The Eden Inheritance

by Janet Tanner

  ‘I think perhaps I should thank you for an excellent dinner and leave,’ he said. ‘ This is obviously a family occasion.’

  ‘Otto – no!’ Guillaume protested, rising also. ‘Please do stay until we have finished the meal, at least. It does seem to be turning into something of a farce, I agree, but …’

  ‘Not at all,’ von Rheinhardt said, correct almost to the point of overpoliteness, though his eyes were very cold, very hard. ‘I do not wish to intrude or to cause distress to a young lady. And besides, I have a great deal of work to do. As I told you, saboteurs are beginning to cause us trouble. I want to ensure that nothing of this sort occurs in my district. I will bid you all good night.’ His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘I do hope Madame Kathryn will be feeling better soon.’

  Guillaume accompanied him to the door.

  ‘I am so sorry – I hope you will come again to visit us soon …’

  ‘I hope so too.’

  As the big black staff car pulled away down the drive Guillaume returned to the dining room. His eyes were blazing with rare fury.

  ‘What on earth were you thinking of, Celestine? Surely you should know better than to speak to a German officer like that? How did you get here anyway? It’s after curfew.’

  ‘The stationmaster brought me. He was very kind,’ Celestine said, huddling into her chair. ‘As for speaking as I did, yes, I shouldn’t have done it, I know, but I’m fed up with having to kowtow to the Boche. Paris is full of them – it’s dreadful. And it was such a shock, finding one here, in my own home. What was he doing sitting at our table?’

  ‘We have to keep on his right side,’ Charles told her. ‘He’s in charge of the district. God knows what damage you have done, Celestine, speaking to him like that.’

  ‘I know … I’m sorry …’ She was close to tears now. ‘I just don’t know how you can bear it, any of you.’ She looked around. ‘Where is Kathryn?’

  ‘Kathryn was unwell,’ Louise said gently. ‘Please tell us why you’ve come home, Celestine. It’s lovely to see you but it’s such a surprise when we thought you were in Paris. What about your studies?’

  ‘What do my studies’ matter now, Maman?’ Celestine asked bitterly. ‘ What is the point of anything any more?’

  ‘Don’t talk like that, darling,’ Louise chided her. ‘I know how it seems to you at the moment but you have all your life in front of you. You can’t give up just because things are not as they used to be.’

  ‘Really?’ Celestine laughed harshly. ‘Forgive me, Maman, but you don’t know what you are talking about. Tucked away down here in comfort you don’t know anything about it.’

  Louise bristled.

  ‘Really, Celestine, we have our privations too.’

  ‘No, she is right, Maman,’ Christian said. He squeezed Celestine’s thin arm. ‘We are sheltered here. The Boche don’t bother us much. They’ve been anxious to be good gaolers. I expect it’s a different story in the cities.’

  ‘It certainly is. If you saw Paris now you’d hardly recognise it – swastikas everywhere, troops parading, French people not allowed to go into some of the streets, nasty little men in Homburg hats and raincoats watching your every movement.’

  ‘Homburg hats and raincoats?’ Louise repeated blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She means secret police,’ Christian said. ‘You see, Maman, she’s right, isn’t she? We are sheltered here.’

  ‘Then there is the Gestapo HQ in the Avenue Foch,’ Celestine continued. ‘Those who are taken there don’t come out. Oh, I hate them! I hate every one of them! If you knew what they were really like you’d never have one under your roof!’

  ‘Otto von Rheinhardt is a soldier, not Gestapo,’ Guillaume pointed out.

  ‘He’s still a German,’ Celestine said passionately. ‘That’s enough for me.’

  ‘I can see you are upset, Celestine, but I must ask you to try and contain yourself.’ Guillaume spoke gently, for he loved his daughter, but there was no mistaking the firmness in his tone. ‘You may not like it, none of us do, but there are some things we have to do to ensure our survival and the survival of our heritage. I am sure if you think about it you will realise the sense in it.’

