Soldier No More (17 page)

“Right then!” Jilly’s command never slipped for a moment. “David and I will bathe forthwith. Steffy will hold up a towel so that Lexy can attire herself in those inadequate red bandages of hers without causing offence to the local voyeurs, and then both join us in the Dordogne.”

They didn’t seem to mind being pushed around as peremptorily as Lexy’s sort-of general father had once pushed his Audley subalterns to their deaths, they seemed happily accustomed to it.

Roche, less accustomed, found himself looking to the river to see if the Marathon-swimming, long distance-no distance Frenchman was still breasting the current—if this was their accustomed swimming place, to which Raymond Galles had so accurately directed him, was he one of the local voyeurs? Was all that effort in aid of them?

But there was no one there, the river was empty now. Had the sight of Lady Alexandra’s charms, briefly glimpsed, been too much for him, spoiling his concentration for one fatal moment, so that the river had swept him away?

At any rate, he wasn’t there, and they were alone.

“
Right
!” Jilly’s voice turned him back towards her just in time to see her strip off her dress over her head with one continuous serpentine movement, to reveal a slender body in a white bathing dress.

He kicked off his sandals at the water’s edge, and then the discomfort of the slippery stones under his feet brought him down to earth painfully.

“Come on—you have to do this bit as quickly as you can!” Jilly Baker took his hand, pulling him forward. “Once the current starts to lift you off your feet it’s not so bad—“

The water swirled about his knees, and then frothed about his thighs, surprising him with its solid force even though he had watched the Frenchman battle against it. He had never stepped into a river like this, which dragged at him as though it was alive.

“There’s a flat piece there—see?” Jilly pulled at him, pointing to a rippling white shape beneath the surface just ahead of them. “There now! That’s right—just hold me—make them jealous!”

Roche anchored his feet, one on bearable gravel, one on the smoothness of bed-rock stone which had been sandpapered by ten thousand years of shifting pebbles.

He looked back at the charade on the dry strand from which they had come. The rush of the river was loud all around him.

“Don’t worry! They can’t hear us. And Lexy’ll take hours stuffing herself into her bikini,” Jilly said conversationally, her cheek against his shoulder. She was wet and slippery as an eel, and he didn’t know quite where to put his hands, although he knew where he wanted to put them.

“I’m sorry about that, Captain Roche—David—can I call you ‘David’? I shall have to, anyway—so … David?”

Jilly.” Her waist was the only safe place.

“I don’t know what you’re doing… and I don’t think I want to know… But they said it had to be natural, after I picked you up, so it had to be Steffy who thought of it, if not Lexy—inviting you to Audley’s… Only she was so slow to catch on.”

“I thought you did it beautifully.” He couldn’t help kneading her stomach under water. “What’s this chap Audley like?”

“He’s okay—big, tough man … likes his own way too much for my taste. But he also likes it if you stand up to him. And he doesn’t suffer fools gladly … So don’t let him push you around just for good manners’ sake … In fact, the best thing you can do is make a straight play for Lexy—it shouldn’t be too difficult now.”

“Not for you? I’d prefer that, if there’s a choice.”

She moved against him. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t a compliment, Jilly.”

“Well… thanks for the insult. But, the way it was put to me, there isn’t any choice. Play for Lexy, and put the rest down to might-have-been, David.”

All the world was might-have-been. Julie was might-have-been. “Won’t Audley take exception to that?”

“Audley doesn’t give a damn for anything, least of all competition. I think he really fancies Steffy more than anyone, only he’s afraid she’s up to something … Lexy isn’t up to anything—but she’s not nearly as stupid as she pretends, she just doesn’t want a tough guy like Audley for a husband. She wants someone she can mother. Audley’s just for kicks—and vice-versa … The point is, Steffy also fancies Audley. So you go for Lexy, and Steffy’ll be on your side, and so will Audley.”

Roche glanced quickly towards the riverbank, and had to tear his eyes away from Lexy, magnificently bikinied. Steffy was still undressing.

“Audley has two friends staying with him?” That was what Raymond Galles had said, he remembered belatedly.

