Never Leave Me (32 page)

He collapsed on top of her, murmuring her name, his hand on her breast, and the baby, unaccustomed to being neglected for so long, gave a whimper and then a cry.

He jerked his head up. ‘What the devil is that?' he asked unbelievingly.

She was still trapped beneath him, her hair streaming over the starched white pillowcases. ‘It's a baby,' she said, the blood drumming in her ears. ‘My baby.'

He stared down at her in incredulity and then leapt from the bed, racing across the room and into the sitting room.

She scrambled after him, hastily pulling on her skirt and blouse. ‘I didn't tell you in my letters because I thought you'd be angry …'

‘Angry?' He stood naked in the sun-filled room, the baby held high in his hands. ‘But he's magnificent! Incredible!'

She sagged against the doorjamb with relief and then he was saying, ‘When was he born? How old is he?'

‘He's three months old. He was born in February. His name is Dominic.'

Greg laughed with delight. ‘He's fantastic! Amazing! What did he weigh?'

Her surge of relief died rapidly. He hadn't understood. He had made a terrible mistake. ‘Five pounds three ounces,' she said unsteadily. ‘Greg, he isn't…'

‘That's pretty good for a short term baby.' Greg regarded Dominic admiringly. ‘My sister was short term. Born at seven months and weighing four and a half pounds. My mother never thought she'd make it. This little fellow is going to make it all right. Just look how he's holding on to my finger!'

The baby, fascinated at being held so high in the air, was clinging tightly to Greg's finger, cooing cherubically.

She knew if she moved she would fall. ‘Greg, please, you don't understand. Listen to me …'

The Citroen roared beneath the stone archway and into the courtyard.

‘I'll talk to you later,' Greg said to Dominic, laying him gently back in his cot, making a beeline for his clothes.

She couldn't tell him now, not with Luke and her father about to make their entrance at any moment. Luke. She still hadn't told him about Luke.

‘Luke Brandon is with Papa,' she said rapidly. ‘He didn't die. He escaped. He's been living here since January.'

Greg halted in the act of buckling his belt. ‘
Brandon
has?'

She saw his mind immediately fly to the baby. Saw doubt. Uncertainty as to what their relationship had been. She ran across to him, seizing hold of his arm. ‘Greg! I didn't love Luke! I never have! That was all a mistake! He's lived here as a friend …'

There came the sound of Henri and Luke climbing the stairs. He seized hold of her wrists, so hard she cried out in pain. ‘Is that true?' he asked urgently. ‘You never really loved him?'

‘No. I love you!'

It was the first time she had told him so. His teeth flashed in a relieved grin. ‘That's OK then,' he said, releasing her and pulling on his shirt. ‘In that case I can afford to be sorry for him.'

‘Lisette? Is Greg here?' her father called.

She pushed a strand of sweat-damp hair away from her face. ‘Yes Papa,' she said, taking a deep, steadying breath and walking from the bedroom into the sitting room. She would have to talk to Greg later. She would tell him then about Dominic's paternity. That he had misunderstood her when she said that she didn't love Luke. That she meant she had never loved Luke. That it had been Dieter Meyer she had been in love with. Dieter Meyer she had been talking about when she had told him, before their marriage, that she didn't know how to begin to learn to love anyone else.

‘He arrived half an hour ago, Papa,' she said, aware of Luke's face tightening at the sight of her disarrayed hair, her rumpled clothes.

‘That's wonderful news. Is he on leave? Home for good?'

‘I'm on leave, sir,' Greg said, stepping into the room behind her.

‘It's marvellous to see you again,' Henri said sincerely, taking his hand and shaking it warmly. ‘How long is your leave? Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight?'

‘Twenty-four,' Greg said, turning to Luke and proffering his hand. ‘It's good to see you again, Brandon. I always thought you were too wily to be caught by the Krauts.'

Luke fought down his jealousy. ‘It wasn't easy getting away from them,' he said wryly, knowing that however much he tried; he was never going to be able to hate the tall, toughly built American. ‘What sort of war did you have after you left Valmy?'

Greg's brandy-coloured eyes darkened. ‘The Last few days were the worst. Have you ever heard of a place called Dachau?'

