‘Yes, if there’s a chalk mark on the gate, it means Gaston wants me to go to the woods.’
‘And was there a mark today?’ I asked, intrigued by the simplicity yet effectiveness of the underground network going on right under the noses of the Germans. I felt honoured just to know these things.
‘Yes. It’s a sign that Gaston needs you to do the sewing.’
‘At last. I was worried he would not ask me before I go home,’ I said.
‘We have to go tonight,’ replied Rachelle.
‘That’s fine with me.’
As we entered the door of the farmhouse, it surprised me to see Maman sitting at the table with her suitcase at her feet.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Clarice. ‘Come in, girls.’
I looked at Maman and she gave a small smile, but I could tell something wasn’t right. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Why have you got your case?’
Maman took a deep breath. ‘I’m going home today,’ she said.
‘Today? Not today. We’re not supposed to be leaving until Saturday.’ It was then I realised Maman had only her own case with her.
‘Your mother and I have been talking,’ said Clarice. ‘We think it’s safer if you stay here with us for a while.’
‘Paris isn’t as safe as it used to be,’ said Maman. ‘Your father and I have already spoken about this, and we feel you need to stay out of the city for a while. Besides, now Gaston isn’t here, your aunt and uncle need as much help as they can get on the farm.’
I didn’t know what to say. While the idea of staying on the farm was wonderful, I hadn’t mentally prepared for it. ‘But I haven’t told Alphonse. He’ll wonder where I am.’ It was a weak excuse, and I wasn’t sure why it bothered me.
‘I can tell him and you can write a letter for me to give to him. It won’t be for long. Just a couple of months.’
‘A couple of months!’
I felt Rachelle’s hand on my arm. ‘It will be nice to have you here, Nathalie,’ she said.
With that, Odile, rather less gently than her sister, grabbed at my other arm. ‘Please say you’ll stay.’
I looked down at Odile and her beautiful green eyes, which had been so dull since I’d arrived. There was hope on her face and who was I to crush that hope? Besides, it didn’t look like I had any choice. It appeared the adults had already decided my fate. I smiled back at Odile. ‘I’ll stay.’
Odile squeezed me tight. ‘Thank you, Nathalie. Thank you.’
Maman got to her feet and, after I had extracted myself from my cousins, she hugged me. ‘Thank you for making that far easier than I expected,’ she said. ‘It’s for the best and only a couple of months.’
‘I’ll miss you and Papa,’ I said, as an unexpected feeling of sadness washed over me.
‘You’ll be too busy to miss us,’ Maman said with a smile. ‘Now, quickly write Alphonse a note, as I must go to get the train soon.’
I was also worried about my brother. How would Edgar know I was here? What would happen if he needed my help? I couldn’t voice this to Maman though.
A short time later, as I watched Maman head down the road, accompanied by Uncle Philippe, I had a mix of emotions, both sadness and happiness. I realised the sadness was because I’d miss Maman, but not Alphonse. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, maybe I was a little relieved that I wouldn’t be seeing him. In my letter to Alphonse, I had just briefly said I was staying to help my uncle on the farm and I would let him know when I was coming back to Paris. I didn’t make any promises to write to him or say that I would miss him. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and I realised it was because I just didn’t feel it. And if I didn’t feel it, I couldn’t say it.
Chapter 10
Darcie
Darcie had trouble sleeping that night and she wasn’t sure whether it was the excitement of the meeting with the House of Chanel or having met Matthew Langdon or worrying if the vintage black-and-white polka-dot dress with the red neckerchief she’d brought to wear for the Chanel meeting was professional enough. Whatever it was, she woke on Monday morning feeling like she had a hangover. Thank goodness for the black coffee she was now sipping in the café just along the road from her apartment.
The waiter brought over a croissant and Darcie took a moment to relax, taking in the Parisian street around her that was in full swing. She had opted for a table on the pavement and, from behind her sunglasses, she surreptitiously observed the other patrons. A couple of men in suits sat at one table, and although she couldn’t catch what they were saying, it sounded like a serious business meeting. She momentarily mused why a suited Frenchman could look so much more attractive than an Englishman.
She turned her gaze to a middle-aged couple who were sitting at another table, studying the screen of the man’s phone, speaking in English. Darcie assumed they were tourists. A car beeped impatiently at a delivery lorry that had blocked the road and this followed a somewhat robust exchange between the two drivers accompanied by several internationally recognisable hand gestures. A scooter zipped its way through the traffic, hopping onto the pavement at one point to avoid the warring factions, and finally the lorry driver conceded and moved his lorry out of the way.
