were just two of the literally millions of people who were imprisoned, enslaved and killed. Disease, malnutrition and exhaustion caused the deaths of many; still more were murdered by firing squads or in the gas chambers of the extermination camps like Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Bergen-Belsen. Dachau, where Claire and Vivi ended up, was one of the biggest and longest-established camps.
My research is interrupted by a tap on my bedroom door. ‘Come in,’ I call.
Simone pushes the door open, tentatively. ‘Harriet,’ she says, ‘come out with me this evening. A group of us are going to watch the Bastille Night fireworks on the Champ de Mars. It’s always spectacular.’
I shut my laptop and rub my neck to release the tension. The things I’ve just read have made my head throb. ‘That’s really kind, but I think I’ll stay in.’
Instead of retreating, Simone takes a step forward, coming closer. ‘Harriet . . .’ She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. ‘I heard about you and Thierry. I’m sorry. Really I am. You were good together.’
I smile and shrug. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry too. I’m just not in the right place at the moment, I guess. But actually I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at relationships.’
She sits down on my bed and shakes her head emphatically, her curls bouncing. ‘That’s not true. You are one of the best-liked people in the office. You’ve been a good friend to me. And you are a good granddaughter to Claire, you know, continuing the search for her story. She’d be so proud of you. But you need a night off. It will be a good distraction. Please, come out with me. After all, it’s France’s biggest night of the year! Thierry won’t be there, by the way, if that’s what’s stopping you,’ she adds. ‘He’s working at a gig tonight.’
Her dark eyes glow with such genuine friendship that I can’t refuse her. ‘Okay, then. Just give me ten minutes to change,’ I say.
The streets are filled with a river of people making their way towards the Champ de Mars. The grassy slopes that flank the wide sweep of space in front of the Eiffel Tower are already almost completely covered with spectators as we approach. But Simone is an old hand at this and she quickly spots her group of friends who’ve spread a blanket out to keep enough room for us to join them. The sky is just beginning to darken and there’s a buzz of anticipation in the air as the tower’s metal frame is lit in stripes of blue, white and red and the music starts. The fireworks will only begin at eleven, creating a spectacular end to the national holiday, but they are preceded by a concert. I settle back, leaning on my elbows, and let the sights and sounds wash over me. Simone was right, it is good to be out. And I might not have another chance to see this again. I wonder where I will be this time next year, when my internship will be a thing of the past.
The crowds are good-natured, everyone out to enjoy themselves, and there’s a great deal of friendly banter. Suddenly, though, something changes. I can’t put my finger on it, at first; it’s subtle, an atmospheric shift. The light show continues on the Eiffel Tower and the music plays on, but the sounds of the crowd become muted, somehow; I glance around, the all-too-familiar sensation of anxiety gripping the pit of my stomach. Around us, people are checking their phones. Ringtones are drowned out by the music, but more and more people appear to be listening to messages, or making calls. I turn and look towards Simone, who sits just behind me. She has taken her phone out of her pocket and is studying it. The smile has gone from her face.
I reach out and tap her ankle to get her attention. ‘What is it?’ I ask.
She shuffles down a little so that she’s sitting next to me. ‘There’s been an attack. In Nice. Reports are just coming in. No one seems to be quite sure what’s happened. But it sounds bad.’
Our eyes meet in the darkness and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. ‘Florence? And the others? They’re still there, aren’t they?’ As far as I can remember, the product launch was scheduled to end two days ago but the team had planned to stay on to pack up and enjoy the Bastille Day holiday there.