‘Just five days, miss,’ came the reply.

‘Five days?’ Only a week since Madame Sauze had come to see Maman. This was all very sudden.

‘Excuse me, miss, but I have to take these up to Madame Sauze. She’s waiting for them.’

‘Of course, Annette, sorry.’ Hélène stood aside, and as the other girl stepped onto the stairs she added, ‘But I don’t think you need to call me “miss”, Annette. You never did before.’

‘Yes I must, miss,’ came the firm reply. ‘I’m a housemaid and you’re family. If you’ll excuse me, miss?’ She turned and went up the stairs, watched for a moment by Hélène, left standing in the hall. As Annette reached the top Hélène called up to her, ‘In that case, you should be using the back stairs.’

‘Yes, miss,’ said the bread thief quietly. ‘Thank you. I’ll remember in future.’ And with that she disappeared along the landing.

Not like the bread thief of old, thought Hélène. Not at all like the girl who had stolen her bread and then, later, taken a beating for tripping up Sister Gabrielle, allowing Hélène to make her escape from St Luke’s orphanage all those years ago. That girl wasn’t meek and mild – she’d been rebellious and full of spunk. So what, Hélène wondered, had happened to her to account for the change?

At that moment Didier appeared in the hall and said, ‘Miss Hélène, your mother would like to speak to you in her sitting room.’

And I’d like to speak to her, too, thought Hélène as she replied, ‘Thank you, Didier, I’ll go and see her now.’

Rosalie was pouring herself yet more coffee when Hélène knocked and went into her mother’s private sitting room. It wasn’t a large room, but prettily furnished, with tall windows looking out over the garden, and it was entirely her mother’s domain. No one went into it except by invitation, and Rosalie guarded, jealously, the peace that she found there.

‘You wanted me, Maman?’

‘Yes, sit down, chérie, we need to have a quiet talk. Would you like some coffee?’

Rosalie rang the bell for another cup and a second pot of coffee and waited until they had been brought before she said, ‘I’ve a surprise for you, Hélène.’

‘A surprise? What sort of surprise?’

‘While we were in Paris, you may remember Madame Sauze came to visit me. Well, she was looking for a job. She no longer works at the Clergy House, and nor does her niece.’

‘Her niece?’ echoed Hélène. ‘Who’s that?’ But even as she asked the question she knew the answer. ‘You mean Annette? But she’s not her niece!’

‘No,’ agreed her mother, ‘I know that and so do you, but since they have been working together over the last few years they have become close and Madame Sauze now introduces Annette as her niece; it gives them both a feeling of family. Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the old priest died and the young curate gave them notice. Annette was going to be married anyway, so she was happy enough to leave the house.’