Page 106 of Daughters of Paris

They never spoke of the baby. It was there, and soon it would be gone … unless she decided to keep it, which was becoming something that increasingly played on her mind. She rested her hand on her belly, feeling a kick, then took it away. During her first pregnancy she had not felt anything other than revulsion or fear when she thought of what was growing inside her, but this time was different. She found herself stroking the odd bumps that rose and fell beneath her skin, and humming songs she remembered from childhood. She was starting to care about the child she and Sébastien had created. It was troubling her and she didn’t have long left to broach the subject with Sébastien of what to do when it arrived.

Whether or not Sébastien would leave her once there was no longer anything to keep him tied to her was something she didn’t want to dwell on too deeply. There was no reason why they couldn’t continue as they were. She was happy to.

She was more than happy.

Apart from the constant hunger, life under occupation had become bearable, and the restrictions that had once felt so constricting had become commonplace. Queues for the meagre rations, showing papers at checkpoints, moving aside on pavements for Germans to pass; all were accepted and endured. Sitting in cafés where German was spoken as commonly as French no longer made her stomach clench with fear.

All that changed on a cold November evening.

Sleet had made the pavements treacherous and Colette had stayed inside for the whole day, feeling at odds with herself. Sébastien was working and Fleur had left to do something or other. The ringing of the bell from below came unexpectedly and Colette tensed. Someone was at the door to the shop. No one calling unexpectedly at this hour could be bringing good news. She heaved herself out of the chair and answered the door.

Sébastien stood there, a grim expression on his face. She smiled but his face remained marble.

‘Is Laurent here? I need his help.’

‘No, and Fleur is out, but not with him I don’t think.’ She clutched her belly, feeling a kick as the baby responded to her panic. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened to Fleur?’

He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his sleeve, smearing water across the lenses. ‘Not Fleur. They want me, Colette.’

She noticed a suitcase at his feet. Her stomach plummeted.

‘Who?’

‘The STO. I’ve been selected.’

TheService du Travail Obligatoire. French men selected by lottery to be sent to Germany to work in labour camps for the war effort. It was relatively new and deeply unpopular, for obvious reasons.

Colette sank against the doorframe, the strength leaving her. Sébastien swept her into his arms. She clung to him, trembling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you. Are you alright? Do you want anything to drink? I could do with something myself.’

He led her upstairs and helped her to sit on the sofa, then walked to the kitchen, poured a neat brandy for himself and diluted one with water for Colette. He drank it in one.

‘When are you going?’

Sébastien replaced his glasses. His eyes glinted. ‘I’m not. I’ll go to hell before I do anything to help the German war effort. I’m leaving Paris. Laurent has contacts. So do I, but I need help from the network. I’ll go into the countryside. Up north, down south, I don’t really care. I’m going to join theMaquisand fight.’

‘Today?’ Colette shook her head in horror.

‘No. Tomorrow or the day after. As soon as I can make arrangements. I brought this suitcase here now while no one suspects me. Can I leave it to collect when I’m ready to go? I have been given four days to get my affairs in order before I need to report to the railway station. I’m going to spend the next couple of days doing normal activities so they won’t suspect I plan to run.’

He sounded so determined. So calm. It was inconceivable to Colette.

‘If they catch you, I don’t know what they will do to you.’

He shrugged. ‘Probably nothing worse than what they will do if they send me to Germany. I can’t imagine the work camps are particularly nice places to be.’ He took his glass back to the kitchen. ‘I have to go.’

A fist squeezed Colette’s heart. Her imagination ran wild, and she pictured Nazis round every corner waiting to seize him and carry him off before he had the chance to put his plan into action. Just the idea made her want to cling onto him and stop him leaving the building.

‘Fleur said she would be back soon. Can’t you stay a little longer?’

‘I can’t. I’m supposed to be working. If I don’t show up someone might get suspicious, as I said. I have a number for Laurent so I’ll try that, but will you tell Fleur please?’

‘Of course.’ Colette felt tears rising. Of course she would tell Fleur. She would need someone to share her grief and worry with. She wrapped her arms around him. ‘Don’t go without saying goodbye to me,’ she said, hugging him tightly.

He kissed her cheek. ‘I won’t. I promise that you will be safe here. Fleur will look after you.’

He thought she was worried about her own safety or welfare. How come he did not realise that it was concern for him that brought the tears to her eyes?

She only realised after he had left that it was because she had never told him. She hadn’t realised how important he was until the threat of losing him became real.

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