“I had to come and tell you before you came to our place. Pierre does recall almost bumping into you at the elevator on Friday evening.” She snorted. “He was quite indignant that you were dressed to the nines to go out with a… What did he say… ‘Un homme beaucoup plus jeune,’ a much younger man. Emphasis on the ‘much.’”
“Oh my God,” Nora said, shocked.“Why would he care?”
Chloe shook her head. “Who knows? But it did seem to affect him. Maybe it reminded him of Angelique leaving him for a much younger man. Dunno. Oli agreed it could be a factor, in a bizarre way.”
Nora looked perplexed. “Well, I hope it won’t make things uncomfortable this evening. I don’t know what to say…”
“Just ignore it. I thought it was hilarious and wanted you to know in case he acts weirdly.” She sighed loudly. “Adults!”
As an afterthought she added, “At least he thought you looked gorgeous. He said you were ‘sur son trente et un,’ which is a big compliment. Crazy, huh?”
“Well, that’s something positive, I guess. Probably just a slip of the tongue on his part. I’ll wait a few minutes before I come over,” Nora said. She gave Chloe the baguette she had picked up on her walk.
Chloe told Nora there was a surprise addition to the dinner, which she thought would create a welcome diversion. A family friend of Olivier’s had called on them, as she’d heard Pierre was in town.
“I’ve met her several times, and she’s very nice. You’ll like her. I insisted Oli invite her to join us.”
When Nora arrived, the young woman, named Celeste, was already there. She looked to be in her early thirties, with highlights in her brown hair and a friendly, sporty appearance.
Her parents were great friends with Pierre, and she had known Olivier since childhood. She explained she taught school but was also an artist, and Nora liked her instantly. There was much laughter as the others reminisced about family experiences, and the mood remained light.
Celeste was interested in writing and spoke English well. With a writer in the group, the conversation turned to that topic and Celeste asked many questions in English so Nora could give her long answers. Nora was happy she had something to contribute to the evening without having to converse with Pierre, who avoided looking at her except to frown if she said too much in English.
Again, Nora thought Pierre spoke more in French on purpose, to annoy her. She knew his first wife had studied in England and raised Olivier to speak both languages. Nora was aware Pierre spoke English very well … and with a delicious French accent.
She was reminded all evening of how a dog can be an instant socializer, as Atticus made the rounds with everyone and always brought smiles. She was happy to see Pierre was a dog-lover, so he couldn’t be all bad.
ChapterNineteen
Nora lingered in bed,watching the sunrise. The first light slipped in quietly. The night softened from inky black to lavender before a pale-gold hue spread eastward and the morning came alive. Smoke from the narrow chimneys in Montmartre rose straight up, signaling a cold day. Good conditions for writing.
It was going to be a difficult day of transcription, but it had to be done while the feelings were still raw.
Nora dressed quickly in her down jacket, wrapped a long, green scarf several times around her neck, and pulled on a woolen toque. Atticus waited patiently while she searched for her gloves and put them on.
“It’s going to be a quick, chilly walk,” she warned him. “You won’t like it any more than I will.” She opened her French app and went out, listening to words about the weather.
She felt badly that Atticus didn’t have a warm coat to wear, but Giselle had told her he refused to move when she put one on him. Nora thought perhaps she could persuade him, but when she tried, he had the same stubborn reaction.
They were back in fifteen minutes, after a quick pause at the park for a doggie pit-stop and a visit to the boulangerie for the usual warm greetings and her pain aux raisins and baguette traditionale.
While Atticus ate his breakfast, Nora made a café au lait and took it to her computer.
She played the recording, beginning where she had left off. Atticus was soon snuggled at her feet, comforting in his quiet, strong way.
Marie-Louise gave a great deal of detailed description of how the streets in her neighborhood in 1941 had changed in just over a year. Many businesses and apartments were shuttered as their occupants had either mysteriously disappeared or been rounded up. Most of the missing people were Jewish and included many of Marie-Louise’s friends.
Sometimes it was French police, who were all under the control of the Nazis, and other times Gestapo who arrived on doorsteps early in the morning, before sunrise. Sometimes they came quietly and other times not. They demanded identity papers and then said the family in question had to go with them to have the documents verified. Marie-Louise’s family learned of the routine from one man who had hid with his brother’s family and hadn’t been discovered.
“As a ten-year-old, I could never understand why being Jewish made our friends so different or terrible from us that they had to be taken away to go to work in Germany. We were told that was what would happen. I worried all the time it would happen to us too. I missed my friends. Especially Rachel.”
Marie-Louise’s descriptions of the streets of her neighborhood were dark and somber. Cafés were full of Germans, for the most part. Few people wanted to share space with them. The heavy footfalls of the black-booted German soldiers who patrolled the streets day and night echoed in her head for years.
Most people who went out did so to line up for hours at the bakery or food markets with ration cards. Marie-Louise continued to attend school.
“I was happy but scared when Maman told me I had a delivery to make. I was a year older and knew it was serious, dangerous even, but I was a brash kid, and I despised the Germans. They made everything awful. It made me feel good to fool them.”
She described how she always mussed her hair and looked disheveled and dirty on purpose. Her school uniform had holes in the skirt and her cardboard-soled shoes were worn. The use of cardboard wasn’t ideal, but it was how it was.
