The Eden Inheritance Page 28

  ‘Water, Katrine?’ he drawled in an amused tone. ‘That’s not like you.’

  Colour hooded her cheeks.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I drink water?’

  ‘No reason at all, except that you usually prefer wine.’

  ‘Well tonight I feel like water. Anyone would think I was an alcoholic to hear you talk.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear. But you must admit you took to the French customs very readily.’

  The edge was there between them, obvious to everyone around the table. There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Charles turned to his brother.

  ‘I feel like a game of chess, Christian. It’s been a long while since we played. What do you say we get the board out after dinner?’

  Kathryn felt her throat constrict again. Since Paul had told her the drop was on she had not had a chance to talk to Christian and she did not know if he had a part to play in the night’s operation. If he did, starting a game of chess with Charles could make things difficult. It was true they did not play often nowadays, but when they did the games were long-drawn-out affairs lasting into the small hours. But Christian nodded, picking up a crumb from the table beside his plate and rolling it between his fingers.

  ‘All right, you’re on. Last time we played you beat me, I seem to remember. Tonight it’s my turn to trounce you.’

  His readiness to accept the challenge reassured her a little and when a moment or two later their eyes met and he gave her an almost imperceptible wink she understood. Christian was not a necessary part of the operation and he was making the most of the opportunity to ensure that Charles was occupied at the relevant time. It would, they both knew, make it much easier for her to slip out unnoticed.

  When at last the meal was over and the coffee pot empty, Kathryn rose.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll have an early night.’

  Celestine, too, pushed back her chair.

  ‘Me too. I’m very tired.’ Her voice was a trifle unsteady and Kathryn saw the way her hand shook as her fingers pressed on to the polished surface of the table. She hoped no one else had noticed but if they had perhaps they would attribute it to Celestine’s condition. Since returning to the château she had been so unlike her former self it was hard to believe that this was the same girl who had left two years earlier for Paris, full of the joy of life and hopes for the future.

  Kathryn went to Charles, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she had done every night since their estrangement, a charade of dutiful uxoriousness which fooled no one, with the possible exception of Louise.

  ‘Goodnight, I’ll be asleep by the time you finish your game with Christian, I expect.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ he said drily. ‘I’ll sleep in the dressing room so as not to disturb you.’

  Another piece of luck! Silently Kathryn thanked the providence that had made him choose this very night to challenge Christian to a game of chess.

  As the door closed after them Celestine grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.

  ‘It’s on then?’

  ‘Yes. Be outside the gates at half past eleven and for God’s sake don’t be law. Albert won’t be able to wait. He’s taking a risk coming here for us at all.’

  ‘I know. And it’s for my benefit, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yours – and Guy’s too.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I feel like going out now, just to be sure.’

  ‘You mustn’t do that. Don’t do anything to attract attention to yourself. If a patrol was to pass and see you out after curfew …’ She shuddered at the thought of the consequences.

  ‘I know,’ Celestine said again. ‘ I’m not stupid.’

  Her voice was sharp but Kathryn did not take offence at it. The strain they were all under was enough to make anyone snappy.

  She left Celestine at her door and followed the passage around to their own wing looking into Guy’s room as she passed. He was sleeping soundly, one arm lying over the covers, the other bunched up to allow his thumb into his mouth. Guy always sucked his thumb when he was tired or sleeping and though Kathryn had tried everything from bitter aloes to a thumbstall tied to his wrist in an effort to break the habit she had been unsuccessful.

  ‘I like sucking my thumb,’ he would say with perfect reasonableness.

  Now, looking at him, her heart filled with love. Please God, let everything go well tonight, for his sake if nothing else, she prayed, and knew that as far as Guy was concerned she certainly was doing the right thing. France under the jackboot was no place for a small child – especially one who was half English. If the situation took a turn for the worse Guy could find himself in as much danger as Celestine’s unborn baby; Kathryn had simply not wanted to acknowledge that fact.

