silently across the road. Claire removed her hat and her pale hair made her appear other-worldly in the darkness.
Christiane whispered the code word and Claire gave her reply.
‘It’s so late,’ Christiane said in a low voice, her eyes dark pools in a white face. ‘Come, we’ll be safer in the doorway, in case anyone’s watching.’
They moved to stand inside the door of the building opposite and Claire quickly slipped the tightly folded map from beneath her collar, passing it over without a word.
Christiane glanced at the piece of paper and then pushed it into her pocket. ‘You should come in and stay the night with me here,’ she said.
Claire shook her head. ‘No. We mustn’t risk being caught together. Your neighbours might have seen me. I’ll make my way home. Don’t worry, I’ll stay away from the main roads. If anyone stops me, I’ll explain that the trains had already stopped running by the time my music lesson finished.’ She raised the battered attaché case.
Christiane nodded. ‘Very well. Go, quickly now. Stay safe. And thank you for this.’ She patted the pocket of her cardigan, where the paper rustled faintly.
Claire slipped back out into the street and heard the door shut softly behind her as she walked away, trying to make her footsteps as quiet as possible on the hard pavement. The darkness seemed to press in on her more closely as she slipped down a narrow side street. By this circuitous route, it was going to take even longer for her to navigate her way back to Saint-Germain, but it would be safer.
And then she felt the strangest sensation. It was as if the darkness had begun to vibrate around her. She pressed a hand to her ear to try to clear the feeling from her head. But then the vibration grew, transforming itself into the low, droning hum of an aeroplane. She glanced up nervously, but the darkness revealed nothing. She began to walk faster and then broke into a run as the noise was amplified, filling her head with its dull roar.
All of a sudden, as though all the street lights had been switched back on at once, there was a bright light overhead and she glanced skywards again to see the blazing white streak of a flare falling languidly towards the roofs ahead of her.
As if in a dream, the last thing she thought she saw was the outline of her friend Mireille, silhouetted in the sudden blinding flash that followed, before the roaring darkness engulfed her.
As Mireille had hurried down the winding staircase from the apartment and out into the Rue Cardinale, she’d almost collided with a man she vaguely recognised as a neighbour, who was wheeling his bicycle and whistling softly to himself as he headed home for the night. The yellow star pinned to his overcoat shone like a small sun in the light that spilled from the open doorway.
‘Woah! What’s the hurry, mademoiselle?’ he laughed and reached out a steadying hand as she swerved, nearly falling as she tried to avoid him.
‘Please, monsieur, can I borrow your bike? It’s a grave emergency. I’ll bring it back safely, I promise. You can collect it here, from Delavigne Couture, tomorrow.’ She crossed her fingers and sent up a prayer that this last part was true. But if the bike didn’t make it back then she probably wouldn’t either, so she wouldn’t have to face the consequences, she reasoned.
Reluctantly, the man agreed to let her borrow it because he recognised her – she was one of the three girls who had stopped him on the street corner and asked him to take their photograph. And he could see from the terrible look on her face that it really must be important. ‘But take good care of it, I beg you, mademoiselle. I’ll need it to get to work in the morning.’
She called her thanks over her shoulder as she pushed down hard on the pedal and swung herself on to the saddle, already heading for the bridge.
As she went, pedalling furiously to try to reach Claire in time, swerving past pedestrians and around other cyclists, she thought hard. If Claire had managed to make it there and back without any delays, she would have been able to catch the last Métro home. But if that had been the case she should have been back by now. The stations Mireille passed were all being locked for the night. Her lungs were burning as she raced for