Another woman stood near the edge, but she didn’t try to reach out to grab Nathalie. She just stood there watching.
‘NATHALIE!’ screamed Odile. ‘NATHALIE!’ Her cries were smothered by the noise of the train as it bore down and hurtled through the station. Odile watched in horror as Nathalie disappeared from sight. Odile dropped her case and began running towards the edge. She was aware of some women on the platform screaming.
Then someone caught her. Stepped into her path, grabbing her and swinging her around. Strong arms clasped her.
‘Where is it?’ asked the woman whose grip was vicelike. ‘Where’s the book?’
All at once Odile realised this was the woman who had watched Nathalie fall, who had no doubt pushed her. This was Bochette.
Odile let out a scream but no one heard her. There was too much commotion going on around her. The train was trying to stop but the engine needed at least half a mile, such was its speed and weight. The squeal and screech of the locked iron wheels against the metal track pierced the air. People were shouting; others were crying. It was chaos.
Odile tried to wriggle free, but Bochette held her tighter.
‘Where are the book and the dress?’ she hissed.
‘Get away from me,’ shouted Odile, panic setting in. She fumbled in her coat pocket. Her hand found the hard-cold steel Barbara had slipped into her pocket just before she left.
Odile’s fingers closed around the barrel of the handgun and managed to yank the weapon from her pocket.
Something made Bochette look down. She gasped and tried to grab the gun. Odile wrestled with her. She didn’t know how long she could hold on to the gun. Bochette was strong and almost flinging her around.
Odile was aware of the trigger being squeezed. A muffled bang rang out.Bochette locked her gaze onto Odile’s. Her body jerked several times before she collapsed into a heap on the platform. Blood spewed from her chest. Her eyes stared up, unseeing, at the autumnal Sussex sky.
Chapter 41
Darcie
‘Oh, Odile,’ cried Darcie rushing to the side of the Frenchwoman who was now in tears, hunched over, her whole body shaking as she relived that moment. Darcie put her arms around the older woman and cradled her as if she were a child. ‘I’m so sorry, Odile. I’m so sorry you had to go through that and I’m so sorry I made you relive it.’
Odile shook her head. ‘I just hope Nathalie can forgive me for not telling the truth sooner.’
Darcie held Odile for a long time. What a heavy secret she’d kept for all these years, telling no one. It was some time before Odile stopped crying. Matt made some fresh sweet coffee for her.
‘Thank you so much for sharing what happened with us,’ said Darcie when Odile had a degree of composure.
The retelling had taken its toll on her and she looked exhausted.
‘I’m glad I’ve told someone,’ said Odile.
‘There is one thing I can’t quite clear up,’ said Darcie. ‘The picture of Coco Chanel wearing what is clearly this dress, how did that come about?’
‘Yes, Nathalie told me what happened,’ said Odile. ‘She showed Chanel the sketchbook. Chanel was very taken with some of the designs and in particular the evening dress. She took a great interest in Nathalie’s ideas.’
‘Did Nathalie make the dress for her?’
‘Yes. She made a version for Chanel.’ said Odile. ‘I assume Chanel had the dress finished at some point and that was how she came to be photographed in it. The original, Nathalie took when she fled.’
‘Who sent Bochette to get the book?’ asked Matt.
‘The codes were very important so maybe the Gestapo. But I also believe she was trying to cover her own tracks and get information on any others named in the book to blackmail them, so she could ensure her own safety. The names, the codes were her bargaining chip. That’s what Thomas told me later. The codes were to protect herself from the Gestapo and the names to protect herself from the Allies.’
‘And the book and the dress were never retrieved from the locker?’ asked Darcie.
‘We didn’t know where Nathalie had hidden them. She never told me. She didn’t want me to have any information that might put me in danger,’ explained Odile. ‘If only we’d known that’s where she had stored them.’
‘So no one knew the dress Chanel was wearing was one that Nathalie had made for her,’ said Matt.
‘I’m afraid that is so,’ said Odile. ‘Of course, I knew Nathalie had made Chanel a dress, but I didn’t know what it looked like. It all seemed so unimportant after the war and what happened to Nathalie was just one of many personal stories. It got lost among the bigger narrative of the war.’
