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“What are you talking about?”

It’s Thursday. “Piano lessons” day. Josie has heard the front door open and close, their special guests saying au revoir, and assumed it was fine to come out for her lesson.

“Josie, I didn’t hear you come out,” Andrée says, getting to her feet abruptly and going to the girl standing in the doorway. It’s clear from Josie’s expression that she has overheard at least part of the conversation they’ve been having with Agent, who is sitting at the dining table.

“Please tell me: What were you talking about?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. You’re safe here. It’s just business.” Andrée smooths her hair, which has freed itself from the plaits Tina struggles with each morning and is now tumbling down her back.

Tina interjects. “She has a right to know. Josie, come and sit down, and I will tell you what we have just learned from our friend here.”

Josie glares at Agent. So he’s responsible.

Agent clears his throat. “With the warmer weather, the Germans have increased their search for Jewish families.”

Josie gasps, turning from one adult to the next, fear etched onto her features, her hands beginning to tremble.

Tina gently reaches out to take Josie’s hands.

He continues, addressing the little girl seriously. “Not here in Paris, but in the other cities and towns of France.”

“So I’m still safe?” Josie mumbles.

“As safe as you were yesterday,” Louis tells her. “We must remain vigilant, be careful who we speak to. The Germans just had a break over winter, it seems.”

“There are many people in Paris, and all across France, who are doing all they can to stop the Germans, to make life here difficult for them,” Andrée tells her.

“Like you. All of you. You’re fighting, aren’t you? In some way.”

“We will always fight for you, Josie.” Tina smiles.

“And for our country. I know it’s not just about me. It shouldn’t be just about me. It must be about everyone in Paris.”

“My God, how did you get so wise so young?” Louis asks.

“It happened the day they took away Maman and Léon. I know you don’t want me to know anything about what you are doing, and I understand that. I’ll never ask you any questions, but I heard you mention Jews and it frightened me.”

“You have a right to know what is happening, not only to Jews but to all of us. If you trust us, I promise we will share with you anything we think you should know. It will help keep you and all of us safe if you know some of what’s going on in the streets and houses of our city,” Tina says, massaging Josie’s hands.

“You understand there will be things we don’t tell you, things you might hear from others at school? Ask us about them if they bother you. We will do everything to keep you informed without scaring you,” Andrée says.

“But it is scary. I am scared most days.”

“If we promise to tell you as much as we can, will you make a promise to us?” Tina asks.

“What?”

“That you will tell us when you are scared.”

Andrée turns away from the table, hands covering her mouth. When she turns back, she faces Josie.

“I know when you’re scared. I’ve always known, and I am so sorry I haven’t done enough to help you. I’ll do better from now on. I promise that too.”

Josie releases her hands from Tina and reaches out to Andrée. “How do you know when I’m scared, Tata?” She asks the question as if she knows the answer.

Andrée looks into her eyes. “I hear it in your playing, in your music. In your choice of music. I can tell.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without the piano,” Josie says, tears welling up in her eyes. “Some days, when I’m frightened and really upset, it helps me forget why I’m here. It hears me somehow. One day I was hitting the keys hard, and it wouldn’t let the sound be loud. It stayed quiet and calmed me. Does that make sense? Can it really do that?”