  In her own room she checked again that the bag she had prepared contained all the bare essentials they would need, together with the few personal effects she wanted to take with her – a drawing of Guy’s, her birth certificate and papers, the earrings her mother had given her for her twenty-first birthday. Her engagement ring and the pieces of jewellery Charles had given her she placed in her jewellery case and left in a prominent position on her dressing table. She did not want them any more and she wanted Charles to know she had left them behind. Then she laid out a dark silk sweater, trousers and jacket, undressed to her underwear and lay down on the bed, pulling a single coverlet over herself. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

  At eleven-fifteen Kathryn got up, dressed and crept out of her room, peeping into Charles’ dressing room as she passed. Yes, his bed was still empty as she had thought it would be. She had heard Paul come upstairs half an hour earlier, the old floorboards protesting a little beneath his tread, but there had been no telltale sounds of Charles coming to bed. He and Christian must be still engrossed in their game.

  The house was dark and quiet with only the occasional creak of a settling timber to disturb the silence. Outside Paul’s door she hesitated, longing to go in on the pretext of asking whether everything was going according to plan, knowing that in reality what she wanted was to be in his arms one last time. But she knew she must not. To deviate now from the arrangements was to court trouble.

  Guy was sleeping soundly. She knelt down by his bed, shaking him gently.

  ‘Guy – darling, wake up.’

  He stirred. She pulled back the covers, easing him into a sitting position in her arms, talking to him softly all the while, soothing him.

  ‘We’re going to have an adventure, darling. I want you to be very quiet – not make a sound. I’m going to get you dressed and then we are going to see an aeroplane. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Mummy … I’m tired!’ His voice was thick with sleep.

  ‘Shh! Not a sound, remember! Hold up your arms now – off with your pyjamas – come on, there’s a good boy.’

  She pulled the sweater over his head, buttoned his shorts and eased his feet into his sandals. He stood like a stuffed toy, letting her do it, his small hands, balled to fists, pressing against his sleepy eyes.

  She glanced at her watch. It had taken much longer than she had expected to rouse him and get him dressed. The hands of her watch which earlier had seemed to be motionless had taken wings.

  ‘Darling, come on, please …’

  She opened the door cautiously and looked out. The house was still, silent. She picked up the bag and taking Guy by the hand led him out of the bedroom and along the passage. He stumbled beside her, still half-asleep, and she wished she could pick him up and carry him, but she did not think she could manage both him and the bag down the back stairs. He was a big boy for his age and the stairs, uneven in places, would be treacherous. Kathryn was taut with nerves. Supposing Charles should finish his game with Christian and come to bed in the next few minutes? She wouldn’t run into him this way – he would use the main staircase – but there was always the chance he might look into her room or Guy’s and find them gone.

  The bolts on the kitchen doo
r had been pulled back; either Paul or Celestine must have already left this way, she guessed. She opened it as quietly as she could and led Guy out into the narrow passageway. The moon was shining brightly but here the walls of the château cast huge sharp shadows and the air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. She pulled the door to behind her and took Guy’s hand again.

  ‘Come on, darling. Isn’t this exciting?’ she cajoled him.

  A figure emerged from the deep shadow ahead and her heart leaped into her mouth. Then with a rush of relief she recognised Paul. He must have been waiting for her in one of the archways, she realised.

  ‘Paul! You gave me a fright!’

  ‘Sorry. I thought you might need some help with Guy.’

  ‘Monsieur Paul?’ Guy said wonderingly.

  ‘Shh! You must be quiet, Guy!’

  ‘We’ll cut across the parkland,’ Paul said softly. ‘With the moon this bright the drive is all too visible from the house. Come on, Guy, you want a piggyback?’

  He swung the sleepy child easily on to his shoulders and they set off across the rough grass, talking little, concentrating on keeping in shadow as far as possible until the trees blocked out the windows of the château.

