‘Voilà!’ Evelyne appeared and held out a beer to Daniel. Sylvia excused herself and went to the toilet. Under the bright light of the bathroom she felt dizzy, tiredness and booze overcoming her. She felt a sudden need to see Jim, to wash Daniel’s scowl out of her eyes. She patted water on her forehead and cheeks and dried her face on a towel before stepping out into the living room. It was time to go.

‘Don’t mind my brother, he’s such a bore sometimes,’ Evelyne whispered at the door.

‘Oh, he was fine. No problem.’

‘He’s had a falling out with our father. Again. It happens a couple of times a year at least. He’ll stay with me for a few days, then Mother will call and persuade him to go back, and he’ll agree because he can’t bear her to be upset, and then we’ll be back to square one until the volcano starts bubbling up again.’ Sylvia’s eyes flicked over Evelyne’s shoulder to Daniel, now smoking by the window, beer in hand. ‘C’est la vie! Anyway, at least I get to see him for a bit. Baby brother.’ Evelyne looked over at him herself with a sad smile. ‘He’s pretty much the only family member I do see.’

‘You don’t see your parents?’

She shook her head. ‘Dad basically disowned me when I decided to leave the farm and go to university. He wanted me to stay and work until I could be married off to some other farmer’s son.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Mum backed me, but doesn’t like to admit it in front of him. So I don’t see her either.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

She shrugged. ‘Anyway, enough of that.’ She grabbed Sylvia’s arm. ‘Thank you so much for coming tonight and helping us out. I’ll see you back here tomorrow, okay?’

JUNE 2016 Montreux, Switzerland

JESS

Over the course of the week following my library trip, I snatch moments whenever I can to call the many incarnations of the names on my list, hoping they speak enough English to point me in the right direction. There are several Fabienne Aebischers, but none of them have heard of the Mouvement des Femmes Lausannoises. Marie Rochat in Neuchâtel is too young, and Marie Rochat in Geneva speaks no English and hangs up on me after I’ve reeled off a few pre-prepared phrases in French and not understood her responses.

It’s hardly watertight research, this.

But then I call a Nina Favre, listed as living in Lausanne, and I think it surprises her as much as me when I bring up the MFL and she says, ‘Yes, yes I know it.’