to me that her husband’s espionage activities went further and that he would eventually humiliate me. She had seen him making notes, she said, and she had found some kind of map. Hubert was an intelligent man and understood German. Although his physical health was poor, nothing escaped those watchful eyes. Arlette insisted that I confront him and demand the truth. I was too afraid. The guilt of our affair was a colossal burden. That was when she said she would go to my Commanding Officer. I took her threat very seriously and was filled with despair. I feared those in authority above me. I was under no illusions what would happen to me if it was known that I had let a ‘resistant’ get the better of me.
I acted in haste and organised the search of your then family home in St Sampson so that I could discover the truth once and for all. I assure you we had no information from Ray Le Poidevoin regarding either Charlie or Hubert Rozier. The search was entirely my doing and I expected to find nothing. I wanted to show Arlette the depth of my devotion and my commitment to her. We searched the upstairs rooms first. Hubert calmly watched on, at one point remarking ‘If you could tell me what exactly you are looking for, then maybe I can help?’ The map on the wall of the box room obviously intrigued us, although on closer inspection it appeared that Hubert had marked it up with information gathered from German controlled newspapers. But the loose floorboard was soon discovered, and then this extraordinary notebook. Hubert remained calm. His life hung in the balance, but his confession came so swiftly we were taken aback.
‘Those documents are mine,’ he said. ‘My wife will confirm that they are in my handwriting. There shouldn’t be any secrets between a husband and wife but the War’s changed all that, hasn’t it?’ He looked directly at Arlette but she did not meet his gaze. She glanced at the open notebook and nodded. ‘Yes, that is my husband’s handwriting. Hubert – what have you done?’ Hubert then levelled his eyes on me. ‘You have got what you wanted.’ His words chilled me to the bone and in that instant I felt sure that he knew of our affair, and had always known. I glanced back at Arlette and she was now staring at her husband. There was almost a look of defiance in her eyes. I was confused and greatly perplexed. It was then Charlie made his entrance and began his protestations.
I must reassure you at this stage that the only ‘rumours’ regarding Hubert acting as a spy had come from his own wife. Charlie’s boasts about his father’s alleged spying never reached our ears and did not contribute to the case against them. Furthermore, it was never Hubert who informed on his own son. This last suggestion is preposterous and troubles me greatly. Whoever made such a claim is at best deluded and at worst vindictive. Why blacken Hubert’s name?
To the best of my knowledge, Charlie was never regarded as a serious threat. He was very impudent, however, and I recall Major Wessel referring to him as an ‘undesirable’. He noted that Charlie tried to take responsibility for the notebook and I remember him stating that father and son were evidently ‘working together’. Arlette was arrested and brought in for questioning separately to Hubert and Charlie, but this was a formality. She corroborated Hubert’s confession and was released. By then, of course, she knew her husband and eldest son were in serious trouble.
I wanted to console her but there was no time, events were spinning far beyond our control. Within hours an abandoned boat trailer had been discovered and the body of a young mechanic was recovered from a nearby minefield. It was clear there had been an escape attempt. I was under the confidence of Wessel and he told me that there was a secret army at work. He was a Gestapo man and very hardened. I realised Charlie and Hubert would be given more than a prison sentence. Their crime was serious enough to warrant death by firing squad. I went to Arlette immediately to break the terrible news. You were in the room, playing happily at her feet, quite unaware of the tragic events of the previous night. She kept leaning over to stroke and fuss with your hair. I reminded her that I had