  ‘You mean I should warn the Château de Savigny to be here for my children?’ Celestine flared back. ‘Well, I don’t, Papa – not if it means fraternising with those pigs and having them as house guests.’

  Guillaume shook his head wearily.

  ‘You are young and full of fire, ma petite. When you have a child of your own you will feel differently, you’ll see.’

  ‘You think so, huh?’ Celestine drew herself upright in her chair, holding on to the arms so rightly that her knuckles showed white.

  ‘I know so. When the time comes …’

  ‘Let me tell you, Papa, the time is a great deal nearer than you think. And I still feel the same. I don’t want the Boche around my child – I’d rather die! That’s the reason I’ve come home from Paris, don’t you see?’ She broke off. They were all gazing at her in disbelief. She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you like this. I didn’t mean to tell you at all just yet. But there – it’s done now. I’m pregnant. I am going to have a baby.’

  The silence seemed to go on forever, broken only by Louise’s small strangled cry. She pressed a napkin to her mouth, her cheeks as white as the square of starched damask. Then Guillaume spoke.

  ‘Is this some kind of joke, Celestine? Your way of getting back at us for having von Rheinhardt here to dinner? If so, let me tell you …’

  ‘It’s no joke, Papa, I assure you. I’m sorry but there it is.’

  ‘I can’t believe this! The shame!’ Louise whispered. She looked on the point of fainting. ‘Who is the man? Where is he?’

  ‘Maman – for God’s sake!’ Christian rose, standing behind Celestine and placing his hands protectively on her shoulders. ‘Celestine, little one, you don’t have to say anything now if you don’t want to.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Celestine smiled up at him weakly. ‘I’ll tell you. His name was Julien Didier. He was a student too. We loved one another. But he’s dead now – at least, I am almost certain he is. You see – he was a Jew. The Boche took him. They came to our apartment and took him. They beat him up in front of my eyes …’ Her voice began to falter; Christian held her more tightly. ‘They beat him with the butts of their guns,’ she went on reciting it like a litany. ‘His face was just a pulp. They kicked him until he couldn’t stand up and then they threw him down the stairs. I saw it all. The apartment was spattered with his blood. Then they bundled him into one of their vehicles and drove him away. I couldn’t find out where they had taken him but I can guess. I haven’t seen him since. I won’t, I know. What they started in the apartment they will have finished now. He’s dead, I know it. And you wonder why I hate the Boche!’

  Suddenly, explosively, her unnatural calm shattered and she began to cry, huge gasping sobs that racked her body.

  ‘The bastards!’ Christian grated. He crossed to the chiffonier, poured some cognac into a glass and pressed it into Celestine’s trembling hands. ‘Drink this, little one. It will do you good.’

  ‘Oh my baby!’ Louise, her outrage at Celestine’s indiscretion temporarily forgotten, found her own maternal instincts aroused in the face of her daughter’s distress. ‘This is terrible … terrible!’

  ‘Maman, why don’t you take Celestine to her room?’ Christian was taking charge of the situation. ‘We’ll talk about this in the morning when we are all calmer.’

  ‘Yes. Oh my darling, you need to rest …’

  When Celestine and Louise had left the dining room Guillaume covered his face with his hands. He looked old suddenly, a broken old man, his authority washed away like a sandcastle by an incoming tide.

  ‘Whatever next?’ he asked, more of himself than the others. ‘What else are we expected to bear?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Christian said, ‘you will begin to see the
Boche as they really are – an army of butchers.’

  ‘But Paris is Paris … it’s different here in Savigny …’

  ‘Is it? Is it really? And how long will it be before they exert their savagery here too? They are drunk with power but they want more, still more. Surely you must see, Papa, they will never be satisfied, until they grind us into the dirt.’

  ‘I don’t know, Christian, I don’t know anything any more,’ Guillaume muttered.

  Charles said nothing at all.

  ‘Charles, what did you mean by telling Papa that you are not satisfied with Paul as a tutor?’ Kathryn demanded angrily.

  It was the following evening and Charles was dressing for dinner when Kathryn burst into the room. He looked up, startled, still holding one gold cuff link half slotted into the cuff of his white evening shirt.

