I awoke to the sound of hammering on the door to our apartment and Maman frantically waking me up.
‘Sit up, sit up,’ she said urgently, helping me to get upright. She whipped the towel out from underneath me and folded it up with lightning speed before placing it on the side with some clothing she had been ironing.
The hammering grew more insistent and I could hear someone shouting from the other side.
‘Open the door! Now!’
‘J’arrive! J’arrive!’ called Papa. He glanced back down the hallway and Maman nodded at him, before she dropped a book in my lap and then sat down beside me with her knitting needles.
No sooner had Papa opened the door, than in marched two German soldiers. They came straight into the living room, their guns waving around the room, before coming to rest on us.
‘Monsieur Leroux, I’m sorry for the lateness of my call.’
The voice was unmistakable. It was Kranz.
I froze. What on earth was Kranz doing here? He was supposed to be out with Chanel tonight.
‘Is your daughter in?’ Kranz asked.
I swallowed hard as the officer’s footsteps clipped down the hallway. He came through the doorway, stopping in front of the sofa where we were sitting. His whole being occupied the room, and I felt the walls close in and the air leach away.
‘Madame Leroux,’ said Kranz, nodding towards my mother. And then to me. ‘Mademoiselle Leroux.’
‘Good evening,’ I replied, my voice somehow sounding much calmer than I felt.
He rocked back on his heels for a moment, as if deciding on his words. He smiled. The smile worried me more. ‘So, this evening, as you know, I was dining out with a friend. When we arrived back at the hotel, I was told of an incident concerning a member of staff. Madame Bochette.’
‘Madame Bochette,’ I repeated. ‘What sort of incident? Is she all right?’
‘She has sustained a very serious head injury. At this moment she is in the hospital being operated on. She may not survive.’
A morass of emotions swirled inside me. Relief that I hadn’t killed her, but also fear that I hadn’t killed her. If she was still alive, she’d tell Kranz what had happened and then I’d be arrested and I had no doubt I would be tried and found guilty of attempted murder, despite the circumstances. No one would believe it had been self-defence. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said at last, realising Kranz was waiting for my response.
‘Are you?’ he questioned.
‘Of course.’ I met his gaze.
‘She had been attacked in the staff quarters with a poker,’ said Kranz. ‘It appears you might have been the last one to see her.’
I shook my head. ‘I didn’t see Madame Bochette this evening. I saw her when we had our break, but other than that, I haven’t seen her.’
‘You and Bochette have an interesting relationship,’ said Kranz. ‘You have both indicated to me that the other is a traitor to Germany. That the other is feeding information to the Resistance– that they are spying. It is well known that you two do not get on.’
‘Madame Bochette has a vivid imagination,’ I said. ‘But I am not the traitor. I stand by what I said.’
Kranz’s gaze toured the room. I gripped my book a little tighter to stop my hands from shaking. The tension was building in the room. He looked at the towel folded on the chair and then wandered over, picking it up by the corner.
The pale pink blood stain from where Papa had sewn me up stood out against the whiteness of the towel.
‘What is this? It’s fresh blood.’
‘That is mine,’ said Maman quickly.
‘The blood?’ asked Kranz.
Maman dipped her head before looking back up at the German. ‘Monthly bleeding,’ she said.
If the situation hadn’t been so strained, I might have laughed at the look on Kranz’s face as he dropped the towel back where he had found it. He returned his attention to me.
