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Monique and Frédéric,’ she whispered.

Claire kissed her friend goodnight and went into her room. Too tired to wash, she kicked off her shoes and fell onto the bed.

Claire woke to what sounded like a howling animal caught in a trap. She took her wristwatch from the side of the bed. It was almost twelve o’clock. She had overslept. She pulled on a skirt and jumper and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Father Albert was standing in the doorway. Édith was on her knees with her arms around her distraught son, who was on the floor. ‘Frédéric has had some tragic news, Claire,’ Édith said, looking up at Claire, her voice hoarse with pain for her son. ‘His fiancée Monique has had an accident. Father Albert found her this morning.’

‘She is dead!’ Frédéric sobbed. ‘My beautiful Monique is dead!’ Suddenly he lifted his head from his mother’s arms and turned to the priest. ‘Perhaps you have made a mistake, Father. Yes, that is it, Mama. Father Albert has made a mistake.’ Frédéric scrambled to his knees and, gripping the table, pulled himself to his feet. ‘Monique is at her grandmother’s house. I write to her every day,’ he cried. ‘Tell him, Mama. Tell Father Albert he has made a mistake.’

The priest crossed the room to Édith; she closed her eyes. He put his hand on Frédéric’s shoulder. ‘Frédéric, perhaps I did make a mistake.’ Édith shot the priest a look of apprehension. ‘So,’ he said pointedly, ‘when you are ready, we will go to the church together and you can tell me if the young lady who lies in the chapel is Monique, or another unfortunate young woman.’ Claire saw Édith’s shoulders drop.

‘Now!’ Frédéric said. ‘We must go now!’ Édith stood up and began to take off her pinafore. ‘No, Mama, I will go alone with Father Albert,’ he said. Édith looked pleadingly at the priest.

‘He will be fine with me, Madame,’ the priest said, opening the door to allow the broken-hearted Frédéric to leave first. Before closing the door the priest said, ‘Do not worry, Madame, I will take good care of him.’

‘Thank you, Father,’ Édith whispered. She turned to Claire. ‘I have always tried to shield Frédéric, but this is out of my hands. I feel so… useless.’

‘Not useless, Édith. You’ve saved him much pain by moving Monique to the river. Did you tell Father Albert where she was killed and that it was Alain and I who found her?’

‘No! He is a priest. I could not expect him to know that, and then tell an outright lie. He found it difficult enough to say it was him who found her. He only told Frédéric that she was on her way to the station because I told him she was. I begged him not to say she was found near the farm. He agreed that there was no reason to tell Frédéric more than he needed to know. That way he did not have to lie. No.’ Édith Belland sighed and shook her head. ‘Let the sin of lying be mine.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wandering along in the warm May sunshine as if she didn’t have a care in the world, Claire spotted a vacant bench and sat down. Casually she took in her surroundings. The statue of Napoleon that had dwarfed the main square in Gisoir had gone. From the look of the jagged stone around the top of the plinth the statue had been knocked down, not taken down. That noted, she lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. No sooner had she settled than she was surrounded by pigeons pecking the ground at her feet. ‘Sorry,’ she said, standing up, ‘but I don’t have any food.’ Clicking her tongue, she zigzagged her way through the birds, talking to them as she went. She strolled along with no obvious purpose to anyone watching other than to take the air. The last thing she wanted, with Jacques’ money in her shoes, was to attract attention.

Claire had never met Jacques. She wished now that she had, but it was always Alain who delivered wireless parts, or sent messages to London. Was it a coincidence that Alain had been to see Jacques less than an hour before the Gestapo took him for questioning? Could it have been the wireless operator who betrayed Alain yesterday? If so, might he betray her today? Édith Belland was sure it was not. She said Jacques was one of the most dedicated of the Resistance and would give his life for France. Even so, she hadn’t told him where she and her sons were living. Claire decided that, if Jacques asked her, she wouldn’t tell him either. She brushed thoughts of betrayal from her mind and concentrated on the job she was there to do – a small part in the scheme of the war, but necessary if the Resistance was to carry out its work against the Germans in Gisoir and the surrounding area. She also needed to offload the money she was carrying. She hadn’t brought her travel permit, so if she was stopped with twenty thousand francs on her, she would have some explaining to do. More importantly, she had to get a message to London to let the colonel know the Gestapo had taken Alain.

The owner of Café La Ronde, setting up tables and chairs on the pavement beneath the café’s striped awning, shouted hello. Claire waved. ‘Will you be joining us for coffee today?’ he called.

‘Yes. When I’ve been to the market.’

‘I look forward to it, Miss.’

Claire walked on to the covered market. She bought cheese, beans and onions, and left by the stall-holders’ entrance. Looking around her, Claire realised she had lost her bearings. Then, just when she thought she would have to go back to the public entrance at the front of the market and risk being seen, she

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