Page 98 of Daughters of Paris

She needed to think straight. This was as bad as the morning Louis had broken the news that they would be leaving Paris. Delphine may not let her back into the house so she filled a large suitcase with clothes then stopped with a shaky laugh. How long would it be before she was too large to fit into them? Well, she could alter or sell them. She put her watch, rings, and necklaces into a sponge bag along with her toothbrush and tooth powder, and a few small ornaments that might be worth pawning or selling. She would need money.

The sound of sobbing came from Delphine’s salon. It tore at Colette’s heart but she hardened it. Delphine was crying for herself, not for Colette.

Time to face the world. She pulled the front door closed and lifted her suitcase.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By the time Colette reached the bookshop she was growing exhausted. She thought back with despair to the early months of her previous pregnancy where everything had felt too much effort and all she had wanted to do was lie on the sofa and eat cheese.

To her dismay, the blinds were rolled down and the sign in the door was turned to closed. Colette sagged against the window frame. She had come all this way and Fleur wasn’t even there. Her eyes fell on a handwritten notice on a card.

For urgent enquiries find me at Café Morlaix.

Colette pressed to lips together. She wasn’t sure if the note was just for her benefit or something Fleur used habitually. Sébastien would be at the café. He had to learn at some point, and as today was a day for revelations and admissions, she had nothing to lose by telling him now.

Fleur was sitting alone at a table by the bar, reading a book and drinking a coffee. Colette took two steps forward and then stopped. Fleur looked up, saw her, and walked swiftly to Colette.

‘What’s wrong? Why are you here? You’ve told Delphine, haven’t you?’

Colette nodded. ‘It went badly. I’ve done something very stupid. I need to tell Sébastien.’

As if summoned by his name, Sébastien appeared from the back room. He smiled warmly upon seeing Colette.

‘How lovely to see you.’

Despite her anxiety, there was space in her belly for a flutter of pleasure. She hadn’t seen him for a few days and had missed him. It was quickly surpassed by trepidation. She was about to turn his world upside down. In a moment or two his delight would turn to rejection. She couldn’t smile back, and his face changed as he reached her.

‘What’s wrong?’

He placed a hand gently on her upper arm. A spontaneous, loving, gentle gesture that typified him and which Colette had come to value. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

‘I told my mother that…’

She stopped.

‘Colette, tell Sébastien what’s wrong,’ Fleur said gently, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Colette looked at Sébastien and took a deep breath. His eyes radiated concern, magnified by the thick lenses. Would their child be short-sighted like its father? She would probably never know.

‘I told my mother that I am pregnant. With your child.’

‘My child?’

He looked at her as if she was stupid, or he was, or both of them.

‘You’re pregnant?’

She nodded, dropping her eyes and staring at the knots in the floorboards.

‘With my child?’

This time she flicked her eyes up to his.

‘Nobody else’s,’ she said coldly.

‘No, I didn’t mean that!’ He looked horrified. ‘But how? I thought we had been careful.’

‘So did I,’ Colette said, giving him a weary smile. ‘Obviously we were both wrong.’

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