When they were finally able to steal a moment together, during morning service in a dark corner of the ptisserie corridor, he held her tightly, as though she would turn to water in his arms. She gripped him back, head buried against his chest.

'Gui, I'm so sorry.'

He loosened his arms around her, kissed her once, twice.

'You have nothing to be sorry for,' he told her.

'But the way Leonard treated you-'

'It was nothing. Jim, though, I am worried about what he thinks.'

'Does it matter so much?' She reached up to smooth a lock of hair from his forehead. 'In a few days we will be leaving Paris behind.'

'I know,' he sighed, 'but he was there for me, when I needed a friend. I ... don't have many people who care, Jeanne. I must try to explain to him, somehow. I hate that he thinks badly of me.'

'You have me to care now.' She cupped her hands around his face. 'Five days, Gui.'

'We should leave tomorrow,' he whispered impulsively. 'Or tonight. The longer we wait ...'

She shook her head, stepped back.

'It is complicated,' she said quietly. 'The Burnetts are major shareholders in the ptisserie. Leonard's father administrates my trust fund. I need to make sure that if I renege on the engagement, it won't affect my father's business.'

'It is your choice, Jeanne, not theirs.'

'I know, Gui. And I choose a life with you. But I am going to break my father's heart. I must try to make things right for him, if I can.'

Her face was pale in the gloom, begging him to understand.

He took a deep breath, expelling the hurt that came with her words. 'Of course,' he managed to say. 'I know you care about them.'

She left him with a kiss then. Gui watched her go. He was jumpy. Every time the kitchen door swung open, he expected to see her. He lingered at the far end of the room, just to be near the corridor in case she wanted to speak to him.

In the end, she arrived during the afternoon break. No one noticed that Gui only picked at his food, that his coffee was left untouched. His distraction over the past few weeks had been blamed on a liaison with a demanding Belleville girl, a mistake that he was grateful for. Now, he stared at his shoes, caught between joy and the conviction that the world was against him. When the door squeaked and the men fell silent, he knew instantly who it would be.

'Is there a du Frere in here?' said Jeanne. She was acting bored, but there was a high colour to her face. Something was wrong.

'Over there, Mam'selle,' one of the chefs gestured with his bread. Luckily, they were accustomed enough to seeing her around. Only Maurice eyed her closely.

'Josef wants to see you,' she directed over to Gui, already turning away. 'He's in the office.'

'Now you're for it, Gui,' nudged one of the apprentices. 'Must be serious, if herself came to fetch you.'

'Careful, lad,' Maurice muttered, catching his arm.

Gui shook him off, hurrying for the door.

At first the poky office looked deserted, but then he made out Jeanne's shape, standing in the shadow of the bookcase. The lamps were unlit, but even in the semidarkness he could tell that she was crying.

'What's the matter?' He hurried over to embrace her but she stepped away. In her hand was a sheaf of papers.

'I was right,' she whispered. 'About the engagement. If it is broken off, then my father will lose his share of the ptisserie. Burnett has lent him money, and my dowry will pay off the debt, Gui. They made me part of the business, and I never even knew.'

Clermont's words came back to him, the day of the flood. A daughter is a precious thing.

'I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me-'

'Don't say that!' Her voice was fierce. 'If it wasn't for you I would be trapped ...' Her voice disappeared into sobs.

'We promised each other, Jeanne.' He pulled her close, wiped away her tears with his fingers. 'I will never go back on that promise.'

'Neither will I.'

'Then we need to leave. We must leave right now.'

For a moment he thought she would refuse, but then she was nodding, blotting her face with her sleeve. One arm around her, he reached for the door handle. Too late, he saw the shadows outside.

Monsieur Clermont was standing in the doorway, flanked by Josef and Maurice. His eyes took in Jeanne's tear-stained face, Gui's arm about her shoulder.

Before they could speak, Monsieur Clermont's lip curled in rage. He lashed out, breaking Gui's hold on Jeanne and sending him staggering backwards.

'What have you done to my daughter?' he snarled.

Gui caught himself upon a bookshelf. Temporarily stunned, he looked towards Maurice.

The chef would not meet his eyes.

'I'm sorry, lad,' he muttered. 'I couldn't let it go on.'

Clermont was white, shaking with fury. 'If you've touched her, du Frere, I swear I will-'

'Will what?' The force in Gui's voice took him by surprise. 'Send me packing? Call on your oily friend to threaten me?'

Monsieur Clermont raised his arm to strike, but Jeanne was faster.

'Father, please!' She lunged in front of Gui. 'He has done nothing!'

'Be quiet, Jeanne.'

Her face hardened. 'We are to be married.'

The slap sent a shock wave through the room, breaking even Josef's impa.s.sive mask. Jeanne fell against the edge of the desk, clasping her cheek. Anger surged in Gui, and he shoved the older man hard, sending him stumbling back, before reaching out a hand to Jeanne.

There was a sickening silence. Clermont was breathing heavily, looking from one of them to the other.

'This is absurd,' he said, his voice unsteady. 'Jeanne, stop this, now.'

She pulled herself up from the desk and took Gui's hand. Her eyes were cold as she surveyed her father.

'No,' she told him clearly. 'We are engaged.'

'You are engaged to Leonard Burnett. The banns have been read-'

'A business deal,' she interrupted. 'One that I never had a chance to refuse. Guillaume loves me, Father.'

'Jeanne,' Clermont said slowly, and Gui could tell that he was struggling to keep the fury out of his voice, 'if you break the engagement it will hurt me, my darling.'

