Page 56 of Daughters of Paris

‘No one knows. Fleur and I discovered it and played here for years. No one will discover you, and as the weather is getting warmer you can sleep here for as long as you like. Please say you will.’

‘Of course I will. This is wonderful, thank you.’ He lowered his knapsack to the ground.

‘I will bring you food and some blankets. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

Colette went to the kitchen and looked around. Food was so scarce now that there was very little that would not be missed. Four eggs sat in a bowl on the window ledge to keep cool. The precious eggs Fleur had been saving to make anomelette aux herbes. Michal could have one. Colette would pretend she had dropped the egg and go without her share of omelette. She set one to boil, along with a pot of the horrible tasting chicory that they used instead of coffee, while she raided the linen cupboard for blankets. She wrapped the hot egg in a napkin, cut a slice of bread and poured the coffee into a flask. As she was passing the dining room another thought occurred to her and she went stealthily to the drinks cabinet. There was a small bottle of cassis that had grown dusty since Delphine had grown bored of using it in cocktails three or four years previously. No one would miss it.

Michal was standing in the furthest corner of the Secret Garden. His frame was tense, and he glanced past Colette to the entrance when she squeezed through.

‘It’s just me.’

She thought of how she grew cold and clammy whenever she passed a patrol or saw the black Citroens belonging to theAbwehror Gestapo. Michal’s fear must be ten times that. She felt nervous enough just helping him, though a little proud at doing some good for once.

‘Whenever I come, I’ll whistleDame Tartineso you know it is me.’

He accepted her offerings with quiet thanks. She had expected him to devour the food immediately but instead he carefully peeled the egg and broke it into small pieces, picking up one at a time and chewing it slowly. Colette felt a sense of shame. Although she had a constant uncomfortable feeling of never being fully satiated, she was far from starving, and it was an inconvenience she had learned to endure. Michal had once been sturdy but was now emaciated. There were days when she could go without her breakfast to share with him instead.

‘Where is your family?’ she asked.

Michal swallowed the piece of bread he was chewing. ‘I do not know. When the city fell, we tried to leave. My mother and uncle found spaces on a train, but I did not. I have not seen or heard from them since. I was staying in their home until a neighbour told me Jews were being hunted. I did not want to go to Germany so I left. I have not been back since.’

He spoke in such a matter-of-fact way that Colette’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away, not wanting him to see her pitying him.

The sky had grown dull while they were talking and nights were still chilly once the sun dropped. Colette left Michal making a bed with the blankets, went to her room and wept.

For him. For the names in the bookshop ledger. For the widow at theépicerie. For the child she had encountered on the road leaving the city.

She had said Fleur needed to grow hard, and had been so proud of letting nothing affect her, but today it was beyond her.

Fleur received the news of the smashed egg with dismay and Colette felt like weeping again.

‘I’m truly sorry. I was going to start preparing the omelette and it just slipped when I tried to crack it.’

Fleur sighed kindly. ‘It doesn’t matter. It was kind of you to try and help.’

She cracked the remaining eggs, deftly parting the shell into two with her thumbs, and separating the yolks and whites into two bowls. She began to whisk the whites into frothy peaks. She was not as good a cook as her aunt had been, but as food was becoming scarcer and more expensive it barely seemed to matter if the pastry was too thick or the sauces too thin as long as it was edible.

Colette watched Fleur move around the kitchen, fascinated and impressed. Fleur had learned things Colette didn’t have the first idea about. She was almost as useless as Delphine. Now she had a secret mouth to feed she would need to be in the kitchen more.

‘I want to learn how to cook. Could you show me what to do so I can be useful?’ she asked.

‘Are you sure?’ Fleur tilted her head on one side, staring at Colette as if she had said she wanted to learn how to perform the can-can naked atop theArc de Triomphe.

‘Yes. I should learn how to wash clothes and clean the house too.’

Fleur gave her an odd look. ‘Did you get a knock on the head today?’

‘No.’ Colette pouted, then collected herself. It was a fair question. She debated rapidly whether to tell Fleur about Michal, but the more people knew, the riskier it became ‘I felt good about untangling the accounts today. It made me realise how much more I could do.’

Fleur looked surprised but still she handed the whisk over. ‘Omelette is easy. Get that as fluffy as you can.’

While Colette whisked, Fleur chopped tarragon and mixed it with the yolks and a grind of pepper and salt. She heated the omelette pan with a little butter, held her hand over it, and when it was hot enough, stirred the yolks into the whites and tipped the mixture into the pan. Colette inhaled longingly as the mixture fluffed up and began to turn golden at the edges, spreading the sweet scent of aniseed throughout the kitchen. Her stomach growled and she hugged herself to stop it. Fleur took four plates from the rack in the cupboard and put them on the counter.

‘You don’t need four,’ Colette said, trying to hide the regret in her voice. ‘I broke my egg. You three eat it.’

Fleur flipped the omelette over to cook the top. ‘Don’t be silly. It was an accident. You need to eat.’

‘But that isn’t fair on the rest of you,’ Colette protested. ‘You’ll go hungry because of my clumsiness. I’ll be fine with some bread.’

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