Chapter Thirty

It took several moments for the rest of us to absorb these words. Mrs Finch frowned into the distance, and I almost imagined I could see the cogs in her brain spinning wildly. Oliver's face was set, and he too seemed lost in thought. Izzy watched him, her expression worried.

"What do we do now?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," Izzy admitted. "Technically, it is Sylla who should decide, but we have been having some trouble reaching her in France – communications are moving too slowly to keep up with the information we are uncovering."

"So far we know very little about David Brown," Max offered. "It is a common name and there are many who have travelled to and from France through Dover and Folkestone over the last dozen years or more."

"There is only one thing we can do." Mrs Finch got to her feet, carefully smoothing her skirts. "Oliver, Mari and I must go to Paris."

There was a frozen moment as her words hit me.

"To Paris?" I choked. "Paris … France?"

Mrs Finch nodded. "It is the only course of action open to us." She began ticking off items on her fingers. "As Max has said, it is useless to try to gather information on David Brown here, when any record of him and his movements for the last decade are likely to be found across the Channel. The Lavignes have clearly lived in France for some time. We can confirm for certain that they travelled from France a fortnight ago. Any information on them will be there."

"That is true," Izzy said thoughtfully.

"Also," Mrs Finch continued, "the Lavignes – or whoever they are – have given us a thorough account of how Helene came to be found. This was corroborated by the police reports in France. It sounds as though they were on the scene, at the very least."

"The accident at Le Pecq," I murmured. "The village they lived in, Herblay. They must have either lived there or known someone who did. The story would have to stand up to Oliver's scrutiny. It is obvious that any claimant would be investigated."

"That's why they needed the travel papers," Izzy agreed.

"And perhaps why Brown had to move quickly," Max mused. "If they saw the advertisement, they may have feared another young woman coming forward, or even that Oliver would give up and have Ellen declared dead."

"Let's revisit what we know, as opposed to supposition," said Mrs Finch. "A young girl was in an accident at Le Pecq. She was washed up along the river and taken in by a local family. She attended the Lycée Sainte-Geneviève. Helene, or whoever she is, has a Bible with the name of the school inside it, which she brought all the way to England." Her fingers drummed at her side. "The school is the key, I am sure of it. We can't wait for Sylla – not in light of this new discovery. Not in light of what this might mean for Ellen."

The name fell between us like a stone dropped in still water.

"Ellen," Oliver breathed, his eyes wide. "What does this… What does any of this mean for my sister?"

"It means one of several things," I said slowly, looking to Mrs Finch, who nodded in encouragement. "Either Helene really is Ellen and the couple we know as the Lavignes are using her for their own ends. Or…"

"Or?" he said, teeth clenched.

"Or," I said softly, "she is an imposter and at least one of those people downstairs knew Ellen well enough to be able to pull off this ruse. And if that is the case, then it may mean that Ellen is in France…" I swallowed. "Or…" I said again, only this time I found I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Or Ellen might really be dead," Izzy said gently, her eyes full of sympathy as they focused on Oliver, whose face was a frozen mask.

"At the very least she might be in danger," Mrs Finch added. "Whatever the case, I think we can agree that, for Ellen's sake, the faster we move the better."

"And so we go to France." Oliver's voice was threaded with determination.

"And so we go to France," Mrs Finch confirmed.