Peach (20 page)

Commandant von Steinholz surveyed the blue and white birthday cake Leonore carried in, candles burning brightly, in the darkened room. Smiling, he acknowledged the applause and the strains of Happy Birthday sung loudly and out of tune in German, and then in one breath he blew out the candles. Volker Kruger’s eyes were on Lais as she clicked on the lights. Von Steinholz plunged the knife into the birthday cake and cut the first piece. Lais was up to something, thought Kruger; she was as tense as a coiled spring, despite her casual smile. A waiter leaned across him to pour champagne and he shifted his gaze. “None of that,” he commanded brusquely, “I’ll have beer.” When he looked up Lais was gone.

“Your cake, Captain Kruger,” said Leonore with a smile, thrusting a plate in front of him. “Now, now, Captain,” she said, leaning her weight on the back of his chair as he attempted to push it back from the table, “you can’t run away before the Kommandant’s speech. I’m sure he would never forgive you.”

Kruger sank back into his seat, unsmiling, as von Steinholz, champagne glass in hand, stood up and addressed the table.

“To our leader, the Führer,” he toasted amid a scraping of chairs. “Heil Hitler!”

“Heil Hitler!” Collars unbuttoned, slopping champagne down their jackets, they toasted their leader drunkenly. Even von Steinholz was far from sober. Kruger stared at them with contempt. How dare they toast the Führer in such a state.

Standing to attention he raised his glass. “To Commandant von Steinholz,” he said with a fixed smile. “A very happy birthday to you, sir.”

Von Steinholz stared at him superciliously. “You are toasting in
beer?
” he asked disbelievingly.

Kruger felt the hot blood rush to his face as laughter broke up the table. “Kruger toasts in
beer
,” they repeated, “thinks he’s at home I suppose.”

Kruger’s hand slid to his belt, resting on the gun. The Luger felt warm from contact with his body, reaffirming his strength. Trembling, he pushed back his chair and strode from the room, ignoring Leonore de Courmont who hurried after him through the door.

“Captain Kruger,” she called urgently, “what about the Commandant’s speech?”

As he turned to look at her, her anxious expression slid into one of innocence. What had she been thinking only moments before, he wondered? And
why
was she so anxious for him to stay in that room?
And where was her sister?
“I have heard the Commandant speak before, M’mselle de Courmont,” he snapped. Turning on his heel he collided with Lais. She flung out her arms to steady herself, clinging to him. He could smell her hair, her mossy perfume, the skin of her arm was satin under his rough fingers …

“Captain!” she said, smiling at him. This close her eyes were bluer than he could have imagined and her mouth had the tempting lasciviousness he’d dreamed about so often, the red lips slightly parted and moist, just as she would be in that other place …

“You saved me,” she said lightly, “I almost fell.”

Kruger’s belly contracted and he felt himself stiffen, throbbing with sexual desire. Sweat filmed his forehead and beaded his upper lip. His eyes dropped to her breasts, smooth curves that disappeared into the sea-green silk as soft as her skin; he could just imagine burying his head in them, tasting her nipples … His face flushed suddenly and his hand shook as all his nights of erotic dreams of her climaxed in a moment and with a groan the juices spurted into his pants as his eyes met hers … She knew what had happened—she could tell …

“Well, well,” murmured Lais, stepping away from him, “really Herr Kruger, you should be more … careful.”

Kruger stood frozen to the spot, feeling the cold stickiness on his belly. He heard her mocking laugh as, arm in arm with her sister, she strode off down the corridor.

Peach waited by the gate to the villa, searching the dark road anxiously for the lights of the car. Her grandmother was fifteen minutes late and every minute had seemed to Peach like an hour. At last! The low beams of a car flickered as it curved the bend in the road.

The man sitting next to her grandmother wore the distinctive sharp-peaked cap of the Gestapo and Peach froze with horror. As they got out of the car she heard Leonie speaking French to him and then she heard his answer—also in French. In the light of the dashboard she recognised the croupier.

“Grand-mère,” she whispered relieved, “I’m here.”

“Peach,” said Leonie concerned, “you shouldn’t be out here, I thought you were in bed.”

“I have a message from Lais. It’s impossible for her or Leonore to get the men out of the cellars. Kruger is watching them like a hawk! I am to bring the escapees here to the villa and the croupier must take them on from there.”

