Hetty's Secret War Page 8

  ‘Home – does he live close by?’

  ‘Jean doesn’t, but I do,’ Pierre said. ‘You’ll see in a little while. We haven’t much further to go – providing the bastards haven’t bombed it by now.’

  Hetty saw the hard jut of his jaw and lapsed into silence. He was rude, overbearing and bad-tempered, but perhaps she’d feel the same way in his shoes. After all, it was his country that was being invaded, his friend who had been badly wounded. She was upset enough over Marie, and she didn’t even know her.

  ‘Perhaps we should start again,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I was angry when I saw you pull my pictures from the car, but you were right – a man’s life is more important. I may be able to go back and paint the pictures again one day.’

  ‘I’m sorry if they meant a lot to you,’ he said and sent a rueful smile her way. ‘But all I could think of was that there was a car, no people and a way of getting Jean to safety quickly.’

  ‘We’ll call a truce,’ Hetty suggested. ‘Once you’ve got your friend home I can go back and pick up my things if…’ She broke off as she caught a glimpse of a large house through the trees. Surely that wasn’t where they were headed? ‘Is that a chateau I just glimpsed?’

  ‘That is Chateau de Faubourg,’ Pierre said, a faint smile on his lips. ‘It belongs to my grandmother, the Comtesse. It was passed on to her through her husband’s family not through my father. He took her name because she was the last of her line and she wanted the name to continue.’

  ‘Oh…’ Hetty saw that the track they were following now had widened out and had been used frequently by vehicles in the past, possibly for collecting fallen trees. ‘It’s beautiful…’

  ‘It is also falling down in parts,’ Pierre said. ‘Not that you would notice it from the outside, but one wing is too damp to use, and some of the ceilings could fall on your head if you were foolish enough to venture there – so don’t try it.’

  ‘No, I shan’t,’ Hetty murmured. Considering she did not intend to stay more than a few minutes, it hardly applied. ‘Why don’t you have it repaired?’

  ‘We have a very big house but very little money,’ Pierre told her with a wry grimace. ‘My father was unfortunately not a good businessman. I had hoped to improve the family fortunes when I took over after his death – but unfortunately Hitler intervened.’

  ‘That must have been inconvenient for you?’ Hetty smiled as he lifted one eyebrow. She was beginning to like his sense of humour, which had been sadly lacking at the first moment of their meeting.

  The drive leading up to the chateau was long and grand, and it was easy to see that the house had been magnificent once. There were some signs of neglect outside, but nothing that would suggest the serious decay Pierre had mentioned inside.

  ‘We are art dealers,’ Pierre said. ‘Not just pictures but objects of beauty of many kinds: bronze, glass, china, even some furniture. War is not a good time for our trade. Most of our stock has been hidden away in dry cellars where we hope it will be safe for the duration. I expect that is why the chateau looks more forlorn than usual.’

  He drove round to the back of the house and honked loudly until drawing to a halt outside what was clearly the kitchen quarters. A door flew open and two men ran out, closely followed by three women.

  ‘Monsieur!’ one of the men cried. ‘We heard the shooting and saw smoke. Your car was hit?’

  Pierre smiled at the elderly man, who was his grandmother’s most faithful servant and had been in her household all his life.

  ‘It went up in flames. It was all that petrol you had saved for me, Bernard. We would have gone up with it if we hadn’t got out of there fast – but Jean was hit. We need a doctor and quickly.’

  ‘Of course, monsieur,’ Bernard turned to give orders as willing hands reached for the wounded man. ‘You will please come in – are you wounded yourself? And the others?’

  ‘Take Mademoiselle Tarleton to my grandmother,’ he said. ‘She was good enough to lend us her car. Madame de Faubourg will want to thank her – and I dare say she is hungry. Perhaps someone could see to the child? She is sleeping, but she has seen her mother killed; she will be in shock when she wakes.’

  ‘Mon Dieu!’ the old man looked horrified and beckoned to one of the women, telling her to put the child to bed and stay with her.

