Page 33 of The French Wife

‘Raoul? Raoul?’ He emphasised the name as if speaking to a child. ‘I didn’t know you and he were on such intimate terms.’

Amélie put the ham and bowl of eggs on the table and looked straight at him. ‘I don’t know his surname, actually, Bruno,’ she said. ‘So I don’t know what else you expect me to call him.’

Bruno scowled. ‘And what was this important thing you had to give him?’

‘It was a note about German troop movements,’ she said, lowering her voice. Bruno stiffened and sat up straight. ‘I typed it out at work today for one of the German officers.’

Bruno stared at her. ‘Why didn’t you give it to me?’

‘Because you told me that Raoul was the leader of the Resistance. I thought he would have a use for it. Why ever would I have given it to you?’

‘Because I’m in charge here, damn you,’ he said, slamming his fist on the table.

It made Amélie jump, even though she didn’t want to show him she was intimidated by his behaviour. ‘I’m sure Raoul will speak to you about it,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady, her eyes fixed on his face that was an ugly red with anger.

He lunged at her, grabbed her by both arms and pulled her to him, pinching the skin on her wrists as he did so. Then he put his face right up to hers. ‘That’s not the point,’ he said. ‘And you know it. Next time, make sure you show me what you have before taking it to him.’

At that point Raoul came in through the door from the herbergerie and Bruno let go of Amélie and fell silent. Amélie stepped away from him, rubbing her wrists.

‘Bonsoir, madame, monsieur,’ Raoul said, nodding to both of them before sitting down opposite Bruno. ‘Your wife brought home something incredible this evening,’ he said in a low voice, leaning forward.

Amélie, who was already cracking eggs for the omelettes into a pudding basin, couldn’t resist a smile of satisfaction. As she’d guessed, Bruno’s voice didn’t show a trace of anger or belligerence when he spoke to Raoul.

‘Yes, she told me what she’d given you. I hope the camarades will find it useful.’

Amélie realised Bruno was subtly trying to claim some credit for what she’d done. That was so like him! It irritated her, but she knew better than to say anything.

‘Very useful, thank you, camarade,’ Raoul replied. ‘I’ve just been radioing London for backup. If we’re going to act on this intelligence, we’ll need to act quickly. And we’re short of trained manpower as it is.’

‘London?’ Bruno asked, sounding impressed.

‘That’s right. I was sent by General de Gaulle and the Free French movement in London to help local partisans. I haven’t had a response yet, but they’ll let me know tomorrow if they can help. The first movement that would be worth targeting is happening on Monday. The Germans are sending troop reinforcements into Narbonne because there’s already been trouble there from Resistance groups. Do you have any men who could help with that?’

‘Of course,’ Bruno replied. ‘All my workers stand ready to help whenever the Resistance calls them.’

As if on cue, the door from the herbergerie opened and the five men and Lili trooped through into the kitchen and sat down at the table. While Bruno poured them all a glass of beer, Amélie quickly produced ham and cheese omelettes for everyone and put a plate in front of each person. Then she sat down in her place at the end of the table with her food and listened to the conversation as she ate. The talk was all of the planned mission and the men were clearly excited to be asked to be a part of it, although they spoke in hushed tones. Lili remained silent, eating quietly and listening to the others.

‘That will teach the Krauts a lesson for arresting us,’ Tomasz said with a chuckle.

‘Quite right!’ Marcel said. ‘Can’t wait to get at those bastards!’

They continued to talk about the logistics of what they were planning: how they would get to Narbonne, how they would practise shooting in the forest the next day, who would set the bomb on the bridge they’d decided to target, who would keep watch. Bruno produced a map and they spent a long time poring over it.

‘We’re still a couple of men short to be really effective,’ Raoul said. ‘I hope the reinforcements arrive in time.’

Amélie and Lili cleared the dishes and took them to the sink to wash up. Neither spoke, they were listening intently to the conversation at the table. Amélie had mixed feelings about the mission and, exchanging worried looks with Lili, she could see that the older woman did too. Part of her was excited at the prospect and proud that the information she’d supplied was useful, but part of her was fearful too. The men sounded so gung-ho when they spoke about it. Weren’t they being over-confident? What if things went wrong and one or more of them was caught by the Germans? They would surely be tortured for information, and it could well emerge that Amélie was the source of it.

Her blood ran cold just thinking about it and she closed her eyes, trying to banish the thoughts that were just too terrifying to contemplate. There was no going back now, she told herself. She’d taken a decision this afternoon, she’d chosen her side and she needed to stick by that decision now, no matter how terrifying the consequences might be.

The next morning, as soon as she arrived at the mairie, Amélie hurried up the stairs and past Hauptmann Bauer’s office without even glancing through the window. She didn’t want to speak to him. His genial, considerate manner confused her; it was off-putting. She wanted to hate him as she hated the SS man downstairs – in a straightforward, visceral way – but that was impossible. And she knew she shouldn’t, but she felt a hint of guilt too, amongst all the other emotions swirling around in her heart. Guilt that, despite the fact he was the enemy, Hauptmann Bauer had placed his faith and trust in her and she’d betrayed that trust at the first opportunity. Guilt too that men might die because of what she’d done, even though they were enemy soldiers of the Third Reich and were occupying her country. She knew some of them must hate this war as much as she did.

In the large, vaulted office she now shared with the mayor and the commissaire of police, she went straight to her desk. Only Monsieur Colbert was there that morning. He looked up from his work and said a pleasant bonjour. She took off her hat and coat and carried them to the coat stand. It was near the large window and she lingered there, drawn in by the scene in the square below. A group of soldiers in their grey-green uniforms marched up and down in the centre of the square between the parked tanks and armoured cars, guns slung over their shoulders. A group of others appeared to be off duty and were sitting on the wall surrounding the old fountain, smoking and chatting. She watched them for a moment, then her mouth dropped open in surprise when one of them moved aside, revealing the person in the middle of the group. They were in rough, civilian clothes standing there amongst the soldiers, talking to them. It was someone she knew and, though it took her several seconds to register who, as soon as she had there was no mistaking that slim boy with his mop of dark hair.

It was Étienne Moreau, chatting away to the German soldiers, being offered a cigarette by one of them, much to the hilarity of the others. Amélie watched him, aghast. What was he doing there, laughing and joking with the enemy? Didn’t he realise how bad it looked? Didn’t he know all the people who lived in the houses and apartments overlooking the square would see what he was doing? Rumours would quickly spread that he was an informer, working for the Germans against his countrymen. Amélie realised she needed to warn him not to get friendly with German soldiers, but she wasn’t about to go down to the square and tell him. She would have to wait for the right moment.

The door opened and Hauptmann Bauer appeared. Amélie hurried back to her desk.

‘Ah, Madame Garnier, I’m glad you’re here,’ he said. ‘I have more notes for you to type up. In fact, this time they are letters. Do you have time to do this for me this morning, please?’