‘I think it would look better if Madame removed her scarf.’ She positioned me in front of the mirror and unwound my scarf with such care that it might have been made of spun gold. I barely felt her. The hat changed my face completely. I looked, for the first time in my life, like one of the women I used to serve.

‘Your husband has a good eye,’ the woman said.

‘That’s the one,’ Édouard said happily.

‘Édouard.’ I pulled him to one side, my voice low and alarmed. ‘Look at the label. It is the price of three of your paintings.’

‘I don’t care. I want you to have the hat.’

‘But you will resent it. You will resent me. You should spend the money on materials, on canvases. This is – it’s not me.’

He cut me off. He motioned to the woman. ‘I’ll take it.’

And then, as she instructed her assistant to fetch a box, he turned back to my reflection. He ran his hand lightly down the side of my neck, bent my head gently to one side, and met my eye in the mirror. Then, the hat tilting, he dropped his head and kissed my neck where it met my shoulder. His mouth stayed there long enough for me to colour, and for the two women to look away in shock and pretend to busy themselves. When I lifted my head again, my gaze a little unfocused, he was still watching me in the mirror.

‘It is you, Sophie,’ he said, softly. ‘It is always you …’

That hat was still in our apartment in Paris. A million miles out of reach.

I set my jaw, walked away from the mirror and began to dress myself in the blue wool.

I told Hélène after the last German officer had left that evening. We were sweeping the floor of the restaurant, dusting the last of the crumbs from the tables. Not that there were many: even the Germans tended to pick up any strays, these days – the rations seemed to leave everyone wishing for more. I stood, my broom in my hand, and asked her quietly to stop for a moment. Then I told her about my walk in the wood, what I had asked of the Kommandant and what he had asked in return.

She blanched. ‘You did not agree to it?’

‘I said nothing.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ She shook her head, her hand against her cheek. ‘Thank God he cannot hold you to anything.’

‘But … that does not mean I won’t go.’

My sister sat down abruptly at a table, and after a moment I slid into the seat opposite her. She thought briefly, then took my hands. ‘Sophie, I know you are panicked but you must think about what you are saying. Think of what they did to Liliane. You would really give yourself to a German?’

‘I … have not promised as much.’

She stared at me.

‘I think … the Kommandant is honourable in his way. And, besides, he may not even want me to … He didn’t say that in so many words.’

‘Oh, you cannot be so naïve!’ She raised her hands heavenwards. ‘The Kommandant shot an innocent man dead! You watched him smash the head of one of his own men into a wall for the most minor misdemeanour! And you would go alone into his quarters? You cannot do this! Think!’

‘I have thought about little else. The Kommandant likes me. I think he respects me, in his way. And if I do not do this Édouard will surely die. You know what happens in those places. The mayor believes him as good as dead already.’

She leaned over the table, her voice urgent. ‘Sophie – there is no guarantee that Herr Kommandant will act honourably. He is a German! Why on earth should you trust a word that he says? You could lie down with him and it would all be for nothing!’

I had never seen my sister so angry. ‘I have to go and speak with him. There is no other way.’

‘If this gets out, Édouard won’t want you.’

We stared at each other.

‘You think you can keep it from him? You can’t. You are too honest. And even if you tried, do you think this town wouldn’t let him know?’

She was right.

She looked down at her hands. Then she got up and poured herself a glass of water. She drank it slowly, glancing up at me twice, and as the silence lengthened, I began to feel her disapproval, the veiled question within it, and it made me angry. ‘You think I would do this lightly?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know you at all these days.’

It was like a slap. My sister and I glared at each other and I felt as though I were teetering on the edge of something. Nobody fights you like your own sister; nobody else knows the most vulnerable parts of you and will aim for them without mercy. The spectre of my dance with the Kommandant edged around us, and I had a sudden feeling that we were without boundaries.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Answer me this, Hélène. If it were your only chance to save Jean-Michel, what would you do?’

At last I saw her waver.

‘Life or death. What would you do to save him? I know there are no limits to what you feel for him.’

She bit her lip and turned to the black window. ‘This could all go so wrong.’

‘It won’t.’

‘You may well believe that. But you are impulsive by nature. And it is not only your future in the balance.’

I stood then. I wanted to walk round the table to my sister. I wanted to crouch at her side and hold her and be told that it would all be all right, that we would all be safe. But her expression told me there was nothing more to say, so I brushed down my skirts and, broom in hand, walked towards the kitchen door.