Page 74 of Daughters of Paris

Chapter Twenty

‘Have you seen my daughter today?’

Louis’ question caught Fleur unawares. She had barely noticed him sitting behind a newspaper in the corner of the dining room. Her belly lurched. So Colette had stayed out all night with Sébastien, as Fleur had suspected she would. She was sure Louis wouldn’t like that answer any more than she did though.

‘I haven’t,’ she said. ‘Is she not in her bedroom? I know she doesn’t always get up very early.’

‘Perhaps.’ Louis laid down his newspaper on the table. Fleur stared at the upside-down pages. News of battles, news of conflict, news of places in parts of the world she couldn’t even picture. Who knew if any of it were true?

‘You normally don’t see her because you have left for the factory by this time,’ she remarked.

Louis rubbed his fingertips through his hair. It had thinned around the ears. ‘I am finding it hard to summon the willpower today. I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t need to burden you with my troubles.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Fleur poured a cup of coffee from the pot and handed it to him.

‘This does not quite invigorate me as proper beans do, but thank you,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘I worry about Colette. I had hoped she would be married now. Perhaps a mother even, but alas, in these times…’

He left the sentence unfinished and drank his coffee, suppressing the grimace they all gave on tasting the bitter ground acorns and chicory. ‘I do not know how a young lady goes about meeting a young man these days. Do you, my dear?’

‘No.’ Fleur dropped her eyes, knowing one way to do so – through a friend who should have had more sense than to introduce them.

At that point the front door slammed, and the sound of heels tapped across the hallway floor. It could only be Colette. She had gone out in heeled shoes the previous night. Day-to-day shoes were now soled with cork in an effort to make them last longer.

Colette breezed into the dining room.

‘Good morning,Papa! I didn’t expect to see you.’ She swept down on Louis and gave him a kiss on each cheek. She saw Fleur and had the grace to look slightly awkward.

‘Good morning, Fleur. I beat you to the shopping this morning. I have already been out and returned. Look, I have fresh bread and butter! Isn’t that wonderful.’

Louis folded the newspaper. ‘Well done, my dear. Make sure you save me some for dinner tonight. What will we be eating?’

Fleur answered.

‘Vegetable soup, but it is made with chicken bones. I saved them from last night.’

‘Excellent.’ Louis patted his stomach. ‘In this heat it is easier to eat lightly, don’t you agree? I find I have adapted to the change in diet well.’

Fleur nodded. It was true that the hot summer weather that had arrived suddenly meant she did not crave big meals as much. Louis was a large man, however, and had always had a hearty appetite.

‘I will help you clear the breakfast things,’ Colette said. Together they carried the tray to the kitchen.

‘Is there any coffee left?’ Colette asked. ‘I’m going to struggle to stay awake today, I think.’

Fleur filled the sink. ‘Is that because you stayed awake late last night?’ she asked.

Colette turned to the table, avoiding Fleur’s eyes. That was answer enough.

Fleur began to wash the plates. Oddly, now that Colette and Sébastien had clearly spent the night together she felt calmer and less upset than she would have expected. Colette would soon grow bored of Sébastien’s seriousness, or he would grow tired of her flippancy, and the romance would peter out. Once Colette had lost interest, Fleur would still be friends with Sébastien and could offer him a shoulder to cry on.

‘Sébastien said to give you something.’ Colette rummaged inside her blouse and pulled a folded slip of card out of her bra. Fleur raised her brows, the speculation flashing through her mind whether Sébastien had put it there with his own hands. Seeing her expression, Colette smiled faintly.

‘I thought it was safer not to keep it in my bag in case anyone stopped and searched me. I felt like a spy. It is to go with the paper he gave you last night.’ Colette’s fingers tightened on the paper as she held it out. ‘I assume they’re to do with what you asked him.’

‘I assume so,’ Fleur agreed, tugging the card from Colette’s unwilling fingers. On brief inspection it was a torn beermat with a scrawl of handwriting on one side.

‘Will you tell me what it says?’ Colette asked, eying it.

Fleur put it into her pocket. The girls hadn’t talked of Fleur’s plans since the uncomfortable scenes in theJardins des Tuileriesbut Fleur suspected Colette hadn’t changed her opinion. If she didn’t support Fleur, then Fleur didn’t want her involved. It might be petty but this was something for her alone, which Sébastien was helping her to do. She shook her head.

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