  Paul walked fast; by the time they reached the lane Kathryn was breathing heavily.

  ‘I hope Celestine isn’t late,’ she panted.

  ‘If she is we’ll just have to go without her.’ Paul’s voice had the hard edge to it that she had come to know; Paul the man and Paul the agent were two quite different people, and she loved both of them. But she hoped fervently that Cdestine would be on time, for she had no doubt that if she was not Paul would carry out his threat and go without her.

  When they turned into the lane, however, Celestine was already there, standing in the shadows.

  ‘Thank God! I thought you would never get here!’ she greeted them, her voice shaking with nervous tension. ‘I’ve been here ages!’

  ‘You haven’t seen anyone?’ Paul asked sharply.

  ‘No, it’s all as quiet as the grave …’ She broke off, biting her lip at the awkward analogy.

  Paul set Guy down, sitting him on Kathryn’s bag underneath the low wall. He curled into it, holding on to Kathryn’s leg for comfort.

  ‘Now, you both know what you have to do, don’t you? When the Lysander arrives keep well clear whilst we unload the supplies, but be ready. The minute that’s done they’ll drop a ladder and you get in as quickly as you can. The pilot won’t want to wait a minute longer than absolutely necessary.’ He checked his watch. ‘Albert should be here at any moment.’

  Hardly had he spoken than they heard the roar of an engine, load in the silence of the night.

  ‘This could be him now. But keep out of sight just in case it’s not.’

  They drew back into the shadows, Kathryn holding Guy very close. At the gates the van juddered to a stop. It was Albert. Paul leaped forward and opened the rear doors.

  ‘Come on, quick as you can. Lie on the floor in case there’s a patrol about.’

  They did as he said, tumbling inside and huddling in the dark interior which smelled of cheap fuel and rotting vegetables. Paul climbed into the front beside Albert and they were off, jolting. away along the rutted lane.

  ‘This is it, then,’ Kathryn said unsteadily.

  Neither Celestine nor Guy, wide awake now, but round-eyed with puzzlement and frightened, by the tension he sensed in the adults, made any reply.

  From the top of the ridge the German patrol, parked with its lights off, had followed the erratic progress of the truck in the valley beneath. Now they watched it turn east, heading deep into the country on the unoccupied side of the line.

  ‘Do we go in now?’ one asked.

  ‘No. Our orders are to follow it and liaise with the others. One sprat may lead us to a lot of mackerel.’

  The men laughed and the observer reached for his radio telephone. This was going to be good sport – a much more interesting way to spend a night than the usually excruciatingly boring hours between dusk and dawn, the hours of curfew when everything should be quiet – and usually was.

  ‘They are heading your way,’ he said into the telephone. ‘You should see them any minute now. But don’t do anything – just follow at a discreet distance. We want to know where they are going.’

  ‘Ja, I know,’ came the reply. ‘Ja – I have them now.’

  Unaware of being watched and followed, Albert continued to drive towards the field where the Lysander was to land.

  The landing site was the same one Paul had used on the night he had been shot, and as Albert pulled into the gateway and cut his engine and lights Paul experienced a moment’s déjá vu as he saw the other members of the reception party, huddled together smoking and eating their supper of bread and cold sausage just as they had that night. Paul picked up Guy, carrying him across the rough ground towards the field. The men’s faces expressed surprise as they recognised Celestine, but they knew better than to make any comment.

  ‘We’re all right now you’re here then, my friend,’ one of them said to Paul, referring to the fact that following a few unfortunate experiences the Lysander and Hudson squadrons had stipulated that they would only fly in when the operation was under the direction of a properly trained agent.

  In spite of her nervousness Kathryn felt a glow of pride as she watched Paul take control, checking wind direction and working out the positions of the lights that would be used to make the touchdown and turning points for the aircraft. Then, once again, there was nothing to do but wait.

  ‘They will come, won’t they?’ she whispered to Paul.

