“Estelle.” Rachel gave her a quick hug. “This will all end eventually,” she whispered. “We’ll be fine. We’ll get our lives back. I have to believe that because it’s hope that gets us all out of bed every morning.”

Estelle nodded and pulled away. “I have a favour to ask,” she said carefully.

“Anything.”

“I need to speak with your father.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with worry. “Are you all right? Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” Estelle told her with perfect honesty. She hated keeping things from the woman she loved as a sister but, like she had told the airman, ignorance was safer for everyone.

Rachel gave her a long look. “Very well.” She squeezed Estelle’s hand. “Come tomorrow afternoon for cake.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Rachel vanished back in the direction of the kitchen, and a moment later, Serge Wyler appeared.

“Estelle,” he greeted her warmly, “I hear you are coming to our little party tomorrow. With a surprise, according to my granddaughter.” He was a distinguished-looking man with greying hair, round spectacles, and the kind, calm demeanor that Estelle had always loved.

“I am. I can’t wait.”

His intelligent eyes appraised her. “Rachel says you needed to speak with me. What about?”

“It’s about the project you helped me with.” Estelle spoke quietly.

“Ah. Where you’ve kindly hidden so many of our treasures. And an occasional patient.”

“Yes. And um…” She trailed off, hesitating. Once she said what she was about to say, there was no unsaying it.

Serge took his spectacles off and polished them slowly with an embroidered handkerchief he drew from his pocket. “You’re hiding more than that, aren’t you Estelle?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Silently, she nodded.

“I could pretend to be surprised but I’m not.” He replaced the spectacles. “What do you need?”

“A doctor. To provide the sort of help that, if discovered, would result in your own arrest.” She met his eyes directly. “You can refuse because you have two daughters and a granddaughter who need you and love you very much. I will understand, and from this moment, we will never speak of it again. This conversation never happened.”

“Someone is hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Then I cannot say no, can I?” There was such kindness in his eyes that it unexpectedly made Estelle want to cry. “Let me get my bag.”

The shouts of men from outside and the thunder of pounding feet on the stairs had Estelle bolting upright in her bed, her heart hammering so hard in her chest that she thought it might crash through her ribs.