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T he dinner dragged on for an eternity, as Lizzie did her best to talk to Von Schneider, who asked her about her life in St. Malo.

She had no reason to think he suspected her, other than she was guilty and he was a Gestapo officer.

Every question felt like an interrogation whilst simultaneously trying to eat the courses the butler served.

The dinner was extravagant beyond any she’d eaten at the chateau, and Lizzie thought Suzanne must have used up their reserves and cashed in all their rations to provide such a lavish meal.

‘This is delicious, but I can’t eat anymore,’ Von Schneider announced after pushing his barely touched dessert plate away, the artistic arrangement of figs and goat’s cheese glistening beneath a fruit glaze.

Lizzie struggled to eat because she was tense and needed all her attention to answer the Gestapo officer’s stream of questions.

He turned to her once more. ‘Do you miss living by the sea, madame? I, myself, was born and raised in Berlin, so have not spent much time on the coast.’

Lizzie answered truthfully. She missed living by the sea a great deal, and a hard knot formed in her chest as she thought of Portelet Bay. How she loved to feel the golden sand between her toes.

The Gestapo officer continued, ‘I must say, I am more enthusiastic about my forthcoming visit to St. Malo, after speaking to you.’

Lizzie tried not to panic about the repercussions of him arriving in St. Malo and finding something obviously incorrect from her stories.

She’d tried to be as vague as possible. It was a year before the war began when she last visited her cousins.

Not that long, but devastating changes may have occurred in the city since the Nazi occupation.

How could she possibly know exactly how it looked last month?

Lizzie fumbled through, her nerves tingling as she talked of the beauty of the beach and the old walled city.

‘I hope the presence of the Kriegsmarine at the port isn’t too much of a disruption to your family’s tranquil life,’ he said.

Lizzie searched her memory for anything she had heard about the German Navy in St. Malo.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, and she remembered a conversation around the table at Regent’s Park.

He received updates in his job at the War Office and told them that the St. Malo port was being used to transport supplies to the German troops in the Channel Islands.

Lizzie could see Jack glancing at her now and then, in between talking to the commissaire and Luc.

They had arranged the table so she would sit on Jack’s other side, away from their Gestapo guest. She felt more equipped to hold her own with the commissaire and could steer the conversation to their stay in Toulouse.

It wouldn’t be strange if she didn’t know something because she was still new to the city.

This was not how they had planned things at all, and Lizzie was worried that any second she would fall into a trap.

‘You must tell me the best places to dine,’ Von Schneider said, as though people weren’t subject to strict rationing and curfews under his country’s occupation.

Tact didn’t appear to be one of his qualities.

Perhaps he had lost sight of how hard life had been in Germany since the previous world war.

They suffered from severe food shortages, massive inflation and unemployment.

Lizzie would have thought a person who had lived through those years would be more aware of France’s current plight, but he showed no sign of it.

‘I’m afraid I haven’t dined out much since the war began,’ she said carefully, calculating it was better to show discomfort, rather than act as though the occupation wasn’t happening.

‘Of course, but you must not let the rations overly concern you. Soon this war will be over, and as part of the Third Reich, everything will be plentiful in your beautiful country.’ He didn’t pause for a response but took a long drink of the wine he had selected for dessert and set his glass down on the table, emitting a burp. ‘Excuse me, madame.’

His callous remarks infuriated Lizzie, and she held herself in check.

Most French citizens were near starvation unless they were in bed with the Nazis and enjoyed special privileges for their treachery.

She thought of her cousins who would struggle to get enough to eat, and her grandparents and friends in Jersey.

The commissaire didn’t look like he had missed a meal, and she thought of the Jewish doctor’s little granddaughter who had been too sick to travel when her parents were forced to flee Toulouse and escape to Spain.

The doctor’s wife told them in a hushed tone that they had to get out of France before they were arrested.

It had broken her parents’ hearts to leave their daughter behind, but her grandparents promised they would take her to them as soon as she was well enough to travel.

‘Don’t tell us where they are,’ Lizzie had warned the doctor’s wife. ‘The less we know the better, just in case—’ Her voice tailed off and the unspoken words hung in the air like a black cloud. It was safer not to share specifics in case the Vichy police captured and interrogated them.