  ‘I certainly hope so!’

  But they both knew it was possible they might not; a wrong heading, a change in wind direction which would throw the Lysander off course, the flak fields over the French coast – there were any number of hazards which might jeopardise the success of the operation. And if that happened – what then? There would be nothing for it but to go back to the château, back to Charles – who might, even now, have realised they were missing – and try to make certain Guy said nothing about his midnight adventure, make fresh plans, go through all this again … She didn’t think she could stand it.

  The hum of an aero-engine suddenly impinged on the silence. Kathryn turned, straining her eyes in the direction of the sound, and saw it come into view like a great bird swooping in above the tops of the trees.

  She turned to Paul, tom between relief that the aeroplane was here and the sudden bleak realisation that the moment of parting was very close. She longed to touch him and feel the reassurance of his arms around her one last time but Paul had moved away, resuming the professional role that made him a stranger to her.

  With his pocket torch he signalled in Morse to the pilot, and the moment the pilot returned the signal the three landing lights flared into life. The pilot overflew the field, checking it out, and turned downwind. To Kathryn it seemed he was already very low and she held tight to Guy, who was now practically jumping up and down with excitement.

  ‘You see – I told you we were going to see an aeroplane,’ she said to him, but her voice was all but drowned out by the noise of the engine as the Lysander turned and came in, dropping fast now that its flaps were fully extended. It touched down, bumping a little on the rough ground and braking gently at first, then harder as the second lamp passed beneath its port wing and the border of trees came rushing up to meet it. It turned and taxied slowly back to the point of touchdown.

  The field was a hive of activity now, the reception committee running to unload the plane. Kathryn saw Paul climb on to the undercarriage housing to speak to the pilot and when several cartons had been passed down to the ground, he waved to her.

  ‘Time to go.’

  They ran across the field, Kathryn holding tight to Guy’s hand. Paul jumped down and she ran to him, not caring any more who saw, throwing herself into his arms.

  He held her for a moment, kissing her, and in tha
t brief embrace it seemed to her that time stood. still.

  ‘Take care, my darling.’

  ‘And you. I love you, Kathryn.’

  ‘And I love you …’

  Momentarily engrossed in their snatched goodbyes, neither saw the lights approaching down the lane and the sound of the vehicles was drowned out by the racing aircraft engines.

  It was Albert’s shout which alerted them. They jerked apart. And in that same moment, it seemed to Kathryn, all hell broke loose.

  Afterwards she remembered only a scene of total chaos, a nightmare come to life which she would relive over and over again, fragmented pictures of vehicles roaring into the field and men running, of shouts and screams and gunfire. Some of the reception committee dashed for the shelter of the trees – they knew they stood no chance of making a fight of it with the Boche arriving in such strength. But Paul did not run. He was there beside her, throwing Guy into the Lysander to Celestine’s waiting arms.

  ‘Get in!’ he shouted to her, pushing her bodily up the little ladder.

  ‘You come too …’

  ‘Don’t be stupid … get in! Close the hatch!’

  ‘Paul!’ She was almost hysterical. ‘For God’s sake, Paul!’

  It was Celestine who restrained her, Celestine who dragged her into the Lysander and pulled up the ladder. Then the hatch was closed, the engines roaring as the pilot applied full power and the plane began to move forward over the rough ground.

  ‘Paul! My God – Paul!’

  She could hear shot peppering the fuselage of the aircraft but she no longer cared about her own situation. All she could think of was that. Paul was still out there in the moonlit field and the Germans had come. He couldn’t escape. There was no way …

  Guy was crying. Somewhere on the periphery of her mind she could hear him and she reached out for him blindly, holding him tight to her while she shook and sobbed. The wheels left the ground, somehow, miraculously, they were airborne, climbing away, and she knew with sick certainty that when the plane was out of range the Boche would turn their guns on Paul. If they had not already done so. And if they didn’t …