‘But you keep saying she’s a traitor; she’s not. She must be helping Henri …’

‘Of course she’s a traitor. She’s a sexual traitor.’

When they had first met, Sabine had immediately discovered the extent of Suzie’s ignorance and took it upon herself to inform her about sex and reproduction. Suzie had been secretly offended by her new companion’s teaching about a subject which Maman had already discussed with her, in horticultural terms. Seeds, Maman had explained, were planted by fathers and kept warm by mothers until they germinated and babies were ready to be born. Sabine had poured scorn on this metaphorical knowledge and had ruthlessly demonstrated its defects and limitations.

Suzie now understood the hydraulics of reproduction. Sabine’s information, startling and implausible as it had first appeared, had been confirmed by her observation of the life of the farm: the cocks’ pursuing and mounting their hens in the orchard, the dogs’ restless howling when one of the bitches was on heat, the litter of kittens, born, naked and bloody, before her eyes on the chair in front of the fire in Micheline’s kitchen. Micheline and Florence dealt with all these alarming aspects of procreation in an entirely matter-of-fact manner which Suzie found reassuring. However, this reassurance was undercut by Sabine’s excited interest, her self-caressing, which Suzie avoided seeing, but could not avoid knowing of. Up till now Sabine had never linked her detestation of Madame Ariane with her interest in the sexual life of the farm. As there were simply no men, apart from Henri who was a father to them all, there was nothing to suggest it. Now the uniting of these two subjects was ominous in Suzie’s eyes.

She had never understood why Sabine hated Madame Ariane so much. When, early on, she had timidly questioned her on the subject, Sabine’s replies had been incoherent.

She had taken her away from the convent.

But Sabine had hated the convent.

She had taken her away from the village school.

But Sabine had been bullied at the village school.

Incomprehensible.

Once before, in the autumn of the previous year, Sabine’s resentment against Madame Ariane had reached an acute phase. Suzie was not sure what had brought on the murderous fury that had consumed Sabine for a period of about two weeks; she only recalled that it had begun on one of the few occasions when Madame Ariane left Bonnemort, at the time that Dr Maniotte and Henri were arrested.

They had got up early to go mushrooming. It was early autumn and the weather was ideal, warm and damp after a heavy downpour the previous day. They had left the house soon after six in the morning and had discovered Madame Ariane, dressed in the smart suit that she had worn to collect Suzie, her foot poised on the pedal of her bicycle, her handbag and a large parcel in the basket.

‘Where are you going?’ Sabine asked abruptly, without even saying good morning.

‘Just to Racines. I’ll be back for dinner, so I hope you find plenty of ceps. Goodbye.’ She pushed off and rode out of the gate.