This chapter is very short because the second half is actually rated M – it's in the M section in a oneshot called 'Rubor'. Chapter 8 will follow on from this so you don't actually have to read it to follow the story. I intended to make it T but it became M as I wrote it…oh well.

And thank you for reading.


Pierre and Colette made a point of going to speak to Renaud when Mass ended. Marie and Clotilde stood outside the doors of the church, waiting patiently for them to leave.

"He was right." Marie said quietly to her sister, staring down along the street.

"So?" Clotilde answered, "That doesn't matter. He'll end up getting shot."

"But he's not a Jew. The Nazis hate the Jews; they're the people they've been shooting. They wouldn't shoot a priest."

"Sophie wasn't a Jew."

Marie's mouth snapped shut, and she looked away awkwardly. Indeed, she and Clotilde were growing further apart.

The following day at breakfast Clotilde decided that she would go back to school; although she still was prone to bouts of tears and depression, she was growing bored and lonely in the house during the week, and wanted some human contact.

Her first lesson was Italian – Sr. Perpetua had not yet been replaced, so they sat and read novels while a young convent novice supervised them. There was something sombre about it all; although no one talked about what had happened, most people could guess; it was well known that she had been a Jew before converting to Catholicism.

The day continued in the same, depressive fashion and she went home, without really speaking to anyone; she never had many friends at school, and didn't feel like making any.

It was as she was walking home that she spotted a poster attached to the wall of the building adjacent to the school. It was appealing for information about members of the Resistance. A particular line caught her eye – those collaborating with members of the resistance will be shot.

Clotilde swallowed, thinking of her parents. She had long suspected that they were members, although they would never have told her or Marie. It was then that an idea entered her head, and immediately she forced it out, disgusted with herself. Should she tell the Nazis? Maybe they would spare her and Marie.

She shut it out, and told herself it was ridiculous. No, no – she couldn't! However, as she walked home the idea wormed its way further and further into her psyche, and by the time she had reached the gate outside her house she had almost decided to do it, and then thinking of her parents she shuddered, horrified at herself.

She didn't sleep properly that night, worrying and thinking about what was going to happen. Would they discover what her parents were doing? Would they shoot her and Marie? The image of Sophie lying face down on the ground flashed in her mind's eye. She stood up to them – what did she achieve?

It was several days later when she decided what she would do. If when, surely, she thought, they discover that they're in the resistance, they'll all die. But they'll let me and Marie live if I tell them. Maybe.

She knew then that she had to do it. Walking slowly up the stairs, she could feel her legs turning to lead. Her breathing became laboured, she was so frightened. She understood – once I do this there's no going back.

He was staying on the third floor of the house, where her parents stayed. She closed her eyes tight as she knocked on the door, her arm shaking involuntarily.

The door opened suddenly, and Clotilde jumped.

"Aha – Mademoiselle, can I help you?"

"Yes. Colonel Landa, may I speak to you?"