‘Miss Hélène!’ he hissed. ‘What are you doing here? Why have you come? Is there something wrong? Annette…?’

‘It’s all right, Pierre,’ Hélène said softly, looking round to see if the stable lad was anywhere about. She had forgotten him.

‘What’s all right?’ demanded Pierre. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to see my mother,’ Hélène said.

‘To see your mother?’ Pierre was incredulous. ‘Is she expecting you? Have you contacted her?’

‘No, not yet, but I thought if I came here, into the stables, you could fetch her out to see me.’ Seeing his shocked expression turning to one of anger, she hurried on, ‘I won’t go into the house. No one else will see me, and I shan’t stay long.’

‘Have you considered the risk you’re taking?’ Pierre snapped. ‘Not only for yourself, but for us who have been helping you? I can’t believe you’ve simply walked in here in broad daylight. Anyone could have seen you—’

‘I won’t tell her where we’re living,’ interrupted Hélène. ‘I just—’

‘You just didn’t think!’ retorted Pierre, his anger unabated. ‘You must go, now, before anyone sees you.’

‘But Maman—’

‘Your mother is out,’ Pierre told her, not knowing if that was the case or not, but determined that Hélène should make herself scarce and do it as soon as possible. ‘Go! Go now before you waste everything we’ve all done for you.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘Christ, Hélène. You had more sense when you were a kid!’

Hélène could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes and turned away. Pierre had never spoken to her like that before, would not have dreamed of doing so, and it was clear that he was far too angry to help her. She lifted her chin and stepped back out into the yard. As she did so, the back door of the house opened and Alice, one of the housemaids, came out carrying a pail of slops, which she tipped down into the drain in the middle of the yard. Glancing up, she saw a young girl in a dark, drab coat and hat slipping out of the gate and disappearing into the lane. She saw Pierre watching her from the stable door and she grinned at him.

‘You’re a dark horse, Pierre,’ she chided. ‘A bit of skirt on the side, eh?’

Pierre gave her a conspiratorial grin, raising a finger to his lips before turning back into the stables. He knew he should have gone out into the street to be sure the coast was clear before he let Hélène leave, but she had been too quick for him and now it would be too late. He could only hope that Alice was the only one who had seen her, and that only from behind. Thank goodness, Pierre thought, she hadn’t recognised her as Hélène St Clair, daughter of the house.

Hélène strode out of the gate, along the lane. She was angry at Pierre’s reaction. How dare he speak to her like that! But she was also angry with herself. She knew in her heart that she should not have come here, that Pierre was right and she had risked everything they had all done for her. With tears in her eyes, she turned out of the lane into the street and headed back the way she had come, passing the church and crossing the park behind it.