‘Chickens!’ cried Hélène when she told her. ‘You’ve got to pluck chickens!’

‘Isn’t as if I haven’t done it a hundred times before,’ Annette said, giving her a sideways look. ‘Working in the kitchens at Belair, perhaps? How d’you think them birds came to the table without their feathers on!’

‘I never thought about it,’ admitted Hélène, thinking even as she said it that she had seldom thought about any of the jobs the servants at Belair carried out on a daily basis. ‘But I should hate to do it!’

Annette laughed. ‘It’s not that bad,’ she said. ‘You could do it if you had to. You can do anything if you have to. You’d never used an iron till you came here, or cooked a meal, now you’re a dab hand at both.’

‘I’m getting there,’ replied Hélène with a rueful smile.

Today as she sewed she thought of her mother, living with Louise at the house in the Avenue Ste Anne. Poor Maman, she thought, she has no idea where I am.

She remembered her conversation with Annette after Pierre had brought news from home. Her father had disowned her, remaining entirely unforgiving of the shame she had brought on the family, but her mother, Pierre had said, showed some sympathy. As she thought of this now, Hélène realised just how much she longed to see her mother. She wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her as she explained how Simon had behaved towards her, how he had threatened more. Even though she had been away from Belair and Simon’s threats for some weeks now, she still had the occasional nightmare – a throwback to when she had been in the clutches of the Gaston man.

Most of the time she could be strong, but on occasion, like now when she was alone in the apartment, she felt like a young, confused child, and wanted her mother.

She finished the sewing and thought about heating the iron on the kitchen stove but, staring listlessly at the pile of skirts, made no move to do so.

Suppose she went back to the Avenue Ste Anne, just for a short visit, just to see her mother. She need not say where she was living, but simply tell her that she was safe, and that whatever happened to her, she would never, never marry Simon. She would make no mention of Pierre or of his part in her escape. He was their link with Belair. She wouldn’t mention Madame Sauze, either. They needed to remain in her mother’s employ, and though perhaps Maman would not dismiss them for what they had done, if her father found out, he certainly would and she couldn’t be responsible for them losing their livelihoods.

When Annette returned from the market that evening, Hélène had cooked their evening meal. Unsurprisingly, it was chicken that she had stewed in a pot with some of the vegetables Annette had brought from the market. As they sat over their meal, Hélène suggested casually that she might visit her mother.