Madeleine's War (11 page)

She paused and closed her eyes, obviously thinking back. Her lush eyelashes lay on her cheeks.

“Philippe's letter was lovely. With France being occupied and the Resistance being set up, he came into his own. He couldn't be in the regular army, and that was just as well, with what was happening to French soldiers being sent east, but he could be in the Resistance. He knew where all those caves were, which were perfect hiding places for the Resistance, perfect storage places for food or explosives, and places where the injured could be looked after. He had found his métier and although it was dangerous I could tell he was loving it. It was a very loving letter, looking forward to the end of the war. He was certain the Germans would lose.”

She closed her eyes again.

“His mother's letter was very different. She said that Philippe had eventually told her about our marriage. She said she thought we had been foolish as well as deceitful—foolish because he was a Catholic and I am Protestant. My mother is Protestant and insisted I be raised in her faith, the more so after my father died. But Philippe's mother wasn't writing just to admonish me or criticise me, but to give me the news that Philippe was dead.”

Madeleine took a deep breath.

“He had become a senior figure in the local Resistance, she said, and a hero locally. His looks, his knowledge of the local terrain, the cave art he had discovered, showing how long the French had been in that land
now occupied by invaders, all helped make him a local legend. But he had been betrayed. He had, his mother said, been shot in a prison yard at Cognac, the very town where we had been married. With the letter she had enclosed a photograph of me and Philippe that he had taken at our wedding but had not had time to have developed before I returned to London with my mother.”

She looked at me.

“It was heartbreaking. I was a widow at twenty-two. That's when—that's really
why
—I decided to do something for the war effort. To have my own little revenge.”

We were silent for a long time.

Eventually, I said, “None of this was in your file.”

“I never talk about it. I didn't want people to think my war was only personal. I didn't mention it to you because I didn't want you to think…It's been three years now, Colonel, and I've adjusted.” Her voice thinned a little. “It was glorious, but it only really lasted four days and I…I get emotional when I talk about it, like we are doing now, but really…I'm not going into France for Philippe any more. My motives are…I'm going because it's the right thing to do.”

“You're full of surprises,” I breathed after a moment. “I'll give you that.”

Another moment of silence. She looked at me over the rim of her whisky glass as she drank. Her eyes grew rounder.

“Now what?”

She lowered her glass. “Erich's asked me out. He wants to take me to Fort William, for dinner.”

I swallowed. “And what did you say?”

“I said I'd think about it.” She tugged at the hem of her skirt again. “What do
you
think I should say?”

“It's not up to me, is it?”

“You've never asked me out. For dinner, I mean.”

“I was working up to it. I thought I'd wait until we got to London. I'm your commanding officer at the moment. In London you'll come under someone else. In London we can be more discreet.”

She regarded me, a slight smile spreading along her lips.

A burst of applause erupted across the room as the game was finished. Shouting, more applause, cries of “Well done!,” “Congratulations!” Whistles. Glasses being banged on tables.

There was too much noise for either of us to be heard for a few moments.

Then she nodded and leaned forward.

“We are a small group in F Section. Just four recruits. If I turn Erich down, that could upset him, and upset the balance in the group in our final days.”

I didn't say anything.

“I'm going to tell him yes, on that basis. It will be interesting to see Fort William anyway.”

I couldn't read her expression.

Then she said, “All the same, I look forward to our dinner in London, Colonel.”

“
HOW IS IT THAT YOU
don't like whisky, Duncan?”

He and I were sitting next to the fire in the snooker room, after dinner two nights later. It was late; almost everyone else had gone to bed. There were just two others playing darts. Madeleine was out with Erich in Fort William. They had not yet returned.

Duncan drained his beer glass. “I saw what it did to my father.” He set his glass down on the low table near us. “My father was not a nice man when he drank. He hit us boys, he hit my mother. My elder brother stood up to him—and then they fought. That's why Callum went into the RAF early, to get away. My other brother couldn't wait to follow him as soon as he was eighteen.”

“And what happened? What happened with you?”

I looked at my watch. It was just gone eleven. Where
were
they?

“My father fell ill with the drink—liver trouble. My two elder brothers were in training, to be pilots—if they passed their exams. I couldn't leave home like they did—that would have left my mother with no one. So I stayed on at school, and found that I was good at maths and liked it. Then, in the space of a few months, my father died of his illness, I was given a scholarship to Glasgow University, and my mother said I should go, that I had been tied to her apron strings for long enough. She went to live with her sister. At university I joined the army reserve in 1938, and just before war broke out I was invited to a code-breaking outfit near Prestwick in Ayrshire—they needed mathematicians, they said. From there I was taken into SC2 when it was created. The rest you know.”

