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J ack was nowhere to be seen as Lizzie descended the sweeping staircase in her evening dress and hovered at the entrance to the formal dining room, not sure whether she should knock.

Suzanne and her small team had been buzzing in and out of the room all day.

The heavy wood door swung open, and the butler announced her arrival and ushered her inside.

Luc was seated alone at the long table, which was decorated with vines and vibrant floral bouquets of summer blooms freshly picked from the gardens.

Lizzie gasped in wonder at the sheer beauty of the scene, which was opulent yet tasteful.

She gazed about her in wonder at the paintings on the walls and the high plastered ceiling and glittering chandeliers.

She had not dined in a setting as grand as this, even though her parents moved in wealthy circles in Jersey before the war.

She was a mere child then and hadn’t been invited to regal dinners her parents attended.

Like the rest of the chateau, the furniture showed signs of slight wear, but if anything; it added to the romantic grace of the room. She imagined the countless glamorous parties and dinners that must have taken place there over hundreds of years.

It was difficult to keep up with repairs since the war broke out and the subsequent austerity.

In truth, Lizzie didn’t know what sort of access wealthy French people like Luc retained to their pre-war money.

He had mentioned it wasn’t a time for indulgence when people in the village were struggling to put food in their children’s mouths.

Luc seemed like a good man. Jack had told her they regularly sent chateau produce they could spare, that wasn’t taken by the Germans, to be distributed amongst the villagers.

‘My dear, here you are,’ Luc said, his lined face breaking into a genuine smile as he stood and moved towards Lizzie.

He looked dashing in a velvet dinner jacket and cravat and was dressed more formally than for their usual dinners.

His silver hair was swept back neatly and added to his distinguished appearance.

They kissed, French style, and he escorted her to sit next to him.

‘You look exquisite. I confess it is my fault your usually diligent husband isn’t here to meet you.

Don’t be nervous, my friend has risen to a high rank in the police force, but to me, he is still the fellow with whom I used to play boules.

’ Then he lowered his voice. ‘Remember that, if he asks any difficult questions.’

Just as Lizzie was about to ask where her husband had gone, Jack appeared in the doorway with the commissaire at his side, who proffered a charming smile. Jack introduced them and they were soon all seated and making polite pre-dinner conversation.

Lizzie’s heart thudded furiously at the realisation they were having dinner with the head of the Toulouse French police, and one wrong word could prove deadly.

She controlled her breathing in the way she had been trained, and after several slow intakes of breath whilst being careful not to show her nerves, she calmed down and her heart rate slowed to a normal speed.

The butler served them several vintages of wine to taste, which Lizzie had grown accustomed to as a routine part of dining in a chateau with its own vineyards and winery.

The commissaire was ecstatic with the vintage Luc recommended he have with his main course. ‘No one makes wine like you,’ he said, complimenting Luc profusely, his face flushed after several large glasses. ‘You’ve always had the golden touch.’

Luc raised his glass, and they all followed suit.

The commissaire said, ‘That reminds me. I’m afraid I may have attracted some attention to Chateau de Saint-Clair, my dear friend.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Luc said, a slight frown on his brow.

‘When I was in Paris earlier this week, I was invited to a prestigious event hosted by the Nazis and found myself seated next to a decent sort—a great lover of wine like me. Of course, one thing led to another and before I could stop myself, I was gushing about your wonderful vineyards and the wines you grow and produce here.’

Luc listened to his old friend, and Lizzie glimpsed a shadow cross his face. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘Well, he has a trip to meet with Marshal Pétain at Vichy HQ booked in the next few days, and he asked whether I might arrange a dinner party for us here so he may visit further south. He’s not been to Toulouse, before you see.’

‘I do see,’ Luc said, his tone somewhat acerbic.

‘Oh, don’t be like that. He will be a good contact for you. We all need friends in high places, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Germans didn’t extend the full occupation to our zone sooner than we envisage.’

Jack looked startled, but recovered instantly. ‘Why do you say that if I may be so bold?’