  ‘Tell me if she wakes,’ Hetty instructed. ‘She will be frightened and at least she knows me. I shall come if she needs me.’

  ‘She sleeps deeply, mademoiselle,’ Bernard said. ‘It is the good God’s mercy on her. She has seen something that no child should ever have to see.’

  ‘Yes, she has,’ Hetty agreed. ‘But I am tired, shocked and hungry. I should like to rest for a while before I leave.’

  ‘You will not think of leaving today,’ a new voice said and Hetty turned to see a tall, white-haired woman. From her manner and bearing, it was obvious that she was Madame la Comtesse de Faubourg. ‘It would be too cruel to make the child go on when she is so tired – and you should rest, mademoiselle. My grandson has told us that you have helped him, and we are glad to offer you our hospitality for a few days – or as long as you wish.’

  Her eyes were not as blue as her grandson’s, but they might have been once, Hetty thought. The remnants of her beauty were still there, and her pride was unbent despite the years. Although autocratic and undoubtedly demanding, there was something about her that appealed to Hetty and she found herself smiling and thanking her for her hospitality instead of refusing.

  Four

  ‘Georgie! Georgie, wait a moment.’ Hearing the man’s voice call to her as she left her hotel, Georgie turned and saw him walking towards her, her heart suddenly leaping and beating much faster than normal. The noise of the traffic seemed to fade away and all she could hear was the drumming of her heart. He was smiling as he reached her – the smile she had remembered all these years. ‘Annabel told me you were in town and I thought it was you. I was going to call at reception and ask if you were in. It seems I just caught you. Were you going somewhere important or have you time for a coffee?’

  It was Annabel’s brother, Ben, the man she’d loved and lost all those years ago. Georgie had studiously avoided meeting him whenever she could, because she’d always known that her feelings for him were still strong inside her. When they were in company, she could just about bear it and she’d always kept a distance between them – keeping her cool smile brief and her greetings monosyllabic, but now he was here smiling at her and her heart was racing. It was almost as if the years between had never been – and yet, nothing had changed. Arthur was gone but Ben was still married.

  ‘My meetings are all finished,’ Georgie told him when she could control her breathing enough to speak. She had to let him think the years had changed the way she felt, keep her greeting light, cool, polite. ‘How are you, Ben? Annabel told me you have joined the army.’

  ‘Yes.’ He grinned at her just the way he had when she’d taken him for a spin in her car all those years ago. The years raced away, and she was a girl again on the verge of life, entranced by a young man’s easy charm. He’d captured her heart then and, in a way, it had ruined her life. Yet perhaps she’d done that herself by marrying a man she didn’t love because she’d wanted somewhere to hide her grief, someone to keep her safe. ‘I’ve been told to report in two days. I expect I’m just going to be pushing a pen at some office somewhere or in charge of moving stores. I doubt they will think I’m much good for anything else, but I don’t mind. I just feel I want to do something to help.’

  ‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,’ Georgie told him. I’ve been working with our local women’s group doing all the usual things, but I wanted something more. That’s why I came up this week to attend those meetings. I hoped they might give me a job of some kind.’ She ought to walk on now, tell him she had to be somewhere but her feet seemed glued to the pavement.

  ‘And did they?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said and laughed at her own in
nocence. ‘It’s not that easy it seems, but I was told about several avenues I might try. Apparently, there are lots of committees, a bit like you’ve been saying, Ben. But they say I might have a chance of driving an ambulance, or volunteer driving anyway, and I certainly want to do more. It seems at the moment that it’s the ordinary hospitals that are most in need; their regular staff have been pretty well poached by the military. I thought that might suit me well, taking sick people with no transport of their own back and forth.’

  ‘That sounds excellent,’ Ben said and smiled at her. Georgie’s stomach lurched. ‘I’m free all day. You wouldn’t spend it with me, I suppose – for old times’ sake?’