“Did your mother grieve much, or was she glad to be shut of your father? Did she never remarry?”

Still no sign of Madeleine and Erich.

Duncan shook his head. “No, she never remarried. In a funny way, despite his drinking binges, and the fights, I think she loved him. She was certainly very upset when he died. Then, when my brothers were killed, early on in the war, she was…Well, you know.”

“Do you like living at home now?”

“I don't
dislike
it, but…when Siobhan and I get married I'll be moving out.”

“And when is that likely to be?”

He stood up. “Can we talk about this some other time, Matt? I'm very tired and we've got to prepare our last little deception. We've got our work cut out, if we are to pull it off without anyone guessing.”

I stood up, too. “Of course. And you're right. We can't lose our cunning this late in the course.”

I picked up my half-empty half-bottle of whisky and followed Duncan out of the room.

The darts players had already gone.

I went to the front door of the manse, opened it, and stepped out into the night.

It was crisp, with a clear sky. No moon but countless stars. My breath escaped my mouth in tiny clouds that melted into nothing immediately. No sign of anyone arriving along the drive.

I turned and went inside, closing the door behind me. I nodded to the sentry on duty. The manse was miles from anywhere, but it was still fully defended.

I climbed the stone stairs to my room. At the end of the corridor a window was open slightly. It made the light hanging from the ceiling sway but the open window kept the air circulating so that in our wing of the manse it didn't get stale.

I opened the door to my room. The light was on. Odd. I hadn't left it on.

Madeleine was lying on the bed. Wearing a raincoat and scarf.

I was both apprehensive and light-headed all at the same time.

She had taken one hell of a risk in coming here.

On the beaches near the manse, on our bicycle rides, in class, I had always been with Madeleine in public, or in a public place. I had long been aware of my growing feelings but hadn't allowed them to flood my system as I knew the dangers of incoming tides. But in the confined space of
my room, with Madeleine stretched out on the bed, the fact that she had come straight from being with Erich to being with me…We were still at that stage where behaviour came before words, but her very presence here, now, was a bold extension of the code which, until then, we had silently followed.

“Is that whisky in your hand?” she said softly. “Erich doesn't drink and I'm gasping.”

I stepped across the room and handed her the bottle. She swung her legs off the bed and sat sideways on, holding the whisky.

“I didn't hear you come in. How long have you been back? Didn't Erich offer you a drink?”

“On grounds of security we had to pay off the taxi at the end of the drive. We walked the rest of the way—”

“Jesus! You must be rock-solid—it's freezing out there.”

She grinned. “We didn't walk, we
marched
! But yes, the whisky will be a help.” She drank from the neck of the bottle and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “That's better.”

“You look like someone in a western, drinking like that.”

“Aren't you going to ask me how it went?”

“How did it go?”

She handed back the bottle. I sat on the edge of the bed, alongside her.

“There's not much to Fort William. All the buildings are like this place—windows too small for their walls.”

“It's to keep the weather out. But that's not what I meant.”

She unwound her scarf from round her neck. “I'm thawing out at last. I know it's not what you meant.”

She unbuttoned her raincoat.

“Erich's very sweet—I'm not sure he's too used to women.”

“Not all of us are.”

She turned her head and eyed me.

“He spent the whole time talking about his family and his childhood.”

“I've just had much the same sort of conversation with Duncan. Is that so terrible?”

“You didn't do that with me.”

“Yes, but our first ‘date'—not that you can call it that—was an interview just after you thought you were going to die. Not exactly a fair comparison.”

“Are you always so fair-minded? You don't know what else happened.”

“Do you mean he asked you to marry him?”

She chuckled. “I think…I think he likes me, yes. I think that if I gave him encouragement, he could fall for me, perhaps heavily. I don't think there have been many women in his life.”

I drank some whisky. “So what are you saying?”

She paused, and took off her raincoat. “Would it shock you, would it change your mind about me, if I said I told him a lie?”

There was a short silence.

“I don't know the answer to that. What was the lie? Why was there a
need
to lie?”

“I told you before…that I went out with Erich in the first place because he asked me and if I had refused him it would—it might—have upset the balance of our small group.”

“Yeees?”

“I had to nip Erich's feelings in the bud. Before he got…well, before he let them run away with him.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. “So what did you say?”

