‘Right.’ Of course I’d known that, but I’d hoped there would be one or two in English at least. I don’t know what to do now. The rows of books are daunting. There’s no way I can get any information out of them without help, and I don’t have anyone to help me. I suppose I could ask someone. Julia? Michel? No. That would be weird, and could spark too many questions I don’t want to answer. Anyway, both of them seem far too busy to spend time wading through history books.

The woman – Emilie, her name badge says – gives me an apologetic smile and starts to move away, but I take the print-out of Mum’s article out of my bag and hand it out to her. ‘I’m looking for a woman mentioned in this article. I don’t suppose you know the name Evelyne Buchs?’

She takes the paper from me and scans the headline, before shaking her head slowly. ‘No, but I know this organisation was very active around here years ago.’ She points at a name in the article – Mouvement des Femmes Lausannoises. ‘Actually, I think some of their newsletters are in our archives. Do you want me to look?’

Fifteen minutes later I’m sitting at a desk with several papers laid out in front of me. My heart quickens as I read the header on each: Mouvement des Femmes Lausannoises; March 1975; August 1976; January 1977. I can’t understand anything of the text, of course, but I’m drawn to the names – and the grainy black and white pictures. I squint at one particular photo and my stomach jolts when I look at the caption and see the familiar name – it’s Evelyne, giving a speech in Vevey, which I recall driving past on the motorway to come here.

Where are you now? I want to ask the photo. Why is there no trace of you online?

Perhaps, it occurs to me, I might find something about her old friends instead. I take a notepad out of my bag and start to write down any other name mentioned in a picture caption or quote. Sonja Jeanneret, Marie Rochat, Monica Gerber, Nina Favre, Fabienne Aebischer…