‘Goodnight, Claudine.’
Fitz felt a little pang of guilt at not being able to tell Yvette her real name. Deceiving the colonel was one thing, but it felt wrong to lie to Yvette. They had formed some kind of bond or connection which was a new experience to Fitz. But also one shefelt at ease with. What an odd friendship they had established, she thought with a smile.
Soon Yvette was fully asleep, and her gentle rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the room. It wasn’t quite so easy for Fitz to fall asleep. She went over the evening’s events, Engel’s comment and Hoffmann’s greedy eyes and eagerness to see her the following evening. She was relieved he had been enchanted as Margot had put it. Margot’s praise had been somewhat begrudging, but Fitz felt an inexplicable amount of pride that she had finally done something worthy of Margot’s approval. All Fitz had to do was to be just as enticing tomorrow and then she would be winging her way to England to enjoy her Christmas dinner, as Wilding had promised. She stopped short of savouring the idea. She still needed to make some sort of arrangements for Yvette. It unexpectedly tugged at her heart to think that after tomorrow, they probably wouldn’t see each other again.
Chapter 20
‘Where exactly are we going?’ asked Fitz as she followed Margot out of the château and through the town.
After breakfast in her room with Yvette, and then leaving her with the cook, Fitz had met with Margot. The latter still hadn’t shed any light on what they were doing that morning.
‘Stop asking questions,’ said Margot. ‘You just need to follow me, that’s all.’
They walked down the hill back towards the well. At first Fitz thought they might be meeting some more resistance members, but Margot carried on, turning left before she reached the canal.
A few minutes later, it became apparent as Margot pushed open the gate to the cemetery. Silently, Fitz followed on until they reached the back of the grounds. There were two fresh graves, marked by newly dug soil formed in mounds. Two wooden crosses marked their spot and each cross was engraved with a number.
Fitz looked up at Margot with a questioning look.
‘You asked about a RAF pilot,’ said Margot, her voice unusually soft. ‘Four nights ago, a plane came down just outside the town. The locals tried to help but it was too late. One of them survived, but only for a short while.’
Fitz took a moment to comprehend what Margot was implying. She looked back at the graves. Her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the barrage of thoughts. ‘Two graves,’ she said, remembering Bob had told her Sam was flying out a VIP.
Margot took out a packet of Gitanes cigarettes and offered one to Fitz.
Fitz’s hand shook a little as she accepted the offer. She used her own lighter and drew on the cigarette. The French black tobacco was stronger than she was used to, but she needed it today. ‘Do you know their names?’ she asked after a moment. ‘They would have been wearing identity tags.’
‘I don’t. The tags would have been taken by the resistance. They will find their way back to England.’
‘You said one was still alive,’ said Fitz. ‘Did he speak at all? The man I’m looking for was American.’
‘Apparently all he said wasthank you, Ma’am. Isn’t that what Americans say?’
Fitz wasn’t ready to believe this was Sam. No, she needed more proof than that. ‘He could have been trying to say Madame,’ said Fitz, resolutely. ‘Maybe the person who found him, didn’t hear right.’
Margot gave a small shrug. ‘It is possible but we were only expecting one aircraft that night. If it is the same night as your pilot, then it makes sense.’
Fitz shook her head. ‘No, that can’t be right. There was a pilot who hid Yvette. He called her sweetheart. That’s what Sam would say.’
‘The child might easily be mistaken,’ said Margot. ‘Besides, if she is right, who is to say he wasn’t downed another night?’
‘What type of aircraft was it?’ asked Fitz.
Margot made a dismissive sound. ‘Pfff. How would I know? I am not an expert in aviation.’ She threw down her cigarette and ground it out under her foot. ‘I just thought you should know. Or at least prepare yourself for when you get official confirmation. We need to get back. I’ll wait over there for you.’
Fitz looked down at the grave. Was it possible it was Sam? No. It couldn’t be. She’d know if it was. Somewhere deep in herheart, she’d know if Sam was buried there. He was still alive, she just knew it.
‘Rest in peace,’ she said as she touched the top of each cross.
Fitz wasn’t sure why Margot had chosen that morning to show her the graves. Was it because she knew Fitz would be leaving tonight? Or was she testing her resolve for some reason? Was she trying to break Fitz to prove to Philippe that she wasn’t up to the job? Why would she want to sabotage the kidnap plot?
As they walked back to the château, Fitz became more and more aware of her strange, unsettling feeling about Margot.
‘When you go tonight,’ said Margot as they walked up the gravel path to the main entrance. ‘You will leave the child with us.’
Fitz’s stomach churned over at this news. ‘Leave her with you. I … I don’t know. I mean, what will happen to her?’
‘There is a family Philippe knows. They will take her in,’ explained Margot.
