Page 102 of Daughters of Paris

Colette and Sébastien exchanged a glance and Fleur got the impression her relationship with Laurent – or the sorry lack of it – had been the subject of discussion.

‘Sébastien, you need to have a word with him,’ Colette said. ‘He’s torturing our poor Fleur.’

‘No, you don’t!’ Fleur glared at her friend. ‘We’re in the middle of a war and all you can think of is playing the matchmaker. And you really mustn’t discuss what we are doing. It could put us all in danger and you don’t just have yourself to think about now.’

She stared pointedly at Colette’s belly. Fear wrapped around her heart. If Colette was taken and tortured, Fleur would never forgive herself.

Sébastien wandered to her side. ‘Do you think you could eat some breakfast yet?’

Colette shook her head and put her hand over her mouth, closing her eyes as she did.

‘I don’t think she’s eating enough,’ Fleur told Sébastien. ‘She picks at her food and I’ve never known her to do that before. It isn’t as if there is enough to leave.’

Fleur put her hand to her stomach. One of the unexpected consequences of leaving the Nadons’ house was losing the opportunity to harvest the fruit and vegetables the girls had nurtured. The Secret Garden would be a carpet of wild strawberries now. Just the thought made her mouth water unbearably.

Sébastien began to boil a pot of chicory and took three cups from the shelf.

‘Is there anything that would make you feel better?’ Fleur asked.

Colette sat upright. ‘Something salty. Or chocolate.’

‘If I could get you chocolate, I would,’ Sébastien said. He knelt at Colette’s side and put his hand to her forehead. ‘I think you’ll be fine if you rest enough.’

Colette gave Fleur and Sébastien a weak smile. ‘I’m sorry. I am being useless. In a week or two I expect this will pass. It’s just difficult at the moment. I don’t expect you to find me chocolate. I wish I had stayed friends with Josette and Sophie now. I am sure they would be able to get hold of some from one of their German admirers.’

‘Could you bring yourself to eat it though?’ Fleur asked, raising her brows. It was the first time she had heard Colette mention the sisters’ names in months.

Colette grinned, looking a little more like herself. ‘If it was chocolate I probably could. But what am I doing talking about this? It isn’t helping anything, is it?’

‘Not really,’ Fleur said.

Colette swung her legs round and stood. ‘Enough pity. I brought this on myself. I will go have a wash and then I will go and see if I can nibble some bread. Then I’ll go down into the shop. I left my sewing basket there last night.’

She regularly joined Fleur in the shop while she sewed. She had decided to make bookmarks of stiff card covered in her old scarves and embroidered with flowers. Fleur had been sceptical at first but they looked pretty and it seemed that the German customers were happy to buy them to send home to their wives and daughters. The idea of making and selling things for Germans would once have seemed appalling but now the women welcomed a good opportunity to part them from their francs and there were no French customers. Money was tight for everyone, with nothing to spare for luxuries.

She staggered off to the bathroom. As soon as she was gone, Sébastien turned to Fleur. ‘I wonder if someone on themarché noircan find me some chocolate. I have a suspicion Pierre knows someone.’

Pierre as a contact made sense – he had a slightly devious air to him – but Fleur hadn’t seen him for months. Since they stopped writing the leaflets he hadn’t been around the café. Having said that, few French could afford coffee these days.

‘You will end up paying five times the price if you do,’ Fleur said. ‘They’re as bad as the Germans, if not worse.’

Sébastien looked sheepish. ‘Yes, but if it makes Colette feel better it will be worth it. Would you consider stopping what you’re doing?’ Sébastien asked suddenly, surprising Fleur with the abrupt change of topic.

‘Not until every last Nazi has gone from Paris,’ Fleur answered. She felt the blood rushing in her veins. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t give up in fear.’

‘Would you give up for love?’ He looked into her eyes and reached for her hand.

She became breathless. Surely not now? It was what she had always longed to hear, but not when he was soon to be a father and the woman carrying his child was in the next room.

And that was the revelation. She didn’t want him to love her. When was the last time she really wanted him to? She struggled to recall. In fact, if he was proposing to abandon Colette right now she would be more furious with him than she could imagine.

‘Colette,’ she said.

‘Exactly.’ Sébastien’s face twisted with concern.

‘What?’ Fleur frowned.

‘Colette. Your love for her. Would you give up what you do to keep her safe?’ Sébastien pressed her hand tightly. ‘You didn’t see her last night when she asked me to come round. She paced half the night with worry. I’ve never seen her looking so vulnerable. It kills her every time she thinks of you putting yourself in danger.’

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