was to come.

  ‘Celestine – darling – come and sit down,’ Louise, surprisingly, was the first to recover, perhaps because, naive as she was, she simply did not fully realise the possible ramifications of Celestine’s outburst. She rose from her chair, a slight figure in an extravagant pre-war Paris creation, putting her arms around Celestine’s thin shoulders and leading her to the chair Kathryn had recently vacated. ‘Bridget will set a place for you. You’re hungry, I’m sure, if you have travelled all the way from Paris.’

  ‘No – I’m not hungry.’ Celestine tried to shrug her off. ‘I just want to go to my room, Maman. I just want a bath and a sleep.’

  ‘Celestine, do as your mother says and sit down!’ Guillaume ordered. It was seldom he played the authoritarian and when he did the effect was stardingly positive. Celestine looked at him from beneath her slightly hooded eyelids and subsided into a chair, still clutching her holdall. Christian, sitting next to her, relieved her of it, placing it on the floor. It was, he thought, surprisingly light if Celestine had come home for any length of time, but then that was typical of her. She had never been one to bother her head much about possessions.

  As she sat von Rheinhardt made to rise.