“I told him about Philippe. I told him the story I told you, about the caves, the storms, the way Philippe and I met, our
coup de foudre
marriage, how he went on to become a Resistance hero.” She reached up and held her hair off her head for a moment. “But I didn't tell him Philippe is dead. I left the story, without telling any real whoppers, but so as to give Erich the impression that Philippe is still alive, and that I am a married woman. I said that I had volunteered for this job in the hope that I can soon be reunited with my husband. I think that let Erich down gently. Was it the right thing to do?”

I waited for a moment before saying, “I suppose so. How did he take it?”

“He was sad, I think. But I think he's been turned down by women before. It wasn't too much of a surprise, or too devastating. We'll be easy with each other the next time we meet. It won't disturb the group.”

Again, I said nothing for a moment. Nothing she had said had calmed the fire burning just beneath my skin.

“Well, whichever way it went, you've had a more exciting night than I have. Brown soup with Duncan, a darts match, and the inevitable Scotch.”

“Too bad,” she whispered. “But the night's not over yet, is it? Or it doesn't need to be.”

“Are we going to need more whisky at this point?”

“More spirit, certainly. You said you were waiting till London before asking me out. That would—sooner rather than later—probably have led
to a situation very like the one we are in now. But the course here is over in two days. If I stay the night tonight, no one is going to know, not if I leave and go back to my room early in the morning. We can be as discreet here as in London.”

We heard a seal bark out at sea.

“There you are,” she said softly. “It feels right that we should make love here for the first time, with all the sand and the tides, and the seals and the heather, and the standing stones. Afterwards we can lie quietly and listen to the wind in the pines, and the call of the gulls. We won't have it for much longer and I've spent too many nights on my own in this place. You kissed my hair that night we were in the Land Rover, after we had rescued Erich. I liked it.”

I half turned on the bed and leaned forward to kiss her.

“Why don't you turn out the light?” she murmured.

I got up and went over to the light switch.

The room wasn't in complete darkness. The bulb outside was swaying in the wind, so that the light that leaked under the door flickered as Madeleine stood up and began to undress.

I FELT THE SUN ON MY
neck as I gazed down at the four trainees spread-eagled on the grass. Spring had finally arrived at Ardlossan, at least for a few hours, and today's lesson was being held outdoors.

Ivan had taken off his tie, Katrine was wearing an Alice band, Erich was smoking, and Madeleine was wearing the frock I particularly liked. Duncan Kennaway lay flat on his back looking up at the blue sky. He, of course, had heard all I was about to say before.

“We don't often work you on Saturday mornings,” I said, as the breeze gusted. “And this weekend is no exception, so I will keep what I have to say short.”

I squinted as I looked down at them—the sun was in my eyes. “We are almost at the end of the course. We, on our side, have taught you almost everything we know about serving behind enemy lines in France. When you leave here, you will be sent to London, where you will pick up your clothes, clothes designed to fit in with whatever cover you are being given. You will receive your final orders, tailored explicitly to the region where you will be dropped, and the circuit you will join. You will also receive your instructions about the role you will be expected to play. We all know an invasion is coming but when, and where, is probably the greatest secret of the war. But that you will all play a part in that invasion is without doubt.”

They all looked serious, apprehensive. Their real work was getting ever closer.

“We've worked you hard while you've been here. You expected that, I am sure. There's a war on and you are all anxious to play your part, which is as it should be. However, for the rest of today, Saturday, my colleagues and
I will have a meeting, to go through the details about all the other people who will be following you here at Ardlossan.” I smiled. “Another group, like you, who want to do their bit.”

I rocked from one foot to the other as they took this in and, one by one, again nodded their assent.

“There is just one thing remaining. When you are sent overseas, dropped into France, you will be known not by your real names, but by code names. When you practice your transmissions from now on, you will use your code names only. So now is the time to choose one.”

I looked from one to the other again.

“Choose one that's simple, not more than two syllables—in English or in French translation—so you don't waste time in transmission, and choose something that is easy to remember but is in no way connected to you. Got it?”

I waited a moment. “When I was in France my code name was ‘pasteur,' minister or pastor. You, Ivan, any ideas? We can do this bit of the lesson in English.”

Ivan seemed puzzled and said, in French, “Is this a trick question, about being in English, I mean?”

I laughed. “No, not at all. It just makes sense to do this part in English. Off you go.”

Ivan looked over his shoulder. “There's so much beach here, when the tide's out. How about ‘
sable
'?”

“Sand.” I nodded. “Equally short in English and French—perfect. Katrine?”

