“What I want you to write about is the Occupation and the way some French children were affected. It does not compare in any way to the unforgivable treatment of the Jewish people. But it is important to share, and I thank you for helping me find my voice. My happy times do not have a place in this story.”
Nora nodded and picked up her tea. She and Marie-Louise looked at each other with understanding.
The air between them held the weight of memories—unspoken ones—that didn’t need describing anymore.
Their teacups clinked softly on the saucers as the ladies set them down.
Nora shifted her gaze to the window. Outside, a breeze moved through the garden, rattling the late roses against the windowpane and rustling the dried ivy that clung to the stone walls.
Closing her eyes, as if taking herself back to the school set in the rural countryside of Derbyshire, Marie-Louise drew on her memory to describe the location. “It was a half-day’s train ride northwest of London and not far from Manchester. I remember seeing much devastation in Manchester as we took a bus to the school. I worried about where we were going.”
Nora nodded, her mind going along with the story. “How could anyone, let alone a child, fathom how one area could be devastated beyond belief while others nearby remained almost untouched? Such starkly contrasting faces of war.”
Marie-Louise met Nora’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, Nora saw in her eyes confusion, hurt, and fear that mirrored the woman’s younger soul. The glimpse vanished quickly but startled Nora. It had taken her back over eighty years in an instant.
Marie-Louise suddenly sat up straighter. “The further we traveled from the city, the scenery was magical. Somehow it was as if there had never been a war. It was so green, and there were beautiful rolling hillsides, open meadows, and ancient forests. It all seemed so untouched, and when we reached our destination, the main manor house looked like a king’s castle.”
“It must have been surreal to find yourself in such a safe and welcoming environment.”
“I recall being unable to say anything. I followed along willingly but can still feel the uncertainty I experienced. I remember being wary of everything for some time. But I had the dearest roommate who helped me more than anything. We remained the best of friends until she passed away a few years ago.”
Marie-Louise spoke of her school days and learning English, and how her mother visited twice during the school year. The first summer she went home to Paris, but after that she remained in England with her roommate’s family and three years later went on to university. The French students were often invited to ceremonies marking important dates of the war.
Her eyes sparkled as she described the British army major with whom she fell in love. “He was much older than I, but after my experience during the Occupation, I had a maturity beyond my years.”
She paused for a moment, and her voice took on a soft and wistful tone. “I can tell you we had a most passionate love affair for two years before we could even imagine someone marrying us. Although we were discreet, of course some people figured it out.”
Nora felt Marie-Louise’s gaze penetrating into her soul as she said, “So now you know how happiness came back into my life. Those were my reckless years in England, my dear, filled with a very different kind of courage and daring compared to those terrible years in Paris. I highly recommend embracing the spirit I discovered. It’s never too late to take a chance on love.”
Nora smiled and felt a bit like a schoolgirl as Marie-Louise continued. “You are in the perfect city for a love affair, my dear. Trust me. It’s part of what makes France the country it is—deeply rooted in seduction.”
Nora tried to sort out how to respond to these lessons on love from a ninety-three-year-old woman. All she knew was that it was all quite moving, undeniably wonderful.
“I was married to my amant, or paramour, as he was called back in the day, for fifty-seven years.” The sweetest smile spread across her face.
“We remained in England for ten years, and I worked as a translator for the government, helping with war documents. Then we moved to Paris and were happy to be back and be part of its rebirth.”
Yvette brought a fresh pot of tea to them and some cookies that made Nora chuckle when she recognized them. They also turned the conversation to something less intimate. “Aha! McVitie’s Digestives! I have a friend at home who always serves those with her tea,” Nora said.
“Bien sûr!” Marie-Louise said. “I learned to call them Hobnobs in England, and they are the quintessential British tea biscuit. Do you know they were first created in 1892 by two British doctors?”
They laughed together, amused at the history such simple biscuits carried with them.
“Who knew?” Nora said.
“Indeed. Add in a fine pot of tea as a delicious accompaniment, and now you know how happiness came back into my life after the most horrifying years of war.”
Nora remained for a while longer. They chatted about the new year arriving in two days and how they would celebrate.
“I know very well I will be sound asleep before the midnight bells ring,” Marie-Louise assured Nora. “But I trust you will celebrate for me.”
“You never know,” Nora replied. “There have been many New Year’s Eves where I, too, have been asleep long before midnight. However, this time, Chloe has a busy night planned, beginning with skating at Le Grands Palais.”
“Ah yes, I have heard of the new use of the beautiful Palais. Do you know it was built for the 1900 World’s Fair? I read about the skating rink being the largest in the world. What fun!”
“I’m looking forward to it, although Olivier’s father will be with us and we never know whether his grumpy personality or his cheery one will show up. I seem to set off the crabby side. Time will tell.”
“Ah Nora, you do make me laugh. I hope to hear about the evening. To confirm, we will meet January first in the afternoon, oui? A good start to another year.”
