I wasn’t stupid enough to go rushing into anything. I had to be careful and cunning. I was going to avenge my brother’s death. I would find who had killed him, and I would exact the same fate on them. The thought filled my heart, and I took a deep breath to compose myself. Yes, I was going to take revenge.
First, I’d have to learn how to use a gun. There was one person who could teach me that and they owed me. I stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the forest beyond the farm.
Chapter 12
Darcie
After her meeting with Padgett and bumping into Matt, Darcie didn’t want to use up her precious time by traipsing back across the city to her accommodation to drop off her suitcase. So, she took the decision to leave it with the hotel in their secure locker. The irony of placing left luggage in another left-luggage store didn’t escape her– this time, though, it wouldn’t be forgotten.
She didn’t expect to hear from Matt until later in the day and wanted to make the most of her time, so decided to take a stroll along the River Seine which, according to the map on her phone, was approximately a twenty-minute walk away. It was a very warm day and as she made her way through the Parisian streets, Darcie couldn’t help smiling to herself. She was here in the city she’d longed to visit since she had watched the 1950s filmAn American in Paris, starring Gene Kelly. She had imagined herself walking here so many times, it was hard to believe it was now a reality.
Darcie stopped and browsed the book-stall set up along the pavement and took her time to look at the artwork further along the way. They were all aimed at tourists, with watercolour prints of the famous Parisian landmarks such as the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Sacré-Cœur and Le Louvre. She particularly liked the vintage poster art, which would be a nice addition to the decor in her shop, but it was all a little bit steep for her pocket.
She took the steps down from street level to the path that ran alongside the river. There was a group of teenagers sitting with their feet dangling over the edge, their backpacks strewn out, and they chatted and laughed. A cyclist cruised towards her, and she moved out of the way. Other tourists strolled along, one couple stopping to take their picture with the Eiffel Tower in the background. It really was just how she’d imagined it.
Her thoughts turned to the Chanel dress, as she was now referring to it, and she wondered how different Paris would have been under the German occupation. Would it have been much different to how it was today? She knew that the city had all but welcomed the Germans on the surface, but underneath there had been a growing disquiet that eventually led to stronger resistance in the latter days of the occupation. Coco Chanel herself was thought of as a collaborator, having taken up residency at the Ritz for most of the war and even taking a German lover. Where did Nathalie Leroux fit into all this? Darcie wished she could find out more about this elusive fashion designer.
After walking along the riverbank, Darcie found herself opposite Le Louvre and the Jardin des Tuileries. It would be a lovely spot to sit and do some people-watching. She grabbed a coffee and another croissant. At this rate she was going to turn into a pastry.
Her phone pinged an alert to a text message. It was from Matt. He must have got her number from her website.
Matt: Hey. How’s your morning?
She smiled at the casual, easy-going message– rather like Matt himself.
Darcie: Doing some sightseeing. River Seine and now at Jardin des Tuileries. You?
Matt: Crazy here. As always.
With the message came a picture from inside the Chanel fashion show. It was a cheeky snap of the runway and in the foreground the backs of the heads of several people, who Darcie assumed were other journalists.
Matt: Not exactly showcasing my photographic skills but not supposed to take any sneaky pictures here.
Darcie took a picture of her view and sent it to him.
Darcie: Not going to lie– my picture is technically superior to yours.
She added a laughing face emoji on the end and smiled at her phone.
Matt: No contest. You win.
Another message came in straight off the back.
Matt: Gotta go. Carla Maldini has just hit the runway. See you on the Pont Notre Dame at 6. There’s a nice café nearby where we can get supper.
Darcie sent back a quick message saying she’d look forward to it, and then, tucking her phone back in her bag, began to make her way back to the apartment. On the way, she took a detour onto the Île de la Cité, where Notre Dame was situated. She knew from her research there were little boutiques on the island and it would be nice to look at the cathedral too. It had been ravaged by fire several years ago and restoration work was still very much underway. The building was covered in scaffolding and plastic sheeting. Darcie remembered watching the news and the images of the cathedral burning furiously, and then the spire collapsing. It had been a cultural and architectural disaster.
The little lanes and boutiques on the island were a delight to walk around, and Darcie once again had to mentally pinch herself to believe she was really here. She wanted to take a gift home for Lena, Chloe, Hannah, and her grandmother as a thank you, for without them she certainly wouldn’t be here, literally living one of her dreams.
The afternoon passed quickly, and Darcie had thoroughly enjoyed herself, despite having to backtrack to the hotel to collect her suitcase. She’d arrived at her apartment, had a quick freshen up and was now at the bridge, waiting for Matt.
She’d only been there a few minutes when she spotted him crossing the road. He waved and smiled broadly and she found herself returning the smile with equal enthusiasm. There was something about him that was so easy-going that she felt like he was someone she’d known for years rather than just a day.
‘Hey, good to see you.’ He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
Darcie was sure she was blushing. ‘Hi. How was your day?’
‘Busy. But I like it that way.’ They stood at the pavement’s edge, waiting for a gap in the traffic. ‘Cross now,’ said Matt, taking her hand. They had to break into a jog to avoid an oncoming motorcyclist who blasted his horn at them.
