44 Julia
August 2002 – Paris
Estelle lived in a townhouse not far from Montmartre. Julia pulled on the bell. A thin, white-haired woman in black trousers and a crisp white shirt opened the door.
‘ Bonjour . Your solicitors gave me your address,’ Julia said. ‘I wondered if I could talk to you about apartment 14 on rue Pastourelle . ’
The woman nodded. ‘You’d better come in.’
She led Julia into a high-ceilinged living room. Books lined the walls. Black-and-white photographs were displayed on side tables.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ve waited a long time for someone to come and discuss that place with me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My father’s legacy is a complicated one.’ Estelle sat back elegantly in the chair. ‘You see, apartment 14 did belong to him. He bought it before the war. He saw what was coming. He used it as a safehouse for agents in his network.’
Julia sat forward in the chair. ‘His network?’
‘ Oui , the Watchmaker network in Paris. Active between 1940 and 1943. He was a handler. Agents were recruited. Deeds were done. He got them in and out and was the main conduit of instructions from London.’
‘How do you know all this?’ Julia asked.
Estelle smiled. ‘When I was eighteen, he sat me down and explained everything to me. He wanted me to know the dark and the light of what he’d done. There was still a great deal of blame about what had gone on: the collaboration and collusion with the Nazis. He wasn’t trying to exonerate himself; he wanted me to understand and learn from it all.’
‘But then, I don’t understand.’ Julia handed Estelle the key to the apartment. ‘I found this. It belongs to Christoph Baumann, a man who’d been in the German army. It doesn’t make sense for him to be connected to your father.’
Estelle looked at the key, then laid it down on the coffee table.
‘Nothing with my father made sense. He was like a weathervane, always changing position. He was on the side of the French, of course, always. But he maintained that that meant making sacrifices and sometimes appearing to be on the side of the Germans.’ She smoothed her trousers and frowned. ‘It caused a lot of trouble, especially after the war.’
‘Was he a double agent?’ Julia asked.
Estelle looked at Julia, her eyes sharp and bright. ‘Perhaps, but if it appeared as if he favoured the Germans, it was only to get their trust and gain a bigger prize.’
Julia mulled over her words. ‘Was he connected with the arrest of Jean Dupont, the head chef at Le Meurice?’
Estelle closed her eyes. ‘It’s possible. Let’s say he did betray Jean. It led to him being trusted by the Kommandant. This would have put my father in a better position to damage the Reich.’
‘It’s hard to know which side your father was on,’ said Julia. ‘Christoph remembers your father coming to the apartment with some German soldiers. They arrested Christoph and sent him to fight in Russia. The fact that your father was the man that brought them suggests that he was willing to betray Sylvie too.’
Estelle folded her arms. Julia sensed that she had faced questions like this before. ‘There was a trial after the war,’ she said. ‘My father showed me the papers. Along with many collaborators, he was arrested and tried for treason. Do you know who came to his defence?’
Julia shook her head.
Estelle smiled. ‘The British government. They confirmed that his orders had come from London. When Lieutenant Baumann set off the following morning after the dinner in Le Meurice, the Kommandant suspected him of deserting. My father saw the opportunity to gain the Kommandant’s trust, so he revealed the whereabouts of the apartment. His actions that day proved to the Germans that he was a reliable informant and enabled him to save many more lives by giving the Germans false intelligence. So, you see, nothing is ever simple in wartime.’
Julia frowned, trying to follow the connections. ‘Christoph got the key from someone called Sylvie Dubois,’ she said. ‘Do you know how she was connected to your father?’
‘Sylvie Dubois? Estelle shook her head. ‘I don’t recall my father talking about anyone of that name. This apartment was connected with another woman.’
‘Who?’
‘Lisette Munier. I met her once. She came to find my father after the war. I listened outside the door. She was angry and hurt. She’d been part of the network, another agent in the SOE, and thought that Seraphin’s actions had cost her greatly. He tried to explain his motives and wanted to give her the apartment to make amends. I went in and introduced myself, wanting to see the woman who’d dared confront my father. It was 1963, I think. She was very beautiful.’ Estelle smiled at the recollection. ‘They stopped arguing and I brought in some wine. Lisette was very gracious to me. That’s when my father told her about the apartment.’
Julia touched the base of her neck. ‘But I thought Sylvie Dubois was the one who had the keys to the apartment. I’ve never heard of a Lisette Munier. Look,’ she said, searching in her bag, ‘we found this photo of Sylvie in the apartment.’
Estelle looked at the photograph. She smiled. ‘Ah, my father must have taken this during the war. This is the woman I met that day. This is Lisette Munier.’
‘But it says Sylvie on the back.’
‘Agents hide behind many names. Sylvie, Lisette: who knows? But this was her. I know she lived there from time to time in the seventies. But when I tried to find her after my father died, there was no trace. In his will, he requested that the apartment be formally handed over to her. I had the deeds ready to sign. But it was as though she had never existed.’
Julia stared at her, dismayed. ‘But then, how am I going to find her?’
Estelle shrugged. ‘You won’t,’ she said. ‘Perhaps that’s what she intended. Many people do not want to be remembered for their role in the war, and that is especially true of an agent. For someone like Lisette, a name is not designed to reveal her identity. It is simply a word to hide behind.’
Shortly afterwards Julia took her leave and walked back to the hospital. She pressed the button on the traffic lights and waited for the cars to stop. Things had reached a dead end with Sylvie or Lisette or whoever she was. Love, it seemed, was not an anchor or a bond but rather something untethered, like smoke, that could drift away over the years.
