court, hardly Wimbledon, but if you ever want to try a grass court just give me

a call. My phone number is in the book under Nelson.’

‘Like your famous Admiral Nelson of Trafalgar?’

‘No relation, I’m afraid. It’s quite a common name in England.’

‘Well, Pamela, I shall certainly call you and see about a game on grass. Perhaps

you’d like me to bring a friend and we could play mixed doubles.’ He looked at

Christine. ‘Will you be here for long?’

‘Till the end of the month, when Pamela has a full house. So I’ve got three more

weeks here in the lovely Dordogne, then I go back to Bordeaux to do some more

research in the archives, checking on footnotes.’

‘It’s the best time, before the tourists come in the school holidays and block

the roads and markets,’ said Pamela.

‘I thought the national archives were in Paris,’ Bruno said.

‘They are. These are the regional archives and there’s a specialist archive at

the Centre Jean Moulin.’

‘Jean Moulin the Resistance chief? The one who was killed by the Germans?’ Bruno

asked.

‘Yes, it has one of the best archives on the Resistance and my book is about

life in France under the Vichy regime.’

‘Ah, that’s why you speak such good French,’ said Bruno. ‘But a painful period

to study, I think. Painful for France, and very controversial. There are still

families here who never speak to each other because they were on opposite sides

during the war – and I don’t mean just the collaborators. You know old

Jean-Pierre who runs the bicycle shop in town? He was in the Communist

Resistance, the Francs-Tireurs et Partisans. Just across the road is Bachelot

the shoe mender, who was in the Armée Secrčte, the Gaullist Resistance. They

were rivals then and they’re rivals now. They go on the same parades and march

side by side, even on the eighteenth of June, and they never speak. Yet it’s

been sixty years since it happened. Memories are long here.’

‘What’s so special about the eighteenth of June?’ Pamela asked.

‘It was the day in 1940 that de Gaulle appealed to France to fight on. He was

speaking over the BBC,’ said Christine. ‘It’s celebrated as the great day of the

Resistance, when France recovered her honour and Free France declared that it

would fight on.’

‘“France has lost a battle, but she has not yet lost the war”,’ Bruno quoted

from the de Gaulle speech. ‘We all learn that in school.’

‘Do they tell you that it’s also the anniversary of Napoleon’s defeat at the

battle of Waterloo?’ Christine asked teasingly, winking at Pamela.

‘Napoleon defeated? Impossible!’ Bruno grinned. ‘Nobody who built our

magnificent stone bridge here in St Denis could ever be defeated, least of all

by the English of Perfidious Albion. Did we not drive you out of France in the

Hundred Years War, starting here in the Dordogne under the great leadership of

Joan of Arc?’

‘But the English are back!’ Christine said. ‘That was a temporary setback, but

it looks as if the English are taking France back again, house by house and

village by village.’

‘I think she’s teasing you, Bruno,’ said Pamela.

‘Well, we’re all Europeans now,’ laughed Bruno. ‘And a lot of us are quite glad

the English come here and restore the ruined old farms and houses. The Mayor

talks of it a lot. He says the whole Departement of the Dordogne would be in

deep depression had it not been for the English and their tourism and the money

they pour in to restore the places they buy. We lost the wine trade in the

nineteenth century, and now we’re losing the tobacco that replaced it and our

small farmers can’t compete with the big ranches up north. So you’re welcome,

Pamela, and I congratulate you on this place. You’ve made it very beautiful.’

‘You might not say that if you came in midwinter and the gardens were bare, but

thank you. I’m flattered that you approve and I’m very happy here,’ Pamela said.

Bruno rose. ‘Sadly, I must leave now and get on with my work.’

Pamela smiled at him and stood up. ‘You must come again. I’ll expect your call

for that mixed doubles game. And if there’s anything I can do for Hamid, perhaps

take him something to eat, please let me know.’

‘Indeed I shall. And thank you for your thoughtfulness. But I think the

authorities have matters in hand.’ He realised he was sounding formal again.

‘If there has been a burglary, should I take extra precautions?’ she went on,

not looking in the least concerned but obviously probing. ‘I do always lock the

doors and windows at night and set the alarm.’

‘No, there’s no reason to think you’re in any danger,’ Bruno said, but knew she

would be sure to hear of the murder so he had better say something reassuring.

‘You have an alarm, and here’s my card with my mobile number. Feel free to call

me at any time, day or night. And thank you for that refreshing drink. It’s been

a pleasure, Mesdames.’ He laid his card on the table, bowed and walked back to

his car, waving as he turned the corner by the horses. He felt much better –

until he thought of the call he must pay on Momu.

CHAPTER 7

Momu lived in a small modern house down by the river. It looked as if it had