stopped the car in front of the hotel, deliberately he switched off the
ignition and deliberately he spoke.
'Yes, I think so.'
'Thank you,' and she flung the door open and went out of it and up the
steps of the hotel with her long jeaned legs flying and her hair
bouncing on her back.
Bruce watched her go through the double doors. Then he pressed the
lighter on the dashboard and fished a cigarette from his pack. He lit
it, exhaled a jet of smoke against the windscreen, and suddenly he was
happy. He wanted to laugh again.
He threw the cigarette away only a quarter finished and climbed out of
the Ford. He looked at his wristwatch; it was after midnight.
My God, I'm tired. Too much has happened today; rebirth is a severe
emotional strain. And he laughed out loud, savouring the sensation,
letting it come slowly shaking up his throat from his chest.
Boussier was waiting for him in the lounge. He wore a towelling
dressing-gown, and the creases of sleep were on his face.
'Are all your preparations complete, monsieur?'
'Yes,' the old man answered. 'The women and the two children are asleep
upstairs. Madame
Cartier has just gone up.
'I know,' said Bruce, and Boussier went on, 'As you see, I have all the
men here.' He gestured at the sleeping bodies that covered the floor of
the lounge and bar-room.
'Good,' said Bruce. 'We'll leave as soon as it's light tomorrow.'
He yawned, then rubbed his eyes, massaging them with his finger tips.
'Where is my officer, the one with the red hair?'
'He has gone back to the train, very drunk. We had more trouble with him
after you had left.' Boussier hesitated delicately. 'He wanted to go
upstairs, to the women.'
'Damn him.' Bruce felt his anger coming again. 'What happened?'
'Your sergeant major, the big one, dissuaded him and took him away.'
'Thank God for Ruffy.'
'I leave reserved a place for you to sleep.' Boussier pointed to a
comfortable leather armchair. 'You must be exhausted.'
'That is kind of you,' Bruce thanked him. 'But first I
must inspect our defences.'
Bruce woke with Shermaine leaning 'over the chair and tickling his nose.
He was fully dressed with his helmet and rifle on the floor beside him
and only his boots unlaced.
'You do not snore, Bruce,' she congratulated him, laughing her small
husky laugh. 'That is a good thing.' He struggled up, dopey with sleep.
'What time is it?'
'Nearly five o'clock. I have breakfast for you in the kitchen.'
'Where is Boussier?'
'He is dressing; then he will start moving them down to the train.'
'my mouth tastes as though a goat slept in it.' Bruce moved his tongue
across his teeth, feeling the fur on them.
'Then I shall not kiss you good morning, mon capitaine.' She
straightened up with the laughter still in her eyes. 'But your toilet
