‘I have nothing to tell you. I know nothing.’
‘Oh, in that case you’d better go home,’ he said. For a moment I believed him, but then I realised he was being sarcastic. He laughed out loud. He walked around the chair and stopped behind me. I resisted the urge to turn around. ‘Tell me, what did you know about what your brother was up to?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied without faltering.
‘I don’t believe you. Please be careful how you answer.’
‘I didn’t know what he was doing,’ I insisted.
‘You were very close to your brother. I could tell that from when I first encountered you.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ I replied, feeling a sense of pride and loss at the same time.
‘So, he must have confided in you.’
I shook my head. ‘He didn’t because he didn’t want to get me involved. He loved me and wanted to keep me safe. I asked him, but he always refused to say anything.’
‘How very noble. And I’m expected to believe you?’
‘I don’t know what else to say to make you believe me.’
‘Why did you want to shoot me?’ Kranz walked slowly around, coming to a halt in front of me. He leaned back against the table, his hands cupped the edge.
‘I didn’t. Honestly. I wouldn’t do that. I was just cleaning.’ As I spoke, I looked at him straight in the eye. He needed to believe me. There was no way I could die in this room. I thought of my parents and how heartbroken they’d be that another child of theirs had been killed by the Germans. I couldn’t let that happen to them. ‘I don’t even know how to hold a gun, let alone fire it. Besides, why would I choose to kill you in Coco Chanel’s room?’ I asked. ‘I wouldn’t make it out of the hotel. It would be suicide.’
‘Maybe you don’t care if you’re killed? Maybe you have a false sense of loyalty to your brother and you think dying for his honour will make a martyr of you.’
‘Not at all,’ I replied. ‘I have no desire to die for anyone or anything.’ The dryness of my throat was making talking painful.
Kranz poured water into the glass and handed it to me. This time I accepted, and the relief was significant. ‘Thank you.’
Kranz gave a nod of acknowledgement and placed the now empty glass back on the table. ‘Tell me, Nathalie,’ he began, ‘how did you come to get a job at the Ritz when before you were working in your father’s shop?’
‘I needed to earn some money for the family, especially now my father’s shop has closed,’ I said.
Kranz appeared to consider my reply. Then he spoke again. ‘And just how did you get the job?’
I silently thanked Marcel for having had the foresight to prepare me for any such questions. ‘A neighbour works at the hotel and she told me about the position. She put in a good word for me with Monsieur Tache.’
‘And who is this kindly neighbour?’ There was a glint in his eye, as if he had caught me out.
I didn’t hesitate to respond. ‘Madame Segal– she works in the laundry room.’
‘You know I shall check up on all these details?’ Kranz made notes on a piece of paper on the table.
‘You’ll find everything to be in order,’ I said with confidence. Kranz was on the prowl again. ‘Does the name Marcel Reynard mean anything to you?’
I tried not to hesitate, to keep my composure, to not gulp, to not spin around and look at Kranz as my mind raced with all the reasons he might be asking about Marcel. ‘I don’t know the name,’ I replied, hoping the momentary hesitation went unnoticed.
‘Are you sure about that?’ He came to rest on the table once again.
‘I’m positive.’
‘What about the Blacksmith circuit? Do you know what that is?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Sweat gathered under my arms and I could feel a droplet of moisture track its way down my spine.
‘Come now, you must have heard of the Blacksmith network. After all, you have recently returned from Brittany where I understand your cousin, Gaston Grandis, is part of the Resistance movement there.’
