She drew back with a wince. Her poor ribs had taken a bad knock in the general panic to escape the grenade yesterday. ‘I’ll go if you come with me,’ she said. ‘Come with me now. Right now. Before things get worse.’

She was smiling her usual sleek smile but I could see in her eyes how earnestly she meant it.

‘I can’t. Not until I’ve found the driver of the van. André will not be safe till I do.’

‘Oh Eloïse,’ she sighed. ‘And what will you do when you find him? Kill him?’

It wasn’t said as a joke. She was deadly serious.

‘Of course not,’ I said lightly. ‘That’s what the police are for.’

She stared at me, examining my battered face, completely unconvinced. ‘I worry about you,’ she muttered.

Four simple words that squeezed my heart. I was so touched, so tempted to shout, ‘Drive, Clarisse, drive. To Paris. To safety. To a life without bullets whistling through my hair or grenades hurtling at my face.’

To a life without Léon?

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I intend to come out of this in one piece. But thank you, I’m grateful, I truly am.’ I opened the car door. ‘Now go back to Paris.’ I climbed out.

‘Damn you,’ she laughed, and smacked the cream fascia with her palm, ‘you’ll be the death of me.’ She roared off in a cloud of dust.

I gave her half an hour head start and then I drove to Arles.

*

I took my time. On foot in the old part of town. Using window reflections to check behind me, dodging down shortcuts, twisting through alleyways only fit for cats. The ancient stone walls wrapped around me and I kept in their deep shadow as I doubled back on myself in the maze of tiny narrow streets where the sun rarely reached. The strips of sky overhead were thin and grey as the cobbles. I liked it that way. Trapped. No escape.

This time I would wait in his house till he came home. However long it took. Days. Weeks. I’d be there to greet him. I touched the canvas bag at my side, felt the weight of the gun and the weight of my decision. Both took me to the edge.

Clarisse’s words whispered in my ear. What will you do when you find him? Kill him?

*

To my surprise, the door of Bertin’s house was unlocked. I stood in the tiled entrance hall and listened. No sound, no movement except the movement of the thoughts in my head. They were crashing into each other until I drew out the gun and curled my hand around its metal grip. That silenced them.