He glanced around us, through the denuded woods, as if to monitor where the other officers had gone, then took another puff at his cigarette. ‘You take a considerable risk in asking me something like this. You saw how your townspeople treat a woman they think is collaborating with Germans.’

‘They already believe me to be collaborating. The fact of you being in our hotel apparently made me guilty without a trial.’

‘That, and dancing with the enemy.’

Now it was my turn to look surprised.

‘I have told you before, Madame. There is nothing that goes on in this town that I don’t hear about.’

We stood in silence, gazing at the horizon. In the distance a low boom caused the earth to vibrate very slightly under our feet. The girls felt it: I could see them gazing down at their shoes. He took a final puff from his cigarette, then crushed it under his boot.

‘Here is the thing. You are an intelligent woman. I think you are probably a good judge of human nature. And yet you behave in ways that would entitle me, as an enemy soldier, to shoot you without even a trial. Despite this, you come here and expect me not just to ignore that fact but to help you. My enemy.’

I swallowed. ‘That … that is because I don’t just see you as … an enemy.’

He waited.

‘You were the one who said … that sometimes we are just … two people.’

His silence made me bolder. I lowered my voice. ‘I know you are a powerful man. I know you have influence. If you say he should be released, he will be released. Please.’

‘You don’t know what you’re asking.’

‘I know that if he has to stay there he will die.’

The faintest flicker behind his eyes.

‘I know you are a gentleman. A scholar. I know you care about art. Surely to save an artist you admire would be –’ My words faltered. I took a step forward. I put a hand out and touched his arm. ‘Herr Kommandant. Please. You know I would not ask you for anything but I beg you for this. Please, please, help me.’

He looked so grave. And then he did something unexpected. He lifted a hand and lightly moved a strand of my hair from my face. He did it gently, meditatively, as if this was something he had imagined for some time. I hid my shock and kept perfectly still.

‘Sophie …’

‘I will give you the painting,’ I said. ‘The one you like so much.’

He dropped his hand. He let out a sigh, and turned away.

‘It is the most precious thing I have.’

‘Go home, Madame Lefèvre.’

A small knot of panic began to form in my chest.

‘What must I do?’

‘Go home. Take the children and go home.’

‘Anything. If you can free my husband, I’ll do anything.’ My voice echoed across the woodland. I felt Édouard’s only chance slipping away from me. He kept walking. ‘Did you hear what I said, Herr Kommandant?’

He swung back then, his expression suddenly furious. He strode towards me and only stopped when his face was inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my face. I could see the girls from the corner of my eye, rigid with anxiety. I would not show fear.

He gazed at me, and then he lowered his voice. ‘Sophie …’ He glanced behind him at them. ‘Sophie, I – I have not seen my wife in almost three years.’

‘I have not seen my husband for two.’

‘You must know … you must know that what you ask of me …’ He turned away from me, as if he were determined not to look at my face.

I swallowed. ‘I am offering you a painting, Herr Kommandant.’

A small tic had begun in his jaw. He stared at a point somewhere past my right shoulder, and then he began to walk away again. ‘Madame. You are either very foolish or very … ’

‘Will it buy my husband his freedom? Will … will I buy my husband his freedom?’

He turned back, his face anguished, as if I was forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do. He stared fixedly at his boots. Finally he took two paces back towards me, just close enough that he could speak without being overheard.

‘Tomorrow night. Come to me at the barracks. After you have finished at the hotel.’

We walked hand in hand back round the paths, to avoid going through the square, and by the time we reached Le Coq Rouge our skirts were covered with mud. The girls were silent, even though I attempted to reassure them that the German man had just been upset because he had no pigeons to shoot. I made them a warm drink, then went to my room and closed the door.

I lay down on my bed and put my hands over my eyes to block out the light. I stayed there for perhaps half an hour. Then I rose, pulled my blue wool dress from the wardrobe, and laid it across the bed. Édouard had always said I looked like a schoolmistress in it. He said it as though being a schoolmistress might be a rather wonderful thing. I removed my muddy grey dress, leaving it to fall on to the floor. I took off my thick underskirt, the hem of which was also spattered with mud, so that I was wearing only my petticoat and chemise. I removed my corset, then my undergarments. The room was cold, but I was oblivious to it.

I stood before the looking-glass.

I had not looked at my body for months; I had had no reason to. Now the shape that stood before me in the mottled glass seemed to be that of a stranger. I appeared to be half the width I had been; my br**sts had fallen and grown smaller, no longer great ripe orbs of pale flesh. My bottom too. And I was thin, my skin now hinting at the bones underneath: collar bone, shoulder and rib all forced their way to prominence. Even my hair, once bright with colour, seemed dull.