Page 82 of Daughters of Paris

‘If you had mentioned discretion earlier it would have been helpful. I didn’t know there was anything inside the newspaper to be discreet about.’

She refilled her water beaker and slipped the note into her purse. Fortunately, at that moment Sébastien arrived. He was in good humour and whistling. He walked up to Fleur and kissed her cheek then sat beside Colette and kissed her thoroughly on the lips.

‘What a shame you are here, Sébastien,’ Laurent said, shaking his hand across the table. ‘I was hoping to keep these two beauties to myself. Well, now you are here, I suppose we should all have a drink. FourWeissbier, please,’ he called to the waiter.

‘It’s German,’ he explained, pulling out a chair and sitting beside Fleur. ‘One of the things the bastards actually do quite well.’

Four tall glasses arrived, containing a pale liquid with bubbles and a small head of white foam.

‘Salut!’ Laurent raised his glass and gestured to the others to do likewise. They all drank. It was quite unlike anything Fleur had ever tasted. Light and fizzy, but with a fruitiness that was quite delightful. She put the glass down hurriedly and looked at it suspiciously.

‘Don’t feel guilty for enjoying it, Fleur.’

Laurent turned his head to the person sitting at the next table. A handsome young man wearing an impeccable uniform. What he did next was almost beyond Fleur’s comprehension. He addressed the man rapidly in German. Fleur gaped in astonishment as the man answered and Laurent laughed. He turned back to the table. Fleur dropped her eyes. Across the table she could see Colette frowning.

‘Don’t look at me as if I am some sort of traitor. I drink here on a regular basis and as they know me, the regular patrons trust me. I find it useful to be able to speak to them in their language. Emil is expecting to become a father any time in the next fortnight.’

‘You must have learned it very quickly,’ Colette said, in an accusatory tone that left Fleur quite breathless at the hypocrisy. She was no one to judge anyone’s relationship with the invaders.

‘I’ve been able to speak a little for years. I visited the Black Forest as a child and again as a youth. It was a beautiful area. I wish my opportunity to practise it had not come under such dark circumstances. It is tragic what happened to the country. I wonder sometimes if any of these men and women regret putting their trust in the Chancellor and wished they had heeded the warnings.’

Laurent sounded genuinely heartbroken. Fleur put her hand on his forearm. He blinked and shook his head, and his smile returned.

‘Why don’t you ask your friend?’ Colette said.

‘Even if he did, do you think he would admit that to anyone?’ Laurent said. ‘It was only a thought. As you see, Sébastien and I share a love of philosophising.’

‘But not beer.’ Sébastien laughed. ‘I can drink it but give me a good wine or Breton cider any day.’

‘I prefer champagne,’ Colette added, pushing the glass away.

‘Fleur?’ Laurent looked at her, head on one side.

Under his scrutiny she felt self-conscious. ‘More than anything, I would like a cup of proper coffee. With cream.’

‘We have a winner,’ Sébastien declared, clapping.

The atmosphere had been threatening to grow dark, but now the tension dissolved. For a while the conversation kept to inconsequential matters while the men emptied their glasses and Fleur sipped her beer. A whole glass would be too much and she was slightly worried that she would belch inadvertently. Once they had finished, Laurent suggested they take a walk along the banks of the Seine. It seemed natural to split into couples and Fleur found herself walking side by side with Laurent. He was much taller than she was and although she was able to loop her arm through his, she was conscious that he was stooping slightly towards her. It was touchingly considerate.

‘Have you really been to Germany?’ she asked.

‘Of course. I don’t lie. I’ve been to Spain too.’

‘Have you been to England?’

He raised his brows. ‘Yes. I’ve been to Britain.’

‘One day you must tell me about it,’ Fleur said. ‘Colette went for nearly a year but I haven’t had the opportunity, and I would love to.’

‘About Colette: can we trust her?’ Laurent asked. He slowed as they came to the Pont Marie leading onto the Ile St Louis. Colette and Sébastien were walking ahead, browsing in thebouquinistesstalls for books.

‘Yes, I believe so.’ Fleur didn’t hesitate before answering, if only because Colette was as implicated in the secrets they shared as Fleur. ‘She’s my oldest friend. My closest friend. We’ve done things together since childhood and some of the things we have done since the Occupation have brought us closer than sisters.’

She sighed dreamily, reminiscing. ‘We used to pretend we were sisters when we were children. We don’t have any secrets.’

‘It will be necessary for you to keep some from her,’ Laurent cautioned. ‘She knows what you are becoming a part of. That is regrettable, but cannot be helped. However, she must not know the specifics of what you do. That will be safer for her and for all of us.’

‘What will I be doing?’ Fleur had suppressed the question for long enough and couldn’t wait any longer.

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