Composing herself, Marjie thought about this. Monty was never the brightest boy – but such thinking was stupid, even for him. But then, she knew Monty. Knew him well. ‘André, knowing Monty, I think he wanted to stop working as a traitor. I wouldn’t put it past him to have bargained with the Germans to deliver freedom-fighters to them, in exchange for his own safe passage to Spain, but then, as you say, to have had a change of heart and rescued Gisele. He probably hoped to kill you all in the process as he would have been afraid that you would betray his actions if the Germans did capture you.’

‘But what of Gisele? She has to be disposed of. She knows too much, Marjie. We have no choice.’

‘No! Oh, André, no, please. There must be another way. Think about it. Gisele has known Monty all her life, she is in love with him and had no reason not to trust him. He had been through hell and had escaped. He asked her about Paulo as he said he wanted to join the Resistance. How could she know it was a trick? And so she told Monty where Paulo was, and about me and his father. Then she told him about his father being air-lifted out, and that he must hurry if he wanted to see him. Gisele has done nothing that all of us wouldn’t do, but for our training. Remember, she hasn’t had the benefit of that.

‘We must save her, André. We must. She’s just a young girl, and she has put her life on the line for this cause almost every day, bringing supplies and vital papers – weapons even. She organized the stealing of everything that was needed. The cause has used this young girl, and she rose to the challenge. We cannot order her death because of this one time she’s made a bad judgement. The fault is that of the cause, for not training Gisele in clandestine methods. She has done everything using her own wits. That let her down when she fell in love.’

‘You’re right, my love. But . . .’

Now that she was in charge of her emotions, the endearment sank into Marjie’s conscious thinking and she pulled away from André. ‘I’m – I’m sorry, André, please don’t call me that. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I needed you as a friend, a very dear and trusted friend. I’m so sorry, I—’

‘No, no, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t . . . I mean, I misread you coming to me. Please forgive me. I love you, you know that. I love you so deeply, Marjie, that I don’t know how I am going to live without you, or how I am managing to live so closely to you, knowing that you don’t – and can never – love me back.’