Page 74 of The French Wife

Amélie stared at the letter partly in disbelief and partly in triumph. This was exactly what she needed to protect herself against Glock. Proof that he himself had been associating with and had even helped an enemy of the state. It would end his career, perhaps even his life. She pushed the letter into her pocket and left the room, once again checking to make sure no one was watching.

Back at her desk, despite her relief at having something on Glock, she felt uneasy. What if he noticed the letter had gone and started questioning people about it? She had a brief, terrifying image of being locked up in one of the cells downstairs, tied to a chair, Glock hovering over her with a lit cigarette.

On the other hand, perhaps he would decide not to make a fuss because he wouldn’t want anyone to know what the letter contained. With that thought in mind, she decided to keep it. That way, if Glock happened to search her and discovered anything incriminating, she would be able to produce it, or at least tell him she knew of it. As a precaution, she took it straight out to the courtyard, rolled it up tight and stuffed it into the bicycle frame.

As she went back into the mairie she saw someone else leaving by the front door. She recognised that shambling walk, the rough clothes and dark, untidy hair, but the door had already shut behind him when she realised it was Étienne Moreau. She ran after him, pulled the front door open and hurried down the steps behind him. When she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned round. His eyes softened at seeing her as they always did, and colour rose to his cheeks.

‘Étienne,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

He shrugged. ‘I told you, some of the soldiers are my friends.’

‘Even the ones who work downstairs in the mairie? They are either Gestapo or SS.’

He shrugged. ‘What difference does it make? They still chat and give me cigarettes. They like to practise their French.’

She sighed. ‘Étienne, I’ve told you about this before. The soldiers are not our friends.’

‘And I’ve told you before. It’s the only way I can help Maman,’ he said. ‘And anyway, who are you to say they aren’t our friends? Everyone knows about you and that blond officer who works upstairs. He’s more than your friend, isn’t he?’

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘That’s not true!’

But his words hit her like a punch to the stomach. The breath went out of her. All she could do was stare dumbly at Étienne while her mind and emotions went into freefall. So her instincts had been right; it was what she’d dreaded. Everyone in St Marie knew about her and Hans. She closed her eyes, panic coursing through her, her thoughts scrambling.

She felt Étienne’s hand on her arm.

‘I’m not judging you,’ he said quietly. ‘It doesn’t matter to me. I still… I still think the world of you, Madame Garnier.’

She opened her eyes and looked at him staring at her with his doe-eyed gaze.

‘Look, Étienne,’ she said, drawing herself up. ‘I will try to persuade Bruno to give you and your father some work on the farm.’

He huffed. ‘He’ll never do that. He’s got more than enough men working there at the moment, hasn’t he?’

She looked at him in surprise again. Did he know there were extra men working on the farm? Did he know about Henri and Raoul and the two Jewish workers? They kept a low profile and never went near the town or even any public roads, but Étienne wasn’t above walking onto the land himself if he felt like having a look around.

‘I’m sure I can persuade Bruno to help you,’ she replied. ‘As it’s Saturday tomorrow, why don’t you come up in the morning? Say nine o’clock? I’ll speak to him before that and tell him you’re coming. Then you won’t have to rely on handouts of cigarettes from the soldiers.’

Étienne shrugged. ‘Alright, I suppose it won’t do any harm.’ Then he left, ambling down the steps to the marketplace and heading towards the back street where he lived with his parents.

When Amélie got home that evening she took Suzette aside and spoke to her in the living room, out of earshot of everyone else.

‘I have something to give you for safekeeping,’ she said and handed her the letter she’d found in Glock’s drawer.

Suzette’s eyes widened on seeing the name on the envelope. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s my insurance policy,’ Amélie said. ‘In case I’m caught smuggling papers out of the mairie. If that happens and I’m arrested, I want you to give this to Bruno. He’ll know what to do with it.’

‘Why don’t you give it to him yourself, now?’ Suzette asked.

Amélie hesitated. ‘Bruno is volatile. He disapproves of me working at the mairie anyway. He might decide to use the letter for the wrong reasons and that could backfire on all of us. It’s better if you look after it and give it to him if I’m arrested.’

‘What about the others? Ivy? Naomi or Esther? Lili even?’

‘I trust you, Suzette,’ she said. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the others, she just thought they were more likely to be arrested than Suzette, who was young and unencumbered with children, and could run off to the cave if things got dangerous. ‘Why don’t you hide it in the cave when you’re up there?’

‘Alright,’ Suzette said.

Amélie could see she felt uneasy about being entrusted with this responsibility. The girl was only young. The thought of Amélie being arrested must terrify her. She hadn’t heard anything from her parents since they’d been taken away. Although Amélie had tried to make enquiries via Hans, they hadn’t even been able to find out which camp poor Monsieur and Madame Lalouche had been taken to.