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“What did you say?” Louis asks again, now very concerned.

“I told her that if I heard anything I would tell her. She smiled and said she would make sure Joséphine understood there would be no cat at our home. Nothing was said again.”

“Joséphine has been here before when we’ve had visitors, including Cat. You don’t think she will have told anyone else?” Louis persists.

“No. We’re not compromised, Papa; Ruth knew, but not Joséphine. I think Ruth has entrusted her most precious possession to our care because of who we are and what we do.”

“And we will take care of her,” Tina says, smiling at her husband and daughter, suddenly certain. They look at each other and instinctively join hands across the table. They will fight to keep this child safe.

“Are we all agreed?” Louis asks. “This is dangerous, and it won’t be easy.”

The women grip his hands tighter.

“We’ll need that backup plan,” Tina says firmly. “And we’ll have to discuss it with our comrades.” She stands and starts clearing the table. “For now, we must make this a normal Thursday. Go about our usual tasks. Joséphine will sleep for hours, though I might wake her after lunch to feed her so she will sleep tonight. Louis, you go and open the shop, put up a sign saying only open until twelve noon. You have somewhere else to be later this afternoon. Andrée, you have your lessons at home today, not at the school. I’ll stay here, but I’ll pop down at some point and say hello to Maurice, just to see how he seems.

“There’s one small problem,” Tina adds. “She has the nightdress and coat she was wearing and no other clothes. And we can’t afford to buy her any.”

Andrée is purposeful now. Having a task at hand makes the whole undertaking feel possible.

“I’ll go to their apartment and gather her things. Hopefully no one has been there yet and ransacked the place.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Tina asks. The last thing they need is unwanted attention.

Andrée is resolute. “I’ll walk past the place and see what’s going on. Don’t worry, Maman—if I see any Gestapo, I’ll steer clear.”

Several neighbors are gathered around the entrance to Joséphine’s apartment building at rue Théophraste Renaudot. Andrée walks slowly toward them, studying their faces. Will she be seen as a French intruder, somehow in league with the invaders who violated this building and those who lived here?

What she sees is fear and resignation.

She recognizes one of the women being consoled by another and gently approaches.

“Mme Benoît, are you all right? What has happened?”

Mme Benoît dries her eyes, recognizing Andrée. “Mlle Levallois, good morning,” she says, struggling for words.

“Two families were taken from at number twenty-two last night, or should I say very early today. We heard the noise from our block next door⁠—”

“They’ve all been taken?” Andrée asks, checking.

“Yes, all of them gone. It’s probably our turn tonight,” wails Mme Benoît, immediately comforted by her friend.

“There’s no one inside?”

The neighbor supporting her also lives in the next-door building. Andrée recognizes her. She has a child in the school Joséphine attends, and where Andrée teaches music part-time.

“Where is Frédéric?” Andrée inquires of Mme Benoît’s ten-year-old son, another of her pupils.

“We sent him to school. He should go to school for as long as he can.”

“I agree,” Andrée says, turning to Mme Benoît’s friend. “Can you take her to your apartment?”

The woman nods. Mme Benoît places her hand on Andrée’s sleeve.

“It’s all right, Mlle Levallois. We know this is not your doing. If I don’t get a chance: Thank you for your patience teaching Frédéric. He loves his lessons with you. I hope he can continue to learn music in some form . . .” Mme Benoît says, her voice trailing away.

One of the men in the small gathering speaks up. “Why don’t we all go home and pack what we can? I watched from the window as our friends and neighbors were taken. Some were prepared and had suitcases with them. Others, just the clothes on their backs.”

As the men and women slowly walk into the building next door, Andrée reaches out to Mme Benoît, who allows herself to be drawn into a long, tight hug before following the others.