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Fitz brooded as he bathed, shaved, and dressed in the khaki uniform of a major in the Welsh Rifles. Knowing that he might get nothing to eat until dinner, he ordered an omelette sent up to his suite with more coffee.
At ten o'clock sharp his working day began, and he put the malign Hervey out of his mind. Lieutenant Murray, a keen young Scot, arrived from British headquarters, bringing into Fitz's suite the dust of the road and the morning's aerial reconnaissance report.
Fitz rapidly translated the document into French and wrote it out in his clear, swooping script on pale blue Ritz paper. Every morning British planes overflew German positions and noted the direction in which enemy forces were moving. It was Fitz's job to get the information to General Gallieni as quickly as possible.
Going out through the lobby he was called by the head porter to take a phone call.
The voice that said: "Fitz, is that you?" was distant and distorted, but to his astonishment it was, unmistakably, that of his sister, Maud.
"How the devil did you manage this?" he said. Only the government and the military could phone Paris from London.
"I'm in Johnny Remarc's room at the War Office. "
"I'm glad to hear your voice," Fitz said. "How are you?"
"Everyone's terribly worried here," she said. "At first the papers printed nothing but good news. Only people who knew their geography understood that after each gallant French victory the Germans seemed to be another fifty miles inside France. But on Sunday The Times published a special edition. Isn't that odd? The everyday paper is full of lies, so when they tell the truth they have to bring out a special edition. "
She was trying to be witty and cynical, but Fitz could hear the fear and anger underneath. "What did the special edition say?"
"It spoke of our 'retreating and broken army. ' Asquith is furious. Now everyone expects Paris to fall any day. " Her façade cracked, and there was a sob in her voice as she said: "Fitz, are you going to be all right?"
He could not lie to her. "I don't know. The government has moved to Bordeaux. Sir John French has been told off, but he's still here. "
"Sir John has complained to the War Office that Kitchener went to Paris in the uniform of a field marshal, which was a breach of etiquette because he is now a government minister and therefore a civilian. "
"Good God. At a time like this he's thinking about etiquette! Why hasn't he been sacked?"
"Johnny says it would look like an admission of failure. "
"What will it look like if Paris falls to the Germans?"
"Oh, Fitz!" Maud began to cry. "What about the baby Bea is expecting-your child?"
"How is Bea?" Fitz said, remembering guiltily where he had spent the night.
Maud sniffed and swallowed. More calmly, she said: "Bea looks bonny
, and she no longer suffers from that tiresome morning sickness. "
"Tell her I miss her. "
There was a burst of interference, and another voice came on the line for a few seconds, then disappeared. That meant they might get cut off any second. When Maud spoke again, her voice was plaintive. "Fitz, when will it end?"
"Within the next few days," Fitz said. "One way or the other. "
"Please look after yourself!"
"Of course. "
The line went dead.
Fitz cradled the phone, tipped the head porter, and went out into the Place Vendome.
He got into his car and drove off. Maud had upset him by speaking of Bea's pregnancy. Fitz was willing to die for his country, and hoped he would die bravely, but he wanted to see his baby. He had not yet been a parent and he was eager to meet his child, to watch him learn and grow, to help him become an adult. He did not want his son or daughter raised without a father.
He drove across the river Seine to the complex of army buildings known as Les Invalides. Gallieni had made his headquarters in a nearby school called the Lycee Victor-Duruy, set back behind trees. The entrance was closely guarded by sentries in bright blue tunics and red trousers with red caps, so much smarter than the mud-colored British khaki. The French had not yet grasped that accurate modern rifles meant that today's soldier wanted to disappear into the landscape.
Fitz was well known to the guards and walked straight in. It was a girls' school, with paintings of pets and flowers, and Latin verbs conjugated on blackboards that had been pushed out of the way. The rifles of the sentries and the boots of the officers seemed to offend against the gentility of what had gone before.