  ‘We didn’t really have any old times, did we?’ Georgie looked rueful. ‘We were both young and full of ideals.’ Ben had been trapped by the debts his father had left and Georgie had walked away, making it easy for him. Arthur had said that he wanted her at any price, swearing that he didn’t mind she wasn’t in love with him. She’d believed him, given in to his persuasion, but she’d been wrong – wrong for both of them, because affection just wasn’t enough in a marriage. Yet she knew that she couldn’t be alone with Ben, because that too would be wrong: he was still married.

  She tried to walk past him, because her heart was racing and she knew that if she stayed something would happen – something that had simmered between them at every family occasion. While Arthur lived, Georgie had made sure she stayed on the far side of the room, but now… now Ben was reaching for her, catching her arm.

  ‘I was a bloody fool! I should have asked you to wait until I could get a divorce. It hurt when you married Arthur, Georgie. I didn’t know it was going to feel that way, believe me. I’ve regretted letting you go all these years.’

  ‘Oh, Ben…’ Georgie’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed and the words tumbled out. ‘I should never have married him. It wasn’t fair to either of us. He wasn’t happy. I thought it was working out until just before he died and then I realised that he felt cheated.’

  Ben looked concerned for her. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you were happy with him.’

  ‘I learned to be content in time,’ Georgie said. ‘But don’t let’s talk about the past, Ben. You’ve become successful and famous these past years. Tell me about your work. I went to see both your plays when they were on, you know.’ She accepted that she wasn’t going to walk away – she couldn’t. Ben’s smile was her reward.

  ‘What did you think of them? I suppose they did all right – better than I ever expected anyway. The short stories have sold well and the magazine work keeps me going. It hasn’t made me rich, but I’m making a reasonable living. I’ve bought back some of the land my father sold and the farm is more prosperous now, so Mother and Helen have no complaints.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve done something for yourself,’ Georgie said and smiled up at him. Her heart had ceased its frantic beating now, but the warmth was spreading through her. ‘What shall we do? I was thinking of visiting a museum to pass the time. But I just like walking really, taking in the sights like any country bumpkin up for a visit, and shopping – though there isn’t the choice there used to be. I did think I might treat myself to a new dress…’

  ‘We’ll do all those things, why not?’ Ben said. ‘I feel like a schoolboy playing truant. If you like, we’ll visit one of the museums, providing it’s still open – or there’s a rather nice art gallery I know of that has a show on at the moment. The artist sent me tickets. Perhaps you would like to come and meet him? I know him quite well actually. His name is Henri Claremont.’

  ‘Isn’t that Hetty’s…?’

  ‘The lover she left home for? Yes, as a matter of fact it is. We’ve met several times over the years. I quite like him, though I know he didn’t treat Hetty as he should, too selfish – but he says he has news of her for me, so I think it might be a good idea to put in an appearance.’

  ‘I thought she left him ages ago.’

  ‘Yes, she did, but amazingly they are still on speaking terms. She just didn’t want to live with him any more, and I can’t say I blame her after the way he behaved. He expected her to wait on him hand and foot, pose for him, be his mistress and put up with his straying, and in the end she got fed up. I asked her to come home when I was last out there, but she adores Paris. I’m hoping that Henri can give me some news of her.’

  ‘Then I think we should go to his show,’ Georgie said. ‘It would be wonderful to have news of her, because Annabel has been very worried.’

  *

  The art gallery had several visitors and some of them appeared to be buying despite the uncertain times. Henri Claremont was a popular artist, particularly with the younger generation. Georgie thought his style a bit too modern and harsh for her taste, but despite her prejudice against him she found him extremely handsome and began to see why the young Hetty had run off to France to be with him.

  He had included two pictures of Hetty in his show; one of them when she was about sixteen, the other more recent. Georgie looked at the latter with interest.

  ‘This is very attractive,’ she said to Ben. ‘I haven’t seen Hetty for a while – does she really look like this?’

  ‘Yes, she does. She has changed quite a bit since she left Henri, grown up I think – matured. I saw her a few weeks before the war started, which was when this was done I should imagine. She was wearing that same dress.’

  ‘You should buy the picture, Ben.’

  ‘Henri won’t sell it. He says Hetty was the love of his life and she broke his heart when she left him.’

