Page 101 of Daughters of Paris

She watched proudly as Fleur took in the improvements she had made, then showed her the beginnings of the tablecloth.

‘It looks beautiful. You have such a good eye for this. You could try to make and sell things.’

‘That’s a good idea. I was wondering how I could support myself,’ Colette said.

Fleur poured a glass of water and drank it thirstily. ‘Your father came to see me before he left. He gave me this.’

She reached into the pocket of her blouse and drew out two one-hundred-franc notes.

Colette groaned. ‘I told him I didn’t want his money.’

‘He told me that. He told me to keep it and use it without telling you, but I thought you should know. The price of everything has risen so dramatically that turning down money is foolish.’

‘You’re right, I know, but I couldn’t bear it. You should know how it feels, you don’t like to rely on other people.’

‘I rely on lots of people,’ Fleur said, slightly indignantly. Colette realised she had prodded a sore tooth and said nothing more. She took the notes and put them in her purse.

‘I might try to buy some cooking oil. Last time I was pregnant all I wanted to eat was fried eggs with liver. Disgusting, but something Edith cooked well.’

‘I’m not cooking that!’ Fleur laughed. ‘I thought I’d makepain perdutonight. I think if I put a teaspoon of sugar into the mixture it will go further than sprinkling it on top.’

While Fleur soaked slices of stale bread in a little water and milk and added half a beaten egg, Colette continued to work on the tablecloth. When the buttery scent of fried bread filled the room, she knotted her thread and bit it off.

There was a small amount of honey left. Fleur spread it on one piece but not the other and handed the plate with the honey to Colette.

‘Aren’t you having any?’

‘No, it’s yours and I’m sure you will want some more tomorrow.’

‘Fleur, I insist you have some,’ Colette said. She dropped the needle and thread into her work basket and walked to the table. She took the knife and scraped it around the inside the jar until only a smear remained.

‘We can share it. Let’s sit in the sunshine while we can.’

They took the bread and honey downstairs and sat on the pavement opposite the shop in what remained of the evening sunshine that streamed along the road at an angle.

‘You look happier than I have seen you for such a long time,’ Fleur remarked. ‘I think you seem happier even than you were when you came back from England and before the war started properly. When you were going out dancing with your friends.’

‘I think I am happy,’ Colette answered. She hadn’t given the Lucienne sisters a second thought since beginning her affair with Sébastien. Almost a year with no cabarets! ‘Life back then felt quite meaningless now I look back on it.’

Fleur licked the buttery crumbs from her fingers and nodded. ‘I didn’t really think there would be much to be happy about during war. Isn’t it awful how we have been so accustomed to being occupied that it barely seems to bother us?’

‘We are growing up, aren’t we?’ Colette said, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.

It was long past the time, she decided.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

July 1942

Fleur had never experienced pregnancy close up before and if Colette’s experience was typical, she never wanted to. From the first announcement, Colette had seemed perpetually tired and vomited for a couple of hours every morning, though usually rallied after lunch, and gradually the period of sickness grew shorter as her condition became evident in her growing belly.

On a hot morning in mid-July, Fleur returned home from another nightly collection of packages to find Colette lying on the sofa. She was still wearing her nightdress even though it was almost ten in the morning. It struck Fleur as unusually slothful until Sébastien walked out of Colette’s bedroom with his shirt only partially buttoned.

‘I didn’t want to spend the evening alone so I invited Sébastien to come over,’ Colette said. She gave him a sweet smile. ‘He’s teaching me how to playMarjolet. I think I owe him most ofPapa’sfactory now!’

Sébastien laughed. ‘I’ll call in my debt another way if you like. Good morning, Fleur, have you only just got back home? Were you rescuing more parachutes with Laurent? I assume that isn’t a euphemism.’

‘That was supposed to be a secret.’ Fleur glared at Colette, who had the grace to look embarrassed. She gave Sébastien an awkward smile. ‘No, it isn’t a euphemism, and I wasn’t with him last night.’

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