‘You don’t care what people think. You never have. You want to go because you’ve always yearned to travel.’
Looking shame-faced, Bette patted her golden curls with slender, pink tipped fingers. ‘Well, that’s true. I can’t deny it.’ Her eyes were shining now, a brilliance to them more gold than green. ‘There’s a whole world out there, away from this small town. Don’t you just ache to explore it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Oh, I do. I can’t wait, I’m so excited.’
‘I’ll miss you.’
Bette’s face suddenly fell and all the happiness vanished from it. ‘Oh, and I’ll miss you too. I was so thrilled, so wrapped up in my own happiness, I never thought about the fact I’d be leaving you. How could I be so dim? What will I do without you?’ And the two sisters fell into each other’s arms, tears rolling down their cheeks.
‘You’ll cope fine. Everyone will fall in love with you, as they always do and be putty in your hands,’ Sara said, drying both their tears with one soggy hanky.
‘And you, what about you? Can you cope on your own, without me? With only Sadie to share your troubles with?’
‘Oh goodness, don’t you worry about me. I can look after myself.’
‘I’m not so sure. When does Hugh get back from this latest trip?’
‘I don’t know. I’m never sure how long these expeditions might last. Soon, I should think. I hope. I do worry about him.’
‘And will you tell him, about Charles Denham - Charlie?’
‘Lord no, far too dangerous. Anyway, there’s nothing to tell. I’ve no intention of ever seeing Charlie again, not alone anyway. It has to stop now, before it goes any further.’
‘I wish you would tell him. I wish you’d have a mad, passionate affair and then confront Hugh with it. And I wish you’d do it before I leave so that I can see you happy at last. Oh, and I’d just love to see Hugh’s arrogance pricked.’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
Bette giggled. ‘Ok, but I really would. Anyway, you know that we’ve always looked after each other, so if I were still here, I could console you and pick up the pieces when he explodes like a big, fat balloon.’
‘Or like a land-mine. Bang!’ And for some reason neither girl could have explained, they both found this terribly funny and began to shriek with laughter, even as tears again began to fall.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hugh and Iris were out at sea, not in driving rain this time but in considerable danger nonetheless. They’d been waiting nearly twenty-four hours for a rendezvous and still there was no sign of it taking place. He was beginning to sweat with fear, despite the chill night. The pick-up was the crew of two American bombers who were shot down over Paris three months ago. Half a dozen men had survived the attack and been evading capture ever since, protected by the French Underground, hidden in cellars and lofts, barns and haystacks, wherever the Bosch might not think to look, or have already searched.
One attempt to rescue the men, now known as the evaders, had already been made, only to end in failure when a break-down in communication had resulted in the wrong pick-up point and the men left stranded. Yet again they’d been rescued by the French resistance, dependant upon them for survival.
Now, a couple of weeks later, Hugh had been alerted that another crack was to be made at picking them up. Iris listened in each evening to the BBC, and had recognised the pre-arranged signal. So here they were, putting their lives at risk for a bunch of Yanks. Hugh would much rather have been rescuing ‘our boys’ but was compelled to follow orders.
They should have made contact hours ago but a second dawn was breaking and the fear of discovery was growing in his mind. Surely someone would spot them lurking here in the channel, pretending to fish. This part of the Brittany coastline was plagued with strong currents and hidden reefs, not easy to navigate without lights. It always seemed a miracle to Hugh when they arrived in one piece, not having encountered any mines or foundered on the rocks.
This was, in fact, his second trip across to Brittany in less than a fortnight. The first time had been to bring Iris and drop her off on a small island where she’d been collected by some stranger in a canoe.
The last he’d seen of her on that occasion had been a wave of her hand as the man had paddled it away. It was with some relief that he’d collected her again just eight nights later. Again she’d been transported by canoe, a different man this time and he’d watched, heart in mouth, as it made slow progress between the rocks, frequently swamped by waves.
