After they left the museum, Alex was full of all the stories they had read about as they walked again along the Seine. It had rained earlier in the day, but now the whole city was alive with a clean, fresh smell as the sun played peek-a-boo with the clouds. Sophie looked around, and was reminded that Paris was a delightful city. But as Alex chatted by her side, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of sadness as she gathered her coat around her. She and Matt had come here a couple of years before and walked this very path. It had been the summer then, so the weather had been much more accommodating and it had been a good weekend for them. They’d enjoyed themselves. Now she was alone, again.
When they got to Alex’s gallery he ducked inside to check his messages with the young woman he had left in charge. She followed him in as his assistant pointed to a picture she had evidently just sold for him and he nodded, nonchalantly. But when Sophie looked at the price she was taken aback – it was almost a year’s wages in her research job. She looked over at Alex, realising for the first time he was potentially much more wealthy than she had assumed. There was nothing of the starving artist about the price of that piece.
He seemed occupied with an intense conversation he was having with the young woman, so excusing herself, after arranging to meet Alex later for dinner, Sophie made her way back to her rental apartment.
As Sophie arrived at the restaurant a couple of hours later she noted it was a mild enough evening that she was able to sit outside, and she enjoyed watching people interact, listening to the hum of the distant traffic, and inhaling all the great food smells wafting out from the restaurant’s kitchen.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Alex said, arriving thirty minutes after she’d got there, finding Sophie snuggled deep inside her coat and on her second glass of wine. ‘A customer kept me late at the shop, and I wanted to get something for you I had in my apartment. I remembered it today, after you left. I had almost completely forgotten about it.
‘As I told you, it was very hard for my mother, knowing her uncle had done the terrible things he had done, so she never wanted to see any reminders of him. But in spite of that, she kept some pieces. And I remembered I still had some of his things from earlier in the war.’
He sat down and ordered a glass of wine, then handed her a cigar box, no bigger than six inches square. She opened it and removed the contents. It was full of German medals Marcus had won during the war and papers commemorating the work he’d done for the Reich, which chilled her. Sophie held the spiky metals in her hand, including the Iron Cross, wondering what atrocity he’d committed to gain that particular favour with his commanding officers. There were also his enlistment papers and the letter sent to his family about his death. She looked at it and screwed up her eyes.
‘Interesting,’ she mused. ‘I wonder if Vivienne and Marcus were still together. This letter suggests he died outside Paris. Why weren’t they in Paris? Do you think Vivienne died with him or somewhere else? This is a little unusual. We need to dig deeper.’
Alex sipped his wine and stared intently at her.
‘After you left yesterday, I thought about that photo in the museum and, if there was any chance that Marcus had been working for the British undercover in any way, how much it would help my mother. She still feels the disgrace. I could not tell her I was looking into this. But I’d like to continue pursuing it with you if you would be agreeable,’ he suggested.
Sophie sat back and looked into his blue eyes. He was so good-looking, tall, and with such an easy manner. She’d instantly liked him, but also was becoming wary of how fast this was all moving, she needed to set some boundaries to protect her own heart.
‘It would be nice to have your help, but it would be just business,’ she finally responded.
He looked astonished. ‘I hadn’t thought of anything else.’
She smiled as he looked so put out by her comment. ‘You are French,’ she joked.
Understanding her insinuation, he chuckled. ‘Do not believe everything you hear about the French. We also like our sleep. But I think this would be challenging for you to do alone, particularly as your knowledge of my language is not the greatest. I also speak German fluently, like a lot of people from Alsace. I was encouraged to learn it even after my mother decided to come to live in Paris.’
Sophie thought of her family and the languages Vivienne’s generation had learned. ‘Okay.’ She smiled. ‘I would love your help.’
After they finished a wonderful dinner of steak, with the lightest, crispiest fries she had ever had in her life, and then had slogged through a rich, dark slice of chocolate cake, they took a stroll. Alex showed her the area of Paris where many of the Resistance operators who they had learned about earlier at the museum had lived. There was even a brothel that had been a safe house and had been turned into a little museum. Sophie stood outside the ornate crimson door down a dark passageway and wondered about the secrets those rooms had kept. They looked at other buildings, too, some marked proudly with a plaque stating their function during the war and Sophie wondered if Vivi had been housed in any of them. The stories in the museum about the agents were harrowing. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like.
After Alex walked her home, she made him a coffee and they looked up on the internet the new information the museum staff had told her about. It appeared there were further German war records housed in a building in Berlin.
‘We could fly or it’s about eight hours by train,’ Alex suggested.
Sophie grinned. Clearly Alex was becoming as obsessed as she was. She suggested they opt for the train journey, as she felt the need of time to collect her thoughts before she had to face whatever was waiting for her in Berlin. Something in her gut told her she would find answers, good or bad, in Germany and she was suddenly afraid this story might not end well. Also, she found she shamelessly wanted to spend longer with Alex and this would extend their time together.
‘We can go tomorrow if you like,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll sort tickets and meet you at the train station at nine. And maybe you can sort the hotel?’
Sophie nodded nervously, but there was also an excitement in her stomach, a thrill from the idea of going away with him, even though she had been clear about what this was. She reminded herself they would have separate beds in separate rooms, and she was grateful because she wasn’t totally sure she could trust herself with him.
‘You don’t need to be at your gallery?’ she asked.
‘Oh, it can last a few days without me. I’ll close it up. It’s a glorified art studio, really. I don’t sell that many paintings, maybe two or three a month if I’m lucky.’
She smiled, totting up in her mind how much that would bring him in if all the pictures were of a similar price to the one she had noticed today.
Once he’d finished his coffee, Sophie walked him to the door and he kissed her on both cheeks. She felt a little spark. But she pushed the feelings away, telling herself she was still raw after the break-up with Matt, a little needy for any kind of affection. Sophie watched Alex walk down the quaint circular staircase and disappear out into the Parisian evening and felt such warm feelings towards him.
That night, Sophie had a vivid dream of the bombs dropping on France and woke up sweating. She could only imagine what it had been like for Vivienne and the other people of the Resistance. She got up and booked two rooms in a hotel for her and Alex in Berlin, then enjoyed fresh coffee on her balcony, watching the streets of Paris come to life, before she had to leave to meet Alex at the train station.