In a sense I was lucky, if you can call it that. A lot of them were shot or sent off to a death camp. I wasnt. For the first three months I was treated quite well. Solitary confinement and being beaten up alternated with good food and gentle persuasion.
They wanted everything I knew, and to make sure I gave it, they told me everything they did know already. There was little I could add. They had a complete picture. Drop-points, meeting-points, names, addresses, numbers. I couldnt believe it. Then they told me how theyd got it all. Your husband, they said. He told us everything. Jules must have been spying on us and listening and reading scraps of paper for months to have accumulated it all. It was a systematic, complete and cold betrayal. And he got out, scot-free.
Who told you all this? Flavia said with sudden urgency.
The interrogating officer, she said. Sergeant Franz Schmidt.
Another pause greeted this remark as the old woman coolly assessed how they were taking her story, and whether it was being believed. Eventually she felt able to go on.
I never said anything, and they were prepared to take their time. But at the start of 1944 that changed. They were getting more panicked. They knew the invasion was on its way soon and they needed any result fast. Schmidt stepped up the pressure.
Who told you all this? Flavia said with sudden urgency.
The interrogating officer, she said. Sergeant Franz Schmidt.
Another pause greeted this remark as the old woman coolly assessed how they were taking her story, and whether it was being believed. Eventually she felt able to go on.
I never said anything, and they were prepared to take their time. But at the start of 1944 that changed. They were getting more panicked. They knew the invasion was on its way soon and they needed any result fast. Schmidt stepped up the pressure.
She stopped, and in the half-light of the room pulled off the glove from her left hand. Flavia felt her throat rising in protest at the sight. Argyll looked, then turned away quickly.
Fifteen operations in all, I think it was, and Harry was the best there was. They wanted to give him a knighthood for his expertise. This hand was his greatest success with me. As for the rest...
With enormous difficulty, she pulled the glove over the hand again. Even when the scarred, brown claw with its two remaining misshapen fingers had vanished underneath its covering, Flavia could still see it, and still felt sick. Nothing could bring her to offer any assistance.
But I survived, after a fashion. I was still in Paris at the Liberation. They couldnt be bothered to send me east, and didnt have time to shoot me before the troops arrived. As quickly as possible, I was shipped to England. To the hospital, the asylum, and finally here. Then you come; to remind me, and tell me its not all over yet.
Im sorry, Flavia said in a whisper.
I know. You needed information, and Ive told you what I know. Now you must repay me by helping Jean.
What happened afterwards? To your husband?
She shrugged. He got let off lightly. He came back to France after the war, expecting that nobody would know what had happened. But Jean and I had survived. I didnt know what to do, but I knew I couldnt see him. Jean was behind the push to get him brought to justice. Not for revenge, but for the sake of the people whod died. Despite everything, he felt it was like condemning his own father. The commission wrote to me; very reluctantly, I agreed to give evidence.
Fortunately it wasnt necessary. When he was confronted with the facts and the promise of our testimony, Jules killed himself. Simple as that.
And Arthur?
He was better off where he was. He thought I was dead, and he had a good family to look after him. Better he didnt know. I wrote to his foster-parents, and they agreed to keep him. What could I do for him? I couldnt even look after myself. He needed to start afresh, without any memories from the past, of either his father or mother. I asked them to make sure he knew nothing of either of us. They agreed.
Rouxel?
She shook her head. I didnt want to see him. His memory of what I was like was all I had left. I couldnt bear to have him come into my hospital room and see his face change into one of sympathetic horror the way yours did. I know. Theres nothing you could do. Its an involuntary reaction. People cant help it. I loved him, and he loved me; I didnt want that destroyed by his seeing me. No love could survive that.
Did he not want to see you?
He respected my wishes, she said simply.
Something unsaid there, Flavia thought. But surely...
He was married, she said. Not to a woman he loved, not someone like me. But he married when he thought I was dead. After the war he discovered the truth; he wrote to me, saying that if hed been free... But he wasnt. It was better like that. So I accepted Harrys offer as well.
Do you know anything about Hartungs paintings? Argyll asked, changing the subject somewhat dramatically.
She looked puzzled. Why?
All this started off with a picture which belonged to him. Called The Death of Socrates. Did your husband give it to Rouxel?
Oh, that. I remember that. Yes, he did. Just after the armistice. He decided that the Germans would probably take them anyway, so he gave some pictures away to friends for safe-keeping. Jean got that, to go with one hed already been given. A religious one, that was. Jean was quite perplexed and didnt really want it, I think.
