Page 26 of Daughters of Paris

The swell of people grew larger as roads converged near what remained ofAeroport Villeneuve-Orlyafter the bombing raid, and the cars ground to a halt. The sky was cloudless, offering no respite from the heat and dust. Practically the only thing that stemmed Colette’s tears was the thought that losing any moisture would be even more uncomfortable.

She stretched her legs, feeling her hips complaining from sitting still too long.

‘I actually envy the walkers a little,’ she groaned.

By now it was past eleven-thirty. It had taken almost the whole morning to drive barely twenty-five kilometres.

‘We will never get out,’ Delphine said wearily. She rolled her shoulders as she gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Ungloved, her knuckles were white and her hands like talons.

‘Yes, we will,’ Colette assured her. ‘Once we get onto the route national it will be easier. It is always slow when the traffic meets.’

She glanced back in the mirror and caught Fleur’s eye. Fleur nodded, though there was uncertainty in her gaze. Oddly, it reassured Colette to see Fleur was worried too. Knowing she was not overreacting in her own fear was good.

As if to prove her point, the traffic then began to move again. Colette sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, only to be caught unawares when Delphine stamped on the break with a loud cry of alarm, causing cases and passengers to be flung around.

‘She came from nowhere!’

A small girl stood in front of the car, eyes screwed tightly closed and mouth open in a wail. A loop of string hung down from her left wrist.

‘Véronique!’ A little way along the pavement, a woman screamed. She dropped the cases she was carrying in each hand and began to run towards the car, pushing through the crowd.

Colette got out of the car and held the child gently by the wrist until the mother arrived, then handed the child into the mother’s arms. The other end of the string dangled from the woman’s wrist, the end frayed where it had broken.

‘She isn’t hurt. My mother stopped in time.’

The mother clutched the girl tightly and stroked her hair. She looked at Colette with imploring eyes. ‘Will you take her with you?’

‘Me?’ Colette exclaimed. ‘But I don’t know you.’

The mother’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You have a car. I cannot go fast enough. We have been on the road since half past five this morning and she can’t walk much further. I just want her to be safe. I can pay you.’

Colette choked out a breath. She had given up her own baby willingly – eagerly, even – and felt nothing but relief that the unwanted child was not her problem. Véronique was clearly adored and she couldn’t imagine the desperation it took to give a beloved daughter to a complete stranger. Someone, somewhere in Britain, was caring for the child Colette had so easily discarded. For the first time since returning to France, she felt shame for what she had done.

She glanced at Delphine who mouthed ‘absolutely not’, her face thunderous as she gestured around the inside of the car. Every space was taken up with her and Delphine’s belongings. Shame flooded her. She leaned into the car.

‘Can’t we take her?’ she implored Delphine. ‘We could leave some of these things. The girl could sit on my knee.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not throwing away my clothes. The child would need to bring belongings and they would take space,’ Delphine snapped. ‘Besides, how would we ever know where to find her mother when we stop? Get back in the car now and stop being so foolish.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Colette said. She couldn’t meet the mother’s eye. ‘We have no room and I don’t know how to look after children. On foot you may get further than we do anyway.’

She dug her hand into her purse and pulled out a handful of francs. ‘Please, take this. Buy some chocolate for Véronique.’

She pushed it into the woman’s hand and climbed into the car. The traffic in front had moved and now the vehicles behind were honking horns and shouting for them to move.

‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered again.

She watched in the mirror as the car pulled away down the long avenue. The woman and child receded into the distance, trudging slowly hand in hand.

‘Giving her money was kind,’ Fleur said.

Colette squeezed her fists. The mother had been neatly dressed but her clothes looked well-washed and mended. They weren’t rich and she could have spared more.

‘It was very little. Less than nothing.’

‘Maybe it will buy them passage in a car with more space. Both of them together. I can’t believe she wanted to give her daughter to complete strangers,’ Fleur murmured. ‘How could any mother bear it?’

‘Don’t judge her. If it was the best thing for the child, how could she not?’ Colette snapped.