Page 75 of The French Wife

Amélie put her arms around the girl and held her tight. ‘Thank you, Suzette,’ she said. ‘I know things are incredibly tough for you at the moment, but you’re being so brave. I really appreciate it.’

The next morning, after breakfast, Lili and the men were in the herbergerie getting ready to go out to work, the résistants were out in the forest with their guns doing target practice, and Suzette was helping Naomi and Esther tidy the cellar. For once, Amélie and Bruno were alone in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table finishing his chestnut coffee and reading the newspaper.

‘Bruno,’ she said as she cleared the cups and dishes from the table and took them to the sink. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about.’

He looked up and eyed her irritably. She’d noticed he’d become even more moody and withdrawn than usual in the past few weeks, but they were rarely alone apart from at night, when they barely exchanged a word.

‘You want a word with me?’ he asked, folding his paper and slamming it on the table. ‘I think it should be me having a word with you instead, don’t you?’

Amélie’s scalp tingled. What did he mean?

‘I spoke to Étienne Moreau yesterday,’ she went on, thinking it best to ignore his outburst.

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ he said. ‘If anyone’s going to have a word with anyone, it’s me with you.’

She put the pile of dishes she’d just gathered back on the table. ‘What do you mean, Bruno?’

‘I mean what I say,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve been hearing rumours about you, my girl. Every time I go into town. People started giving me funny looks a few months back, and it was only last week I managed to wring it out of old Amiel in the tabac. He didn’t want to tell me, but in the end I forced him to.’

Amélie felt her knees weaken with shock. She swallowed and looked at him coldly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You don’t know what I mean, eh?’ He lunged then, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. ‘Don’t know what I mean? You’re a traitor to your country and to your husband. You’ve been carrying on with one of those Boche officers at the mairie. Don’t deny it. Everyone in St Marie knows the truth.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bruno,’ she said, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

But he stood up, knocking the chair backwards, gripped her shoulder with one hand and with the other slapped her hard around the face. She cried out but he slapped her again.

‘How could you do this to me?’ he snarled, keeping his voice low so others didn’t hear. He slapped her again and again and pushed her backwards. She was sobbing and trembling. He took her by both shoulders then and slammed her against the kitchen wall, the back of her head banging against it.

‘Stop! Bruno, stop!’ she sobbed.

At that moment, she heard the click of the door from the cellar and Naomi emerged. Bruno let go of her.

‘Get out of here,’ he said.

Amélie ran sobbing from the room. Glancing through the window, she saw Étienne Moreau peering in, his eyes wide and his face white with shock.

She ran upstairs and, trying to control her breathing, went into the bathroom and held a cold flannel on her cheekbone. Her mind was scrambled. What was she going to do now? She needed to leave as soon as she could. But where could she go? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of raised voices in the courtyard. She went out into the passage, and, shielded by the half-open shutter, stood beside the open window.

Bruno was talking to Étienne in the yard, or rather he was shouting at him.

‘It’s none of your business, boy,’ he was saying. ‘What happens between me and my wife has nothing do with you. You can get lost. Get off my land and don’t come back. If you think I’m going to give you and your good-for-nothing father a job after what you just said to me, you’ve got another think coming.’

‘You’re going to regret this, Monsieur…’

Bruno roared with laughter. ‘Listen to yourself,’ he yelled. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? Some sort of hardman? Now get out!’

There was a scuffle beneath the window, then Amélie saw Étienne running out the courtyard gates and soon his footsteps faded away down the cinder track. She rushed through to her bedroom at the back of the house and looked out the window. From there she could see the track as it led down through the vines towards the river. She watched the boy until he disappeared out of sight: he was still running.

TWENTY-FOUR

Amélie sat on the chaise longue in the old forester’s cabin, staring out the window, anxiously waiting for Hans to appear on the other side of the river. She was still reeling from Bruno’s assault, her cheekbone sore and stinging. They hadn’t spoken since he’d sent Étienne packing. She’d stayed out of sight upstairs and had watched from the window as he and the men gathered in the courtyard with their guns. As it was Saturday morning, they were off to shoot rabbits in the next valley. Although she knew they were headed a long way away from the cabin, and she’d watched them all set off along the track, she still felt uneasy about meeting Hans, now Bruno had confronted her with the truth. What if the hunt was a ruse and Bruno intended to follow her? It was unlikely, she told herself. He was surrounded by his men, and it would be very odd to leave them to hunt on their own.

At last she saw movement between the gorse bushes on the opposite bank and Hans emerged from them at the water’s edge. Her heart lifted to see him there. He was dressed in casual clothes, a white shirt and linen trousers with braces. His blond hair flopped over his face, making him look far more like an artist than a soldier.

She rushed outside and ran down to the riverbank. He was concentrating on crossing the river on the stepping stones, so he didn’t notice her at first, but when he saw her standing there, his eyes lit up.

‘Amélie!’ He hurried across the last few stones and ran into her arms.