‘No, Léon, you’ve got it wrong. That day he was proving my courage. Not to me. To the rest of you, you older boys who thought I was a weed because I was younger and a girl.’

‘Eloïse, not for one second did we ever think you a weed.’

‘That day I earned the respect of all of you.’

‘You always had my respect.’

‘At the time I didn’t understand why he did it, but I do now. What if he is doing it again? Making me hold a snake, even though I don’t understand why.’

Léon stamped on the brake pedal and hauled the car over to the side of the road on the edge of an olive grove. The moon threw shadows of the tree branches at them like pointing fingers. He rolled down his window, deaf to the hum of mosquitoes, and spat his anger out on the black soil.

‘Are you angry with me, Léon?’

‘Yes. André is your brother, but he is not Superman. He is just like the rest of us. He makes mistakes, he gets things wrong, he has regrets, and yes, he lies at times. When he’s cornered.’

Eloïse made a strange little sound and slid her feet to the floor of the car. ‘I know that. I know he’s not infallible, but he works tirelessly for the good of our country. Just as you do. I tried to help but . . . failed.’

She rolled down her window and the faintest of breezes off the wide-open fields blew warm sticky air through the car as if it would carry away her words.

‘You haven’t failed, Eloïse. But how can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on? Is it connected with the nuclear weapons on the air base?’

Her head whipped round to face him.

‘And,’ Léon continued, ‘who was the other man in the American car? Tell me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can. It’s your choice. Not André’s.’

She pushed down on the door handle and climbed out of the car, but she left the door open, a narrow bridge between them. Léon knew very well the power of silence. He had used it many times in interrogations and though he wanted to go out there after her, he made himself sit and wait.

Five minutes passed.

‘Léon.’

He couldn’t see her. She was leaning back against the car, staring out at the moonlight rippling over furrows in a field, leaving a film of silver over the earth.

‘Léon, why were you in the street in Arles tonight?’

‘I was looking for a man called Gilles Bertin. I believe he was the man in the car with André.’

‘Why were you searching for him?’