Luke shook his head. ‘Lisette said you mentioned it in one of your letters. What is it? A town? A village?'

The skin tightened across Greg's strong-boned face. ‘No,' he said and there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down Luke's spine. ‘It's a camp.'

‘A prisoner-of-war camp?'

Greg shook his head, his eyes narrow. ‘No, a concentration camp. One of the camps the Germans used for containing Jews and undesirables.' He moved across to the window, staring down into the courtyard. ‘There were thousands of them there when we liberated it. Men, women and children, starved and tortured; thousands of human beings, little more than living dead.' His voice shook. ‘You can't begin to imagine it. The stench, the bodies. The guards had fled but the inmates hadn't fled. They couldn't flee. They couldn't walk.'

He paused and then continued tightly. ‘There was one room piled to the ceiling with potties. Little zinc potties. The mothers had brought them with them for their children. God knows where the Germans had told them they were going.' He passed a hand across his eyes. ‘They didn't need those potties. When they arrived at the camp they were gassed. Hundreds of thousands of them.

Men, women and children.' His throat seized up and he couldn't continue.

They were looking at him in horror. Lisette's eyes so widely dilated, her face so white that he thought she would faint. He said unsteadily, ‘Never, as long as I live, will I step foot on German soil again. Never will I stay in the same room as a German. Speak to a German.'

The baby, aggrieved at being abandoned, began to cry. Greg crossed to the cot, lifted him comfortingly in his arms and Lisette crumpled, insensible, to the floor.

When she recovered consciousness she was lying on the sofa and Greg was at her side, his face taut with anxiety. ‘I'm sorry, sweetheart. It was crass of me to tell you about that hell-hole when you've just had a baby and aren't very strong.'

His hand was holding hers, warm and comforting. ‘Will you be able to make the journey all right?' he was asking. ‘I'm going to be stationed in Paris for the next six months. I want you with me, and I have to be back there by tonight.'

Her father was standing against the fireplace, his pipe in his hand, his face strained. Luke was standing only a few feet away, his brilliant blue eyes burning into hers. They were both waiting for her to tell him. She knew when she did that there would be no future for her as Greg's wife. Luke would want her to marry him, but she didn't want to marry Luke. He was her friend, but she wasn't in love with him. She was in love with Greg.

Her hand tightened its hold on his. ‘Will I be able to bring Dominic to Paris with me?'

He grinned. ‘Hell, yes. I told you. There's going to be no more partings. Not ever.'

She sensed Luke stiffen, every nerve in his body taut. Her father had begun to clean his pipe, his eyes carefully avoiding hers.

She looked up into Greg's handsome face. If she hadn't fallen in love with him she knew she would have told him the truth. But she had fallen in love with him. And she was terrified at the thought of losing him.

‘I'm ready to travel whenever you want me to be,' she said steadily.

She heard Luke gasp. Saw him take a quick step forward. Her eyes flew pleadingly to his.

‘That's settled then,' Greg said, rising to his feet. ‘I'll help you pack.'

‘I need to talk to you,' Luke said to him, white-faced.

Lisette sprang to her feet. ‘No!' she said, her voice anguished. ‘Please Luke!'

Greg looked slowly from Luke to Lisette and then back again. ‘Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it,' he said quietly. Their eyes held for a long moment and then Luke shrugged. ‘It's nothing,' he said tersely. ‘I was just going to ask if you could give me a lift as far as Caen. I've been here long enough. It's time I started to make my way back home.'

They left Valmy at dusk. The ruins of the chateau stood stark and bare against the darkening sky. Her father had held her tight, telling her not to be homesick. To be happy.

While Greg and Luke were piling cases into the jeep, she had slipped away to say another, harder goodbye, running down the drive to the gatehouse and plunging through the long grass to the churchyard.

‘Where's Lisette?' Greg asked, the last of the cases safely stowed away.

Luke shrugged. ‘Having a last look round I expect,' he said, knowing full well that she was in the churchyard and feeling a flare of jealousy that was, for once, not directed at Greg.

When she returned, her father was holding the baby. She took him gently. ‘
Au revoir, Papa
,' she said, kissing his cheek. ‘I love you.'