“How about ‘tide'?”

“
Marée
. Also good. Erich?”

“I like ‘seal.' ”

“
Phoque
. Excellent, but can no one break away from Ardlossan? How about you, Madeleine?”

She lifted her hair away from her neck. Her shirt tightened over her bosom. I noticed Erich looking too.

“All right, then,” she said. “ ‘Oak,' how about that? It is certainly short.”

“
Chêne
in French—that's good, too. Okay. Why though, as a matter of interest?”

She shrugged. “There's a French proverb-cum-poem about the forest that someone once told me. There are several lines about trees, about the sycamore and the elm, and about the oak being the king of the forest.
And there's one line I've never forgotten: ‘Do not be afraid to go out on a limb…that's where the fruit is.' ”

I smiled at her, thinking of our night together. Then, with an effort, I switched back to the others.

“From here on, your time at Ardlossan grows less strict. In fact, you can have the rest of today off. And, as it happens, there's a dance in Ardlossan town tonight, at the Drumlanrig Arms pub. People are coming from miles around—it should be…it should be like being a real person again. And you don't have to get up tomorrow—you can sleep in. The head of SC2, Colonel Patrick Manning, is arriving today, for the meeting I just referred to, and he'll be staying the night and for lunch tomorrow, so you will all get to meet him and ask him any questions you might have. And that's the end of the course. You are all free to leave immediately afterwards.”

I held up a series of paper wallets. “These contain your rail tickets south, and the addresses in London where you will be staying, along with details of the nearest tube station and local bus routes. There is also a slip of paper with my phone number on it and a time when you will be asked to report to London headquarters. I will give them to you tomorrow.”

I looked from one to the other. “Any questions?”

“Do we go to this dance tonight as couples?” said Erich, looking at Madeleine. “Or as individuals?”

“Neither,” said Ivan swiftly. “We'll arrive as a four.” He smiled. “After that it's every man for himself.” His smile broadened into a grin.

“Any more
serious
questions?” I said, smiling also.

“Yes,” said Katrine. “The obvious one. Where
are
the London headquarters?”

“Ah, well…You will be given the address—or
an
address—when you phone me, according to the schedule in these wallets. Obviously, there are certain procedures to be followed, to ensure we keep our headquarters secure. You'll learn about that as we go along.”

I looked from one to the other again. “Any more questions?”

Madeleine, lying on the grass, raised herself on one elbow. “I've been meaning to ask this for days—you say we are members of SC2. Is there an SC1, or an SC3 and if so, what do they do?”

I looked at her, in her magnificent frock. That morning, before we had parted, we had agreed not to share a bed again, not while we were in Ardlossan. As we had lain awake in the early hours, listening to the night, it was enough, we agreed. An evening to treasure and remember. No point
in risking the balance of our little group with the anonymity of London so close.

I pulled on my cigarette. “There's no SC3 but there
is
an SC1—yes, of course. You will only find out what it is and what it does if you do well in SC2. One or two of you may be invited to join SC1—that's all I can say.”

“Are you in SC1?”

“I can't say any more, Madeleine. Don't press me, please.”

I threw away my cigarette to indicate that the subject was closed. “So, enjoy the rest of your day off, have a good time at the Drumlanrig Arms tonight, and don't be late for lunch with the director tomorrow. One o'clock sharp. Now get out of my sight.”

AS IT TURNED OUT
,
IT HAD BEEN
overly optimistic to hold the final lunch of the course as a beach barbecue. The day had started out fine enough: blue sky, high birds, a wind that we told ourselves was merely “bracing.” The tide was right and, if anyone caught any fish—as several were attempting to do, without success so far—that would set the seal on the last day of training.

But when it became clear that no immediate success was likely, I called the trainees together near the makeshift driftwood fire. In the past hour, the wind had got up, well beyond bracing, and most of us were wearing tweed jackets or waterproofs against the cold.

I stood near the fire as Duncan stoked the logs and turned the lamb chops. Their juices dropped from the metal grill, into the fire, sparking a crackling and spitting sound that was, in that cold, sunny air, extremely appetizing.

There was a crate of beer next to the fire, so I handed round some opened bottles. “Help yourself. There's plenty for everyone.”

Ivan took a bottle and poured beer into the glasses held by Katrine and Madeleine. Then he began to pass round the metal plates, helped by Katrine.

Now the chops were done, Duncan lifted the metal grill, dug into them one by one with his long fork, and handed them to the recruits.

