Up till now she had let him answer his questions for himself and in Paris that might have been enough for him. Here she had the sense that at any minute someone would stand up and bear witness against her. She was naturally open and the idea of lying was repugnant, especially to Theo. But she had learned many things in the last year and one was that there are some things it is better not to know, even about yourself.

Nikola’s story, recounted by Theo, was a consolation. It might not be true, but if it were, it cancelled her greatest fear: that she had been, unwittingly, implicated in Henri’s death. She had asked herself constantly if she had somehow alerted the major to what was planned for the liberation of Lepech; if her false information had rebounded at last and aroused his suspicion. Living through the weeks of the Germans’ presence, the turmoil of the liberation, Theo’s lightning return, her flight to Paris with Suzie, she had never thought of anything beyond the moment. Once the horror was over, the memories were inextinguishable. There had been moments when it seemed that the only way to escape from the compulsive recall of events that she did not want to remember was to kill herself, and only some dim sense that she must wait to do it until she had handed Suzie back to her family kept her from acting on it.

When the Germans had arrived she had been afraid, but afraid of the wrong things. She had feared injury and death and fire and looting. She had imagined the aunts shot on the stairs and Suzie taken away to Germany, Florence raped and Micheline tortured. She had not visualised the insidious effect of proximity, the wearing down of living side by side with the SS.

It had begun in such a small way, at the meeting of the United Resistance on the evening of 6 June. The Allies had just landed. The Germans had just occupied Bonnemort. She had crept out of the house, evaded the guard and, with Henri, reached the appointed house on the other side of Lepech Perdrissou. Vernhes had been there with about five others. She had reported the major’s parting remark that they would be away the following night. Vernhes, noting that she spoke German as if it were a moral fault, asked that any information, however trivial, that she could pick up be relayed at once to him. The following morning on her ride she had watched the German convoy snaking down the track and onto the road, turning east. She rode fast to the village and passed on the message. At the junction with the route nationale a few miles further on, a child with some geese was posted to gawp at the trucks and report which way they were heading. This early warning system was simple and effective. It was the kind of thing she enjoyed. If only the spying had gone no further than that.