A car beeped. The lights had changed. Julia waved an apology and hurried across. Daniel was waiting for her on the other side.
‘Well?’ he said.
Julia smiled a tight smile. ‘There’s absolutely no trace of her, and no clue as to which direction to take next. I’m going to have to break the news to Christoph. It’s not the conclusion he would’ve hoped for.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel said, ‘I know how much the search meant to you.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Julia said, tears smarting her eyes. ‘It’s how much it meant to Christoph that matters.’
Daniel reached out to her. ‘You’ve done as much as you can. I may not have wanted to do the search, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you, and for Christoph. It’s going to be hard telling him, but we can do it together. I’m not going anywhere.’
Julia bit her lip. ‘Do you mean that?’
Daniel gathered her in his arms, enfolding her in his warmth. ‘Look, the search for Sylvie may be over, but I meant what I said in the apartment. I want us to let go of the past and get on with what comes next.’
He lifted Julia’s chin and kissed her. She responded, clasping her arms around his neck, but in the back of her mind there was still a nagging doubt. If the questions about Sylvie remained unanswered, how would Daniel ever truly mend his relationship with Christoph? And if he couldn’t face the past, she couldn’t see how their own history would ever be resolved.
Christoph struggled to take in the news.
‘But if Daniel and I met her in 1978, if that was really her,’ Christoph said, when Julia had explained everything, ‘surely that means something. I only wish I could remember that day, but everything after that morning when I found the apartment empty is a blank.’
‘Estelle’s solicitors tried to find Lisette Munier when her father died,’ Julia said. ‘There was no sign of her. We now know that Lisette … Sylvie definitely survived the war – Estelle recalls seeing her at her father’s house –’
‘And I definitely saw her with you in 1978 in Paris,’ Daniel said. ‘But despite all of Julia’s efforts, there’s no trace of her.’ He took his father’s hand and clasped it. ‘I’m so sorry, Papa.’
Christoph took a deep breath. ‘We don’t know the truth because Sylvie never wanted anyone to know.’ He looked out of the window at the scudding clouds. ‘She was a liar. A spy. She probably never loved me at all, she just wanted information. No wonder I couldn’t remember. When it comes down to it, there was nothing meaningful there at all.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Julia said, resting her hand on his arm. ‘She must’ve been in a terrible situation; caught between falling in love with you and having to do her duty.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Perhaps in the end it was just easier to leave, with no explanations or goodbyes.’ He glanced at Julia. ‘I can sort of empathize with Sylvie feeling at a loss about what to say. It still doesn’t make it right though.’
Julia nodded. ‘I suppose we’ll never know why she did it, because Lisette Munier cannot be traced. Mme Emboscier employed someone to try, but despite a thorough search they never found her.’
‘No,’ Christoph said, glancing at them both. ‘Thank you for trying too. I’m so grateful for all your help.’
Daniel reddened. ‘I can’t take any credit, Papa. I’m trying to get over it, but that trip to Paris in 1978 was the start of the distance between us. I couldn’t face the thought of trying to find the woman who’d caused such pain to Mama and drove a wedge between you and me.’
Christoph gazed at him sorrowfully. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I wish I could remember what happened in 1978, but I can’t.’
‘Now the search is over, it doesn’t matter any more. To be honest, I’m relieved. I don’t think now is a good time to go raking over the past,’ Daniel said.
Julia didn’t agree, but she kept silent. There was no past to find any more, so what did it matter?
The doctor tapped on the door and came in. He stood at the end of the bed.
‘I’m glad you’re all here. We have the results of the tests and the MRI.’ His face was grave. Julia felt a clutch of dread.
‘As you know, your doctors in Bonn suspected the early onset of dementia,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid our tests confirm that this is the case. There are some steps we can take to make you comfortable, but it’s clear that your memory is going to deteriorate.’
Christoph stared at the doctor. Julia clasped Daniel’s hand.
The doctor frowned. ‘I’m afraid there’s more bad news. You see, the dementia could take years to progress, but in the meantime there is a more pressing health issue.’ He came closer to Christoph, compassion in his eyes. ‘The MRI has shown up a series of tumours. You have an inoperable cancer on your pancreas.’
‘What do you mean?’ Daniel asked.
‘We cannot remove the tumours, given their position, and any treatments we try would only delay but not halt the spread of the cancer.’
‘How long have I got?’ Christoph asked hoarsely.
The doctor spoke matter-of-factly. ‘A few weeks, months maybe, at the most. I’m very sorry.’
Julia stared at him. It took a moment for the words to sink in. Cancer. Inoperable.
‘It’s not possible,’ she gasped. She’d grown so close to Christoph these last few weeks, closer than teacher and pupil. He had always been almost like a father to her. She couldn’t bear to think of the world without him. He wasn’t her father, she knew that, but he was the closest thing she had to one.
‘There must be something you can do,’ Daniel said, his voice full of anguish.
The doctor sighed. ‘I understand your concern. We’re hoping to transfer him back to the hospital in Bonn. You’ll be able to explore options with the doctors there.’
‘We’ll do everything we can to fight this cancer,’ Daniel said to Christoph.
Christoph shook his head. ‘No, I’ve had my allotted three score and ten. Even if I did survive this, there’s the dementia.’ He sighed, resigned. ‘I’ve reached the point where all I long for now is peace. Let’s go home. It’s time to let go of the past.’