‘It’s good to see the town so busy,’ Claire said. Bringing her gaze back to Café La Ronde her eyes settled on the section of street where the Gestapo officer had arrested and had Mitch beaten, before he was dragged off to Gestapo Headquarters.
Emotion very nearly getting the better of her, Claire took Édith’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She was only alive today because of Édith’s youngest son, Frédéric. He had stopped her from going to Mitch’s aid. And thank God he had. She was pushing her way through the crowd when a black Mercedes pulled up. She turned as an SS Waffen Captain wearing a green field uniform, with a highly polished death mask on his peaked hat, stepped from the car and strode across to the pack of grey uniforms. Claire recognised the officer. She had seen him several times in the Café La Ronde. He once asked her if Alain was her lover. When she laughed, wrinkled her nose, and said no, he had asked her out to dinner.
She was at the edge of the gathering when Frédéric appeared at her side and dragged her back into the crowd. He put his arms around her and told the men who had left their beers and coffees in the nearby cafés and bars to see what the commotion was about that Claire was his woman. He joked with them saying she was a tiger, and he wished she was as passionate in bed as she was about a stranger being arrested by the Germans. The men had laughed and made lewd comments. Frédéric had held her so tightly she could hardly breathe, and all the time he was talking her down. Claire looked at Édith. Her youngest son had saved her life that day. Not long afterwards he had lost his own.
The Café La Ronde, like all the other cafés and bars around the square, had been packed with Germans, mostly officers, during France’s occupation. Claire greeted the proprietor with a smile when she and Édith entered. He lifted up his arms and tilted his head in a welcoming gesture before walking from behind the counter and shaking her hand.
‘What a pleasure it is to see you again, Madame,’ he said, to Claire. ‘Édith?’ He kissed Édith Belland’s hand. He showed them to a table at the back of the café. While he was taking his notebook and pen from his top pocket, Claire sidestepped into the booth where she and Mitch used to sit. ‘Ah… You remember, Madame,’ he said to Claire beaming her a smile.
‘Coffee and slice of almond cake,’ Édith said.
‘And for Madame Mitchell?’
‘The same.’ Claire started to ask him if he had seen Alain recently, then stopped. Instead, she nodded her thanks and watched as he moved deftly between the blue-and-white checked table-cloths on the small tables back to the counter.
The café’s door opened and Claire half expected to see Jacques the Resistance wireless operator come in. He wouldn’t of course. Jacques had been killed when his house was singled out by a German surveillance van with radio search equipment on the roof. The Germans had smashed down Jacques’ door, seized the wireless, and Jacques was never seen again.
That night, while she slept, Claire saw the face of the SS officer who had asked her out. She had often wondered whether it was because she had turned him down that he had Mitch arrested. She woke up in a panic, breathing heavily with her hair soaked in sweat, stuck to her head. She looked around the familiar room, the room where she and Mitch had slept when they last visited Édith. She put on her dressing gown, went to the window, and sat on the sill looking out. A ribbon of light on the horizon to the east told her it would soon be dawn. She leaned into the recess between window and wall and lifted up her feet.
The first time she and Mitch stayed with Édith Belland they had a dangerous mission to perform with the local Resistance movement. Before the end of their work in France Aimée was born, and later they were married. Claire’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
‘Claire, are you awake?’
‘Yes, Édith. Come in.’
‘André called. He has gone to pick up your new passport and identity papers.’
Claire felt butterflies stirring in her stomach. She inhaled and let her breath out slowly. She felt no calmer. ‘Did he arrange for me to travel by motorcar?’
‘Yes. He is seeing one of the men who brought Alain on the last leg of the journey after he had escaped from prison. Bernard is his name. You may remember him? He was a member of a cell in Orléans.’
Claire shook her head. She might remember his face when she saw him, but she had known several men named Bernard and it was a long time ago. ‘It was Eddie and Antoinette Marron who brought Alain to Orléans from Paris,’ she said, as much to herself as to Édith.
‘It was,’ Édith said. ‘Those dear brave women brought Alain all the way by ambulance.’
There wasn’t a day went by that Claire didn’t think about her friend Eddie and how saving Mitch’s life got her killed. ‘I know the leader of Paris Centre, the Paris Maquis, Thomas Durand,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I know it was a rogue cell, but he was highly respected, all the members of the cell were. Monsieur Durand might know where Alain was taken after he was shot.’
‘Someone must know.’ Édith said, thoughtfully. ‘Someone somewhere took the bullets out of Alain’s leg and nursed him until his leg
