‘I’m sorry. I was a fool.’

Jacques, from the double bed in what was once the main bedroom in the violin-maker’s home, watched her as she dressed his wound, changed the bandage. Sibyl had requested various supplies from Margaux who, as usual, was able to get her hands on almost everything she needed. The bandages were strips of cotton cut from a clean sheet. Margaux had even disinfected them all by ironing them. There was alcohol and iodine and even a sterile packet of cotton wool, left over from happier days, and rubber gloves of obscure provenance.

‘Yes, you were. Foolhardy. Why, Jacques, why? I told you not to.’

‘I’ve been thinking about it. I think I needed to – to prove myself. To stand tall, to pull off something spectacular. Everything in the last month has been so, well, small. Ever since that first train bombing. That was the best attack and actually it was your attack, not mine.’

‘You wanted heroics.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘This is a war, Jacques, it’s not a time for personal aggrandisement. I’m very disappointed in you, and Acrobat – well, Acrobat is seething. I got a good telling-off.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault! You told me not to! I went against orders!’

‘I was – am – responsible for your actions.’

‘How can you do that? You can’t watch me day and night. You did what you had to, you warned me not to do it. I disobeyed your orders: it’s all my fault.’

‘Acrobat doesn’t see it like that.’

‘Well, I’m sorry. I apologise.’

‘Well, what’s done is done. Now it’s a case of what we do in future, and that is: precisely nothing. It’s over, Jacques.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Precisely that. No more action, ever. Acrobat’s orders. There is no more Acrobat network. No more drops. No more Maquis action, at least, not under my charge; they can do what they like with the leftover supplies. He hinted that the Allies are going to move into Alsace soon. Our job was to prepare the way, weaken the province. We did that, and now we can disband.’

‘But what about you? Does it mean you have to go back to England? Will they recall you?’

‘I don’t know, Jacques. He didn’t say. Seems he wants me to stay here a while.’

‘I’m glad about that.’ He reached out and touched her arm.

Sibyl finished wrapping the wound. She tied the bandage firmly, removed her gloves and took his hand, and only then looked up to meet his eyes.

‘Jacques – you don’t need to be a hero; not for me. You should know that.’

‘Maybe I wanted to be a hero for myself.’

‘But you don’t need that either – you shouldn’t need that. You are by your very nature the strongest, finest, man I know; you don’t need to blow up bridges to prove your worth. Your worth is…’ she searched for the elusive word. ‘… intrinsic. Inherent. Innate. None of these really sums it up. It’s something that shines out of you, when you are really yourself.’

‘I haven’t been myself for so long. This damned war…’

‘But it sounds as if it will soon be over.’

‘Did he really say the Allies were coming in?’

‘He didn’t say it. He hinted at it. It’s what I gathered from his words.’

‘But that means the war is coming to Alsace. I don’t think the Germans are just going to turn tail and flee. They will defend it!’

‘You think so?’

‘I know it, Sibi. There is going to be fighting, for sure.’

Sibyl felt a sudden leadenness in her stomach, a tightness at her throat. It was true; isn’t that what von Haagen had hinted at, as well? That the Allies were about to attack? What did that mean? How soon? What kind of an attack? Would there be Panzers creeping through the streets of Colmar? Would, God forbid, Colmar be bombed, as German cities had been? Not that the Allies would bomb Colmar; for them it was in France. But what if Hitler, forced to retreat, ordered it to be flattened, as a leaving present? As in, what I can’t have, nobody should have?

‘I wonder why I wasn’t recalled, if the operation Acrobat has been called off.’

‘I think I know, Sibi. I think it’s about von Haagen. You told them he went to Berlin to discuss strategy?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Well, then. There you have it. They expect he’ll be back and the two of you lovebirds will carry on the way you began, and he’ll tell you all about these strategies, which you will dutifully report back to Acrobat.’

‘You think so?’

‘What other reason could they have for leaving you here, if the war for Alsace is about to begin? Why endanger you that much, unless they still have use for you?’

‘But…’

‘Take it from me, Sibi. I am sure. They want you to be his lover. That is the only thing that makes sense.’

The constriction around her throat tightened; she could hardly breathe. She could actually feel the pounding of her heart, a quick-march pounding in her chest. And a rushing in her ears as the implication of Jacques’ words opened their true meaning to her. He caught her eye.

‘Don’t look away, Sibi. Look at me. Look at me and tell me you love me. The way I love you. Because I do. You know I do.’

‘I love you, Jacques. I always have. You know it. Nothing can ever change that.’

‘This damned, damned war. Come here.’

He reached out, clasped her upper arms, drew her down towards him. She gave a little gasp and let herself be pulled. She buried her face in the pillow beside his, and a sob burst from her.

‘I can’t, Jacques, I can’t.’

‘You can. It’s for France. For Alsace. For us.’