Page 13 of The French Wife

Glock stood up. ‘They can remain standing,’ he said, motioning to the workers. ‘Line up there, along the wall.’

Bauer stood up too and said something to Glock in German, and there was a brief but sharp exchange between the two men. Watching them, it seemed to Amélie that Bauer was trying to get Glock to moderate his behaviour. But whatever he’d said had made no difference. Glock strutted up and down the line of workers, peering at their faces. Then he stopped at one end and clicked his fingers.

‘Papers!’ he barked.

The first man, a Frenchman in his fifties from Narbonne, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his papers, which were dirty and scuffed at the edges. Glock examined them briefly and handed them back without a word. He continued down the line until he came to Marcel Juneau, a former soldier who had escaped capture when France fell and who used a false ID. He handed his papers to Glock, who studied them for a long time, then folded them up and put them into the pocket of his leather greatcoat.

‘We will need to take you to HQ for questioning,’ he said to Juneau.

The man’s face blanched. ‘But why, sir? My papers are in order. What is the problem?’

‘Your papers are not in order, and you know very well they are false. We have ways of detecting that. You will come with us while we investigate further.’

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Bruno asked. ‘I can vouch for this man. He has worked for me for years.’

‘His papers are clearly false. Be quiet, Monsieur Garnier,’ Glock snapped.

He strode to the door, pulled it open and barked some orders to the soldiers waiting in the hall, two of whom came into the kitchen, seized Marcel Juneau by both arms and dragged him out of the room. Through the window, Amélie could see Marcel being bundled into the back of the green van. A chill went through her. It was the same van the condemned men had come out of in the square the day before. Would the same thing happen to poor Marcel? For the first time, she glanced across at Hauptmann Bauer, who looked back at her apologetically.

Glock continued examining the papers of the other workers without comment until he came to the last man, Tomasz Nowac, who stood there trembling, beside his wife, Lili. Tomasz was a Polish refugee, who had been working on the farm for many years. The couple had originally lived in Germany, but had left for France in 1933 when the Nazis came to power. They had never applied for French citizenship.

‘We need to take this man away too,’ Glock said. ‘And this woman.’

Tomasz’s face crumpled in fear, and he began shaking his head in disbelief. Lili’s lined face was deathly pale.

Bruno stepped forward to protest once again, but Glock held up his hand.

‘There is nothing you can say, Monsieur Garnier. These people are foreigners and we need to investigate their circumstances.’

Once again, he called for the soldiers, who came and stood either side of Nowac and seized him by the arms. Another one grabbed Lili. At that moment, Hauptmann Bauer stepped forward and spoke to the soldiers, who immediately took their hands off the couple.

‘Monsieur and Madame Nowac,’ Bauer said to them in French. ‘Please do not be alarmed. This is purely a formality, I’m sure. Now, please go with my soldiers calmly and all will be well.’

As Lili and Tomasz left the house with the soldiers, Glock snapped something in German to Bauer and there was another brief, terse exchange.

Then Bruno stepped forward and squared up to Glock. ‘Why are you taking my workers? They haven’t done anything wrong. I want an explanation.’

Glock pushed Bruno backwards, so he was pinned against the table. ‘We don’t owe you an explanation for anything,’ he spat. ‘If you continue to behave like this, we will take you in as well.’ He seized Bruno by the collar with both hands.

‘Please!’ Amélie said, anxious to stop things escalating. She’d seen Bruno angry too many times and knew if he really lost his temper the Germans would arrest him. ‘Please. My husband doesn’t mean any harm. He is worried about his workers, that’s all. I can assure you, these people are trustworthy and genuine. Good, honest citizens and hard workers.’

‘Of course, madame,’ Bauer said, his voice calm. ‘Untersturmführer Glock! Please let Monsieur Garnier go. We won’t be detaining him.’ He turned to Amélie. ‘We just need to question your workers, it’s quite routine. If their papers are in order they will be allowed home. Please don’t worry, madame.’

Glock let Bruno go and he fell back against the table, knocking a chair aside. It clattered to the floor.

‘Now,’ Bauer said in his quiet, calm voice. ‘We will leave you in peace. Thank you, Monsieur. And I’m sorry for the intrusion.’

With that, he and Glock left the room, Glock muttering under his breath.

There was a stunned silence in the kitchen and nobody moved. Through the windows, they watched the vehicles manoeuvre, turn around and drive out of the courtyard. Within moments, the sound of the engines had faded away on the morning breeze.

FIVE

EMMA

2010

It didn’t take Emma long to decide which builder to engage for the renovations on the farmhouse. Two days after Gaston Marchand had been to look around the place, a quote – handwritten in creative, flowing writing – arrived from him through the post. He’d clearly spent some time preparing it, and, reading through the itemised list, Emma realised he had understood what she’d wanted perfectly. In addition, the quote was very reasonable. The one fly in the ointment was that Gaston had told her he had other jobs on and, because his was a small operation, he would have to take breaks from working on Le Châtaignier to tend to his other projects.