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check out a few things in town on my own.’

‘Save it for Édith. I appreciate how worried you are. Mother-in-law is not as understanding.’

Claire followed Thérèse into the house. The kitchen table was set for two. Thérèse went to the cooker, looked in the oven and wrinkled her nose. ‘Mmmm… Garlic sausage and potatoes.’ The potatoes were dry and looked like cardboard. The sausages were brown and the skins more wrinkled than Édith’s neighbour Madame Oran’s face. ‘We are going to have to eat this,’ Thérèse said.

‘I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I’ll have yours if you don’t want it,’ Claire said. Thérèse laughed and dished up two helpings. With gravy, it was edible.

When they had finished eating and were washing the dishes, André and Édith entered the kitchen. ‘Thank you, Édith,’ Claire said over her shoulder, ‘the food was lovely.’ She dried the plates and hung the tea towel on the rack at the side of the fire.

André held Thérèse’s coat. She put it on and thanked Édith for the food, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire. And don’t worry about Alain. I’m sure he will be back with us soon.’ Claire kissed Thérèse and André goodbye, and watched them leave.

Édith sat in the chair that Thérèse had vacated. Claire could feel Édith watching her. She turned with the coffee pot, placed it on the table and took two cups and saucers from the dresser. After fetching the jug of milk from the larder she poured coffee for both of them and added a little milk. ‘I’m sorry, Édith,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have been in the streets after curfew. I don’t know what I’d have done if Thérèse hadn’t come into the café.’

‘Were you aware that you were followed from the railway station?’

Claire gasped. ‘How do you know I went to the station?’

‘The ticket attendant is one of the leaders of the railwaymen; a member of Resistance Fer. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is going off on your own, asking questions about Alain the day after he was taken to Gestapo headquarters for questioning.’

Claire hadn’t mentioned Alain to the ticket attendant, but she had to the baker and the proprietor of Café La Ronde. Édith had ears all over Gisoir. ‘I wanted to find out if he was still here. They take political prisoners, or those they think are communists or spies, to a jail near Paris. I wanted to know if they had taken Alain there.’

‘The name of the prison is Périgueux. And no, he is not there, he is still at Gestapo headquarters.’

‘How do you know?’

‘The men and women of the Resistance live locally, work locally, and travel in and out of the town regularly. Some work in shops and cafés, others at the railway station!’ Claire could hear exasperation in Édith’s voice, and she looked down. ‘You know how it works, Claire. When locals enquire about trains to Paris, or talk between themselves about why the Germans took a man in for questioning, it is not thought unusual. The Germans just see local people wondering, as any inquisitive citizen would. But when they hear a stranger ask – a young woman at that – it raises questions. Who is she? Where has she come from? Does she know the man the Germans took away?’

‘I am so sorry, Édith. I was worried and didn’t think.’

‘Then we’ll say no more about it.’ Pushing the coffee pot out of the way, Édith took a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the work surface next to the sink. She poured wine for them both. ‘I understand you and Jacques are meeting in the Café La Ronde tomorrow?’ Édith placed a glass in front of Claire.

‘I want him to confirm he’s sent the message about Alain to London.’

‘Good idea. We shall go together. If that is all right with you?’

‘Of course. I am sorry I put everyone at risk today. Will the Resistance ever forgive me?’

‘They don’t know. I didn’t think it was worth worrying them, since no one has been compromised.’

Claire put her hand on top of Édith’s. ‘Thank you.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Claire watched Jacques shuffle through the door of the Café La Ronde, shopping bag in one hand and umbrella in the other. She nudged Édith. ‘He’s carrying an umbrella – in this heat.’

‘He uses it as a stick,’ Édith whispered, ‘and a parasol.’

Except for the white fedora that made his linen coat look even shabbier than Claire remembered, the multi-coloured cravat at his throat and the brown and white wingtip dance shoes, Jacques was wearing the same clothes that he wore the day before. Unable to help herself, Claire began to giggle. She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Édith, but he looks so--’

‘Flamboyant?’ Édith laughed with her.

‘I thought we were meant to keep a low profile.’

‘It’s best to, yes, but not if it means a sudden change of character. Jacques was a famous impresario in the 1920s. He married a beautiful and very talented dancer – and took dance troupes out on grand tours. He was devastated when she died. Shhh, he will hear us.’

‘Madame Belland,’ Jacques said, bowing theatrically before proffering his podgy white hand. ‘How are you, my dear lady?’ Squeezing his bulk into the seat next to Édith, he bumped the table with his knee, sending Édith and Claire’s coffee spilling into their saucers. ‘A million apologies, Madame. Waiter?’ he called. ‘A cloth, if you please?’

Jacques ordered coffee and a pastry with cream, and while the waiter wiped the table he apologised again to Édith and Claire. ‘To business,’ he whispered when the waiter left. ‘You know I have a friend at German headquarters.’ Édith nodded. ‘Well,’ Jacques leaned forward, ‘he told me earlier that the Gestapo took seven men to the station

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