That's all there was—beer and chops—but, in the open air, with the smell of cooking so strong, it was enough.

A silent contentedness spread around the gathering as we munched away.

Wisps of sand were flying everywhere.

I let them finish their chops before going on.

I swigged some beer and wiped my lips.

“Now,” I began, “as we enjoy this last lunch together, I have two announcements. The first is that Patrick Manning, the commander of SC2, isn't with us after all. He was called back to London overnight—because, as perhaps you have heard, there has been heavy bombing, by our forces, in France, at La Rochelle, Pau, Biarritz, and Bordeaux. He needs to check if any of our circuits have been affected.”

Several of the trainees groaned.

“I know, I know,” I said, smiling. “It's disappointing but the RAF probably didn't realize you were having your final lunch today and so didn't act according to the script. But you'll get used to disappointments like that before this war is over.”

Duncan took the plates from the others. He knew, what I knew—that Patrick Manning had never been coming to Ardlossan and, in fact, did not exist. His supposed arrival was part of a final test for the recruits. Which I was about to reveal.

“Now,” I said for the second time. “You all know that cunning is part of our business in SC2—a large part, in fact. It is, if you like, our stock-in-trade.”

I paused.

“It is now my job to fill you in on our latest piece of chicanery. It took place yesterday and the targets were…Can anyone guess?”

I looked from Ivan to Erich, to Katrine to Madeleine.

“Well?”

Ivan shook his head. So did Erich. So did Katrine.

Swirls of sand rushed along the beach like ghosts.

Madeleine said, “Was it us? Were
we
the target?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You said ‘targets,' plural. And before I started this course, you interrogated me, you interrogated me in a way that felt very real. What I mean is that the interrogation was a deception too, that was the only way it could be made to seem real, and it took place before the start of the course proper. It…it…” She faltered.

“Go on,” I urged her. “What do you want to say?”

Everyone else was looking at her.

“It occurred to me that, if you could foist a deception on us
before
the course proper began, you could do the same after it had finished?”

“And we would do that because…?”

“Because you wanted us off-guard. Maybe you wanted to see how we could handle drink, whether we stood out in the dance crowd. Whether we forgot to hide why we are here.”

“Madeleine, you are half right,” I said at length. “More than half right, in fact.” I looked at her and smiled. “Well done. Last night's dance, or ‘ceilidh' as it is called locally, was a put-up job. It was genuine enough in that all the Campbells and MacTaggarts
are
locals and have been attending dances like this hereabouts all their lives.”

I sipped more beer. “But some of the people there last night were in fact
our
people, SC2 people, people you don't know and haven't seen before. They were there—and I make no apology for this—they were there to test you. To make you drunk, to flirt with you, to seduce you if necessary—”

I couldn't make out whether Madeleine was smiling or glowering.

“To seduce you if necessary—in order to test you to see how good you are at keeping secrets, how good or bad a security risk you are.

“I am afraid to say that one of you, at this very late stage, let the side down. One of you, after a few drinks, or very possibly after more than a few drinks, and after a few reels, went out for a walk between dances and let on to the person you were with that you were on some sort of secret course here at Ardlossan. You said you couldn't say too much about it, it was all top secret, but you did say that you would soon be going abroad. You didn't say where you were going, or when, but you said it would be soon. You showed off, peppering your conversation with French words.”

I sipped my beer but there was sand in it. I turned the beer glass upside down and poured the remains of the liquid on to the beach.

“You didn't mention SC2 by name, you didn't give away any details of the training you have received here, and you didn't give away your code name, or the fact that we
have
code names.”

Duncan was mechanically wiping the plates with a cloth. He knew what was coming.

“You gave away enough, though—enough for anyone with half a brain to realise that Ardlossan houses a secret military unit that is training people to operate in France in the near future. That is enough—more than enough—to make Ardlossan itself a target. If you had been talking to an enemy agent, he or she would have gained enough information that could be used to put Ardlossan out of business. He or she could even have chosen to kill one or more or all of us.”

All eyes were on me.

Of course they were.

“Or…that enemy agent could have left Ardlossan alone but followed one of the trainees—or more than one if he or she had colleagues in the area—so that they would lead these enemy agents eventually to our headquarters in London. How much more damaging might that have been?”

I looked from Ivan, to Erich, to Katrine, to Madeleine.

“So, I am afraid…Captain Langres, that—at the last minute, the very last minute—you have failed this training course.”

All the others turned to stare at Erich. He looked bewildered and devastated, downcast and sheepish. As well he might.