‘Oh, I couldn’t do that,’ said Darcie.
‘Yes, you could,’ replied Hannah. ‘You could even do it in a day, but if you had to stay, there are plenty of cheap Airbnbs. My sister got a really good deal when she went last year. Look, I’ll show you.’ With that, Hannah tapped at her phone and a minute later brought up several Parisian apartments. All at very reasonable prices.
‘Wow, I just assumed it would be out of my price range,’ said Darcie. She studied the website and a little flutter of excitement breezed around her stomach. She could actually afford to go.
‘That all sounds perfect,’ said Lena. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Darcie looked at the website, then at the email, and then at her mum and friend. What was she waiting for, indeed?
Chapter 7
Nathalie
The day after the visit from Kranz, Alphonse had come into the shop and offered his sincere apologies to both my parents and me. Papa was more understanding than I expected him to be. I wished I could be so reasonable but something in my heart had died that night and I just didn’t feel the same about Alphonse anymore. He assured me he would never have pulled the trigger, and I believed him. He wasn’t brave enough. He was a coward. And that just made me dislike him even more.
It was, therefore, a relief when the travel passes came through, and Maman said we would go to Brittany the next day. I couldn’t wait to be away from Paris and put as much distance between myself and Alphonse as possible.
Two days later, we were in Malestroit making the short walk to the farm on the outskirts of the town, where Maman’s sister lived with her husband, Philippe, and their children. I had fond memories of times before the war when we would visit the Morbihan countryside and spend countless hours playing out in the fields, swimming in the lakes and exploring the surrounding areas, making friends with the locals and, of course, helping my uncle during harvest time. That was, of course, the real reason we went to visit, but we enjoyed being there. Edgar and Gaston would work out in the fields, harvesting the crops, while Rachelle, Odile, and I would go fruit picking. I remember well the gluttonous feeling of eating too many strawberries one particular year and Uncle Philippe telling us off. We had to pick potatoes the next day as a punishment.
News of our arrival in Malestroit must have reached Clarice’s farm before we did, as my aunt was standing at the gate waiting for us. She waved wildly and ran down the road to greet Maman. The two sisters embraced fiercely, and then it was my turn to be enveloped in a big, warm hug. Almost immediately, I was swallowed up in the arms of Rachelle and Odile.
‘We are so pleased to see you,’ cried Rachelle.
As I hugged my cousins, I felt a wave of love, happiness, and relief. It had been two long years since we’d been together.
I linked my arms through my cousins’, and we practically skipped our way back up to the farmhouse. I could smell vegetables cooking on the stove and coffee brewing in a pot on top of the range. ‘Where is Gaston?’ I asked as we sat down at the kitchen table.
Clarice glanced at Maman before she spoke. ‘He’s not here. It’s just me, Philippe, and the girls.’
‘Will he be here later?’ I looked between my aunt and my cousins. And then it dawned on me. ‘You mean he’s not here at all?’
Clarice nodded. ‘Oui. C’est ça.’
‘Is he—’
Clarice held up her hand. ‘We don’t know where he is.’
‘The same way we don’t know where Edgar is, I expect,’ said Maman.
Now it was Clarice’s turn to be surprised. She raised an eyebrow and then let out a sigh. ‘We should both be proud of our sons, even if we aren’t happy about the situation.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Maman.
The door opened, and we all looked around to see my uncle Philippe standing in the doorway. ‘Now there is a beautiful sight,’ he declared. He hugged us all in turn. ‘It’s good to see you, Therese. How is Théodule?’
As the adults discussed the latest events of the war, Rachelle tapped my arm and beckoned me to follow her. ‘We’ll take the bags upstairs,’ she said to her mother, picking up Maman’s rather battered brown suitcase. ‘Come on, Nathalie.’
I followed on, with Odile behind me.
‘You’re going to be sharing with me,’ said Rachelle. ‘But it does mean sharing a bed– just like we used to when we were younger.’
I smiled at the memories of us giggling at night-time, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake anyone. We used to have midnight feasts and hold imaginary dances where we would twirl around the bedroom, humming tunes like Tchaikovsky’s ‘Waltz of the Flowers’.
Rachelle’s bedroom hadn’t changed over the years. The wrought-iron double-bed frame occupied most of the room, pushed up against the wall, which was papered with a large floral design. Opposite the bed was an open fireplace with a shelf and a mirror above. A white armoire took up most of the wall immediately to the left, with its arched head and ornately carved flowers. A dressing table stood in the alcove next to the fireplace and a chest of drawers on the opposite side. All the furniture was painted white, and a white muslin hung at the window. It was so much bigger than my room back in Paris and I loved the sense of space.
The windows were open, and the muslin billowed now and again on the breeze. I placed my suitcase on the floor and went over to the window, closing my eyes and breathing in the earthy smell of the fields and the fragrance of the jasmine that covered the front of the property. I could hear birds singing in the hedgerow and I revelled in the absence of noisy military vehicles trundling up and down the streets, the lack of German boots clipping along the path and the non-existence of German voices. Here, the farm was a sanctuary and an antidote to everything I had experienced of the war so far.
‘I’m so glad to be here,’ I sighed, flopping down onto the bed. I ran my hand across the familiar patchwork quilt that Rachelle and I had spent many weeks making one summer, using up the old clothes and fabric we had collected.