'You should have considered that ...' Her voice faltered. 'You should have considered me.'

'But this boy is not considering you. All he wants is money. He tried to bribe me, do you know that?'

'No,' Gui tried to interrupt, but Josef had come from nowhere to seize his arm.

'After you fell in the flood,' Clermont continued remorselessly, 'he sought to blackmail us, threatened to go to the papers with some sordid tale that would ruin your name, unless I gave him a job.'

'Stop it!' Gui struck out. He caught the man across the face with his nails and Jeanne began to cry, but Clermont ploughed on, despite the beads of blood that sprang from his skin.

'If only I could have known that he would try to use you. When I think about what he might have done ...'

Jeanne was sobbing now, torn between her father's outstretched hand and Gui's rage.

'I don't care,' she gasped. 'We're promised. I've given him everything.'

'Of course you-' Clermont's voice ground to a halt. Jeanne hid her face, unable to look up.

The blow caught Gui across the head like a sledgehammer. Josef let go as Clermont's fist crashed again, sending him tumbling against the wall. Heavy books rained down around him. Someone was shouting, but one of his ears flooded with liquid. Finally, the a.s.sault stopped. He looked up, winded. Jeanne's pale fingers restrained her father's arm.

'Get upstairs.' Clermont threw off her grip. 'Josef, take her and lock her door. Call the doctor. I want her examined.'

Jeanne struggled as she was pulled into the corridor. With a burst of effort she twisted, reaching for Gui, but then she was gone.

'Jeanne!' he managed to rasp. 'I'll-'

A fist crunched the air from his stomach, followed by a knee, driving into his groin. He retched powerlessly to the floorboards. He felt Clermont's hand seize the back of his jacket, drag him bodily through the door. A crowd had gathered; boots scattered hurriedly from their path. Someone spat on him as he slithered by, but he didn't care, he could only feel pain, and the desperate need to follow Jeanne.

The cold stones of the alleyway bruised his side as he was thrown down the steps. He sucked in air, his face pressed to the muck until he was able to raise his head. Someone sn.i.g.g.e.red.

'You two, watch him while I telephone for the gendarmes,' Clermont commanded. 'The rest of you, get back to the kitchen before I have you all dismissed.'

After an age, the voices died into a whispered conference. Gui blinked up at the two apprentices who had been left to guard him.

'Hey,' he coughed, hauling himself onto an elbow and spitting out b.l.o.o.d.y foam. 'Help me up, please.'

One of them came forward, steadied him against the wall.

'What did you do?' the other boy whispered, wide-eyed.

Gui fought the urge to retch again. He felt thin and empty. He explored the skin of his head. Blood dripped from his nose and ear but nothing seemed broken.

'What are you lads doing?' questioned a familiar voice.

'Sorry, sir, but Monsieur Clermont asked us to watch, whilst he calls for the gendarmes,' said one of the boys.

A waft of tobacco reached Gui's throbbing nose, an unusual blend he remembered from a midnight kitchen, as he lay drowsing between clean sheets.

'Patrice?' he croaked. 'Patrice, please.'

'It's "sir" to you,' the valet said coldly, descending the steps. 'I'm astounded that this is how you choose to repay Monsieur's generosity, Gui.'

'You don't understand,' he protested, shuffling to face the man. 'Clermont is lying.'

Patrice strode over like thunder and grasped Gui's collar.

'Listen,' he whispered rapidly, his face hidden from the others. 'Mam'selle sent me. She'll be in the Place de la Republique at midnight. You must go now. Push me over and run.'

Gui didn't move, the words scudding across his brain.

'Do it!'

He pushed at Patrice. The valet fell back dramatically, dragging one of the apprentices down with him.

'Stop!' he cried, voice m.u.f.fled. 'Stop him!'

Gui lurched onto the boulevard. The pavements were crowded, afternoon workers swarming back to offices and shops from lunchtime errands. Reaching the other side of the road, he saw an omnibus and staggered aboard. The vehicle honked, trundling on its route, just as a gendarmerie motor car shuddered to a halt outside Ptisserie Clermont.

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

May 1988 It is early morning when the train slides into the Gare du Nord, but the station is already crowded. Travellers haul suitcases, businesspeople watch for their trains, suited and stiff, even on a Sat.u.r.day. I crane my neck; the huge gla.s.s roof slopes above me, a sky held together by bolts. It too is alive, grey girders furred with a skin of pigeons.

For a second, I can only stand, my sleep-starved brain disorientated by the language of the city. Then there is a nudge at my back, poking me forwards into the fray. I mumble an apology and try to think straight as I search for signs towards the exit. Instead I find a coffee stall, where the smell of fresh pastry and dark roasted beans is drawing tired travellers like moths. Some of my dwindling money is spent on coffee and a warm croissant.

I haven't been to Paris for years. I can't afford a taxi, so I grab a free tourist map and set off for the Rue de Richelieu, hefting my rucksack a little higher. The walk takes me through the grand boulevards, but I am too tired to notice much, too focused on the task at hand. The library is still closed when I arrive, so I sit on the steps to wait in the warm morning sun.

'Mademoiselle? Excuse me?'

A woman in wire-rimmed gla.s.ses is bending over me, concerned.

Blearily, I pull myself upright, mortified to have fallen asleep while waiting.

'I'm so sorry,' I stammer, collecting my bag. 'I've had a long night. I telephoned about seeing some records, yesterday.'