“Yes, two of them. David Stein’s ex-Cambridge—ex-RAF too. Photographic reconnaissance … I’m not sure whether he’s an archaeologist, or an art historian—he’s here for the cave paintings, the prehistoric stuff, anyway. But he’s an Israeli now—“

“An Israeli?”

“Dyed-in-the-wool. Got three wars under his belt now—one world war and two Arab-Israeli wars. He was back flying with them last year, at Suez, though he won’t talk about it. A bit hush-hush, as Lexy would put it.”

“And the second one?”

“American. Mike Bradford. Also ex-Cambridge—no, Oxford—Rhodes Scholar … I don’t know where Audley picked him up, or he picked Audley up, as the case may be—“

“They’re coming, Jilly. Rhodes Scholar?”

“I think. Now he writes novels. Got a modest hit in the States last year—war novel. Another very bright fellow—like Davey Stein … In fact, they’re all bloody clever, as Lexy would say—she’s nice, is Lexy. The man who gets Lexy won’t have time to live to regret it.” She twisted to smile up at him. “He’ll be too busy supporting a litter of huge, voracious children.”

Roche watched Lady Alexandra and Meriel Stephanides pick their way across the stones of the dry margin of the river bed to the water’s edge just upstream of them. Alongside the Anglo-Greek girl, and inadequately covered by what looked like two medium-sized scarlet pocket handkerchiefs, Lexy looked even bigger and pinker and blonder than before.

“She’s got three brothers as well as three sisters,” murmured Jilly. “And positively hordes of cousins. The Perownes come up like mushrooms, it’s quite hard to keep track of them all. We’ve got one of them with us in Fontainebleau—one of the cousins. And I think it was through a cousin of some sort that David Audley got to know the family actually, rather than the General… Dragoons and Cambridge, and all that…”

That figured better than Lexy’s account, thought Roche: second-lieutenants didn’t usually strike up battlefield social acquaintances with generals. And, come to that, maybe the Fontainebleau cousin had been used to link up Jilly with Lexy.

“She’s all yours now, anyway,” said Jilly.

Go where glory waits, Roche
, as Kipling would say, recalled Roche from his recent reading.

Well—a little cover was better than none at all… in this job anyway, if not in the case of Lady Alexandra’s bikini: with Lexy introducing him to Audley, apparently at Steffy’s suggestion, his own Jilly-link might pass as a mere accident, at least for the time being.

Having waded gingerly into the water until it reached to the lower handkerchief, Lexy hurled herself into the current with a mighty splash.

And the bonus she offered, apart from the cover she could give him, was that if he could get her to talk about Audley, who better than she to—

“Time to unhand me,” whispered Jilly.

Roche started to obey, searching for another foothold beneath him, when Lexy surfaced alongside them, blowing water like a whale. The river had carried her down with astonishing speed.

“Put—“ she spluttered more of the river”—
ouch!—
put the poor man down, Jilly—
ouch
! damn and blast these bloody stones!
At once!”
Steffy surfaced on the other side of him, sleek as an otter. “Jilly is our dark horse.” She gave Roche a shrewd look.

“Jilly is not to be trusted,” echoed Lexy. “What sweet nothings has she been feeding you about us, David?”

“Or what devious plans has she been hatching?” said Steffy. The thought came to Roche that both Clinton and Genghis Khan might have put watchers on him. For once, since leaving England, he hadn’t bothered to look over his shoulder, so there could be half-a-dozen of them by now, falling over each other. He looked around, scanning the banks on each side. There was enough cover to hide two rival regiments among the trees and tall reeds. If there were, then at least neither regiment would be hostile to him—not yet—but after this little play they’d be dipping their pens in envy for the composition of their reports.

“You’re not married by any chance, are you, David?” said Steffy sweetly. “He’s not married, is he, Jilly?”

“Not as far as I know,” said Jilly.

“And not as far as I know, either,” said Roche. “Why do you ask?”

Oh … just, I’ve seen that worried look before—the one you’ve been casting about.” Her smile was undiluted mischief. “Just shy? Well, don’t worry about the Frog with the binoculars down by the bridge—he’s always there. He’s got a pash on Lexy.”

Roche kicked himself mentally, once for missing the observer and again for betraying his thoughts.

“What I want to know,” continued Steffy, “is what Jilly’s been saying to you. She’s not usually so gabby.”