Icy terror ran through her, and she shuddered. There was so much at stake and at moments like this, the responsibility to not put a foot wrong was a heavy load to bear.

‘Are you cold, madame?’ Von Schneider asked, seeing her shiver.

‘Yes, a little,’ Lizzie said, somehow mustering a smile as though they were the greatest of friends dining together.

‘Your delightful wife is cold, monsieur,’ the officer informed Jack, clearly used to people jumping to attention to satisfy his every command.

Jack stood and slipped his jacket around Lizzie’s shoulders, and she smiled up at him gratefully.

Von Schneider then proceeded to fire questions at them both about when they were married and how long they had known each other.

‘I am a romantic. You can’t beat a good love story,’ he said.

Prickles of fear coated Lizzie’s skin as she listened to Jack’s replies.

They had practiced their fake marriage cover story and tested each other repeatedly in London but hadn’t needed to share it since their arrival.

Until now, no one had questioned them about their marriage, but Von Schneider seemed very curious and wished to know all the details.

‘Were you married here in Toulouse or in St. Malo?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing like a panther’s as they flickered from Jack to Lizzie.

Had she failed his test, and he suspected them of lying? She had already told him they arrived in Toulouse recently and had been married a year. The fact he was now asking Jack the same question when she had already told him the answer, scared her.

She coughed and said with deference. ‘Remember, we discussed our arrival was only last month?’

‘Oh yes, how silly of me. Too much wine,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we should take a walk to clear the head.’

Luc stood. ‘May I invite you gentlemen out to the terrace for brandy and cigars?’

Sounds of agreement echoed around Lizzie, and she had never been so grateful to be excluded from an invitation.

‘Please excuse me,’ she said. ‘I must leave you esteemed gentlemen to your discussions. It has been a great honour to meet you, Herr Von Schneider.’

Lizzie prayed this would be the last she would see of him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t of the same mind.

‘But madame, our evening is surely not over so soon?’ he glanced at the clock on the wall.

‘I was about to say that after brandy, I would very much like a tour of the wine cellars and would be overjoyed if you too, would accompany us. You clearly greatly appreciate wine and besides, a little feminine company only ever improves a tour.’

Panic surged through Lizzie. This was their worst nightmare. How could they take the Gestapo officer and the city’s chief of police into the cellars where the airmen and the doctor were hiding?

Jack suggested smoothly that perhaps it would be better to take the tour by daylight another time. ‘You would see so much more of the scenery and grounds.’

‘Whilst that sounds enticing, I’m unsure how long I will stay in Toulouse. Therefore, I would rather have a quick tour this evening than no tour at all.’ His words were spoken in a charming tone but held a determined undercurrent, and it was clear he would not be dissuaded.

Jack gave Lizzie a furtive nod. ‘Very well, I’m sure my wife would love to join us for a walk to the cellars, wouldn’t you, Isabelle?’

Lizzie smiled and said that, of course, she would join them if that was their wish. They agreed they would meet in the courtyard at nine and catch the last of the daylight.

The men walked out to the terrace and Lizzie left the room sedately, the sound of her heart drumming in her ears. Once in the corridor, she raced downstairs to alert Suzanne.

It was a blessing the housekeeper had discovered them on their recent nighttime sojourn, and after today’s visit to the doctor’s house, she had made it clear she would assist them in whatever way she could.

Lizzie hadn’t told her more than she needed to, but it was comforting to know they had another ally in the chateau.

She entered the kitchen, and several of the staff looked at her, surprised by her sudden arrival, before hastily continuing their duties.

‘How may I assist you, madame?’ Suzanne asked as she led Lizzie out of the kitchen and into her small private sitting room.

‘The Gestapo officer intends to visit the cellars this evening,’ Lizzie said.

Suzanne’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, my God.’

‘Did the doctor leave already, do you know?’ Lizzie asked, speaking close to the housekeeper’s ear.

‘I haven’t seen him, but then, I wouldn’t. It’s been such a hectic evening I haven’t checked how they are getting on.’

During their drive back from the village, Lizzie had explained that they needed the doctor urgently to treat a wounded man they had hidden in the cellars.