Did Hartung know about you and Rouxel?
She shook her head once more. No. Never a murmur. I owed him that. Within his limits he was a good husband. Within mine I was a good wife. I never wanted to hurt him. He never had the slightest idea. And I was always careful with Jean as well. He was a hot-blooded, passionate man. I was terrified he might go to Jules and tell him, hoping hed divorce.
Shed begun to cry again, at all the memories and the lost joys of life. Flavia had to decide whether to stay and offer comfort or just leave. She wanted to know more. What did she mean, shed been careful with Rouxel? But she seemed to have had enough, and any comfort offered was not going to do much good. Flavia stood up, and turned to face the bed. Mrs Richards. I can only thank you for your time. I know weve made you remember things you want to forget. Please forgive us.
I will forgive you. But only if you fulfil your side of the bargain. Help Jean, if he needs it. And when you do, tell him that it was my last gift of love to him. Will you do that? You promise?
Flavia promised.
Going back out into the cool fresh air and feeling the soft warmth of the sun was like waking up after a nightmare and finding that the horrors were not real after all. Neither of them said anything as they walked to the car, got in, and Argyll started the engine and drove off.
A mile down the road, Flavia grabbed his arm and said: Stop the car. Quickly.
He did as she asked, and she got out. There was a break in a hedge near by, and she walked through it into a pasture. On the far side there were some cows grazing.
Argyll caught up, to find her staring across the field at nothing, breathing heavily.
You OK?
Yes. Im OK. I just wanted some air. I felt I was suffocating in there. God, that was horrible.
There was no need either to comment or even to agree with her. Side by side they walked slowly around the field in silence.
Youre thoughtful, he said eventually. Something beginning to make sense?
Yes, she replied. Not there yet, but its coming. I wish it wasnt.
Come on, he said softly after a while. Lets get going. Youll feel better once we start doing something.
She nodded and he led her back, then drove to the hotel where he steered her into the bar, ordered a whisky and made her drink it.
In all, it took her nearly an hour plunged in thought before she was able to lift her head and say, What do you think?
And Argyll wasnt concentrating on anything, either. I think its the first time Ive ever met anyone where I could honestly say shed be better off dead. But I suppose thats not what you meant.
I didnt mean anything. I just wanted to hear someone talk normally. Anything. Even you seem to have lost your flippant style.
All I know is that we now have another good reason for working this mess out. Its not going to make much difference to her life, but someone owes her a little. Even if its just guarding her memories.
17
Very tired and downcast, Argyll eased Edward Byrness unscratched Bentley into a parking-space outside the art dealers house at about half-past seven, then they went and rang the doorbell.
17
Very tired and downcast, Argyll eased Edward Byrness unscratched Bentley into a parking-space outside the art dealers house at about half-past seven, then they went and rang the doorbell.
Flavia! came a booming voice from the direction of the sitting-room as the door opened. About time, too.
Following the voice after a second or so came the body of General Bottando.
My dear girl, he said solicitously. Im so pleased to see you again.
And, with a most unprofessional lapse into emotionalism, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze.
What are you doing here? she said in astonishment.
All in due course. First, you look as though you need a drink.
A big one, Argyll added. And some food.
And then you can tell us what youve been up to. Sir Edward here delivered your message, and I thought it was time I got on a plane to have a chat. You seem remarkably unwilling to come back home, Bottando said as he led the way into Byrness sitting-room.
How about you telling me what youve been doing? asked Flavia, following him in.
Bottando said calmly, Do you want some of Sir Edwards gin?
Definitely.
Byrnes, who had been standing in the background looking on approvingly and with some pride at his ability to host reunions, duly poured the drinks, considered the possibility of discreetly retiring, rejected the idea on the grounds that he was too curious, and sat down to listen.
The pair of them sitting there, Flavias boss and Argylls former boss, had more than a passing resemblance to Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Both portly, both benevolent, both wearing dark, well-cut suits, one with dark grey hair, the other with light grey hair. A very reassuring couple they were; after the events of the past few days, from murders to pursuits to distressing interviews with old ladies, they were the very embodiment of a return to the normal world, where paternal authority existed and was, on the whole, well disposed. Byrness comfortable sitting-room and opulent glasses of gin confirmed the feeling slowly building up in Flavias mind that she could now relax a little.