“I can’t let you do that!” The cry came from Leonie’s heart. “I shall bring the men back here myself.”

“You can’t, Grand-mère. Lais said that Kruger has been told that you were not feeling well and couldn’t go to von Steinholz’s reception. Kruger is suspicious of everyone. Except me.” Her eyes pleaded with her grandmother. “Don’t you see, I’m the only one!”

“I can’t allow it, Peach,” she protested, but Peach had already slipped away into the night.

Peach ran lightly across the gravelled courtyard, skirting the oblongs of light from the steamy kitchen windows, making for the steps in the yard used by delivery men. The wooden board that covered the flight of steps into the cellars was held in place by a bolt that felt stiff under her small fingers. She gripped it more firmly, tugging with all her weight and still it didn’t move. “
Merde
, oh
merde
thing!” Standing up she kicked at it angrily. Her foot in its canvas tennis shoe stung like mad but to her surprise the bolt had moved a little. She kicked at it again. And again more forcefully. Her foot throbbed but the bolt had loosened and she tugged at it with both hands. It gave suddenly and Peach sat down surprised on the hard gravel. She waited a moment listening, and then holding up the wooden grate over her head with one hand she climbed down into the hole. With a miaow the little brown kitten jumped down the steps in front of her and disappeared into the dark. Damn! Ziggie had followed her! Peach settled the board in position over her head. Switching
on her torch she began to wind her way through the cellars under the hotel. “Ziggie,” she whispered, flashing her torch right and left. There she was! But the cat scampered out of the beam of light.

Peach knew the way like the back of her hand. She’d carried many messages, brought food, listened to the BBC in London on the radio. It would be easy to get the escapees along this maze of tunnels and out into the yard. And if Lais and Leonore created the promised diversion the plan would go like clockwork. There would be no trouble. If only Ziggie hadn’t dashed in after her. Ziggie didn’t know her way through the cellars, a kitten like that could be lost for ever in here. Anxiously Peach flashed her torch along the corridors on either side. “Ziggie,” she called softly, “Ziggie.”

The men clambered up the cellar steps after Peach and pushed back the wooden board, slamming home the bolt securely. Bent double they followed their small guide across the open courtyard to the circle of trees. Peach paused, letting her eyes adjust to the night. “We’re going down there,” she whispered, pointing out the villa, “but we must take a roundabout route up through the trees on the headland and come down on the other side. The path is too conspicuous.”

“Right, little one,” murmured one of the men. “Let’s go.”

Peach threaded her way expertly through the trees, pausing every now and again for them to catch up. She half-ran, half-walked, taking a wide curve around the villa and dropping back down towards it on the western side. Fifteen minutes later they made their way cautiously through the garden towards the house. Peach laughed as she remembered an American expression of her mother’s. “It was a breeze!”

The croupier was waiting in the kitchen. He had changed into workman’s overalls like theirs. “
Eh bien
,” he said to the
men, “we have no time to lose. We must go through the woods and fields on foot as far as St Maxime where we will pick up working papers. From there we will travel by farm truck, delivering milk, vegetables,” he winked at Peach. “In war one must also be an actor.” The three Resistance workers shook Peach’s hand and told her she was a brave girl and they would never forget her. Turning out the lights Peach held open the door as they filed into the night.

“Good luck,” she whispered after them.

She sat with Leonie in the silent kitchen, sipping milk and eating a piece of cake. The bleached pine longcase clock in the corner ticked minutes into the silence and the lamplight gleamed on Madame Frénard’s polished copper pots and pans. Bunches of herbs hung to dry from the ceiling beam, scenting the air. It was so calm, so secure. And yet out there in the night—was danger. Peach shuddered, and took a gulp of her milk. Leonie caught her eye and smiled at her. “I wasn’t scared, Grand-mère,” she said.

“Nor was I,” said Leonie. “Not until afterwards.”

Peach said in a small voice, “I hope they’ll make it, Grand-mère.”

She sagged back in her chair, yawning. She felt so tired suddenly. Ziggie must already be curled up on her bed waiting for her … “Grand-mère!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “I must go back to the hotel. It’s Ziggie. She’s lost in the cellars.” Grabbing her torch she was out of the door before Leonie could stop her.

