Page 151 of The Gathering Storm

She went on without waiting. ‘The point is, James,’ she rested a hand on his forearm, ‘your British passport will no longer be a protection for you. Rather the opposite. Much as we have valued your work, you are no longer safe here.’

‘I don’t care about that,’ he said automatically.

‘But if you were arrested, it would endanger the whole operation. Your part in the Kindertransport is done, my friend.’

‘And I’m going back to Switzerland,’ Emil said. ‘Papa wants me – he’s planning some sort of resistance movement and I have to help with that. And Mama’s getting nervous about me. So I think I’ll go.’

James looked at Lotti. ‘But you’ll stay.’

‘For the moment.’ She read his thought. ‘No, James, you can’t help me. I shall have to leave too, in the end, but now it is time for you to go back to Paris. But, if you take my advice, don’t linger there too long. Remember France has signed the pact as well. When the war comes, France won’t be safe.’

And so, as abruptly as that, it was over. The next morning James took the train to Paris.

He went straight to see Hélène. ‘Chéri!’ she cried. ‘Tu voici?’

‘I went to my apartment and was told someone else was living there,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘I needed somewhere for someone, and an empty apartment is an abomination. I have your things. You can stay here for the moment, until I find you somewhere else. Depending on what your plans are. Are you going home?’

He felt restless. The ending had been too abrupt; he hadn’t adjusted yet. ‘Not at once,’ he said. ‘I need something to do. Have you got anything for me?’

‘As it happens,’ she said, ‘there is something that you would be perfect for.’

‘Escorting your American guests?’

‘No, chéri, they are all going home, or have gone already. But all my artworks and beautiful things are here, and I want to get them to safety before – what do you English say? – the balloon goes up? Our friends Charlie and Fern are back at Candé, and they have offered to store them for me. So I want someone to help pack everything up and drive it down there. I have a small lorry but it will take several trips. You are strong in the arms and the back.’ She stroked an upper arm admiringly. ‘And you are a good driver. Would you like this job?’

He didn’t hesitate. It would tide him over until – until what? Well, whatever came next. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘And how long are you saying? Must I find you a lodging?’

‘I don’t know how long. But I will go back to England when the war begins.’

‘You had better have my spare room. You can unpack in a little while. First, we must go out to luncheon. I suppose you have not had anything good to eat in a long time. We will go to Prunier – I have a fancy for oysters.’

It was only when they were in the street, and James was demonstrating his undiminished ability to summon a Paris taxi, that she said, ‘Oh, there is one American who has come back instead of leaving. Comme c’est pervers! She used to work for Charlie Bedaux – I expect you know her? The Mademoiselle McLean.’

‘Meredith?’ James heard himself say.

‘C’est ça. Meredith. You will see her tonight – she comes to dinner. And I have other guests – you will be a good boy and help me entertain?’

‘Of course,’ said James.

Polly was happy. She could not have imagined beforehand how happy she could be, because before her dreams had been of Erich, and everything about loving him had involved some strain, some unnatural effort. Hopeless longing could only result in a bliss intense, yes, but perilous. It was a fairy tale full of tests and trials, dragons and ogres to overcome, and the airy spires of the palace she strove to reach were insubstantial, dislimning into the clouds.

Lennie was real. He was solid and warm and so very there. He could be touched and talked to and argued with. He responded, he understood, he engaged with what interested her; he cared for what she cared for. She loved every moment when she was with him, and when she was not with him, she stored up everything she saw and heard and thought to share with him when they were together again. He was the litmus paper to her life that proved it was real. She felt safe with him, knowing she was loved. She never doubted him for a moment. She knew him.

But at night, in the darkness of the bedchamber, he was anything but ordinary. She loved the smell of his skin, the touch of his hands, the taste of his mouth. In the dark, she thought you would never suspect daytime Lennie was like this, and it was delightfully secret and slightly wicked … Except that sometimes, in the daytime, she would catch him looking at her, and for a moment their eyes would meet and a shiver would run down her spine, because the eyes that looked back were the night-time eyes …

Alec had forgotten his Mr Murdstone fears, and evidently trusted Lennie as he trusted his mother – and probably found him more interesting. He always rushed to him the moment he got home from school with some question, or tale of what he’d done, or scheme for an adventure. His only difficulty was what to call him. He couldn’t quite call him ‘Father’, and Lennie didn’t require it. Mostly it was Uncle Lennie, but sometimes the ‘Uncle’ slipped. Lennie didn’t seem to mind.

Lennie kept them all informed about world affairs, which otherwise could get pushed aside by local matters. It was he who told Polly that on the 15th of April, President Roosevelt appealed to Germany and Italy to give a ten-year guarantee not to attack any of their neighbours – an idea that Hitler rejected out of hand. It was Lennie who explained the importance of the Polish corridor, a strip of land, formerly part of Germany, that linked the greater part of Poland to the sea at the city-state port of Danzig. Danzig had been made a free city after the war, when the corridor was created. Berlin wanted a road and rail link across the corridor, and the termination of the ‘free’ status of Danzig and its return to Germany.

‘Poland’s always been afraid of the Soviet Union,’ he said, ‘but they’ve had good relations recently with Germany – they signed a non-aggression pact in 1934. Not to mention that Danzig has a National Socialist government.’

‘That means Nazi, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes. So, of course, Hitler must think that Poland will be glad to throw in its lot with Germany as a defence against Russia. He’ll expect it to be a tame satellite country. But the Polish leaders may not trust him not to go further. You see, the Polish corridor divides the main bulk of Germany from the East Prussian part, making East Prussia an enclave. So much easier all round, then, for Germany to seize the corridor and link the two parts again. And then, well, why not take the rest of Poland too, while they’re at it, and make a nice, tidy job of it?’