Darkest Longings (49 page)

resting on his shoulder while she told him about Monique

and Karol Kalinowski.

‘Poor Monique!’ he said. ‘Where is she now?’

‘At the chateau. She clings to Solange like a frightened

child, and Solange talks to her and listens in a way that tears

at your heart. She’s the most wonderful mother, you know.

Crazy and capricious as she is, she loves her family to distraction, and in their times of crisis her strength is amazing.’ She sighed. ‘You know, Francois has seen to it

that Kalinowski is never allowed back into France. But I

can’t help thinking about his wife and children - it could be

that their only means of escaping the Germans is to seek

asylum in France. He should have told Monique from the

start that he was married.’

Armand nodded soberly. Then he chuckled. ‘I shouldn’t

have liked to be in Kalinowski’s shoes when he came face to

face with Francois!’

They sat quietly then, and as Claudine trailed her fingers

lazily over his bare arm, inhaling the acrid smell of sun

dried grass and listening to the buzz and rustle of the forest,

she felt herself beginning to relax at last. Bringing his hand

to her mouth, she kissed it, almost in gratitude - she had

been half-afraid that nothing, not even Armand’s love,

would be able to exorcize the restlessness and doubt that

had plagued her since the night of the July ball.

At first she had told herself that she had drunk too much

champagne, that it was because she was missing Armand

that she had felt that dreadful, demeaning desire for Francois again. But in her heart she knew that didn’t explain it. It didn’t explain why she had lain awake night after night,

waiting to hear his footsteps on the stairs, dreading, and

hoping that he would come to her bed. He had not come,

and on the few occasions when their paths crossed she had

had to turn away, terrified he might detect the anarchic lust

she experienced whenever he looked at her. But it was a

feeling that was mercifully starting to fade as she sat with

Armand’s arms tight around her and the breath of his kiss

on her cheek.

‘Did you talk to Francois about the other matter?’ he

asked.

She nodded. ‘He wanted to know if there had been any

strangers in the area, but there’s only Claude Villiers. He

said he would have him checked out. What do you think?

D’you think there’s still someone here?’

‘While you were away I did get the impression I was being

watched once or twice, but it’s difficult to know whether one

is imagining it or not. Is Francois intending to return to

Lorvoire?’

‘He didn’t say. But I don’t think so.’

‘Mm. A pity. I wanted to talk to him.’

‘What about?’

It was some time before he answered, and in the silence a

strange foreboding stole over her. She felt his mood

beginning to change, she felt him withdrawing from her into

the sadness she had detected in him when she arrived. She

waited, hardly daring to breathe lest it should inject further

life into her dread.

‘Well,’ he said finally, ‘if they do raise the age for

recruitment, I want to go, Claudine. I shall have to discuss it

with Francois first, because it’ll mean there’s no one here to

run the vineyards, but I don’t imagine he will raise any

objections - except that neither of us will feel happy about

leaving you here unprotected. Which reminds me, you

shouldn’t have come through the forest alone, however

eager you were to see me. Don’t do it again.’

‘No sir!’ she said, saluting. But there was more to come,

she knew it.

“Why didn’t you write while you were away?’ he said

suddenly.

She was stunned. Not only because of the reproach in his

voice, but because it hadn’t even occurred to her to write.

‘I take it you did miss me?’

She sat up and turned to look at him. ‘Of course I did,’

she answered, her voice imbued with feeling. ‘I’m surprised

you even need to ask.’

He smiled. ‘That’s all right then, isn’t it?’

But it wasn’t. There was something in his voice…‘What

is it?’ she said. ‘What are you thinking?’

He lifted a gentle hand to her cheek. ‘Of how much I love

you.’

‘No. There’s more, Armand. Tell me, what is it?’

He laughed, and turned his eyes into the forest. ‘The truth,’

he said. ‘I’ve been so terrified of losing you these past weeks

that somehow, in my mind, I’ve managed to convince myself

that it has already happened, but I’m refusing to see it.’

‘But Armand, I love you!’ she cried. ‘You know I do.

Nothing has changed, except perhaps that having been away

from you, I love you more than ever.’

‘Even though I can never give you the life you have now?

Balls at the Polish Embassy, soirees at the Bois de

Boulogne, visits to the opera, a household of staff? They will

all be things of the past if you come to live with me.’

‘But they don’t mean anything! All the time I was in Paris

I wanted to be here, with you, the way we are now. I love you,

Armand. You’re all that matters to me.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Claudine. I know you’d like that

to be true, but it isn’t. I’ve been thinking about it while you

were away, and I know, as you do too in your heart, that

there’s no future for us, and if we go on like this I’ll only

make you unhappy. That’s why I want to talk to Francois. I

want him to pull strings for me to join the army, because that

way it will be easier for us to say goodbye.’

Her face was ashen. A terrible panic was beginning to stir

inside her. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, you don’t mean that!’

He held her away as she made to throw herself against

him. ‘I do mean it, Claudine. This time apart has shown me

how futile our love is. You don’t belong to my world, any

more than I do to yours. I want you to think about that, and I

want you to be honest with yourself. You can’t leave your

family, and you know it.’

‘But we’ll chink of a way, Armand! We’ve always said that,

that one day we’ll find the answer. I couldn’t bear to lose

you. If you want to go and fight for France, I’ll even talk to

Francois myself for you, but if you’re going just to be away

from me, then I beg you not to do it.’

He looked away, but she saw the tears in his eyes and

threw her arms around him. ‘I beg you, cheri!’ she cried. ‘I

beg you. Don’t do this.’

