Page 52 of Daughters of Paris

Fleur snatched the paper from her hand. ‘People need to know this is happening. Another I saw said people should refuse to buy from shops displaying signs saying German is spoken.’

Colette bit her lip. Standing in line daily for food was bad enough and if there were going to be restrictions on which shops were acceptable it would get even worse.

‘It seems like the French are making life worse, not the Germans.’

Fleur scowled. ‘At least the people writing these leaflets are doing something. Imagine what would happen to them if they were caught.’

‘Is it worth the risk?’ Colette asked. ‘It isn’t going to make any difference other than making life harder for ourselves. There are enough Germans buying things. The cabarets won’t shut if the French stop going, for example. What is the point?’

‘They’d sell less champagne if you weren’t there to drink it!’

‘I haven’t been since…’

Their eyes met. It was the closest they had come to acknowledging the events of that night.

‘I just haven’t, and none of them have closed.’

Fleur’s mouth twisted into a grimace. She ripped and twisted the page into spills to light the gas. ‘Boycott your hat if you think it will help.’

She stalked out. Colette followed.

Given the inauspicious start, the morning was more fun than Colette had anticipated. Her ability with numbers proved to be just what was needed. Fleur arranged books and Colette spread the papers and account books out until the whole desk was covered, then started the process of ordering them.

‘I think, though I am not sure, that Monsieur Ramper was selling books on account and never collecting the payment,’ she said incredulously.

Fleur stepped down off the stool. ‘He said he could not bear to let someone who wanted a book leave without one. Most of them paid within a week or two – they have a green tick next to them in the brown leather ledger. I’m just going upstairs to see if I can find something to fill this shelf.’

Colette opened the accounts book and ran her finger down the entries, wondering why he had picked green ink, which barely contrasted with the blue he wrote entries in. As the entries became more recent, there were fewer and fewer ticks, and the entries stopped abruptly two weeks before Fleur had been given ownership of the business.

‘I think if we went to these people and demanded payment the bookshop would suddenly be a lot better off,’ she called to Fleur, though the doorbell partially drowned her out.

‘Collecting payment for goods, what a novel idea.’

Colette raised her head as a prickle ran down her back. Sébastien had come in. He grinned at his feeble jest, and Colette was reminded that the last time she had seen him, that mouth had been pressed against hers.

‘Is Fleur expecting you?’ she asked.

‘She isn’t expecting me. I was hoping to speak with her, but it doesn’t matter. This is the last place I expected to encounter you, Mademoiselle Nadon, but I suppose the clubs aren’t open yet. Are you bored of shopping?’

Colette pouted. ‘There’s no need to be rude. I’m helping Fleur with the accounts.’

‘Really?’ He raised his brows and his grin grew wider.

She walked round the desk and his eyes followed her. She was glad she had worn something sensible but also that the skirt and blouse gave her a shapely silhouette.

‘Does that surprise you?’ she asked, folding her arms beneath her breasts and meeting his eyes. Her pulse jumped. She was seeing him for the first time in daylight and hadn’t expected how very deep blue they would be. Magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses, they were hypnotic.

‘A little,’ Sébastien admitted. He folded his arms too, mirroring her pose, and leaned slightly forward. ‘Does that offend you?’

‘A little,’ she replied. She thought and rubbed her nose. ‘Actually, it depends. If you’re surprised that I’m able to do it then yes, I’m offended because you’re making assumptions. If you’re surprised I’m working at all then I’m not sure I have the right to be offended.’

Sébastien unfolded his arms and gave her a genuine smile. ‘Let’s go with whichever offends you least. So, how are you helping and why? I didn’t realise Fleur was struggling.’

Colette hesitated, then realised that a serious man probably genuinely wanted to hear.

‘I offered to help with the accounts. I’m better with numbers than Fleur is, which is just as well.’

She walked back to the desk and he followed her, standing close. She pointed to the ledger. ‘Look, all these books sold but the bills were never settled, and the debts go back years in some cases. Some of the names crop up five or six times. I think we’ll have to go and demand payment.’

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