Right at the beginning, when Gauthier arrived, she had had to confide in Henri and Micheline, for without them she was helpless. She told them of Gauthier’s political affiliations with some trepidation, for Henri was socialist, she knew, and there was little love lost between socialists and communists. She had talked to them sitting at Micheline’s kitchen table. Henri had folded his worn, brown hands in front of him on the oilcloth. Micheline sat with her hands in her pinafore pocket, looking at Henri for his reaction.

‘You can’t persecute someone for his opinion,’ Henri said. ‘Thought is free.’

Theo laughed. ‘Ironic that poor Henri should decide to resist in order to fight for freedom of opinion for a communist who would have shot him down without remorse for that very belief.’

Silence fell. They remembered simultaneously how Henri had been shot down and taken prisoner, and the shadow of treachery that hung over his death. She was buttoning her coat up to her neck, preparing to leave. He wanted to hold her back, but nothing would keep her.

Chapter Thirteen

Theo was left dissatisfied with this interview. Although he had not known what to expect, he now knew what he wanted: to be allowed to apologise and to be forgiven; to be told what had happened so that he could understand; to put the whole episode behind them and start again. However, it was clear that his wife was not yet ready for this. He telephoned her to suggest lunch or dinner. She refused both suggestions, but agreed to a walk in the Tuileries Gardens. They met at the main gates between the Jeu de Paume and the Orangerie on a grey and bitterly cold afternoon. Ariane was hunched inside her coat, her hands deep in her pockets; they fell into step and walked towards the pond.

‘Tell me what happened to you, Theo,’ she said quickly. ‘Did you have a good war?’

‘Good? I don’t know. The only thing I can say is that I’m glad I left for England when I did. I have no regrets there.’

‘I wish I could say I had no regrets.’

‘What do you regret?’

‘Everything, everything. The whole thing has been horrible, a nightmare.’ She spoke angrily. ‘Suzie, the child who was at Bonnemort, for example. I’m trying to find her family, but I am so afraid it is going to end badly.’

‘Can I help?’ He knew he couldn’t, but he seized the opportunity to offer to do something for her.

‘Could you?’

‘I can try. I could make some enquiries. I have to warn you there are some bad rumours about what has been happening to the Jews. How did the child survive with the SS living with you last summer?’ Theo asked. ‘Did you have to keep her in a cupboard?’

‘Oh no, thank God. She was legal, with false papers. And when you see her, you’ll know why she was safe. She has blue eyes and a fair complexion, so that she looks more Aryan than most French children.’ She laughed. ‘In fact, I had more problems on that score than she did.’