Soldier No More

'They're just boys, Lexy—'

'Okay—so they're just boys! Innocent little nut-brown boys!'

Lexy shrugged. 'At least let David here escort us while we've got him. Just let me get my bag, and we'll go.'

'No,' said Jilly.

'Why not? I don't see why we should kick our heels until Steffy deigns to put in an appearance, for heaven's sake! Just because she's gone out on the tiles again—'

'It's not Steffy.' Jilly shook her head in despair. 'You've clean forgotten why I sent you to go and get your new David dummy5

already, haven't you? It's because Madame has summoned him to her boudoir, that's why.' Jilly switched apologetically to Roche. 'And I'm afraid you must go, David—if only to improve our image with her, to lend us a touch of respectability, let's say—and she will give you a drink, too.'

Roche didn't have to pretend to look unwilling. He didn't want to waste any more time before getting to 'The Tower', where the action must be; and he didn't want to jump through any hoops for another version of Madame Goutard, anyway; and he certainly didn't want another drink, of any description.

'I'm afraid you must go,' repeated Jilly.

'Well, I'm jolly well not going!' exclaimed Lexy. 'Not even to improve my image, darn it!'

'And just as well, Lady Alexandra,' said Jilly severely. 'What you're going to do is to go to the bathroom and improve your image there. You look like something out of the black-and-white minstrel show pulled backwards through a hedge.'

'Oh God! Do I?' Lexy put her hand to her face, and then to her hair, and then studied the hand with dismay.

'David ...' For the umpteenth time Jilly returned to Roche.

'. . . she's an old woman, and she's lonely. . . and Lexy and La Goutard have sold you to her as the English d'Artagnan between them .... It would be a kindness just to have one drink with her—just one drink. She loves Englishmen, because of the war; and she's still trying to love them, even dummy5

after Suez, and the way we seem to have let down her nephew in Algeria. So it really would be a kindness.'

Put like that it was an order. 'Because of the war?'

Jilly nodded. 'She was on an escape line. It was Limoges-Brive-la-Gaillarde-Toulouse when things were going well.

But it was Limoges-Chateau Peyrony-Toulouse when things became difficult. She may be an old witch, but she's an old witch who can wear the MBE alongside her husband's Croix-de-Guerre.'

Put like that it wasn't an order, it was an honour.

'Besides which, David—David Audley—won't be back from Cahors yet, so there's no hurry,' said Jilly. 'And even if Steffy's not back we still don't need to take the short-cut through the woods, over the top of the ridge. We can use your car—and we've got to use your car anyway, to shift your gear to the Tower if you're going to pitch your tent there.'

Put like that it was simple common-sense, apart from the honour and Jilly's insistence.

'Silly me!' muttered Lexy. 'The gear—of course! And my face!' And fled into the cottage.

Jilly led the way through the trees to a doorway in a wall.

Then she halted and turned back to him.

'Apart from which, David,I did have a male caller while you were rolling in the hay with Lexy. But not one of her teenage would-be rapists—in fact, he was looking for you.'

“For me?'

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'Little fat Frenchman named Galles.' Jilly watched him. 'He has a garage on the Les Eyzies road over the river—petrol and repairs and hire cars. He says he knows you.'

Roche returned the stare. 'You know him?'

'Uh-huh. Or rather, Lexy knows him—she has a natural affinity for anyone who can help her to get filthy, particularly car mechanics. They met under the bonnet of David Audley's car, to be precise.'

A circumstantial coincidence, to be precise. 'How did Audley light on him? There must be garages closer to here than Les Eyzies?'

Jilly smiled. 'David dear, there's nothing close to here—the Tower's our next-door neighbour, and that's over half a mile by the short-cut. . . But no, David Audley didn't light on him—

he's one of Madame Peyrony's special friends, ex-Resistance.

He was in charge of the transport system from Limoges to Cahors, she was in charge of the midway safe house, that's all. And ever since then he's serviced her car and kept the generator going for the electric light, and because they're both almost as antique as La Peyrony herself—the car and the generator—he's a fairly regular visitor. . . Satisfied?'

Not satisfied, but it would have to do. 'What did he want?'

'He'll tell you himself. I told him you'd be back soon, and he said he'd be in the stables at the back of the house, where the car lives. If he isn't, then you're to phone him toute de suite—

there's a phone in the house, amazingly enough.' She dummy5