Suzie could remember the Fourteenth of July, long ago, Before, in Paris, with parades and dancing in the street at night.

‘We haven’t celebrated the Fourteenth of July for five years,’ Madame Ariane was saying. ‘You probably don’t remember much about it. They’re going to hold a ceremony here.’

‘Lunch,’ said Sabine longingly. ‘Will there be lunch with soup and pate and confit and salad and cheese and a tart?’

‘No, I’m afraid not this year. It’ll have to be quick, in case the Germans or the Milice hear of it and come to break it up and arrest us all.’

‘But we’ll be all right, won’t we? Your major will take care of us.’

Sabine spoke with the naivety which, although the insolence of her intention was clear, normally made it impossible for Madame Ariane to take issue with her. For two years Suzie had watched her submit to Sabine’s rudeness without losing her temper. This time Sabine had struck a nerve.

‘I don’t know why you should think I can protect you from the major, Sabine,’ she said furiously, ‘but, believe me, you’re wrong. The major is beyond anyone’s control.’

Sabine turned away with a little smile on her lips, as if well pleased with the response she had aroused. Madame Ariane walked on, looking dissatisfied with her attempt at self-defence.

The church clock struck eleven and for a moment the crowd in the square hesitated. They all had an air of wariness and of false innocence, Suzie thought, as though they half-expected to be challenged and would be ready to provide elaborate excuses for why they happened to be there.

‘Français, françaises …’

A small voice floated over the company. People ceased talking, turning to the balcony of the Mairie, where a rotund figure, wrapped in a sash of office, had appeared. The crowd seemed to draw together, moving inwards, concentrating on the figure half-obscured by the tricolour which flew above his head.

Suzie could not hear the mayor very well. He turned his head to address different sectors of the square and as he did so his voice faded and was lost. She could only catch phrases.

‘This is a time of pride … Liberation from the oppressor … France is freeing herself, with the help of the heroic efforts of the Red Army and the Allies … This is a time of hope … The return of the prisoners and the deported from the camps in Germany to their families …’

Suddenly he was speaking directly to her. She understood that Madame Ariane had not led her here into a trap. She had brought her to hear this news. Maman and Papa would soon return to France and come to Bonnemort to find her. The terrible image of the lieutenant hunting men with his panzers slid away. She saw others moved by the same words. A woman nearby had taken out a handkerchief and was blotting her eyes with it. She was not alone, Suzie told herself. Many people, Micheline and Henri included, had relatives who had been taken away by the Germans and they would all come home soon. She found comfort in the idea of there being lots of them. Two individuals, Papa and Maman, each alone, might disappear, but it was impossible for so many people to be lost. They would all come back together.