Page 18 of Daughters of Paris

‘If they tell you anything, will you tell me?’ Colette asked. ‘I don’t think mine will know anything.’

‘Of course. I’ll tell you everything I find out,’ Fleur said. ‘Try not to worry.’

She patted Colette’s shoulder but then she took her hand hastily away. The feeling of closeness ended, but for a fleeting moment it had felt like they were children again, with nothing to worry about beyond getting caught stealing strawberries or swapping exercise books. Colette wished she had confided in Fleur as to why she was going to England. Perhaps then they might have remained closer.

That was behind them now, however, and the future, with whatever it might hold, was more of a concern.

Chapter Six

April 1940

‘Ithink we should start hiding things,’ Colette said as she swept briskly into the kitchen one afternoon and threw her gas mask down onto the table.

Fleur looked up from her baking. ‘What sort of things?’

‘Jewellery. The best knives. Anything the Germans might steal.’

Fleur’s throat tightened. It startled her to see Colette so anxious. War had been declared, but war as Fleur imagined it did not arrive. She had expected bombs and armies, but nothing had happened yet. People had started referring to the situation as thedrôle de guerre, saying the inaction was a joke.

‘Has something finally happened? Have the German army moved against France?’

Colette dropped onto the comfy chair and kicked out her legs. She removed her green silk turban and began twisting her fringe between her fingers.

‘No, but I was lunching with Josette. Her friend Angelique’s cousin was visiting Salzburg when Germany occupied Austria. She said the streets were full of people panicking, and theft. I don’t want that to happen here.’

Fleur put down the rolling pin and stared at Colette. The Anschluss had come up in the café and the level of support it allegedly had was hotly debated. ‘I thought Austria welcomed them?’

‘Not everyone. Besides, once they were there, who would admit they weren’t welcome?’ Colette gestured to the gas mask case she had dropped beside the chair. ‘I hate having to carry this. If the government are confident then why are we being given these horrid things?’

They both regarded the hideous grey contraption with goggles and tubes.

Colette wrinkled her nose. ‘They are so ugly.’

‘I don’t think anyone designed them with fashion in mind,’ Fleur said. She had felt like she was going to suffocate when she had tried hers on and was genuinely unsure if she could endure wearing it for more than a few minutes. If Colette’s only objection was the offence against fashion, she was lucky. ‘You could always go back and ask if they come in turquoise.’

Colette made a valiant effort to smile. ‘Not with my colouring. Possibly peach.’

She appeared in the kitchen two days later with a cover for the gas mask case made from an old skirt embroidered with pale yellow fleur-de-lis. She had added decorations in the form of silver buckles at each corner.

‘Very clever, Mademoiselle Colette,’ Agnes said.

Colette preened, looking like a child showing off a first attempt at drawing.

‘I didn’t think you were being serious,’ Fleur said.

‘Well I was. I could make one for you both too,’ Colette said. ‘Mèrehas asked for one.’

‘Thank you, that is very kind. We would both love one,’ Agnes said before Fleur could speak. She caught Fleur’s eye and Fleur, long familiar with her aunt’s stern expression, agreed. When Colette left, Agnes turned to her.

‘You were about to turn down her offer of a case cover, weren’t you?’

Fleur shrugged. ‘I hardly think it is the most important thing she could be doing. If she wants to fill her days she could come and iron Louis’ shirts.’

‘It is important to her,’ Agnes answered. ‘She isn’t like you or me. She hasn’t been brought up to work so doing that took initiative and her offer is generous. You would have been rude to pour scorn on her efforts.’

Fleur sat back in the comfy chair with a sigh, an unpleasant flicker of shame in her belly.

A week later, when she was gifted with a mask bag of her own, in red satin trimmed with blue piping, she accepted it with a smile, praising the careful handiwork, then beckoned Colette into the small bedroom.

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