‘Annette,’ she exclaimed, ‘what on earth has happened to you?’ She was horrified to see the state of the girl. In grubby clothes, her pale face streaked with dirt, her hair straggling and unkempt, she had clearly been on the streets for a while and she was clearly pregnant. ‘Come along, let’s get you away from here.’ She led the way to a nearby food stall and bought coffee for them both. Then they sat on a low stone wall to drink it. Annette gulped hers down at once, almost choking as the hot liquid hit her throat.

‘Are you hungry?’ asked Agathe. Annette nodded and Agathe went back to the stall and bought some bread, cold bacon and a wedge of cheese. Returning to the wall, she handed the food to Annette, who devoured it, stuffing it into her mouth as if it might be snatched away.

‘When did you last eat?’ demanded Agathe.

‘The day before yesterday,’ replied Annette, licking her fingers individually to be sure she had not missed a scrap.

Agathe stared at her in dismay. ‘Annette, what on earth has happened? How do you come to be…’ She gestured with her hand. ‘…as you are? You wouldn’t tell me before, but you must do so now.’

Haltingly, the girl began to tell her what, since she, Madame Sauze, had left the Clergy House, She had been suffering at the hands of Father Thomas. ‘And now I’m expecting his child he’s thrown me out!’

‘Thrown you out?’ echoed Agathe fiercely. ‘Yes, well, I suppose he would.’

‘Well, no, not exactly,’ admitted Annette. ‘He refused to accept that it’s his child. He insists I’ve been with other men and one of them is the father. He called it devil’s spawn and threatened to make me go back to St Luke’s.’ She shuddered at the memory and added, ‘I’d rather die first, so I ran away.’

‘So you’ve been living on the streets?’

Annette nodded. ‘Rather that than let a child of mine be brought up by those witches at St Luke’s.’

‘And have you been with any other men?’ asked Agathe, as always getting straight to the heart of the matter.

‘No, of course not,’ snapped Annette, adding miserably, ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘I had to ask you,’ answered Agathe quietly, ‘but I do believe you – that the child is his.’

Annette nodded again. ‘Yes, poor little bastard.’

‘Annette! Don’t use such language.’

‘Well,’ Annette said philosophically, ‘that’s what it is, isn’t it?’

‘But you can’t simply live on the streets,’ said Agathe. ‘What will you do when your time comes?’

‘Die, probably,’ replied Annette. ‘Both of us. And Father Thomas will say it’s God’s punishment for my sin.’

‘Enough of that,’ Agathe chided her, trying to suppress her fury at what the priest had been doing. ‘Just let me think what we can do for the best.’

‘There’s nothing you can do,’ said Annette, ‘but thank you for believing me.’

‘When is the baby due?’ asked Agathe.