Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Kristina

Nice, June 1946

After Lorenzo took away Kristina’s breakfast tray, she told him to send up Eve Archer and to bring Flora some parsley from the garden. She must have frightened the poor young woman with how confused she had been at the mention of Serge Lavertu’s name. But she did want to help her – and Serge. She knew that he had been Max’s best friend but that was it; the memory became unclear after that. But perhaps if Eve gave her more details, she might start to recall things. In fact, she wondered if the appearance of Eve Archer might be exactly what she needed to help her recover her past.

The sound of the buzzer at the front gate rang shrilly. She went to the window that faced the street and peered furtively out to see that the dark-haired woman was back again. Sonia Vertinskaya. She was fashionably dressed in a shantung jacket and pleated skirt. She came at least once a week, but Kristina told Lorenzo to never let her inside the villa, even though the two of them had been good friends when they were young. Sonia’s appearances filled her with such a strong sense of foreboding that she felt her life was in danger each time she came.

‘Madame Bergeret?’

Kristina turned around to see Eve Archer standing in the doorway holding the bunch of parsley she’d asked for. The poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. She had dark rings under her eyes and was as pale as a ghost.

Kristina took the parsley from her. ‘Please, sit down,’ she said. ‘So, you know I have amnesia?’

Eve nodded.

‘I’m hoping we can help each other,’ Kristina continued. ‘You see, I was thinking this morning that if you tell me what you know, it might help me to start to remember.’

She stopped herself. How desperate must she be to ask a complete stranger to help her piece her life together? But as she looked again at Eve, she realised there was something familiar about the young woman. ‘You’re Australian, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘Lorenzo told me. When did you come to France?’

‘Just a year ago.’

‘Then you and I have never met before?’ Kristina sat down. ‘But it’s the strangest thing, I feel like we already know each other.’

‘You and my mother knew each other,’ Eve said cautiously. ‘Her name was Madeleine and you painted her.’

Kristina thought for a moment that she could hear the beating of wings. She saw the glint of metal flash across her mind. It was like trying to remember a dream – it was there for a second, and then it was gone.

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. Do you have a photograph?’

Eve reached into her pocket and pulled out a small photograph of a pretty woman with blonde hair and a sad smile. But it still sparked nothing in Kristina’s memory.

‘You painted her as Eve of the biblical story—’

Before Eve could finish, Flora appeared from behind a painting and scampered up to eat the parsley Kristina was holding.

‘My pet rabbit,’ she explained, lest Eve thought there were wild rabbits scurrying about the house. ‘Lorenzo says I’ve always liked rabbits. He brought this one to keep me company. Her name is Flora.’

The expression on Eve’s face suddenly changed. ‘Flora!’ she said. ‘Why did you give her that name?’

Kristina was startled by Eve’s reaction. She tried to recall what prompted her to name the rabbit that. She thought her original idea had been to name her Fleur because the rabbit was fond of eating flowers, but for some reason, Flora had been the name that stuck.

Kristina shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It seemed to suit her. Why, what’s so unusual about the name?’

Eve stood up, her eyes frantic.

‘Because that’s the title of the painting Serge is accused of selling to Hitler.’