Page 68 of The French Wife

‘I have to be in early this morning,’ she said. ‘They told me yesterday.’

Bruno grunted but didn’t object. As soon as he’d opened his eyes, she’d told him about Gabriel and Samuel being released, and his mood had instantly improved.

Glad to be away from the farm, she cycled down the track in the cool of the March morning. The air was clear and the river sparkled in the early sunlight. Once in the town, she cycled through the cobbled streets, heading straight past the mairie and carrying on beside the river. She passed Madame Argène’s house and the little grocery shop and turned in up the alleyway beside it. Luckily the gate wasn’t locked, so she pushed her bicycle into the courtyard and left it propped up against the wall. Then, her heart pounding, she climbed the steps up to the studio and knocked on the door.

Hans was in his shirtsleeves when he opened it, streaks of shaving foam on his cheeks. ‘Amélie! Come in,’ he said.

‘Gabriel and Samuel arrived back at the farm in the middle of the night,’ she said, going inside. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I would have come down here in the night if I could. I came to thank you for what you did for them.’

He folded her in his arms and kissed her on the lips. Responding to his kiss, Amélie slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. They kissed for a long time and eventually, still kissing, they sank onto the settee together. And soon they were both lost in the passion of their embrace.

TWENTY-TWO

EMMA

2010

When Emma emerged onto the Boulevard des Promenades in St Marie that Saturday morning and shaded her eyes against the sun, she saw Gaston and his daughter straight away. They were sitting at one of the tables on the wide pavement outside the brasserie. She paused, a mixture of nerves and pleasure rushing through her at the sight of father and daughter together like that. Gaston was bending his head to his daughter’s, clearly explaining something to her, and she was looking up at him with shining eyes. The little girl had golden curls, just like her father. She was wearing a summer dress, the pale blue of the material contrasting with her tanned skin.

Emma approached the table and they both looked up.

‘Bonjour!’ she said.

‘Charlotte, this is Papa’s friend,’ Gaston said, getting up and kissing Emma on both cheeks. ‘Her name is Emma.’

Charlotte turned to Emma, a tentative smile on her sweet, chubby face. She had beautiful, round, blue eyes.

‘Bonjour, Emma,’ she said. ‘Are you coming to have lunch with us?’

Emma exchanged glances with Gaston and smiled. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said to the little girl.

‘I don’t mind. Do you, Papa?’

Gaston laughed and shook his head. ‘Not at all, I asked Emma if she would come. I wanted you two to meet each other.’

The little girl smiled shyly and watched Emma from under her long eyelashes as Emma sat down opposite. The waiter came and handed them menus, but Gaston hardly glanced at his.

‘I come here a lot, and I always have the entrecôte,’ he said. ‘It’s really good, especially when it’s cooked rare.’

Emma chose entrecôte too and Charlotte asked for a burger. Gaston ordered a pichet of red wine, and when it arrived, he poured Emma a generous glass.

‘What have you been up to this morning?’ he asked.

Emma told him all about the text from Paul Brodin and the unfinished portrait she’d discovered at his grandmother’s studio. ‘It was definitely Amélie Garnier,’ she said.

‘That’s amazing. Madame Garnier must have been very close to the German officer who lived there.’

‘Are you the lady from the farm?’ Charlotte asked suddenly, looking up at Emma. Emma smiled. ‘Papa told me about you.’

‘I am, but I’m afraid it isn’t really a farm anymore. I don’t have any animals. You’re welcome to come and see the house, though. Your papa has been working very hard on it.’

‘Can I go there one day, Papa?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Of course, as long as Emma is happy for you to come.’

‘I’d love that,’ Emma said, tucking into her steak.

It was true. She would enjoy showing this little girl around the place and, checking her feelings, she realised she didn’t have any pangs of remorse or guilt about it. She knew Eliza would want her to invite Charlotte home and show her around.