Suzanne didn’t know more than that, but the little she knew was enough to get them all shot.

Lizzie and Jack had agreed they had no choice but to hope Luc was right and they could trust Suzanne.

The doctor had hidden in the back of the car, covered by a blanket, and Lizzie smuggled him into the cellar where Billy was still burning up and had begun hallucinating. She had no choice but to leave the doctor there when she had to rush to dress for dinner.

‘Dinner is finished now. The others can clear up. Do you want me to go over?’ Suzanne asked, concern etched on her face.

Lizzie’s mind raced with potential scenarios. ‘Thank you, yes. Go there discreetly, as quickly as you can. Take a different route so the men won’t spot you from the terrace. Check if the doctor is still there. If he is, tell him to get away immediately. He can’t be seen here.’

At nine on the dot, the men assembled in the courtyard and Lizzie arrived just in time to meet them. Beau left Luc’s side and ran to Lizzie, his tail wagging furiously as he nuzzled against her legs .

Von Schneider once again insisted on Lizzie’s company, and they walked across the gardens and towards the undulating vineyards.

The sun was still high in the sky, casting a golden glow across the hilltop. ‘Isn’t the lavender beautiful?’ Lizzie pointed into the distance to the swaying purple haze, desperate to steer the conversation away from anything that could endanger them further.

They reached the edge of the vineyards, and Von Schneider admired the glossy grapes on the vines, bathed in the evening sun. ‘They look like they are almost ripe.’

Lizzie said she thought the harvest would be in the next few months, and the hard work would begin. She sidestepped more detailed questioning about the vineyards by assuring him she was no expert.

‘I understood your husband’s family own a wine business in St. Malo?’

Here he was again, prodding and probing.

They had modelled Michel Dubois’s background on a real Frenchman.

They had chosen his name because his family owned a wine business.

Val’s reasoning was it made a plausible cover in case anyone checked, but it was highly unlikely they would meet someone from St. Malo who knew the real Michel Dubois.

Lizzie raised her chin. She’d had enough of the Gestapo bully’s polite insolence.

‘Yes, they do, but I’m not involved in the day to day running of the operation.

Honestly, I’ve learnt more about wine since we arrived at the chateau, and that isn’t very much at all.

’ Lizzie played on the stereotype of a young woman’s ignorance, and she giggled prettily as if her head was full only of hot air.

‘I confess I don’t find business interesting and leave those matters to my husband. ’

Von Schneider seemed more than satisfied with her vapid response and applauded her. ‘It is rare to find a beautiful and charming woman who truly knows her place. We have a motto, perhaps you have heard it: Kinder, Küche, Kirche.’

The memory of the German born Hannah sharing the Nazi motto: Children, Kitchen and Church , rose in her mind.

Lizzie nodded and feigned enthusiasm in her green eyes. ‘Oh, but yes, of course, I have heard of it. And a fine motto it is—I believe in traditional values myself and can’t wait to start a family.’

The Gestapo officer sighed and turned to face Lizzie, his lascivious gaze devouring her. ‘It has been a pleasure to meet you, madame. I hope one day to have the good fortune of finding such a fine and obedient wife like you.’

Lizzie fought to keep a pleasant expression on her face with great effort, but she felt physically sick. What a vile man. Some poor woman would be saddled with him as her future husband.

He continued, blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on Lizzie. ‘Ah, these must be the cellars I’ve heard so much about from the commissaire. He says your wine is the finest in the region.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Lizzie said demurely.

‘Since my time in Paris, I have become quite the connoisseur,’ he said, and Lizzie felt a sudden urge to punch him in his arrogant mouth and watch him bleed.

Sometimes, her reactions to the Nazis surprised her. Before the war, it had never crossed her mind that she had such a violent streak.

Luc was leading the way, and at the entrance, he picked up a lantern and the two men followed him down the steps to the cellars. ‘Welcome to the Chateau de Saint-Clair cellars.’

Lizzie’s mind raced. Luc knew the doctor had visited earlier, but she hadn’t been able to warn him he may still be there. She prayed the doctor had got out in time and he or Suzanne had properly concealed the secret room.

If Von Schneider or the commissaire noticed anything suspicious, it would be the end for them all.