Cold Winter in Bordeaux Read Online Free

or girl-friends would be happy to think of them safe in France rather than serving on the Eastern Front. How long would they be here? For the first months of the Occupation, he had sometimes thought that there might be a settlement, that the Armistice might be replaced by a Treaty, the Occupation end, and the prisoners-of-war return. Perhaps it had never been likely. The English remained defiant. Nevertheless, it had seemed possible then that Hitler and Churchill might each conclude that victory was unattainable, and that it made sense to engage in negotiations. He didn’t know, couldn’t tell even if he had really hoped for this. Now since the invasion of the Soviet Union, it was impossible; war to the death, millions of deaths – and the tightening of the German grip on France. For Vichy, collaboration was ever closer, more dishonourable, inescapable. The deportation of foreign Jews was only a start, the application of the anti-Jewish laws ever stricter, and there was talk of raising a legion of French volunteers to serve in the war against Bolshevism on the Eastern Front, while there was also the demand for more French workers to be dispatched to work in Germany. At least Dominique’s post in Vichy meant he wouldn’t be called upon.
    The maid, correct, as if there was no war, in black dress, apron and mob-cap, admitted him. On the hall-table the brass bowl for visiting cards was empty, as it had been on his previous visits and would surely remain for ever. Professor Lazaire, who still looked like a colonel, but now with his yellowing skin like a colonel of colonial infantry, was in the same high-winged chair, and the little fox-terrier at his feet again jumped up, barking, before lying down satisfied that Lannes posed no threat. And again the maid offered him tea, and, without waiting for a reply, disappeared to make it. Lannes apologised for troubling him. The professor waved a deprecating hand, and for a couple of minutes neither spoke.
    Then the professor said, ‘It’s not about Michel, I hope, and your daughter. He brought her to see me, or, more precisely, to show her off to me. I found her charming.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Lannes said. ‘No, it’s not about Michel. She’s very fond of him and my wife thinks the boy equally charming.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘I like him. I’m afraid for him. I don’t like what I hear of his politics, but I’m afraid for all the young people. Even if we come through this, the divisions will survive. There will be recriminations, acts of revenge. It doesn’t bear thinking on. But it’s another matter altogether that brings me here.’
    The maid returned with the tea and a plate of little cakes.
    ‘My own baking,’ she said.
    ‘Gabrielle Peniel,’ Lannes said. ‘Your granddaughter, Anne-Marie, is a pupil of hers, isn’t she?’
    The professor took a cigar from a box on the little table beside his chair, sniffed it, rolled it in his fingers, clipped the end, lit it with a long match, and blew out smoke.
    ‘A curious question for a policeman to ask, but I suppose you have your reasons.’
    Lannes sipped his tea which was scented with bergamot, and laid the cup down.
    ‘The worst of reasons,’ he said. ‘She was found dead this morning. Murdered, there’s no doubt about that. Your granddaughter’s name was on a list of her music pupils. I hope you may be able to tell me something about her.’
    The professor drew on his cigar again. Lannes lit a cigarette and waited.
    ‘She was a pupil, for a time. Then I withdrew her – at Anne-Marie’s request, I should say, for I have never met the lady, the unfortunate lady, I suppose I should now call her.’
    ‘At your granddaughter’s request? Did she want to stop learning the piano or was there some other reason?’
    A long silence, like the hush that comes over a theatre audience before the curtain goes up.
    ‘No, she loves music and now has another teacher.’
    ‘So?’
    The fox-terrier put his paws on the professor’s