He turned his head. In the darkness I could just make out his gentle smile. ‘Yes, I was. Thank you, Eloïse. Thank you for everything you did to help me. I’m glad I trusted you. I never stopped working for the CIA. The rest – all the passing information to Clarisse – was a front, like the stumbling I did to confuse others. Bertin and Piquet always believed I had been completely turned and gone over to the MGB, but it wasn’t true. I want you to believe me, Eloïse.’

It sounded like a goodbye.

But he didn’t wait for a response from me. He sat up quickly. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘let’s go find that boat.’

*

The rain turned to drizzle as I ran barefoot along the coastal path that led to the lights of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. André raced ahead of me and though his legs might not yet be quite what they used to be, his eyes certainly were. He could pick his way at night as sharp as a fox and he led me across the long soft stretch of sand to the jetties where the boats were moored.

No one was about in this filthy weather, the small village hunkered down till the morning. Under cover of darkness we padded silently in wet clothes down the jetty where the smaller boats bobbed quietly, pulling at their ropes. The creak of masts like old bones and the rattle of sheets and mooring rings murmured around us, but nobody came to challenge us. André selected one boat. Small, neat, but fast-looking. He jumped on board, put his foot straight through the hatch lock and slipped down to the engine room.

I stood on the jetty, tense, keeping watch. Now that the dense veil of rain had thinned, I could see a light out in the distance on the black expanse of water, so fiercely black tonight it looked like a hole in the earth’s crust. The light came and went, flickering in and out of my vision, and my heart tightened in my chest as the conviction grew inside me that it was the boat from which we’d jumped. Returning to its mooring. Clarisse was coming back for me.

At my feet an engine barked into life. André had managed to get it going and was untying its ropes. I hopped down on to its deck.

‘No,’ André said immediately. ‘You’re not coming.’

‘Of course I am. You can’t think that at this stage I’m backing out when—’

He didn’t argue. He came over to me. Gave me a smile and pushed me overboard.

*

I stood on the beach, sand cold between my toes, the surf swirling around my ankles, turning them numb. I didn’t notice. My eyes were locked on the light in the distance, nearer now, growing larger, my ears straining for the sound of its engine.

Don’t, André, don’t. I beg you.