Page 47 of Tides of Resistance
‘We will have a little celebration, Rose. It has been a most satisfying week for me. In fact, I visited your friend’s little bookshop and signed off on the Aryanisation project. And with your company, it’s going to be an even better afternoon. Wait until the wine arrives—it’s like tasting pure heaven.’
When the waiter returned, Lizzie glimpsed the 1929 Château Lafite Rothschild label as he brandished the bottle, and Heinrich sampled a splash of the ruby red wine. The hypocrisy was astounding, and if she weren’t witnessing it herself, she would struggle to believe it.
They were to celebrate the Aryanisation of Jewish businesses with a Jewish wine.
Heinrich smacked his lips and indicated that the wine met his approval, and the waiter poured a large glass for them both.
‘Santé,’ he said, raising his glass and chinking it with Lizzie’s, revealing his perfect white teeth. ‘To your full recovery and continued good health, mademoiselle.’
Lizzie sipped the wine, which was indeed every bit as delicious as he had promised.
He sniffed his glass, with an expression of ecstasy on his face. ‘The bouquet is intoxicating, is it not? Do you detect the blackcurrent?’
Lizzie rested her glass on the starched white tablecloth and moved back slightly as the waiter laid cutlery and more glasses on the table as though it were a banquet.
She nodded and tried to let the hypocrisy slip by unremarked, but she found herself speaking before she could stop herself. ‘I am surprised, Heir Alder. I would have thoughtyou wouldn’t risk polluting your palate with a wine produced by an inferior race. The Rothschild label is Jewish, or have I misunderstood?’
Heinrich chastised her for not using his first name but was delighted by her bold remark. ‘I knew you were special,’ he said, wagging his finger. ‘Such a fine inquiring mind. It is not often I meet a woman of such exquisite beauty and admirable intellect. One without the other, perhaps, but not both.’
Lizzie released a tortured breath.
He continued, oblivious to her tumultuous feelings. ‘Your comment is a worthy one. In other circumstances, it might be the case, but you see this wine is the spoils of a valiantly fought war. Its confiscation represents the very purification of France, and indeed the whole of Europe. No one denies that these parasites have their uses. They are inferior as a race but excel in business. After all the harm they have done to Germany, it is the very least we may extract from their devious endeavours.’
Lizzie controlled her face from reflecting the disgust she felt at his display of ideological superiority and how he so artfully twisted the circumstances to suit his murderous creed.
Fortunately, the dishes started flowing at that moment, and she was saved from responding. The food was divine and better than any she had eaten since Vichy France, when Jack’s Uncle Luc had been forced to entertain a member of the Gestapo.
Now she searched the dining room several times and was relieved not to spot any familiar faces and was grateful for her dyed black hair. Running into a German who recognised her from a previous operation would be fatal, and as the war dragged on, it was more likely, but if she let herself think about that, she wouldn’t be able to function.
‘You eat like a little bird, Rose. Come now, surely you may eat more than this. You have a wonderful figure, but a little moremeat on you wouldn’t hurt. We must fatten you up. What was your health issue? I trust it is behind you now?’
‘It was a serious bout of flu, nothing more, but it got the better of me, which is why my mother thought it would be good for me to recuperate here for a short time.’
Her SS dinner companion raised one blond eyebrow. ‘Not too short a time, I hope. I shall be desolate if you leave before we get better acquainted.’
Lizzie kept an amiable smile on her lips, but fear surged through her again. ‘I’m unsure when I’ll return to Paris, but I imagine I won’t be here too long. My family needs me.’
‘That is devastating news indeed. Then we must make the most of the time we have together.’
‘It is kind of you, Heinrich, but I am here to rest and see friends.’
‘I understand. I do hope you’ll make some time for us to see each other again, though.’
It was clear he was a persistent man who was not used to being rejected, and Lizzie would need to tread lightly or risk the consequences.
Heinrich poured more wine for them both and seemed to be having the most fabulous time. All the dishes looked delicious, but it was difficult for her to relax to enjoy them. Her stomach danced with nerves, and she had to force every bite down her throat, and barely tasted the food.
When she eventually gave up trying to eat everything that lay before her, the waiter cleared the dishes and Heinrich ordered dessert and coffee.
A lavish tray heaped with exquisite desserts arrived, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since before the war. Lizzie tasted the glossy Tarte Tatin, an upside-down apple tart, which melted in her mouth. There was a mountain of chocolate profiteroles, a favourite from her childhood, Crème Brûlée, and a chocolatemousse, which Heinrich pronounced divine. He held out his spoon for her to taste it too.
‘Please, you really must try this mousse, Rose. It’s the best I’ve had. So light and fluffy.’
Lizzie stared at the chocolate coated spoon, taken aback. It would be rude not to accept, so she took the spoon and acted as though it wasn’t an intimate gesture, agreeing the mousse was gorgeous.
It made her tastebuds sing, but even as she ate the chocolate desert, she thought of how many rationed eggs and luxury ingredients were used to make this abundance of dishes they had dined on today that were easily enough to feed a large family more lavishly than they had eaten in years.
The mousse stuck in her throat, and she declined to eat any more, saying she was full after such a big meal.
