The Sea Garden by Deborah Lawrenson Page A

island, surely,” she said. “The doctor. Louis de Fayols.”
    â€œThey told you that, then.”
    â€œMme de Fayols told me.”
    â€œYes, during the war the doctor continued to care for the convalescents, mainly Italian soldiers. Most were poor young conscripts who had done very little harm. The doctor felt a responsibility for them. When the Nazis took over, they sent the Italians to prison camps, but they realised the value of having a doctor on the island. He was ordered to stay, effectively a prisoner in his own house. They shot him there, in the grounds, on the night the plane landed.”
    â€œBut the Allies were so close, the liberation was about to begin—why do it then?”
    He did not answer.
    â€œI can understand how you became a war historian, trying to make sense of it all.”
    He nodded gravely. “So are you going back to London?” he asked.
    She smiled at the assumption. “Only passing through, but I don’t live too far away. Why?”
    Gabriel pushed a hand through his hair. “Would you . . . consider doing something for me, to help me with my research?”
    She was touched by the way he seemed hesitant about asking, this man who was otherwise supremely confident.
    â€œI’ll certainly help, if I can.”
    â€œSome of the material I need is in London. The story concerns both France and Great Britain. It occurs to me that if I could find out in advance which archives hold the documents I need, then it would make my job quite a lot easier when I come over to England.”
    â€œOf course. I’m sure I can do that.” It would mean keeping in touch, maybe even meeting up. She felt a smile spreading. “No problem at all. Tell me what you need to know.”
    They found a shady spot and sat down. Ellie made notes as he spoke. It was hard to tell whether his interest in her was romantic or just friendly. They did not touch, even by accident. When he had described the events he was working on, making sure she had enough useful detail, they spoke of other relationships and the difficulty of love disrupted by war. He seemed to understand her need to talk about Dan and, as she did so, it felt for the first time as if she was freeing herself for the possibility of another life.
    The afternoon grew hotter. Gabriel leaned back on a tree and closed his eyes. Ellie began a small sketch of him, ready to snap the book shut if he stirred. At last she was living for the moment, seizing the day with an optimism she had not expected to feel again. There no longer seemed any urgency to catch the ferry back to the mainland.
    Â 
    A t the hotel there were two messages. One was to call Laurent de Fayols as soon as she got back. She used the landline on the reception desk.
    â€œWhat’s been going on while I was away?”
    She would have told him, but he continued without waiting for an answer. “And you left your phone. Will you come over to get it?”
    Reluctantly, she agreed.
    The other message was that Lieutenant Meunier was waiting for her in the hotel dining room. Wearied by his persistence, Ellie went to meet him. The door was open, and he filled the space by the window, alert and aware of his power, looking out at the harbour. It was very possible he had seen her with Gabriel.
    They greeted each other brusquely.
    He was going to ask her whether she had seen the man in the panama hat, she knew it. A question to which he already knew the answer.
    â€œI thought you should know the result of our inquiries into the death of Florian Creys. It cannot have been pleasant for you to have this as part of your introduction to Porquerolles, but perhaps it helps to know. I have come to tell you that Florian Creys had a history of depression and drug abuse from the age of fourteen. He was diagnosed as schizophrenic a month ago. Last week he walked out of a clinic in Strasbourg and headed south.”
    â€œSo . . . it was suicide,