  ‘Christian has just told me about it,’ Kathryn rushed on. ‘How dare you do something like that behind my back?’

  For a moment Charles looked almost shamefaced, then he recovered himself.

  ‘It wouldn’t have been behind your back if you hadn’t absented yourself from the table so rudely.’

  ‘I was sick!’ Kathryn flared. ‘Not that I’d expect any sympathy from you. But that’s beside the point. If you’re not happy with Paul as Guy’s tutor I’m the one you should be discussing it with, not your father and the rest of the family, not to mention von Rheinhardt!’

  ‘I have not discussed it with you since I wouldn’t expect you to be objective about the matter.’

  His voice was very cold and Kathryn felt a chill of alarm.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Charles laughed shortly.

  ‘You really think I don’t know what was going on between the two of you? You swore to me, Kathryn, that he was not your lover, but you were lying. I’m not the complete fool you seem to take me for. I know you were visiting him in the middle of the night before he left, and I’m not prepared to put up with it any more.’

  Kathryn was so taken aback she was unable for the moment to find words to reply, and Charles continued: ‘I should have thrown him out there and then but I didn’t want to cause a scene and have my father know the sort of woman I am married to, so I thought it better to do it in a roundabout way.’

  ‘You bloody hypocrite!’ Kathryn grated. ‘You don’t give a damn what they think of me. It’s you you’re concerned about. You don’t want to look a fool in front of your father, that’s all. Paul is good for Guy and you know it. You’ve no business lying about his abilities as a tutor.’

  Charles’ lip curled.

  ‘From the reception my suggestion received it seems the others agree with you. I’ve not pressed the point at the moment, but at least I have laid the foundations. If your Monsieur Paul returns – which he won’t if he has any sense – and if you resume your nocturnal visits to his room, I assure you I shall have no hesitation whatever in making sure my wishes are observed. I’ll have him thrown out, make no mistake of it. Do I make myself clear?’

  Kathryn returned his glare defiantly but inwardly the fight had gone out of her and she felt trapped and helpless. This was the moment to have it out with Charles once and for all, tell him that she and Paul were in love and that when all this was over she was going to leave Charles to be with him. But she dared not. Too much depended on Paul’s remaining at the château, and not only her own peace of mind and the comfort of seeing him, however fleetingly. It had become Paul’s base, a secure place from which he could conduct his operations, as well as a permanent cover for his resistance work. She must not do anything to threaten that.

  She looked at Charles, seeing a man she had once loved but now despised, and knew that for the moment at least he had won.

  ‘You make yourself perfectly clear, Charles,’ she replied quietly.

  In the long days and weeks that followed it was Celestine who provided the diversion which made life bearable for Kathryn. The two girls had always been good friends, now Kathryn discovered that talking with Celestine and trying to help her come to terms with what had happened enabled her to forget, for a little while, the constant nagging fear for Paul’s safety and anxiety for the future.

  Celestine’s moods swung between fiery defiance and black despair. She was suffering from shock and grief as well as the more normal roller-coaster emotional swings that pregnancy inevitably brings, and she was by turns insecure and bullish.

  ‘I don’t understand how they can accept the Boche,’ she said over and over again. ‘They are monsters! Maman and Papa, well yes, I suppose Maman sees only what she wants to see, and nothing but the survival of Savigny matters to Papa. But Charles and Christian … I’d never have expected them to take it lying down.

  They have gone right down in my estimation, I can tell you. How can they call themselves men?’

  Kathryn hesitated, tempted to tell her that Christian was working for the Resistance, but deciding against it. Though she knew she could count on Celestine’s support, for her own safety it was better she did not know.

  ‘Don’t judge them too harshly,’ was all she said.

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you saw what the Boche did to Julien!’ Celestine’s eyes filled with tears and she turned away, lost in her own private hell, and Kathryn put her arms around the thin shoulders, knowing there were no words which could ease her suffering and comforting her in the only way she knew how.

