Tug of War by Barbara Cleverly Read Free Book Online Page A

the hold-up, he was cheered by the sight of so much determined gaiety around them
echoing his mood.
    ‘But look at the town now, Dorcas! It’s almost back together again. A triumph of civilization over barbarism you might say. That’s worth celebrating. Sit back and enjoy the
show! And tomorrow I’ll take you to see something really special. Something symbolizing for me and for many others, I know, the spirit of this part of France.’
    They paused to clap and cheer as another cart creaked past, overflowing with flowers, fruit and vegetables, the produce of the market gardeners of Cormontreuil.
    ‘I’ll show you an angel. Not just any old angel. You know . . . holy-looking . . . eyes raised piously to heaven . . . suffering a frightful stomach-ache. This one is smiling.
You’ll find him by the great door to the cathedral. He’s smiling at someone at his elbow, caught, you’d say, in the middle of a conversation, or even telling a joke. And I always
look for the glass of champagne in his hand. No – it isn’t there, but you can imagine.
    ‘And the Germans didn’t have it all their own way! In their hurried retreat from the town – they’d been here for four days – some of the troops got left behind.
They were carousing and failed to hear the bugle sound. Sixty of them were taken prisoner single-handedly by the innkeeper. There are tales of French derring-do on every street.’
    ‘How about a spot of English dash on this street?’ Dorcas suggested. ‘Look – there’s a gap between the floats – they’re having problems with that
tractor and the policeman who stopped us seems to be rather distracted by the lightly clad young ladies from the Printemps display. Why don’t you . . .?’
    Joe had already put his foot down and was surging forward through the gap.
    ‘Left here and second right,’ shouted Dorcas and, for a moment, Joe was almost glad she was aboard.
    Satisfyingly, they arrived at the Inspector’s office a neat five minutes before they were expected and Dorcas had sufficient time to run a comb through her tangled black
    hair and fasten it back with a red hair ribbon. In short white socks and a red candy-striped dress tied up at the back, English guidebook in hand, she was perfectly acceptable, Joe thought. He
    introduced her as his niece on her way south to join her father and the young Inspector gave her no more than one brief look, offered her a chair in a corner of his office and politely asked if
    the young lady spoke French. On impulse, Joe said, ‘Unfortunately not.’ The Inspector was clearly not surprised to hear this admission and remarked with only the slightest touch of
    condescension how unusual it was to hear French spoken so well by an Anglo-Saxon. Where had the Commander learned his French?
    He appeared intrigued to hear of Joe’s involvement in the later stages of the war with Military Intelligence and his months of working as liaison officer with some distinguished French
generals. His eye was drawn for a moment to the discreet ribbon of the Legion d’Honneur which Joe had fixed to his jacket as they mounted the stairs. Joe thought Bonnefoye looked too young to
have participated in the war but, from his bearing, he judged he might have at some stage undertaken a military formation. He decided to treat him with the clear-cut good manners of a fellow
soldier.
    They were politely offered refreshment. Tea? Coffee? Joe deferred to Dorcas who, to his annoyance, went through a pantomime of wide-eyed ‘What was that, Uncle Joe?’ and then produced
a triumphant: ‘ Café . I’d like café , please.’
    A tray was sent for and the two men settled to business. Files were produced. Dorcas opened her book.
    With a few pointed questions the Inspector satisfied himself that Joe had made himself familiar with the facts of the case and was taking it seriously. Joe, in turn, filled in some gaps in his
information and noted down the time of the interview the Frenchman had