Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  James was stunned. He had never imagined for a second that his father had feelings like that for Solange. He knew they were close friends and that he confided in her sometimes, but that he loved her as a woman was a revelation.

  ‘Maybe you should say something…’

  Richard frowned at his son. ‘I will not.’ His tone brooked no argument. ‘This is her home as much as it’s yours or mine or Juliet’s, wherever the hell she is. If I started telling her anything like that at this stage of our lives, she’d feel like she couldn’t stay here, I know she would. She doesn’t feel the same about me, and I can live with that. What I couldn’t live with is for her to leave Dunderrig. So she’ll never know. You’ll have to promise me that you’ll never breathe a word about what I’ve told you to anyone – even Ingrid. Do you swear James?’

  ‘Of course, I swear.’

  ‘I’m only telling you about my marriage because I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made. Talk to Ingrid, tell her you love her, try to understand that she’s grieving. Please God, she’ll have more children, but maybe she won’t. She’s a long way from home and if going up to Dublin and seeing her German friends makes it a bit easier to bear, then just let her off. Don’t be breathing down her neck every minute. It must be hard for her, her whole family back in Germany. She doesn’t even know what’s happening to them. She loves you, you know that, and it’s hard, I know, to find the right balance between not being too distant but also not too much on top of her. Give her a bit of time but don’t withdraw – make sure she knows you’re there whenever she needs you.’

  James nodded. ‘Thanks, Dad. You give great advice.’

  ‘Don’t I know it? I’m great at fixing other people’s lives. Did you ever hear the phrase “Physician heal thyself?” It’s from the Bible.’ Richard drained his whiskey, and father and son sat in companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

  Chapter 36

  Juliet lay wide awake listening to the sounds of the city waking up. Dieter’s heavy arm held her close. His rhythmic breathing was peaceful. A dog started barking. Feeling him stir behind her, she breathed in deeply. The warm, musky scent of him was familiar.

  ‘Good morning, beautiful.’ His voice was still husky from sleep.

  ‘Good morning,’ she replied as he kissed her ear.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered. She could feel his arousal as he ran his hands over her naked breasts. ‘The sooner this bloody war is over the better, and we can live like normal people…’ He nuzzled her neck.

  She murmured, ‘It’s been going on so long. You think it will ever end?’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time…’

  He made love to her quickly and passionately, and afterwards, as he washed and dressed, he called to her from the bathroom, ‘I have emergency planning meetings all week. Go and buy yourself a pretty necklace for Sunday’s dinner at Mueller’s. He’s planning a welcome party – Herman Spitz is in town. All the Gestapo, Wehrmacht and Abwehr top brass are invited, and I promised Mueller you’d play the piano for them, though why I let him drool over you like that I’ll never know. Maybe it’s because I know I’m the one who gets to take you home.’ He approached the bed and kissed her cheek, thoughtfully. ‘We’ll live in Bavaria, when all this is over. You’ll love it there.’ He paused at the door. ‘Don’t repeat what I said about it being only a matter of time. People might think I am envisaging defeat.’

  And he was gone.

  Juliet got up and made a cup of coffee. The large fifth-floor apartment they shared had beautiful views over the medieval Poitiers, and she knew the city like the back of her hand. She would go to the couturier this morning to collect the new midnight-blue satin gown she’d had made. The restrictions that applied to the citizens of Poitiers did not apply to her. She had so many dresses and furs now that she hardly ever wore the same thing twice. Money was no object, and Dieter loved to indulge her. She would buy sapphires to go with the dress, and wear them to Mueller’s. They would match her engagement ring. She looked down at her right hand again and felt the weight of the quarter-carat diamond encircled with sapphires that sparkled there. When Dieter proposed four months ago, the faces of the other French girls who had relationships with the Germans were green with envy. Dieter Friedman was the catch of them all – the perfect combination of funny, handsome, and powerful.

  Today was her birthday – not Marie-Louise’s birthday, but that of her other self, Juliet. It had been so long since she even thought about her. Juliet Buckley was like someone she knew in another life, which was in reality exactly how it was. She and James were twenty-four years old today. She felt more like eighty-four. In the beginning, living a lie had been difficult but as time passed, she found herself becoming Marie-Louise, so much so that she rarely thought of home now, of Dunderrig, or even of Ewan. Dieter always said she was his mystery girl, so quiet and reserved – and indeed she was; it wasn’t an act anymore. The bubbly, chatty girl from West Cork didn’t exist, couldn’t exist, in this world. Maybe she never would again.

  If Dieter knew who she really was…if he met her family and heard the stories of her childhood from Solange and Mrs Canty… She could just picture him, sitting in the kitchen, delighted with the food and everything Dunderrig had to offer, charming her father. She shuddered and pressed her hand to her forehead. Strange imaginings. Dieter would never come to Dunderrig, and even if she ever made it back there alive herself, his name would never pass her lips in that house. She was here to spy on the top-ranking German officer, not to plan a future life with him. This was a man who was responsible for the deaths of so many. A man who had hunted down, tortured and murdered British agents and the French citizens who had helped them. A man who had sworn allegiance to Adolf Hitler – even if this morning he had admitted he was weary of this war.

