Page 4 of Daughters of Paris

‘I would like to work in a bookshop,’ Fleur said shyly. She hadn’t ever admitted this to anyone besides Colette but this moment of peace and affection between her and her aunt emboldened her.

‘I didn’t realise. Your father wanted to be a writer,’TanteAgnes said with a smile. ‘I think if my brother is looking down from Heaven, he would like that for you too.’

Fleur smiled back. According toTanteAgnes, people in Heaven were so busy singing praises to God and Mary and Jesus all day and night that she doubted her father would have the time spare to notice what Fleur was doing. It sounded like very hard work being there.

‘Or perhaps I could work in a library. Maybe I could even attend the university one day.’

TanteAgnes frowned. ‘I don’t think we will have the money for that. But if you turn your mind to behaving well and charm Madame and Monsieur Nadon, who knows. They may be kind enough to let you join in Colette’s lessons a little longer.’

Fleur frowned. ‘I hate that everything I do must depend on whether Madame will be charitable. I’m much better at my lessons than Colette is.’

‘I know,mon trésor. But that is how the world is. Now, will you come and help me fold the laundry?’

As Fleur followed her aunt outside she kept the thought to herself that the world wasn’t fair. Something needed to change, and hopefully within her lifetime it would.

Colette and Fleur did not manage to speak again until the evening. One of Fleur’s chores was to close all the windows and water the vases of flowers when the air had cooled. As she passed by Colette’s bedroom the door opened and Colette gave a low whistle. Fleur glanced around and seeing that the corridor was empty she slipped inside.

‘I have something for you. To say sorry for you getting into trouble.’ Colette opened her hand to reveal a scallop shell. On the smooth underside she had painted two letter ‘S’ side by side.

‘ForSœurs Secrètes. Secret Sisters. This can be our special sign.’

Fleur grinned. ‘I like it. SS. That will never mean anything to anyone but us. We should paint it on the wall and door in the Secret Garden. After our lessons tomorrow why don’t you try to take some paint from the box?’

Colette’s face dropped. The thought of lessons reminded her of the conversation with her mother. ‘Mèretalked about sending me to a school somewhere. I told her I don’t want to go. I think she was persuaded not to, at least for a few more years.’

This did not elicit the response she expected.

‘You’re lucky. I’d love to go in your place,’ Fleur answered.

Colette hugged her. ‘You are so strange like that, but I don’t care. You’re my friend and nothing is ever going to change that.’

Chapter Two

Despite their best efforts, Colette and Fleur’s paths diverged. When Edith returned to England, they were enrolled in different schools and Delphine made good on her promise of introducing Colette into society. No amount of pleading on Colette’s part secured an invitation for Fleur when young ladies in a festival of coloured skirts and blouses, and handsome boys in well-cut suits, called to spend time in Madame Nadon’s salon.

Each time there was a party, Colette devotedly saved Fleur some of the patisseries and fresh orange juice and they shared them in the garden or Colette’s bedroom. Colette reported everything that happened at the parties, until Fleur burst into tears one evening and asked her to stop.

‘What’s wrong?’ Colette put down the macaron she was eating and stared at Fleur in distress.

Fleur swallowed a sniff. She looked down at her plain, green serge dress, then stroked the edge of Colette’s fringed chiffon skirt.

‘I love you for saving me the cakes, but I don’t want to hear any more. I haven’t seen the films you have, and I don’t know the dances. I’m not part of that world and I’ll never be part of it.’

‘Oh.’ Colette flushed with embarrassment. Of course it must hurt Fleur to hear about everything she was excluded from. ‘I thought you wanted to know what I was doing. I’ll stop being so thoughtless. I’m sorry.’

Fleur hugged her. ‘Don’t be sorry. I love you for trying to include me. Whatever happens, I’ll always appreciate how you tried. We’ll meet in the Secret Garden when we can.’

Colette obeyed Fleur’s wishes until a warm May evening in 1938 when a party was being held on the terrace at the back of the house.

This was hard for Fleur to stomach. Delphine’s afternoon gatherings in the salon were private, and Fleur could ignore them, but the whole garden was in use, and she couldn’t pretend nothing was happening. Through the open window, Fleur could hear voices raised in laughter and conversation over the gramophone music. The sweet scent of jasmine blossoms filled the air, and she would have liked to go and sit on the patio with a book, but that was out of the question tonight.

She passed by Colette’s door with a pile of freshly ironed shirts and was surprised when it opened and Colette stepped out.

‘Come and dance,’ she entreated, catching Fleur by the waist.

‘I’m a little busy.’ Fleur held the shirts out as evidence, but Colette took them from her and put them on a stool outside her father’s bedroom.

‘Don’t you want to come and see what is happening?’

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