“How d’you know it’s me he’s got a pash on?” Lexy’s mental reflexes appeared to be sure, but slow.

“Because he’s never seen anything like you before, Lexy dear.” Steffy looked at Roche. “You have to tell us, David.”

“I was telling him about tonight, that’s all,” said Jilly.

“About the orgy? I bet he didn’t believe it!”

Roche blinked unhappily. Nothing in his previous experience had prepared him for handling a situation like this.

“I don’t wonder!” said Lexy. “I don’t believe it either—and I take part in it! And if I told Daddy about it,
he
wouldn’t believe it… but I shall never get the hang of it.”

“That’s because you don’t prepare yourself properly. But you ought to be able to do better tonight, with a bit of last minute cramming—and your new David to cheer you on—“

“Don’t bet on it. I’m just not cut out for that sort of thing, darling.”

Roche felt the current drag at his knees. Even if he wasn’t imagining all this, how could he possibly report the gist of it to Genghis Khan in less than an hour’s time?

“Darling—it’s easy!” chuckled Jilly. “You’ve just been reading all about Galla Placidia and her Visigoths—just lie back and imagine you’re her, being
possessed
by a great big hairy barbarian!”

Roche let the river take him away.

EVEN WITHOUT BENEFIT
of Thompson, Roche could see at a glance that Neuville belied its name: it was a lovely little honey-coloured
bastide
which hadn’t been a ‘new town’ since the 13th century judging by the look of medieval gateway and surviving walls.

But Lady Alexandra allowed him no time to admire Alphonse de Poitiers’ original defences.

“Do you really do something hush-hush, David?” It was a question she’d been working up to for ten kilometres.

So he was ready for it. “Frightfully hush-hush, Lady Alexandra. And also frightfully dull.” And he also had his own question waiting for this opportunity. “Do you really take part in orgies in the Tower, Lady Alexandra?” he inquired politely.

“Oh—phooey!”

“Is that yes—or no?” He manoeuvred the Volkswagen through the gateway. “Where do I go from here?”

“Straight ahead to the square. You can park there, and it’s quite near La Goulard’s shop.”

He drove on slowly. “Was that yes … or no?”

Lady Alexandra sniffed. “It was yes. But I bet your job isn’t as dull as our orgies.”

“Sounds a funny sort of orgy.”

“You can say that again! You just wait and see—park over there, under the trees.” She pointed. “And now you can help me do my shopping.”

The prospect of the orgy certainly didn’t seem to inspire her in the way he would have expected, and from the sound of her voice the shopping wasn’t very popular with her either.

He looked at his watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to make a phone-call. Where’s the public call-box?”

“A phone-call?”

He shrugged and smiled at her. “One of the penalties of being hush-hush, Lady Alexandra. I have to let them know where I am each night.” He put his finger to his lips. “Top secret.”

“Oh—
you!!
I suppose you’re calling your girl-friend, more like!”

That had done the trick. “No. But they pass the information on to her, as a matter of courtesy.”

“Okay! I asked for it!” Her vague smile returned. “The phone’s somewhere down there, beyond the war memorial, by the Post Office place … and La Goulard’s shop is back
that
way—come and bail me out of there when you’ve finished being top secret—“

Roche felt the accumulated warmth of the day rising off the cobbles under foot as he made his way past the heroic bronze Poilu of 1914, whom some fool had placed on the spot where the revolting peasants of 1637 had been broken on the wheel, according to Thompson, and with fine disregard for the way the monument spoilt the view of the medieval arcade nearby.

If he put his foot wrong now, he would be broken on some other wheel, but less publicly.

Yet he had no choice, he had to give Genghis Khan Lady Alexandra and the Misses Baker and Stephanides, not to mention the Israeli and the American, because he needed all he could get about them, and quickly.

The Comrades were obviously the best bet for all of them; their records were better and much more extensive than anything the British were likely to have. Indeed, the very fact that the British had supplied him with so little information, which they bloody-well ought to have known in advance with Galles down here, was proof of their incompetence.

Ind
eed
…
maybe the Comrades already had useful messages for him, which would help him to put the right questions to the British, to make
them
think all the better of him, as well as helping him forward.

The thought brightened him: that, after all, was the way he had planned it all—