  Even if he was also the man who had cried in her arms when he heard about the death of his mother in an Allied bombing raid, the man who tried every day to make her happy, who in the darkness of the night held her in his arms as he told her of his fears, not just for his mortal body but for his eternal soul, when he was called to account for the crimes he had committed in the name of Germany.

  That first time he’d picked her up from Dr Blain’s house, she was so nervous she hardly spoke, but he coaxed her and charmed her and eventually she found herself laughing at one of his jokes. He brought her home that evening after a day driving around the beautiful Haute-Vienne. They had stopped for lunch in a little café where they ate des escargots with bread and rough red wine. Walking back to the car, he’d taken her hand. He was kind, sweet, and considerate – nothing like a man responsible for the torture and murder of British agents. She’d had to keep reminding herself: ‘If he knew who you really were, he would have you shot.’

  Emotionally drained, she sat silently in the passenger seat as he drove her home. Pulling up outside the doctor’s house, he turned to her.

  ‘You are such a restful person to be around, Marie-Louise. My world is full of people shouting and barking orders. My time with you was like an oasis of calm. Please say you’ll let me take you out again?’

  He had a way of leaning his head to one side as he smiled, his eyes full of enthusiasm, that she would have found endearing in another time and place. She knew Lise would be delighted that this top-ranking officer wished to pursue this relationship. At the same time, she had to consider the Blain family. She could not continue to fraternise with a German officer, for their sake.

  He said, still smiling, ‘I understand how this must be for you. But I really like you, Marie-Louise. I have done since I picked you up on the road, and today has been just wonderful. How about if next time, I meet you somewhere quiet and discreet – not as a German officer in uniform, but just as an ordinary man who wants to spend time with you?”

  She tried not to allow her incredulity show on her face. Was he serious? Did he really want to start a real relationship with her as if there was no war o
n? Confused and frightened, she started to get out of the car.

  He spoke again, detaining her with his hand on her arm, ‘The terms are up to you – anytime, anywhere. I know you like me too. I can see it in your eyes. Just give me a chance, please.’

  She would have to consult with her circuit leaders about her next move – but for now, she would have to give him something.

  ‘Very well. Next Monday is my next day off. Meet me at the main cathedral door at noon.’ He looked so eager, so delighted she was going to see him again, she almost smiled.

  Lise and Hercule had been waiting for her at the farmhouse when she arrived that evening.

  ‘Can you pull this off – yes or no?’ Hercule snapped as he paced up and down in front of her. His torn jersey and baggy canvas trousers made him look very French. His jet-black hair and bushy eyebrows gave him a ferocious look. He sucked on his pipe constantly, and she wondered why he was always so aggressive. She hated the way he spoke at her rather than to her, like she was some silly schoolgirl who shouldn’t be there.

  ‘I think I can.’ She spoke with a quiet determination she had not heard in her own voice before. She was sitting on an upturned box in the barn, Lise beside her.

  Hercule addressed Lise as if Juliet wasn’t even there. ‘It would be vital that she did nothing to give the game away, no stupid slipup that would land not just her but all of us in it. I don’t know, it’s very risky. But to have someone on the inside, so connected, could be invaluable. What do you think?’

  ‘If Marie-Louise says she can do this, I think she can. She’s proved she is reliable and can hold her head in difficult situations. London has consulted her teachers at the training schools and has given the go-ahead, but ultimately, they are leaving the final word to you – and to Marie-Louise, of course.’ She turned to Juliet, squeezed her hand and spoke intently to her. ‘No one is forcing you to do anything, you must understand that. We can have you picked up and taken home on the next moon if that’s what you want. If he’s that keen, then you either have to go with it or get out of here. It’s entirely up to you.’

  ‘I want to do it.’ Juliet was sure.

  Lise smiled, clearly proud of her young friend, but then became deeply serious. ‘What you are agreeing to, as I don’t need to tell you, could lead to your discovery and subsequently ours if they torture you. I know you think you can withstand it, but most of us cannot, that is simply a fact. But if you could get close to Friedman, find out if he is using informers, find out his plans, then you could really influence the outcome of this war. Friedman is only twenty-nine, but already he has the rank of captain. He joined the Nazi party long before it was expedient to do so, and he is well connected to the cabinet in Berlin. His uncle is one of Hitler’s advisors. He has been promoted over the heads of many men older and more experienced, not just because of his connections but because he is an excellent, intelligent, loyal soldier. Nor is he a psychopath or an active sadist – he leaves the dirty work to his underlings. But he doesn’t question their methods. He is every bit as ruthless as the lowest of them, he just prefers to imagine himself as civilised.’

  Juliet tried to equate the charming, handsome, young man of yesterday with the cold-blooded Nazi that Lise had described. It was very difficult – and terrifying. Then she thought about Ewan, about Auntie Kitty being bombed in Belfast, the girls in the Wrens, the devastation all over England, the children in the rail station, and the murdered agent, and she knew what she had to do.