  ‘I loved him so much,’ Celestine said through her tears. ‘You can’t imagine what it was like, seeing them treat him like that and not being able to do anything to help. I just had to watch them beat him up and drag him away … I wasn’t even there when he died. Oh, I can’t bear it! He was so beautiful, so clever … I was so proud of him. I don’t know what he saw in someone like me.’

  ‘You are beautiful and clever too, Celestine.’

  ‘No I’m not. I’m plain and I’m certainly not clever. He used to help me with my studies so that the tutors wouldn’t know how stupid I was. And he was brave, too. He knew the dangers of being a Jew. He should have run away, tried to get out of the country, but he just wouldn’t believe they would take him like that. ‘‘Those stupid strutting little men don’t frighten me,” he used to say. He was proud too, you see, proud of being Jewish. I was afraid for him but he wouldn’t listen to me.’

  ‘At least you have his baby,’ Kathryn said. ‘They can’t take that away from you.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Celestine lifted her chin, pursing her lips so that her small face was a mask of defiance. ‘Maman and Papa are ashamed of me just now. They think I have let them down. But one day they will be proud. And so will I. I know my son will be the very image of his father.’

  ‘I’m sure he will be,’ Kathryn said, but suddenly she was very cold inside. The baby Celestine was carrying was half Jewish. It had not occurred to her before and she did not suppose it had occurred to any of the rest of the family either. It hadn’t seemed important – only comforting Celestine had mattered. Now she realised with growing disquiet just how very important it might be.

  ‘Does anyone in Paris know you are pregnant?’ she asked, trying not to let her anxiety show.

  ‘My friends know – Agnes and FranÁoise. And of course the doctor. It wasn’t common knowledge and I’m not showing yet, but word gets around. Why do you ask? You’re not afraid of the scandal too, are you, Katrine? I wouldn’t expect that of you.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just that … I don’t think you should tell anyone outside of the family that Julien was Jewish.’

  ‘Oh my God, I never thought!’ Celestine’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with dawning horror. ‘ You mean … if they knew, my baby might be in danger too! Of course – of course! People in Paris with Jewish blood generations back have been trying to hide their ancestry. Suppose those bastards who took Julien find out I’m pregnant! They might track me down here! They might … God knows what they might do!’

  ‘I’m sure that is not going to ha
ppen,’ Kathryn said, with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘I do think you must be very careful from now on, though. At least you can talk about Julien without giving the game away. His name doesn’t sound Jewish.’

  ‘No, but … everyone knew. He had to wear a Star of David. Oh Katrine, if the Boche find out he is the father of my baby … what will I do?’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself,’ Kathryn said. ‘That won’t help anyone – least of all your baby. Just carry on as normally as possible and try not to worry. I’ll think of something.’

  But even as she tried to sound consoling she knew with terrifying certainty that if the Nazis did indeed discover that Celestine’s baby was half Jewish there would be nothing she could do to save her, and the realisation added a new dimension of horror to the nightmare that was slowly but relentlessly engulfing them all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IN THE SMALL anteroom of the doctor’s surgery at Périgueux Paul sat waiting his turn. In the rough trousers and collarless shirt which he wore in his persona as country peasant he blended perfectly with the other patients – a middle-aged man with a heavily bandaged hand, a little old lady dressed all in black who huddled, shivering in spite of the heat of the day, a heavily pregnant girl, shifting her bulk uncomfortly and trying, without much success, to control the two small children who ran riot and clung to her skirts by turns. As he waited Paul coughed occasionally, and the feigned spasms sounded sufficiently sepulchral to make the other patients keep their distance. No one wanted a serious chest infection to add to all their other problems.

  At last it was Paul’s turn. Dr Ventura was writing, bending closely over his desk to enable him to see what he was doing. He needed to get his glasses replaced by stronger ones, he knew, but at present he had too many things on his mind to bother about what was no more than an inconvenience, and he wasn’t at all sure that new spectacles would be available anyway. Precious little was, these days. As Paul entered the surgery he looked up, a big bluff man well past his first youth, dressed in a worn tweed suit.