Kruger took a place next to her and Lais leaned away from his stale beery breath as he stared silently into the mirror behind the bar. The Italian major who had been pestering Lais for a week elbowed his way through the crowd pushing himself in front of Kruger, slopping beer over him and Kruger glared angrily at the man’s back as he wiped off his
jacket. Of course he wouldn’t bother to turn round and apologise. And Lais was deliberately ignoring him. Well, she wasn’t going to make a fool of him again! Kruger’s face burned at the memory—how could he have lost control like that?
And she had known
—he’d seen the expression in her eyes. He stared at his own face in the mirror, purple with humiliation. Lais leaned forward whispering something in the Italian major’s ear, laughing. Laughing at
him!
Turning on his heel, Kruger pushed his way savagely through the crowd.

In the hall Kruger took out his handkerchief and mopped his perspiring face. He’d always hated crowds, always been a loner. From the corner of his eye he saw the small de Courmont sister hurrying along the corridor towards the back of the hotel and the kitchens. Going to find Leonore, he supposed. She probably wanted a piece of cake. All children were greedy. He walked across the marble hall to the revolving doors in search of some air and then stopped, replaying what he had just seen in his head. The little girl, in shorts and a shirt, hurrying down the corridor.
And in her hand was a torch
.

A triumphant smile lit his perspiring face as he strode along the corridor to the kitchen. If Peach de Courmont had a torch it meant she was going somewhere dark.
Like the cellars
.

Coming out of the kitchen Leonore saw Kruger heading purposefully towards her. “What is it now, Captain Kruger?” she snapped.

“Where is she going,” panted Kruger, “the young sister?”

“She’s going home, of course,” lied Leonore easily, “where else would she go?”

“To the cellars?” suggested Kruger.

Leonore froze. Peach had promised her she wouldn’t go after the cat tonight, she knew that it was wrong, that it was
risky even though the men had gone. But the poor child had been distraught … tonight had been too much for her.

“Nonsense,” she said, “why on earth should Peach want to go to the cellars?”

“She had a torch,” cried Kruger triumphantly. He knew that only the main cellar areas were lit. The winding tunnels at the back had never been wired for electricity.

“Of course she has,” Leonore managed a laugh, “she’s walking home to the villa, it’s a dark night, Captain.”

“I shall go to the villa myself and check,” said Kruger.

“You certainly shall not,” stormed Leonore, “I
forbid
you to do that. My grandmother will be sleeping.”

“
You forbid me?
” Kruger’s eyebrows bristled.

“
I
forbid you—and if necessary I shall have the Commandant forbid you. My grandmother was not well enough tonight to attend the Commandant’s birthday party and I don’t think she would appreciate a mere Captain disturbing her rest.” Leonore knew she was on safe ground, von Steinholz’s youthful admiration for Leonie still held fast.

“Then I shall inspect the cellars.” Kruger marched back up the corridor.

“Captain Kruger,” Leonore called after him. “There is only one key to the cellars and I have it. I refuse to allow you to inspect my cellars simply because you have seen my young sister carrying a torch. Your suspicions are ludicrous. I shall report you to the Commandant immediately.” Leonore pushed past him and headed for the cocktail bar. Von Steinholz had been drunk at his birthday party two hours earlier. With any luck he would be past all understanding by now.

“Ziggie, Ziggie,” called Peach, “here kitten, come here to me!” The racks of bottles glimmered in the thin beam of her torch and she stopped to listen, hoping for the patter of
paws, or an answering miaow. She pushed further into the winding corridors. “Ziggie,” she whispered, “here darling, here Ziggie.” A faint squeak came from in front of her and swinging her torch around Peach stepped eagerly into the darkness. The tiny miaow came from somewhere over her head. The cat’s yellow eyes gleamed in the beam of light and she miaowed again piteously. “Come here you rascal,” Peach said, reaching up to pick the kitten from the top of the wine rack, “poor little thing.” The kitten pushed its tiny head affectionately against her face and she kissed its soft fur. “You mustn’t ever run away again,” she scolded as she wound her way back through the cellars, “promise me.”

Leonore had never seen the bar so crowded. It was like the worst sort of cocktail party, one where people refused to leave and that had gone on far too long. The press of bodies and the smell of polished leather and the heavy cologne used by the Germans was overpowering. Wrinkling her nose, Leonore slid through the crowd towards Lais. “I’ve got to talk to you,” she murmured, a hand on her arm.