China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) Madalyn Morgan (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📖

wedge of brie. She also bought a couple of apples and three tomatoes from an old woman selling produce from a wooden tray. She had tied rope to either end of the tray and hung it round her neck. The rope bit into the old woman’s wrinkled skin. She gave Claire a tired smile, displaying brown teeth from smoking strong tobacco, and offered her a stick of celery.

‘Thank you, Madame.’

‘You are welcome, Miss,’ she said, and shuffled on.

Claire put the food in her basket and set off across the square to the Café La Ronde to meet Alain. As she entered the bell attached to the top of the door jingled. She looked around. Alain wasn’t there. The clock above the counter said five minutes to twelve. She was hungry, but decided to wait until Alain arrived before ordering lunch. She asked for a cup of coffee and found a table for two that had a good view of the door. She would see Alain when he came in – the German too, if he had followed her. She lifted her shopping basket onto the seat of the vacant chair to give the impression it was taken. The café was always busy at lunchtime and Claire didn’t want to risk someone taking the chair before Alain claimed it.

The waiter arrived and placed a cup of coffee and a small dish in front of her. Claire dropped a couple of coins into the dish and lifted the cup without taking her eyes off the door. She looked at the clock again. Ten minutes past twelve. Alain was late, but then he was going to find out where Édith and the family had moved to. Speculating on where they might be, Claire sipped her coffee. Thérèse’s parents lived north of the town; they would know. Alain had probably gone to see them, or to one of the Resistance men’s homes. Suddenly several customers jumped up, left their seats, and ran to the window. Claire took her basket and joined them. Half a dozen German soldiers had surrounded someone, a man, demanding to know who he was. Although his back was to her, Claire recognised the soldier who had followed her. ‘Damn bully,’ she said under her breath. A staff car screeched to a halt in front of the café, blocking the view.

Several men cursed and a couple went outside to see more clearly what was going on. Claire followed. She looked up at each one as he spoke, pretending she was with them. A soldier ran to the car and opened the back door. A tall hard-faced captain with skeletal features and small piercing eyes, wearing the dark field green uniform of the Waffen SS – the death mask on his peaked hat highly polished – stepped from it and strode across to the pack of grey uniforms. A corporal broke the circle to let the SS officer in, and Claire gasped. The recipient of the German soldier’s victimization was Alain.

‘Halt!’ the SS officer shouted.

The soldiers did as ordered and moved away. With a sardonic lopsided smirk, the SS officer ordered Alain to produce his identity papers. Alain put his hand inside his jacket and the officer drew his gun. Alain put the offending hand in the air and held his jacket open with the other. The officer nodded sharply to one of the soldiers, who snatched Alain’s papers roughly. The soldier handed the folded document to his superior.

‘I’m afraid,’ Alain said, ‘there has been a mistake. I’m--’

‘Silence!’ the captain shouted. Alain stopped speaking immediately and bowed his head. The SS officer circled him, hitting the palm of his black leather-gloved hand with his truncheon. ‘English pig!’

‘No.’ Alain straightened. ‘I’m--’

‘I said silence!’ Snarling, the officer raised the truncheon and brought it down on Alain’s left shoulder. The force of the blow sent Alain sprawling to his knees. ‘Get up!’ the German shouted. Alain stumbled to his feet and the officer brought the truncheon down again, this time sideways across his face. Alain’s cheek split open on impact and Claire saw him wince as he fell to the ground. Blood gushed from the wound, but the brave Canadian said nothing.

The officer flicked his hand at two soldiers. ‘Take him to headquarters.’

Both clicked their heels. ‘Hauptsturmführer!’ they said as one, and hauled Alain to his feet.

The commotion had brought people out of their houses and shops. Inquisitive at first, they stayed to watch the sport. Elbowing her way to the front of the crowd, Claire caught Alain’s eye. The lines on his forehead deepened when he saw her and he shook his head. Tears filled her eyes as she pushed her way towards him.

‘No!’ he shouted. Struggling, he continued, ‘Leave me! Go!’

Claire stopped in her tracks. Alain was shouting to her, telling her to leave. But because he was being dragged away by German soldiers they assumed he was shouting at them and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, but remained on his feet. Claire screamed. She had caused her brave lover to be hurt again.

Carried along by a crowd that had grown from a few dozen to what looked like a hundred people, Claire had no choice but to keep moving forward. Suddenly a huge man pushed her out of the way and she found herself with room to turn and look back. Standing on tiptoe, she could see the SS officer’s black Mercedes. If she could only get to him, explain. She pushed through the oncoming tide of people and there he was, getting into his car. She needed to move quickly. She broke through the crowd and raised her arm. But before she had time to attract his attention, someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her back into the throng. She struggled to free herself, twisting and kicking. ‘Now now, my little tiger of a wife!’ she heard a familiar voice