‘
Au revoir, chérie
,' he said tenderly. ‘Have a good life with your American.'

Greg was already in the driving seat and revving the engine. ‘Goodbye,' he yelled to Henri. ‘I'll bring her back to you on vacations, I promise!'

She sat in the front passenger seat, the baby on her lap. Behind her, in the rear of the jeep, Luke sat grim-faced, his eyes bleak. ‘
Au revoir, Papa
,' she called again as the gravel crunched beneath the wheels. ‘
Au revoir!
'

The sun was still golden on the linden trees as they sped down the drive and past the gatehouse. She hugged Dominic tightly. She was leaving. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She had known for a long time that this moment would come, but she was still unprepared for it.

Greg was talking easily to Luke, asking him what he intended doing, now that the war was over. She didn't listen to his reply. They were speeding through the beech woods, the sunlight filtering amber-coloured through the leaves. She kissed the top of Dominic's head. Greg had promised her that they would return. It was a lavish promise but one she knew he would keep. He wanted her to be happy, and from now on she had to learn to be happy away from Valmy.

The streets of Sainte-Marie-des-Ponts were quiet as they flashed through them and she was grateful. She didn't want to say any more goodbyes in case the tears she was holding back spilled down her cheeks. The poplar trees lining the streets, the high slate-roofed houses, were left behind them. They were out in the countryside, speeding towards Caen, and Luke and Greg were discussing de Gaulle. She could hear the underlying tightness in Luke's voice. He had not been able to say goodbye to her alone. She knew what he was feeling and she wished that she could turn to him and tell him that she was sorry.

Though she was not in love with him, a deep bond had been forged between them. He was the only person in the world, apart from her father, who knew the truth about Dominic's paternity. She would never forget the assistance he had given her when Dominic had made his impetuous entrance into the world. She could be at ease with him because she had nothing to hide from him. He knew about Dieter. And he didn't care. He was the truest and dearest friend she would ever have.

As they approached the bomb-shattered suburbs of Caen she wondered if she would ever see him again. If she came back to Europe it would be to France, not England. Her throat hurt. She was going to miss him. In the few months he had been at Valmy he had become part of her life. They roared into the centre of the city, screeching to a halt amidst a cloud of dust and gasoline fumes.

‘This is where we say goodbye,' Greg said, shooting Lisette a swift glance. Her face was pale, her eyes suspiciously bright. He swung himself from the driving seat to the ground. ‘I think I'll go in search of some Gauloise,' he said nonchalantly. ‘I'll be back in a few minutes.'

Lisette felt a rush of gratitude towards him. He was leaving them alone in order that they could say goodbye privately. It was the act of a man who not only loved her, but also trusted her. As he strode away from them, Luke sprang from the rear of the jeep, swinging his kit over his shoulder.

‘Write to me at this address,' he said, handing her a piece of card. ‘It's my mother's address. Wherever I am, she'll forward letters on to me.'

‘Thank you.' As she took it from his hand their fingers touched. His brilliant blue eyes burned hers. ‘If it doesn't work, if you're unhappy, write and tell me,' he said urgently. ‘Promise me!'

She nodded. ‘I promise,' she said, her voice unsteady. ‘But I'm going to be happy, Luke. I know I am.'

The skin was tight across his cheekbones. He'd discovered some very unpalatable things about himself in the last few weeks. He didn't want her to be happy with Greg Dering. That kind of unselfishness was Greg's department, not his. He wanted her to be as miserable as hell. He wanted her to recognise the mistake she was making and to rectify it. To leave Greg and to join him in London.

‘I'll be waiting for you,' he said fiercely, and he tilted her face to his, kissing her so hard that she tasted blood. She was shaking as he released her, as she heard Greg returning. His shadow fell across them.

‘Guess this is goodbye, Luke,' he said, and nothing in his voice indicated that he had seen their embrace or had been crucified by jealousy at the sight of it.

Luke took his preferred hand stiffly and then turned once more towards the jeep. ‘Goodbye, Lisette,' he said thickly. ‘I'll miss you,' and then he wheeled on his heel, striding away from them. Not looking back.