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“Andrée, I know this is asking a lot, but there’s a family camp near here, just outside Fontainebleau. It’s run by the church, very respectable, very safe. Families from the parish attend and there are supervised activities, meals are provided. Solène and I are going, and I wondered if we could take Joséphine with us for a night. You could stay on with Sophie.”

Andrée hesitates, but the look on Josie’s face is compelling.

“The camp is safe. The parish has been running it for years,” Sophie assures Andrée.

“Please,” Josie says quietly. “I’ve never been to a camp. I’ve never . . . Solène is my friend. Please can I go?”

How can she possibly say no? How can she deny Josie this small piece of childhood fun?

“I’ll write to my parents and tell them we’re staying on for an extra couple of nights,” Andrée says, trying to ignore the feeling that she’s making a mistake. “But then we must get back to Paris.”

Josie’s face glows with happiness.

That evening, Sophie and Andrée sit in the garden, watching the sun set over the forest. The air smells of lavender and pine. Josie has gone to bed already because she has an early start in the morning.

“Tell me about Josie,” Sophie says. “Tina’s mentioned her in her letters, but not the details. Not the whole story.”

Andrée hesitates. But this is Sophie, Tina’s oldest friend. Someone who can be trusted. “She’s Jewish. Her mother sent her to us when they came for her family. In the middle of the night, among all the chaos of her family and neighbors being taken, she followed her mother’s instructions and ran to us. Now it’s up to us to protect her until the war ends.”

Sophie nods slowly. “I suspected as much. The way she looks over her shoulder. The way she flinches at loud noises. She’s learned to be afraid.”

“She lost her father from illness a couple of years ago. Her mother and brother were then taken. We don’t know if they’re alive. We hope they are, but there’s no way of finding out.”

“And you’ve kept her safe all this time.”

“We’ve tried. We changed her name, enrolled her in school with our surname, taught her to be invisible. But she’s still a child, Sophie. She still needs to play, to have friends, to be happy. That’s why I brought her here. That’s why I’m letting her go to this camp. She needs to remember what it’s like to just be a child.”

Sophie takes her hand. “You’re doing a brave thing. A good thing. That girl is lucky to have you. And if you hadn’t noticed, that child is becoming a young woman, a teenager.”

“I’m lucky to have her. She’s . . . she’s become, well, like my daughter in all the ways that matter. When her mother returns, when this war ends, I’ll have to give her back. And it will break my heart. But for now, she’s mine to protect. And I will protect her with everything I have.”

Louis arrives at Doctor René’s apartment at the agreed time. He rings the doorbell, three long, three short, and René comes down to let him in. In the apartment, they act quickly: The documents are ready. There are twenty identity cards and fifteen ration coupons. All perfect forgeries, courtesy of Jacques’s careful work.

“These are for Agent?” René asks.

“Yes. His colleagues at the Sorbonne. The Germans are targeting academics now, sending them to work camps in Germany. Agent needs these to help them disappear.”

“Good. Every person we save is a victory.”

René hands over the package, carefully wrapped, innocuous-looking. “Be careful, Louis. The Militia are everywhere. The Gestapo are paranoid. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“I’m meeting Agent at Le Fleuron. It’s a public place with plenty of witnesses. Gypsy will be there as cover. We’ll just be three friends having lunch. Nothing suspicious about that.”

“Be careful just the same.”

Louis tucks the package into his briefcase, and on top he loads papers, books, and his architectural drawings. The forged documents won’t be found unless someone makes a thorough search.

Le Fleuron is busy when he arrives. German officers preside at several tables. There are also a few brave souls who simply want a decent meal and can afford the prices. Louis spots Agent already seated, looking professorial in his suit and spectacles.

“M. Levallois,” Agent greets him. “Thank you for meeting me. Please, sit.”

Louis sits, places his briefcase beside his chair. “I have the materials you requested.”

“Excellent. Shall we wait for⁠—”

“Gentlemen.”

Louis looks up to find a German officer looming over the table. Behind him, another officer, younger, his hand resting on his holster.