Read Never Leave Me for Free Online Page A

than she had a week ago. Major Dieter Meyer was directly responsible to Rommel for the strengthening of the coastal defences. That much she now knew for certain. She skimmed over the bridge, past sharply yellow daffodils and deep-drowned purple crocus, with a zing of elation. From now on she would be more than just a courier. She would be an informer. And with luck her information would be important.
    Pollarded trees lined Sainte-Marie’s streets, linking pleached branches, their buds already bursting into green. She cycled over the cobbles and into the square, leaning her bicycle against the side of the café. It was spring. Probably the last spring they would spend under German occupation. It was a heady thought and she hurried into the café, her spirits rising even higher as she heard the familiar tone of Paul’s voice.
    He was leaning against the zinc-topped bar, talking to André, his shabby corduroy trousers still discoloured by the dust of Vierville. He was bespectacled, tall and thin, his shirt and jacket sleeves never quite reaching to his angular wrists. He had been born and bred in Sainte-Marie and was a popular though unconventional schoolmaster. The children were at lunch now, and Paul was in the village café, as always. It was the one place all gossip reached, sooner or later.
    Their eyes met briefly, he smiled an acknowledgement and continued with his conversation. Lisette looked around the café’s interior. Madame Chamot and Madame Bridet were sitting at a corner table, their shopping bags at their feet, half drunk cups of chicory in front of them. Old Bleriot was sitting alone, wheezing over a baguette, and a soldier stood near the doorway, munching a croissant, his eyes on the square outside.
    â€˜An anisette, André, please,’ she said, sitting with the two women.
    â€˜Good morning, Lisette,’ said Madame Chamot, her black serge coat buttoned up to the throat, her steel-grey hair pulled tightly into a bun. ‘How is the Comtesse, your mother?’
    â€˜Very well,’ Lisette replied, wishing that the soldier would go so that she could talk to Paul.
    â€˜I am glad,’ said Madame Chamot, but her voice expressed disbelief. How could the fastidious and refined Comtesse de Valmy be well when her home was overrun with pigs? She glared venomously in the soldier’s direction as he wiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand, and sauntered back out into the street.
    â€˜Salauds,’ she said expressively. ‘Did you see that, Madame Bridet? He never even offered to pay for this drink or his croissant. I wish I were a man! I’d show them!’
    â€˜If you could terrorise the Boche the way you terrorise your husband, the war would be over by Easter,’ André said, leaning his muscular arms on the bar, his grin wide.
    â€˜Bah,’ Madam Chamot said disgustedly, rising to her feet and picking up her bags. ‘I’ve more fighting spirit in me than you have, André Caldron! You should be ashamed of yourself, feeding the Boche free of charge! Goodbye Mademoiselle Lisette. Come along, Madame Bridet, there is work for us to do. We cannot be idle all day like some I could mention.’ Weighed down by their shopping, the two elderly housewives struggled out into the street and Paul crossed quickly to Lisette’s table, sitting opposite her, his thin-boned face grim.
    â€˜I’ve heard about your guests. What is it like? Is it very bad?’
    Lisette pushed a dark tendril of hair away from her face. ‘It’s bearable,’ she said, her eyes dark with distaste. ‘Mayor Meyer has commandeered the chateau and his men are quartered in the servants’ rooms around the courtyard.’
    â€˜You’ll be under much greater surveillance. It could make things difficult,’ Paul said, thinking of her vital runs to Bayeux and Trevieres.
    â€˜I don’t think so. No one takes any notice of me. Why