The commissaire turned to Jack. ‘I may be wrong, but I have my suspicions, that’s all, so it would be a good move to entertain Walter Von Shneider and show him your wines. Perhaps he will even buy from you. They are transporting a lot of French wine to Germany, as I understand it.’

Luc’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean well, but the Nazis have crushed our wine trade by lowering the Franc rate to such a degree we may as well give them our wine, not sell it to them.’

This was the first time during the evening, Luc had said anything derogatory about the Nazis, and Lizzie held her breath and waited to see how the commissaire would react.

‘I am sorry for that. This is a difficult time, and we must make whatever commerce we can. I advise you to create fruitful ties with the Nazis, because, as I said, I predict they will join us permanently in the South soon.’

Jack remained poker faced throughout the entire exchange.

Luc changed the subject swiftly and told the commissaire that Michel was a much-needed extra pair of hands, now he was growing old and had lost many of his pre-war employees.

‘It’s not too long before we will be in the picking season again, and I must say we will be grateful for your help, Michel. I do hope you can stay on through the summer.’

The commissaire seemed intrigued and asked Jack what he did exactly.

Luc interjected. ‘Michel is experienced in the business side of wine, but he’s been helping us prune the vines, and carry out daily maintenance.’

‘I suppose the wine trade in St. Malo is not what it was before the war,’ the commissaire replied.

‘Sadly, it is not. There’s not much call for my services, so I’m glad to be of use here for the time being, at least.’

‘And what of your beautiful wife?’ the commissaire asked, turning to Lizzie, whose heart started thumping again.

She really must grow accustomed to being in the spotlight like this now they were permanent guests at the chateau. In previous missions she had flitted about in the shadows, working undercover, rarely engaging with the enemy directly. It was a frightening experience, and she found herself lacking.

It was Jack’s turn to save her by using some of their concocted cover story. ‘We are recently married, and could not bear to be apart, so she accompanied me for that reason. She has no official capacity here but I’m sure she will pass the time admirably.’

‘I do not blame you, monsieur. Who would leave such a wife behind by choice? A wife’s place is at her husband’s side, after all.’

Lizzie assumed her subservient role and smiled graciously, her green eyes setting off her red dress to perfection. Jack always knew what to say, and she was grateful she didn’t have to pull this off alone. At moments like this, she realised she was still an amateur.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, and the evening dragged on until the commissaire finally rose to leave.

‘Would you have someone call my driver, please?’ he asked Jack.

‘Of course. We’ll have him meet you by the car and I’ll escort you downstairs.’

The commissaire thanked Luc for dinner and Luc said he was welcome anytime.

‘Talking of which, the German I referred to is a member of the Gestapo. When would you like to host him for dinner?’

Lizzie sputtered on the last of her wine when she heard his words and worked quickly to regain her composure.

A Gestapo thug for dinner.

The prospect of the proposed dinner set her nerves on end. The commissaire was dangerous enough, but to dine with a member of the Gestapo. That seemed a step too far, even for them.

She saw Jack raise one eyebrow with his first obvious sign of being disturbed by the evening’s events.

Luc frowned and looked troubled, dropping his friend’s official title and addressing him by his first name. ‘A member of the Gestapo, you say? You might have mentioned it earlier, Robert.’

It was a sharp rebuke, like a rap on the knuckles, but the commissaire was clearly adept at dodging people’s wrath and brushed it off smoothly.

‘Come along now, Luc, my dear old friend. Don’t be inhospitable. I promise you there will be something in it for you.’

‘I find that difficult to believe,’ Luc replied dryly. ‘When do you wish this dinner to take place?’

The commissaire placed his cap on his head and scrunched his eyes up at the ceiling, as if it might provide details of his calendar. He was silent for a moment and then announced, ‘Soon. I will be in touch.’

Luc gave a minute shrug. ‘Very well, we will make plans to entertain your Gestapo officer and be on our best behaviour.’

The commissaire smiled, pleased with his victory. ‘That’s a smart move, thank you. I will convey your invitation.’