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One evening while the restaurant was busy, Henri was serving the table of officers and was running himself ragged with requests. Busch had told her that a new and important guest was arriving that evening. ‘His name is Harald Vlig and he’s a very senior member of the party, so we have to go all out to impress him. He’s not a fan of fussy French food but he did say he’d had the best French meal of his life in Alsace, it was a coq au riesling. Do you know of it?’
‘I do. I can prepare that especially.’
Busch breathed a big sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, madame.’
Marianne, Gilbert and Henri took this instruction seriously. As even Busch, who was ordinarily the picture of charm, seemed on edge.
The next evening, after their visitor was welcomed in, and Marianne was preparing the final stages of the dish, she listened as their voices rose in heated discussion.
She heard one of them say, ‘You sure he can’t speak German?’
‘Definitely not. He’s a hot-head, and I’m quite sure if he knew my nickname for him meant half-wit, he wouldn’t be all that happy.’
At the word ‘dummkopf’ Henri raised a brow and said, ‘Sir?’
Vlig and the others stifled their laughter behind their cards. ‘Very well.’
Soon Busch and Vlig began discussing plans for what sounded like a covert operation.
Marianne watched as Gilbert looked up when they mentioned a map. Standing on tiptoes, he crept closer to the hatch and watched as Vlig and Busch bent their heads together.
Marianne heard them discuss Jewish children who were being hidden in a Catholic school. Her heart started to pound, and she watched as Gilbert took an order slip and began to write something down. Marianne snatched the slip out of his hand and then set fire to it on the gas stove.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he hissed, whispering.
‘Saving your life – don’t be an idiot,’ she said, smacking him on the side of his head.
He stared at her with so much pain in his eyes it hurt.
‘Marianne – you don’t understand. They’re planning something – something to do with children. It could be Jewish kids.’
She was furious. He could jeopardise everything – her whole operation, their lives and those of the children – she had to get this information to the right people. It couldn’t just go through the local Resistance chapter. The last time she’d seen Sebastien he’d said that the group Gilbert had joined may have an informant, she absolutely couldn’t take that chance. She didn’t even know if Sebastien and the others would act on this information. She prayed they would. But she was beginning to think of something else that she might do, to ensure Vlig didn’t carry on missions such as these.
Marianne shook her head. ‘Listen to me. It is unforgivable what they are doing – monstrous.’ Her face flashed for a moment with such hatred that he actually recoiled. ‘But you will get yourself killed, like that,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘if you deliver that information to the Resistance.’
He blinked. ‘You know I am working for them?’
She went to turn up the radio. Then said in a fake, cheery voice. ‘Oh, I love this one.’ It was Maurice Chevalier’s ‘Paris sera toujours Paris’. She swayed her hips. ‘You’re right, I think a nice summer stew with courgettes tomorrow would be lovely.’
She waited until the Nazi officer who’d turned to look at them through the hatch turned back to the others.
Marianne waited, and when the coast was clear she told Gilbert, ‘What you heard earlier – this is the only place they would have discussed it. Which means we’d be the prime suspects if the information came out. Especially you, as he saw you standing by the hatch.’
‘I’m sure he didn’t.’
‘He did. Don’t be stupid. As much as Otto Busch and the rest of the boots play at being gentlemen, they are deadly soldiers, first and foremost – and the first thing they would do is watch out for listeners.’
‘They don’t know I can speak German.’
‘They don’t know you don’t. Promise me this stays here.’
It took a long time, but eventually he nodded.
Marianne was able to get the information to Sebastien quickly when he came past the newsagent’s early the next morning. ‘I’ll go to the school myself,’ he promised. ‘It will be quicker. I’ll ask them to evacuate the Jewish children they are keeping hidden.’
Marianne started to cry. Breaking protocol, Sebastien gave her a quick hug. She sank into his arms and wished to never leave. He gave her a quick kiss on the head. ‘I’m going to ask them to do something awful, but it’s the only way to keep you safe.’
She looked up at him and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
