Page 72 of Daughters of Paris

At the appointed time they bid farewell to Michal. He carried his knapsack and a small case containing the few belongings he had asked Colette to get from hisloge. His eyes were wary as they darted either way down the boulevard, but he looked healthier and Colette felt the budding of hope in her breast. He had a better chance of survival now than when she had met him.

‘Thank you. I have no words for what you have done.’

‘Please take care,’ Fleur said. She gave him a parcel wrapped in brown paper; a sort ofpain perdushe had made using stale breadcrumbs and a little dried fruit, which he stowed in his knapsack.

Seeing the cake reminded Colette that they no longer had to share rations. It was hard not to feel a twinge of relief, even if that relief was rapidly followed by embarrassment at her greediness.

‘I hope when this is all over we will meet again, Michal.’

She held out her hand. Michal shook it.

‘I hope so too.’

He walked purposefully away without looking back, keeping close to the line of buildings.

‘We did something good,’ Colette murmured.

‘Yes, we did.’ Fleur looked round. Her eyes bore a determined light. ‘And there is more to be done.’

She went back inside. Colette remained in the street alone, watching the figure growing smaller and Fleur’s words leaving her with a sense of foreboding.

September 1941

As autumn arrived, Colette started to believe Sébastien had forgotten his promise to put Fleur in contact with members of the escape network. He had also made no further mention of taking her dancing until he strolled into the bookshop one morning when Fleur was out delivering a parcel to a customer.

‘Ah, the working woman! Be ready at eight on Saturday, I’m taking you dancing.’

‘Oh, are you?’ She folded her arms and met his eyes. ‘How do you know I’m not already going out?’

He tilted her chin up with a fingertip and held her gaze. ‘Because the only place you go is to that damned hotel and a patriotic Frenchwoman would cancel any plans involving Germans to spend time with me. So you’ll be ready, yes?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

He arrived at the front door exactly on the clock-chime of eight. When Colette opened it hurriedly so her parents did not intercept Sébastien, he handed her a thick, dog-eared envelope.

‘Give this to Fleur, please.’

‘Is that a name?’

‘An address. Tomorrow, you can bring her the name. I thought it best to keep them separate.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Colette tipped her head on one side.

‘Tomorrow. Let’s not pretend we will be separating at the end of the evening,’ Sébastien whispered as he helped Colette into her coat. His matter-of-fact attitude was arousing in itself, even without the way his fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, causing the small hairs to rise.

‘Of course not,’ Colette said. She ran upstairs and gave the envelope to Fleur who was lying on her bed reading.

‘Sébastien sent this for you,’ she said.

‘He’s here?’ She put her book down and her face lit up.

‘He’s taking me dancing,’ Colette said.

Fleur’s smile became brittle.

Colette’s stomach began to curl in on itself. She told herself Fleur was put out at not being invited, but couldn’t really deny what the expression meant. Fleur had never said she wanted Sébastien, but she had never said she didn’t. It had just suited Colette to tell herself the path was clear but faced with clear evidence, Colette was flooded with regret.

‘Have fun,’ Fleur said quietly.

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