Page 24 of The French Wife

Inside the second room, Brodin looked around and said, ‘This is incredible. It must have been like this since the war.’

‘The estate agent told me the people who lived here died without heirs and that the property was taken back by the state in the 1960s,’ Emma said.

‘I’m sure that’s true as far as it goes,’ Brodin said. ‘I’ve heard rumours, though, that this farm was used by the Resistance during the German occupation.’ He rubbed his chin, frowning. ‘There was something else too. My grandmother always says the woman who lived here wasn’t popular in the town. I have no idea why. But what we see here before us seems to bear out the rumours about the Resistance, don’t you think?’

A little thrill went through Emma at his words. She’d wondered about that when they’d first found the guns, and Gaston had already mentioned the possibility to her, but to have it confirmed, if only as a rumour, certainly made Le Châtaignier and its history even more intriguing than she’d first imagined. Plus, a new addition to the mystery: why wasn’t the woman in the photograph liked?

‘This room must surely have been used as a hideout back then, to shelter certain people from the Germans,’ Brodin went on. ‘Otherwise, why would the bookcase have been there, blocking it off?’

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Emma said. ‘It’s a fascinating thought.’ She looked again at the four camp beds, the blankets piled untidily on each, and tried to imagine hiding from the Nazis in the confined, dank space. The oppressive atmosphere of the occupation and the fear those people must have felt hiding, there in that very room, suddenly felt extremely real to her.

‘So, please show me the guns you found,’ Brodin said.

‘They’re here. In the cupboard,’ Gaston told him, gesturing towards the crate of guns on the shelf. ‘The cupboard was locked, but the key was on Madame Hudson’s bunch.’

‘Get the box down, please, Antoine,’ Brodin ordered his sergeant. ‘Let’s take a look.’

The young man went to the shelf, eased the crate towards him and, staggering slightly under its weight, heaved it off the shelf and lowered it to the floor. Brodin bent over it and gave a low whistle. Kneeling, he took the guns out one by one and laid them on the floor beside the box, all the time muttering to himself. Then he stood up and dusted off his hands on his jeans.

‘The handguns are both British, and two of these rifles are Lee-Enfields, British made. But the other rifles are German – Mauser K98ks, to be precise. A well-known make during the war.’

‘German?’ Emma asked, frowning.

‘Resistance fighters would steal weapons from German soldiers whenever they got the chance,’ he explained. ‘To supplement their supplies. That would explain it.’ Then he looked back in the crate. ‘There is a lot of ammunition here too. Bullets for both the handguns and the rifles. These people must have been active in the local area.’

‘Do you know much about what happened in St Marie-des-Champs during the war?’ Emma asked the detective.

‘A little, not very much. Sadly, there aren’t that many people still with us who were around at that time, and those that are don’t seem very keen on talking about it. My grandmother was a young woman during the war who lived in the town, but she hasn’t told me much at all.’

‘I asked my mother for you, Emma. She was born after the war, but she said her parents, my grandparents, didn’t talk about it much either,’ Gaston cut in. ‘They’ve passed away now, but in my experience, everyone seemed to want to forget about it.’

‘It is understandable, I suppose,’ Brodin said. ‘The German occupation of France was brutal, from what I’ve read about it.’

‘I’ve been trying to discover more about the former owners of the farm, but it’s proving very difficult,’ Emma told him. ‘I’m going to call the notaire who handled the sale later on today, but do you think there might be a chance your grandmother would talk to me about that time?’

The detective thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘She might – she often complains that she doesn’t have enough visitors. I’ll give you her address and I’ll let her know you might drop by. How about that?’

‘That would be wonderful,’ Emma said. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘Now, shall we take a look in the rest of the cupboards here, see if there’s any more ammunition while we’re about it?’

Emma discovered that various keys on the large bunch she’d been given fitted the cupboards around the room. In some were stored boxes of old maps of the area and piles of mouldy clothes; mainly men’s work trousers and rough shirts, a pair of tough-looking leather boots, but also, amazingly, dresses too. Emma held up a pretty cotton dress that must once have been white but was yellowed with age, decorated with bluebells and roses, a couple of plain plaid work skirts, a blouse or two, and some women’s sandals. Then, to her surprise she pulled out a pile of baby clothes, and others that might fit a small child.

She showed the others. ‘Look at these,’ she said with a catch in her throat. ‘To think children must have hidden here. This is a real slice of history,’ she said, determined to preserve everything she’d found. It was a tantalising glimpse back at the war years but she wondered why the people who’d been hiding here had left all this behind, particularly the guns.

‘Hey, look at this,’ Gaston said, holding up a huge piece of white, filmy material.

‘What’s that?’ Emma asked.

‘It’s parachute silk,’ Brodin replied. ‘At least that’s what it looks like…’

They all stared at it, amazed. Emma pictured a plane flying low over the valley, a parachute drifting to earth, a British airman dangling from it. But underneath it was something even more interesting. A brown leather suitcase. Gaston pulled it out and opened it, and Emma gazed at the contents. It was full of electronic components: a tube, a lot of tangled wires and switches, a broken bulb, and a large pair of antiquated headphones.

‘It’s a wartime radio,’ Brodin said. ‘Like the Resistance would have used. Now, that’s a real museum piece.’

Emma’s scalp tingled, looking down at the mess of components, imagining a maquisard bent over it, tapping away, communicating secret messages to other groups. What had happened at the farm during the war? Why had they needed a radio like this?

The two policemen packed the guns and carried them up to the kitchen.