  ‘I understand the risks. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. But Hercule is right, it’s a great opportunity. The Germans are wary of girls approaching them and flirting, but he is the one pursuing me, so it puts me beyond suspicion. He said nothing about his work today, but I think with time I can get him to trust me and with a bit of luck, confide in me. I know it is nearly impossible to withstand torture. I keep my L-pill in my shoe.’ The idea that she could discuss her planned suicide by lethal pill in such a matter-of-fact way came as a surprise to her.

  Hercule barked out a mirthless laugh and ran his hands through his messy dark hair in frustration. ‘She thinks they’ll give her the opportunity to rummage around in her shoe, the stupid girl! No, if she is to avoid putting the rest of us at risk, then she will have to see Mouret.’

  Again Hercule was addressing Lise, ignoring Juliet. He really was the most horrible man, and clearly a misogynist. More than once, she had overheard him muttering about how women were more trouble than they were worth. He barely tolerated Lise and was bluntly obnoxious to Juliet. She had to keep reminding herself that she was doing this to help the war effort, and that it was nothing to do with this odious man.

  ‘Mouret is a dentist we use,’ Lise explained. ‘He will insert the L-pill into a false tooth, in a glass capsule. In the event of your needing it, you can dislodge the tooth and crack the glass with your teeth. Death is almost instantaneous. If it comes dislodged any other way and you accidentally swallow it, you will be fine, just so long as the glass doesn’t break.’

  Juliet suppressed a shudder. She hated the dentist and had to be dragged there by Solange once a year. The idea of some French dentist extracting a tooth and replacing it with a false one – leaving aside that the new tooth contained a poisonous pill – filled her almost with more dread than the prospect of torture. Yet it would have to be done.

  ‘When can he do it? Sooner rather than later would be best, I think.’

  Hercule was thinking. ‘The right approach is probably not to try too hard in the early days; don’t initiate any discussions about the war or his work; just gain his trust. Don’t be too keen, show reticence – it’s a big issue for a well-brought-up French girl to take up with one of the Boche. Now, your cover story will need tightening up. It’s fine for spot checks, but for a long-term relationship, you’ll need something more substantial. I’ll get London to work on something, in the meantime, try to steer the conversation away from yourself, or at least from your past.’

  ‘Who will be my contact? If I hear anything I mean?’ Juliet was trying not to be intimidated by his dismissive attitude, but everything she said sounded babyish and silly to her ears.

  Lise said, ‘It will be me. You can tell him that I’m your piano teacher. You already play, I know, so if he asks you to perform you’ll be able to.’

  Juliet felt a huge relief that it wasn’t to be Hercule or some stranger. Juliet trusted Lise and she looked up to her – her poise and courage were singular, and Juliet aspired to be like her. At least, a weekly visit to Lise would make her feel less alone.

  SHE MET DIETER ON Monday as agreed, and then again, and again. They talked about art and music, they went to the cinema and for meals, and mostly, it was just as if there were no war on, and they were two young people getting to know each other. He called her his ‘mouse’ for being so quiet and retiring, and in time, because she clearly preferred to listen than talk about herself, he began to tell her of the problems he encountered in his job. She paid sympathetic attention, and he seemed happy that she was interested.

  The romantic side of the relationship progressed easily and quickly, and while she never forgot the reason for their relationship, she admitted to Lise that it was not unpleasant. After a few months of going out, they moved into a beautiful apartment belonging to a family who had recently been sent to the camps for harbouring a Jewish relative. The first day she was there, she was almost forgetful of the reality of the situation as she chose fabrics for drapes and placed lamps and ornaments around. She was working busily until she opened a large box full of toys. The children who had owned these toys were now on their way to the camps, at the stroke of her boyfriend’s pen.

  Dieter had mentioned marriage, but she told him that she wanted to wait until after the war and have the proper, beautiful wedding she had always dreamed of in Bavaria. Other than that, she did everything required of a woman in love – she was supportive of him in every way. She cooked delicious meals for his
superiors, she sang and played the piano, and she acquiesced to anything he asked of her. She would listen when he told her of how his colleagues and friends were harangued by their French girlfriends demanding this and that, insisting they spend more time with them, and always finished by saying how lucky he was to have found her. He was wildly in love with her and clearly confident that she was just as in love with him. His passion made him careless. His principal work was to liaise between the army and the Gestapo, and he was privy to everything that happened in the entire region. He held telephone conversations in front of her, and once or twice, left around letters from his superiors in Berlin. He loved to mock the bullish manners of Gestapo officers and often quoted their more grandiose statements to make her laugh.

  She and Lise had built up a firm friendship. Dieter paid for her piano lessons – he adored music. As Juliet’s fingers danced over the piano keys, she relayed to Lise every detail of her day, both important and trivial. Lise was right that the murdered agent had been betrayed. Juliet had discovered the source of the leak during the early weeks of the relationship – it was the daughter of a couple who were running a safe house. She had become besotted with a Wehrmacht private and had gossiped to him about a woman she had heard speaking in English. Juliet hated to think about the girl – she was shot by the Resistance, of course, just for being silly and in love.