Sabine slipped her hand loosely through Suzie’s arm and pinched the flesh on the inside of her elbow between her nails. Suzie felt no pain at the time, although afterwards matching crescents of deep blue bruises marked Sabine’s threat: her life or Madame Ariane’s.

‘And you won’t tell anyone. You won’t betray me. No one will believe you anyway. And if you do, I’ll tell them who you are. I’ll write to the police in Racines, a denunciation, written in green ink. All the best ones are in green ink, apparently.’

Suzie felt the teeth of her trap. She had promised Maman and Madame Ariane not to tell anyone that she was Jewish; she could not go to Madame Ariane for help, out of shame for having betrayed her trust.

Sabine reached for her chin and pulled her round to face her. ‘Say you’ll help me.’

‘All right,’ Suzie conceded reluctantly, not looking her enemy in the eye.

‘Promise not to tell.’

‘I promise not to tell.’

Dropping a plate was not covered by such a promise, but she was still not sure if she would have the courage to do it.

Sabine let go of her chin and as Suzie turned her face away, she lunged towards her and bit her ear. Suzie cried out at the sudden, sharp pain, putting her hand up to feel the blood on her fingers.

‘That’s so you don’t forget.’

Woken early by Florence, the girls were sent mushrooming again the next day. Sabine was exceptionally diligent, gathering a large basketful of mushrooms. As they walked home, she said. ‘You’d better look at them to make sure they’re the kind we need.’

Suzie took the container and examined its contents. Sabine appeared to have picked everything she had seen, without discrimination, for several genuine Boletus edulis lay in the basket. Yet she had not done badly for her purpose. She had found an enormous Boletus satanas, which Suzie knew you must not pick, and a greeny-white mushroom, which she thought must be a highly poisonous Amanita phalloides. She boldly picked these two out and threw them away.

‘They’re no good to you.’

‘I thought they looked really wicked.’

‘The problem is that some of the poisonous ones look really like the edible ones. It’s a problem even for me. You’d got the wrong ones. Those are edible, and these too.’ She chucked out four more. ‘Those aren’t very good to eat, that’s why we don’t pick them normally, but they don’t do any harm.’

‘There’ll be none left soon,’ Sabine said angrily.

‘I can’t help it if you don’t pick the right ones.’

Sabine sulked, but not badly; she knew that she would get nowhere if she had to consult the book.

‘I’ve got some here for you.’ Suzie transferred several from her own basket. Sabine looked suspicious, but made no comment.

They took the spoils of their walk into the kitchen. Sabine shouted to Micheline, ‘We’re going to make a ragout for lunch.’