It became clear to him that she had been through the same trouble; indeed, her mother had told him that she had.
He was immensely sorry for her.
Quite suddenly, he felt that he would like to talk to her about John.
He had not been able to talk about his son to anybody, not since it happened.
He had feared sympathy, and had shunned intrusion.
But this girl Nicole had known John.
They had been skiing companions - friends, she had said.
He blew out a long cloud of smoke.
'I lost my son, you know,' he said with difficulty, staring straight ahead of him.
'He was killed flying - he was a squadron leader, in our Royal Air Force.
He was shot down by three Messerschmitts on his way back from a bombing raid.
Over Heligoland.'
There was a pause.
She turned towards him.
'I know that,' she said gently.
'They wrote to me from the squadron.'
Chapter 8
The cinema was half-full of people, moving about and laying down their palliasses for the night.
The air was full of the fumes of the cooking-stove at the far end, and the smoke of French cigarettes; in the dim light it seemed thick and heavy.
Howard glanced towards the girl.
'You knew my son as well as that, mademoiselle?' he said.
'I did not know.'
In turn, she felt the urge to talk.
'We used to write,' she said. She went on quickly, 'Ever since Cidoton we used to write, almost each week.
And we met once, in Paris - just before the war.
In June, that was.'
She paused, and then said quietly, 'Almost a year ago today.'
The old man said: 'My dear, I never knew anything about this at all.'
'No,' she said. 'Nor did I tell my parents.'
There was a silence while he tried to collect his thoughts' and readjust his outlook.
'You said they wrote to you,' he said at last.
'But how did they know your address?'
She shrugged her shoulders.
'He would have made arrangements,' she said.
'He was very kind, monsieur; very, very kind.
And we were great friends...'
He said quietly: 'You must have thought me very different, mademoiselle.
Very rude.
But I assure you, I knew nothing about this.
Nothing at all.'
There was a little pause.
'May I ask one question?' he said presently.
'But yes, Monsieur Howard.'
He stared ahead of him awkwardly.
'Your mother told me that you had had trouble,' he said.
'That there had been a young man - who was dead.
No doubt, that was somebody else?'
'There was nobody else,' she said quietly.
'Nobody but John.'
She shook herself and sat up.