Once on board, she’d stripped off her wet clothes and gratefully drunk the hot soup Hugh had prepared for her, then related her adventures in a breathless, exhausted rush.
All about how she’d located her contact without too many difficulties, although she’d had to keep a wary eye out for German soldiers who seemed to stroll about the town with consummate ease, staking their claim as conquerors. She finished by explaining that she’d given him the information he’d needed and they’d had time for some productive debate. Hugh knew better than to ask what kind of information or debate that might be. You didn’t ask questions. Not in this business. The less you knew, the better.
‘Then he took me to meet the evaders. They’ve had to be frequently moved, of course, just in case the enemy should return a second time and find them. I was moved three times, in just five days. It must have been a nightmare for them. They’ve been living in fear of their life for months while false papers were drawn up and arrangements made to get them out.’
As she talked, Hugh kept his eye on the shore, partly blanketed in sea mist, praying for sight of them. They couldn’t stay here much longer, not without arousing suspicion. One never knew what hidden eyes were watching you. Iris maintained they were well hidden behind this bluff of rock but Hugh felt as if they must stick out like a sore thumb, visible for miles around.
Tension was so high in him that he couldn’t even find the energy to pass the time with Iris in the usual way. He had no interest in sex right now. His eyes were darting everywhere, alert, watchful, deeply afraid that out of a pearl grey sky would come death.
God knows what would happen when the air crew finally did appear. Would they be ferried across by boat or come by canoe, as was often the case? Whichever, he hoped and prayed they kept an eye open for mines. The last thing he needed was an explosion announcing to all and sundry that they were present in these waters. It was his own skin he cared about the most, of course, not theirs.
‘How I loathe Americans, always creating problems and putting other lives at stake because of their own incompetence. Where the hell are they? They should be here by now.’
‘I’m sure they will be, at any moment.’ Iris appeared unperturbed by the delay, as cool as ever. She even managed a chuckle. ‘Your prejudice is showing, Hugh, although I notice your wife doesn’t share your views.’
‘My wife has no contact with the Yanks. I made certain of that.’
The chuckle turned into a burst of laughter, rich and loud, so that Hugh hissed at her, reminding her how easily sound travels over water. Iris apologised, briefly, but then dropped a bomb-shell of her own. ‘Not quite certain enough. You realise that she and the charming Lieutenant Denham are virtually inseparable, working together on all these war-weapons, fund-raising projects. Dear Nora spotted them only the other day bowling happily along in his jeep towards Lostwithiel. Cosy!’
Rage boiled up inside him, filling his head with a burst of heat that seemed as if that too might explode. Hugh couldn’t ever remember being so angry in all his life. ‘Are you saying that Sara has disobeyed me? Knowing that I have forbidden her to fraternise with these men, she’s done it anyway and gone behind my back.’
Iris smirked. ‘It would seem so. Hey, there they are. Look, I saw a brief flash of red. That’s the signal we’ve been waiting for.’ She grabbed a pair of binoculars, staring out across the rocks. ‘Yes, it must be them. I can see a couple of specks which might be canoe
s, and there’s another. They’re on their way but the sea looks rough, great big waves slapping up against those rocks. They’ll have their work cut out, and they must keep a beady eye open for mines. Lord, I hope they get through the channel safely.’
But Hugh wasn’t listening. While she was thus engaged, he’d been busy about the boat. Before Iris realised what he was doing, he’d shipped anchor but instead of heading in the direction of the evaders to make the pick-up, he began to quietly slip away.
‘Hey, you’re going in the wrong direction. What the hell are you playing at?’
‘I’m heading home, Iris. I’m the captain of this ship and I’ve decided it’s too dangerous to wait any longer.’
‘But they’re coming. Didn’t you hear me say so? Don’t you see them?’
‘I didn’t see a soul. Somehow I’ve gone deaf, dumb and blind where Yanks are concerned. They deserve all they get, in my opinion.’
