Darcie jumped up, eager to see a picture of Nathalie. ‘May I?’ she asked, touching the frame. Odile smiled and nodded. Darcie immediately sought out Nathalie in the black-and-white photograph. She was smiling at the camera, her hair tied up at the sides but the rest loose over her shoulders.
Darcie felt her connection with Nathalie Leroux stronger than ever before now she had a face to the name. Darcie looked at Nathalie’s hands, the same hands that had touched the sketchbook and worked the fabric of the dress all those years ago. The emotion was almost overwhelming and Darcie felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked them away.
Matt joined her. ‘I can see the similarities,’ he commented. ‘Same dark hair and the smile.’ He put his arm around Darcie’s shoulders and gave a quick squeeze as if he instinctively knew how she was feeling.
‘They were happy days,’ mused Odile. ‘I loved Nathalie coming to visit. She was such a good seamstress. Once she made a dress for my doll out of an old shirt of Papa’s. She taught me how to sew, but I wasn’t as good as her. Nobody was. She had a gift.’
‘I’ve seen her drawings in her sketchbook,’ said Darcie, reluctantly replacing the photo frame on the sideboard. ‘And the dress she made. It’s beautiful.’ She returned to her seat and unzipped her rucksack. ‘I have the sketchbook with me. I thought you might like to see it properly, as I didn’t get time to show you before.’
Odile made an impatient gesture towards the bag. ‘I would very much like to see it.’
Darcie took the sketchbook from her bag and held it out towards Odile. ‘Her sketches are amazing. I wish I had her vision.’
Odile took the book and opened it out, turning the pages and taking in the sketches before her. ‘I never thought I’d see this again,’ she said. Odile stopped at one particular page. She tapped it with her finger. ‘Do you notice anything different about this page?’ She looked up at Darcie and there was a twinkle in the older woman’s eyes.
Darcie knelt at the side of Odile’s chair and looked at the page. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It looks a bit different to the other pages.’
‘You have a good eye,’ said Odile. ‘I did that drawing.’
‘Oh, wow! That’s amazing,’ said Darcie. It explained why she’d always thought that particular page wasn’t drawn by Nathalie Leroux.
‘Nathalie was trying to teach me how to create a design. I wasn’t very good at it.’
‘I think it’s a good starting point,’ said Darcie, marvelling at how the sketchbook had almost come full circle. It wasn’t for the first time she felt like the book wasn’t hers, even though she had bought it. She felt guilty having it in her possession. ‘Odile, I think you should have this book.’
She could hear Matt almost choke on his coffee, but to his credit he didn’t say anything, just shot her a questioning look.
‘It’s not my book to have,’ said Odile.
‘But it was Nathalie’s and you’re her family. That’s your drawing on the page. It feels like it belongs to you,’ insisted Darcie.
Odile shook her head and with a long look at the page, closed the book and handed it back to Darcie. ‘It’s never been mine. It’s always been Nathalie’s.’
Darcie tried a different approach. ‘Has Nathalie got any family alive that you know of? Did she marry? Did she have children? Perhaps they would like this.’
Odile reached out and patted Darcie’s hand. ‘I think it’s time I told you everything I know.’
Darcie sat back in the chair next to Matt. ‘Only if you want to,’ she said, even though every fibre in her body was longing to know. Despite that, Darcie didn’t want to pressurise Odile.
‘It’s about time the truth was told,’ said Odile. ‘I’ve never spoken about what happened. It didn’t seem relevant anymore, but when those lawyers came yesterday, it reignited all the feelings I’ve suppressed over the years.’
‘We heard they had been,’ said Matt.
‘They didn’t get any satisfaction from me, but they came to an agreement with Paulette,’ said Odile. ‘I know she meant well, but now the drawings have been discovered, I owe it to Nathalie to tell her story. It’s time for me to speak out against the men who are trying to silence her just like during the war when we were suppressed and not allowed to speak the truth. This isn’t about the money, it’s about making peace with my life and with Nathalie’s memory. I wouldn’t be doing her justice if I didn’t speak out. She was a wonderful and courageous woman and people need to know that.’
Darcie had to blink back tears that unexpectedly gathered in her eyes. ‘Odile, I’d love to hear Nathalie’s story.’
‘It is not a story. It is the truth,’ said Odile.
Chapter 37
Nathalie
It was dark when the car pulled up at the edge of the forest where Gaston and the Resistance were hiding out. We had stopped for an hour just outside Paris where a doctor had, without question or protest, let us into his house and removed the bullet from Marcel’s shoulder and dressed the wound. The doctor had also inspected my side and had been very impressed with my father’s handiwork. He applied a clean dressing and assured me it would heal without any problems but that I needed to make sure the stitches were removed soon. Marcel had changed back into civilian clothes that the driver had produced from the boot of the car.
We climbed out of the vehicle and, with a nod, the driver sped away into the darkness.
‘Stay close to me,’ instructed Marcel. We clambered across a ditch and scurried into the safety of the forest.