  ‘You don’t believe that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I think he probably did love her in his way. He just couldn’t be faithful to her. Some men are like that – but he’s coming over.’

  ‘Ben, mon ami,’ Henri said and kissed him on both cheeks in a rather theatrical way. ‘I am so glad you came. The show is a success, non?’

  ‘It certainly seems to be,’ Ben agreed. ‘We were just admiring the pictures of Hetty. Georgie knows Annabel well, but she hadn’t seen Hetty for a while.’

  ‘Ah, my darling Hetty, she is so beautiful, non? Everyone admires her, they all want to buy her picture, but me, I cannot part from it. It means too much to me.’

  ‘I told Ben he should buy it,’ Georgie said. ‘It is an exceptional painting, monsieur.’

  ‘You are too kind, madame. It was done from the heart, you see, and I can never sell it – but you will want to hear news of Hetty. I saw her a few days before she left Paris. She came to say goodbye and told me to take care of myself. I also was leaving, but I was given a flight in a private plane. I would have taken Hetty, but it was not in my power, you understand? I had to come to London for my show; it was important.’

  ‘More important than saving Hetty’s life?’ Georgie asked sharply. ‘If you’d given her your seat she might have been here now.’

  ‘Hetty would not have accepted it,’ he told her. ‘You do not understand. She is the free spirit… she does always as she wants. Besides, she understood the show was important to me. She told me I should go, that it would be better for me to leave Paris before the Germans came.’

  Georgie doubted Hetty had been given the choice. This man thought only of himself! Georgie didn’t voice her angry thoughts aloud, though she might have if Ben hadn’t given her a warning glance.

  ‘So you don’t know when she left Paris for sure?’ Ben asked. ‘If you had left before her?’

  ‘One of my friends managed to telephone me yesterday,’ Henri told him. ‘He knows that Hetty had to wait for her car to be repaired, but her apartment is empty and she asked someone to store some of her things for her. She intended to make for Le Havre. They say it is still possible to get a ship for England from there.’

  ‘Then we shall hope to see her before too long,’ Ben said. ‘Thank you for the information and for inviting us to your show, Henri. We have a lot to do today, so we must get on. Good luck with everything.’

  �
�Do you intend to return to France?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘No, not while it is under the heel of the jackboot,’ Henri said sorrowfully. ‘They are philistines and my art would suffer. I have been invited to give a show in New York soon and I think I may settle there for the time being.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Ben said and took Georgie’s arm before she could say more.

  ‘Trust him to choose a safe haven,’ she said as Ben drew her outside. ‘If you hadn’t jumped in I might have told him just what I thought of his behaviour.’

  ‘I thought so,’ he replied and laughed. ‘He can be a pain in the backside at times, I know – but he is charming in his own way.’

  ‘Totally selfish!’

  ‘Oh yes, no doubt of that,’ Ben said. ‘Shall we have lunch now? We could go to a concert this afternoon – or we could…’ He hesitated, a faint flush in his cheeks.

  ‘What?’ she looked up at him, her heart beating very fast. ‘Finish what you were going to say, Ben.’

  ‘We could always listen to the music on the wireless at my apartment.’

  ‘Yes, we could do that,’ Georgie said and smiled at him. ‘I think that sounds absolutely lovely.’

  ‘I happen to have a rather special bottle of wine I’ve been saving for the right occasion. So we’ll have lunch first – at the Savoy I think. They are kind to me there and look after me, so we’ll be sure of a decent meal, and after that…’

  ‘After that,’ Georgie said, ‘we’ll let after that take care of itself I think, don’t you?’

  *

  Georgie gave a little scream of pleasure as she came to a glorious, shuddering climax, clinging to Ben as he collapsed against her when their fierce and urgent loving was done. She felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks as she realised that for the first time in her life she had experienced the true pleasure and meaning of physical love.

  ‘Oh, Ben…’ she whispered chokily as he raised his head to look at her, an anxious, tender expression in his eyes. ‘I didn’t know… I’d heard, but I never knew it could be this way.’