He buried his face in her shoulder, and suddenly he

started to sob. ‘Dear God, if only I had the guts!’ he said

savagely. ‘If only I had the courage to walk away from you

now. I want to fight for my country, but I’m afraid to leave

you. Afraid you won’t be here when I get back. I love you so

much I can hardly think straight. I wanted you to beg me to

stay. I needed to know that you love me that much. I’m so

afraid of losing you, of having you tell me that it’s over. I

thought about nothing else while you were away. I waited for

your letters, and when they didn’t come I thought you’d

stopped caring, that maybe you’d found someone else.

Someone who is worthy of you, who can give you the life and

happiness you deserve. Claudine, hold me, please, hold me.

Tell me you love me. I’ve got to hear it. I know I’m a coward,

that I don’t deserve your love, but without it I’m nothing.’

‘Oh, mon cheri? she cried, lifting his face and holding it

between her hands. ‘Of course I love you. And you’re not a

coward. You’re wonderful and kind and the biggest idiot

I’ve ever met in my life. How could you have put yourself

through such torment? But I’ll never go away again, and nor

will you. We’ll find an answer, I will find the answer. Trust

me.’

His eyes were still clouded with uncertainty as he looked

at her, and she smiled at the way his tears had left furrows in

the dust on his cheeks. ‘Will you spend the night with me

tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

By the time he left her at the bridge he was more his old

self, and was even laughing about his ‘pathetic display of

tears’. Whereas, in the past, she had always been the one

who was reluctant to let go, this time it was Armand who

found it hard to part. Claudine wondered if he had noticed

the change. But inside the chateau, on the nursery landing,

Magaly was waiting with news which pushed all thoughts of

Armand from her mind. She flew down the stairs to the

family sitting-room, where she found Louis and Solange

talking quietly.

‘Magaly told me,’ Claudine said. ‘But what does it mean?’

Louis took off his spectacles, and her heart almost!

ground to a halt as she saw the terrible anguish in his eyes.

‘It means that in a matter of days France will be at war,’ he

answered soberly.

‘But Communist Russia and Nazi Germany!’ she cried.

‘It doesn’t make sense. How could this have happened?’

‘Nobody knows,’ Louis said in a voice that cracked with

fatigue. ‘Maybe the details will come out later, but it will be

too late to change anything. A non-aggression pact between

Russia and Germany means that Poland and all her people

are already lost.’ He turned to Solange and gripped her

hands between his own. ‘I’d like to lie down for a while, cherie,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to come with me.’

‘Is Monique in her room?’ Claudine asked. ‘I’d better go

and tell her the news.’

As Claudine walked up the stairs in front of Solange and

Louis, she was thinking again of Armand. She had never

seen him like that before, so uncertain of himself, nor had

she ever seen Louis anything but strong - and the

bewildering change in two men she had come to depend

upon so much was in its way as horrifying as the imminence

of war. But it wasn’t until later that night that she began to

feel the full impact of the day’s news; to face up to the

chilling reality of war with Germany, and even the possibility

of defeat.

The nation’s mood over the next eleven days vacillated

between dread and hysteria as Britain and France sighed a

formal alliance with Poland, then tried to persuade her to

negotiate with Germany. Poland refused, and in the early

hours of Friday morning, September 1st 1939, German

troops crossed the frontier into Poland.

Francois telephoned at eleven thirty on the morning of

September 3rd and asked to speak to his father. Claudine

took the call, since Louis was in the chapel with Solange. ‘Where are you?’ she asked him.

‘In Paris.’

‘Are you coming home?’

‘No. I can’t. But I’m glad to talk to you, Claudine, because

I want you to start packing, now. I want you and Louis to

come to Paris, and from here I’ll see you on a flight to the

United States. I don’t want you to argue, I just want you to

get out of France while you still can.’

‘No!’ she cried. Tears were stinging the backs of her

eyes and the ghastly panic she had been trying to stave off

over the past eleven days suddenly threatened to overwhelm

her.

‘Claudine, listen to me,’ he said. ‘Neville Chamberlain is

going to broadcast to the British nation at twelve fifteen on

the BBC. It will be a declaration of war on Germany. France

will follow within hours. So please, start packing.’

There was a pause as she took in the full impact of his

words. Then, as she slowly started to come back to life, her

shoulders straightened, her head lifted, and in a voice of

inflexible resolve she said, ‘No, Francois.’

‘Claudine…’

‘No, Francois! I won’t discuss it any further. I’m not

coming to Paris. I’m staying here where I belong.’ There

was a fierce determination in her voice that she had never

used with him before, and she thought he was smiling as he

said, ‘AH right, I won’t force you, though I ought to. But if it

is your wish to remain in France, you’ll have to understand

what it will mean. This is a war we cannot possibly win,

Claudine. Now the Russians have signed their pact with

Germany, our case is hopeless - unless the United States

decides to back us. So far they have not committed

themselves, and I don’t believe they will until forced. By

then France will probably be a defeated nation.’

She could hear him breathing at the end of the line, and

for a moment, more than anything else in the world, she

wanted him to come home.

‘I will, as soon as I can,’ he answered her. ‘But I don’t

want you looking to me for your strength. You have your

own strength, Claudine, and if you stay at the chateau you’re

going to need it. Our son is safe as long as Corinne is there,

but you are a different matter. I’ll come home as often as I

can, but I have no idea yet what will be required of me in the

months ahead. If Armand stays he will give you the support

you need, for as long as he is able.’

There was a choking dryness in her throat as she said,

‘What do you mean, as long as he is able?’

‘I’m saying that I am doing all I can to see he stays at Lorvoire, at least for the time being. But the day is not far off when France will need all her men - no matter what their