Page 24 of Daughters of Paris

Colette kicked back the bedclothes and wrapped her robe around herself. She didn’t bother with slippers but raced barefoot through the house, ignoring the banging of her head. Her parents’ bedroom was in chaos with drawers open and clothes everywhere. Her mother’s jewel case was lying on the bed.

Delphine sobbed. ‘France has fallen!’

‘Papa?’ Colette looked to where her father stood in the corner of the room with his hands clasped behind his back.

‘Not yet, but the German army is marching on Paris. Our government have declared Paris an open city.’

‘What does that mean?’ Colette asked.

‘It means we are undefended. We have to leave!’ Delphine cried. Her voice was a high-pitched wail with a slur to it. A cocktail glass was the culprit, as ever, though it was shocking to see one on the table before noon.

‘It will take me days to pack, and the best of my jewellery is in the safe at the bank.’

Delphine had very few valuable pieces and most of her day-to-day accessories were paste gems, but all the same she began fastening necklaces around her neck and shoving multiple rings on her fingers. When she reached for a bracelet in the shape of a snake with rubies for eyes, Colette seized her hand.

‘Mère, don’t be stupid! You can’t drive through the streets like that. We will get robbed.’

Her stomach heaved and she tasted vomit. Worse would happen if the Germans found them. Louis stepped in.

‘Colette is right. Put everything in the large case and pack that. Take all the clothes you can fit. Colette, go and pack. I want you ready in fifteen minutes.’

Colette ran to her room on shaking legs. The newspapers had said this would never happen. The Allies would hold back the Germans. She looked at the hangers of silks and linens; light summer clothing at one end, moving into warmer fabrics at the other.

‘How long will we be gone?’ she said aloud. ‘Where will we go?’

Her blood felt hot in her veins, rushing to her head and making her feel dizzy. The hangover intensified. She drank a glass of water and wondered if Delphine had any headache sachets. She leaned out of the window to get some fresh air and saw that the other family from the building were leaving. A long queue of cars edged slowly down the length of the road to turn onto the boulevard at the end. There was no time to waste. She dressed in a green day dress and the shoes with the lowest heels. She bundled six cardigans of increasing warmth and a dozen blouses and skirts into a suitcase and emptied the contents of her lingerie drawer on top. Blusher and lipstick, earrings and necklaces went into a smaller case along with a bottle of scent. The scarlet beaded dress she had worn the night before was lying in a heap on the floor waiting to be laundered. She shoved that in, along with three other evening dresses and two pairs of heeled shoes. She doubted they would get worn, but hoped the world and her unknown destination would still contain the opportunity to dance. What would be the point of fighting if there was not the prospect of fun?

At the last moment she remembered her toothbrush, used it, and added it to the case. She stared around, taking what might be her last look at her room and tears blurred her vision. Downstairs she could hear Louis calling her name. She picked up the cases and her gas mask bag and left.

Delphine had succeeded in creating a tower of four cases and three hatboxes. Fleur was standing in the corner of the entrance hall, one suitcase in her hands and wearing her winter coat.

‘You’re coming too,’ Colette exclaimed warmly, hugging her.

‘Of course, it is too dangerous for her to stay,’ Louis said.

Beside Fleur was a basket containing three jars of preserves, a punnet of strawberries, five eggs and yesterday’s bread rolls. Cutlery poked out of a rolled tea towel.

‘I didn’t have time to bake fresh,’ Fleur said so apologetically that Colette felt ashamed of her own selfish packing. There must be other, more practical, things she could take than scent and shoes.

‘You need to leave now,’ Louis said.

‘Us? Aren’t you coming?’ Colette asked.

Louis’ face was set into a hard expression. ‘No. I’m not leaving the factory unguarded. Whatever the government have decided about the city, that is mine and I have workers to take care of. I won’t hear arguments. I’ve already had them all with your mother.’

Delphine gave a sob and Louis kissed her on the cheek then picked up two of her cases and led the way to the Simca 8 that stood waiting outside. Fleur and Colette followed.

The cabriolet was six months old and Louis’ pride and joy. Delphine and Colette had often tried to persuade him to exchange it for a larger model like his previous Avant, but he had refused. Now Colette wished they had pressed the point because there was barely room in the back for the suitcases if Fleur was to have a seat. Colette willingly abandoned her case of non-essentials and watched in shame as her mother argued and wept when Louis told her to leave all but the most essential luggage.

‘Fleur can carry one on her lap,’ Delphine said.

‘No she won’t!’ Colette exclaimed. She turned to Delphine, hands on her hips. ‘Mère, you are being ridiculous! Fleur will be carrying the food basket and her own case. I will take your hatbox but you must leave the rest. None of it matters.’

Fleur’s eyes filled with approval and Colette beamed back.

‘We should take my bicycle if it will go on the roof,’ Fleur said.

Louis nodded. ‘Excellent idea. Who knows how easy fuel will be to come by in Dijon, even with the milage this beauty does. There’s a coil of rope in the cellar. Can you fetch it?’

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