Iris was screaming at him now, heedless of how the sound might carry, although the rising wind was whipping most of her words away. ‘But there are six men out on that cold sea who will die if you abandon them! You’re condemning them to bloody death!’
‘Then at least there will be six fewer marriages ruined. Six British soldiers wives left in peace, and a bloody good thing too.’
‘You won’t get away with this. I’ll have to report you.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’ The blow was unexpected and sent her sprawling, although not for long. Iris, being Iris, instantly struggled to right herself and flew at him like a tigress. ‘Turn this boat around!’
Even with a bloodied nose she was still screaming at him, something about how he would mess everything up. ‘You’ll ruin all my plans. They trust me, rely on me. I’m considered dependable because I’ve worked bloody hard for years. I’ll not have you spoil everything.’
She struck out at him and within seconds they were grappling together, one minute rolling about in the bottom of the boat, the next hanging over the sides.
Hugh considered tossing her overboard. That would ensure her silence. He could eliminate her quite easily, as she had once threatened would be done to him, if he talked and became a problem. But he instantly thought better of it and, grabbing hold of her by the collar, flung her like a whipped dog back into the tiny cabin, where he shut fast and locked the door.
She yelled and screamed and hammered on the panel, but he ignored her. He’d spared her life because Iris was useful to him in more ways than one.
Besides, he didn’t want too many questions asked and was arrogant enough to believe that he could control her. A sense of power surged through his veins, making him feel strong, invincible . Iris would realise that he was not a man to cross, and his wife needed to be reminded of that fact too.
Drew was waiting for him, curled up at the top of the stairs, as usual, when he got back and Hugh was at first irritated and scolded the boy, saying that he should be in bed, fast asleep. He grabbed the child and marched him back to his room, berating him all the while. Hugh felt as if his nerves were shot to ribbons and the last thing he needed right now was to deal with a disobedient child.
‘But I want to hear about your mission, Daddy. Tell me, tell me.’
‘Hush! You’ll wake Jenny.’ But the adoration in his son’s eyes had a calming effect upon him. Hugh tucked the child back into bed, and keeping his voice low so that he wouldn’t wake Jenny, began to talk. He didn’t seem able to prevent himself. He made no mention of Iris, or their fierce scrap, or that he had abandoned the aircrew and deliberately left them to die. He simply said that men had died that night, and, in a moment of weakness, of need, admitted that he felt responsible, without quite saying why.
‘Did the enemy shoot them? If you got me a telescope, I could help, couldn’t I, Daddy? I could go out on to the headland and watch for you. Then I could send you a signal if I spotted an enemy plane.’
Hugh wasn’t listening, paying no attention to his son’s fantasies. ‘I had to do it for you, son, to keep you safe. And for your mother.’
Even before he’d finished pouring out all his hatred of Americans, Drew was fast asleep, no doubt dreaming of flying a little plane like Rupert Bear. Hugh went to his own bed feeling cleansed, and quite free of guilt.
To Hugh’s enormous satisfaction, and no small sense of relief, Iris kept her mouth shut about the incident of the abandoned aircrew. They learned later that two of the canoes had capsized and four young men were drowned. The remaining two crew members were still in France, awaiting rescue. Hugh had been given a grilling by the commanding officer in charge of operations, who seemed convinced by his story and accepted that he hadn’t seen them. Hugh maintained the canoes must have been shrouded in the mist and twenty-seven hours was quite long enough to wait, any longer would have begun to arouse suspicion.
Iris too had been questioned, in private, while Hugh sat outside, chewing on his nails and praying that the warnings he’d given her before she went in, had fully sunk in. She still bore the bruises from their undignified tussle, he noticed, thickly covered in make-up.
Finally the office door swung open. For a moment she stood framed in the doorway, the curve of her breasts up-tilted and enticing, making him salivate just to think of their cushiony softness beneath his hands. He steadied himself. Concentrate. What was she saying in these few final words to her commander?
