Page 109 of Daughters of Paris

‘You,Fräulein, will come with me.’ Herr Gersdorf pointed at Fleur then looked at Colette and his eyes flickered uncertainly. ‘You will wait here. Lock the door and give me the key. No one will leave until I permit it.’

Fleur did as commanded. Colette sat on the chair, gripping the edge of the table while Fleur, Gersdorf, and one soldier went upstairs. The youngest soldier remained. A boy barely out of his teens. Colette avoided his eyes. She listened to the creaks of floorboards from above, heard the closing of doors, the scraping of furniture being moved. It was agonising. They were upstairs for half an hour. Far longer than Colette would have thought possible. All the time, the soldier stood motionless by the door. Finally, they returned downstairs. Herr Gersdorf had an irritated expression. Presumably he had hoped to discover Sébastien hiding in a wardrobe.

‘Thank you for your cooperation. You may unlock the door. Needless to say, if you hear from Monsieur Guyon you will let me know immediately.’

‘And please will you tell me if you find him?’ Colette replied.

He eyed her coldly. ‘We have greater concerns than finding one absent and absentee father. If he contacts you, we expect you to tell us. There is no obligation on us to do the same. Good day,Fräuleins.’

He snapped his heels sharply and walked out of the door, followed by the soldiers. Fleur held the door handle. When the sound of boots died away, she closed the door again and locked it. She turned to Colette.

‘I think perhaps you should be in the movies after all!’

Colette burst into tears. Fleur rushed to hug her.

‘Oh, my dear, you were wonderful. I know that must have been horrible for you. There’s no need to cry. They’ve gone and I don’t think they’ll be back.’

Colette blew her nose on her handkerchief. ‘I’m not crying because it was horrible, though it was. I’m crying because I’m happy. I don’t know where Sébastien is, but the Germans didn’t intercept him. Wherever he is, he is beyond their reach. It gave me hope.’

She put her hand on her belly. The baby shifted and she felt a lump roll over again. Elbow? Knee? She had no idea.

‘He or she will get to meet itspapaone day, I’m sure of it.’

Chapter Thirty

Colette gave birth at twenty-seven minutes past three on New Year’s Eve 1942. In the final weeks she had felt the pregnancy would never come to an end. It was the second labour she had endured, but the first child she had held. A girl. She cradled the tiny scrap against her. Naked and slippery, it felt as if she may drop the child at any time. So precarious. So precious.

The midwife had packed up and left quickly, moving on to another job.

‘Shall I take her and wash her?’ Fleur asked, reaching her hands out gingerly. ‘You’re getting covered in blood and…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And whatever all that other stuff is.’

‘I don’t care,’ Colette murmured. Already the baby was nuzzling against her breast and she was reluctant to surrender her. ‘Can you put a blanket over us both? I like feeling her against me. I think she is hungry.’

Fleur reached for the blanket. ‘Oh, of course she is.’

Colette guided the small mouth to her left nipple and the baby latched on immediately. Colette’s breasts swelled and spasmed uncomfortably, but after a few pulls from the tiny mouth she felt them ease. This was nothing like the agony she had felt after the first birth, when she had bound her breasts to force the milk to dry up. She wondered whose milk the first child had drunk and a twinge of guilt shot through her. She rested back against the pillows and closed her eyes. The small mouth pulled determinedly at her nipple.

‘You have as powerful a suck as yourpapa,’ she murmured sleepily.

‘Colette, that’s disgusting!’ Fleur exclaimed.

‘No it isn’t. It’s natural and wonderful.’ Colette opened her eyes and slid a glance at Fleur. ‘Haven’t you gone to bed with Laurent yet?’

‘Of course not,’ Fleur replied. She blushed bright red.

‘Well, you should. But be more sensible and careful than Sébastien and I were, unless of course you want one of these.’ She stroked the back of the baby’s head then, without warning, burst into tears.

Fleur dropped to her side. ‘What’s wrong? Are you in pain?’

‘No. I mean yes, it’s very uncomfortable down there right now, but that will go. I just … I miss him. I never thought I would miss him so much. And now I’ve got his daughter in my arms and she might be all I ever have of him again. How could I ever have considered giving her up, even for a second?’ She bit her lip, hard enough that she tasted blood. ‘How could I have given up her sibling? I just wanted to be rid of the problem. I am a monster.’

She began to sob in earnest. Fleur patted her shoulder. ‘Of course you’re not. You did the right thing at the time. You were too young to be a mother and the Lord knows you would have resented every minute of it. Sébastien will come back to you, I’m sure of it. And you will be waiting for him with his daughter. Let me fetch you a cup of milk.’

She walked away and returned with a glass, as well as a piece of buttered bread. Colette finished them in a flash. Since her pains began at almost eight in the morning she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. She switched the baby to the other breast.

‘You do like him, don’t you?’ she murmured. She was growing sleepy. Physical exhaustion was being supplanted by mental tiredness.

‘Laurent? Yes, I do.’ Fleur sat on the end of the bed. ‘It’s not fair, really. All the time I’ve been alive, I’ve never met anyone who has obsessed me so much. I don’t think he even knows I exist other than as a courier. I might as well be a carrier pigeon as a woman.’

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