Hugh wasn’t even sure who he was, or what unit he was attached to, as this was the first time he’d met him. He wore no uniform and what his surname was, or his rank, Hugh had no idea, being instructed to address him simply as Sir. At one point they both glanced across at him and Hugh began, very slightly, to sweat. But then she smiled at him, and strolled over.
‘We are agreed that it was a terrible tragedy, all too common in war,’ she said. ‘We can go now. The investigation is closed.’
He felt sick suddenly, as if he’d looked death in the face and been granted a reprieve. Stepping outside, the sun seemed suddenly brighter and his heart lifted with gratification. How clever he was and, he imagined, untouchable. Invincible even. He could do as he pleased and get away with it. The buzz this notion gave him was intoxicating. He’d made a stand for England; proved he wouldn’t waste his time on know-it-all, incompetent Yanks.
‘You did well,’ he told Iris, condescension strong in his tone.
‘Thank you,’ she dryly remarked. ‘You realise I could have had you shot.’
Hugh snorted with laughter. ‘Now why would you do that when you and I are having such a good time?’
She stopped walking to gaze steadily at him. ‘I hope you realise that you owe me a huge debt. ’
He pulled her towards him, his greedy fingers reaching for her breasts even as he nuzzled into her neck. ‘And how would you like it to be repaid?’
She pushed him away. ‘That’s what we need to talk about. Oh, your secret is safe with me, Hugh old boy. Reasonably safe, shall we say. But that safety comes at a price.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time she was done explaining, Hugh’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head. ‘You want me to carry information to the enemy, to the Germans? Good God, are you mad? What sort of information?’
‘The Germans are desperate to learn as much as possible about the activity along the coastline here, about the Operation Overlord, and from which direction the invasion might come. They aren’t nearly so confident and well prepared as you might imagine so need all the help they can get. You and I are in a position to supply at least some of what they require. We need to keep our ears and eyes open at all times, so that we can feed them what they need.’
‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You don’t seriously expect me to turn traitor?’ Hugh’s face was crimson and he was blustering now, outraged by her suggestion.
Iris smiled. ‘Oh yes, Hugh, that is exactly what I expect you to do. Think of yourself as a double agent, so much sexier, don’t you think? I will supply the material and you will de
liver it, personally. I’ve been doing the whole task myself up till now, but I really don’t see why I should continue to take all the risks. It’s time they were more fairly distributed.’
‘You mean . . .?’
Iris smiled. ‘That you haven’t simply been working for the British, but for the enemy too? Absolutely. True, we’ve rescued a great many British airmen, and even Americans, despite your objections to them. Why not? That part of the exercise is excellent cover for my more important activities. It means that I can build up trust in the right places. Vital in this game. My husband is German, you see. I met him in Spain during the civil war. We were both fighting for the fascists. Klaus is a typically Ayran male, very self-opinionated. Rather like yourself.’
‘And you’re married?’
‘Yes.’
‘But I thought you were going out with a sailor?’
‘That was just cover. I ditched him anyway, when you and I started – you know. Klaus and I married in Madrid in 1938 when we realised war between Britain and Germany was imminent and unavoidable. He returned home, to fight for his country, and so did I. It was my husband’s idea that I use my English background to infiltrate Secret Operations here, and it seems to have worked out rather well.’
‘But how come the Special Operations Executive haven’t realised? You’re married to a German, for God’s sake!’
‘Because I’ve been careful. Very careful. Anyway, why should they know? I still have my passport in my maiden name. Klaus is still in Germany, naturally, working with the Nazi’s. He finds me the necessary contacts in France but when I expressed a need for more reliable transport from someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions, he agreed that I should involve you, using any methods at my disposal. We have that kind of marriage. And you haven’t found the work or the rewards too objectionable, have you, Hugh?’
For All Our Tomorrows Page 17
