‘I have high hopes for this evening and for Kranz himself,’ she said.
‘In that case,’ I said, laying down the expensive evening dress and picking up the peacock blue one, ‘this one is your satisfaction dress.’
‘Satisfaction dress!’ Chanel burst out laughing. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a dress described like that before. But you have an eye for things, child, and this dress is my best bet for satisfaction. Have you ever made anything like this?’ she asked.
‘Nothing as beautiful as this,’ I replied with a sigh. ‘I’ve dreamt of making things like this before, and my sketchbook is full of such designs. I’m working on a dress at the moment,’ I confessed.
Chanel took a long draw on her cigarette. ‘Bring them here tomorrow. I’d like to see your work.’ I spent the rest of the day swaying between excitement and nerves that Chanel wanted to see my work.
As I walked to work the next day, I hoped I would impress Chanel with my drawings, which I now clutched in a folder in my hand, together with the evening dress I’d almost finished. She had asked to see them and although I knew they were to a high standard, having someone such as Chanel look at them was quite intimidating. She would have seen sketches by the top fashion designers in not just the country, but all of Europe. I wasn’t sure how mine would compare, but it was a great opportunity to find out whether the designs were actually any good.
I filled my walk with fantasies of seeing my work in a collection, admired by the famous and glamorous women of Hollywood who would fawn over the garments and commission me to make one-off pieces for them.
Arriving at the hotel, I went straight up to Chanel’s suite and knocked on the door. With no response, I quietly let myself in. The rule was to knock, wait for a reply and, if none was forthcoming, to enter but ensure I was silent as the guest might still be in bed.
As I walked into the apartment, I could see the doors to the bedroom were closed. I looked around the living room, surprised to see how much cleaning and tidying was needed. It was clear from the empty bottles of wine and two redundant wine glasses that Chanel had brought Kranz back here the previous evening.
I glanced towards the bedroom and wondered whether he was still in there. It wasn’t unusual to find an extra body in a guest’s bed in the mornings, especially when servicing the room of a German officer. It was quite the pastime for them, according to the other girls I worked with. We were to turn a blind eye and carry on as if it was quite normal.
The ashtray on the coffee table was full of cigarette ends and, ensuring none were still smouldering, I tipped the contents into the rubbish bin on the small cleaning trolley I had with me, along with the empty wine bottles.
I spent the next hour cleaning the main sitting room and was just beginning to wonder whether I should knock on the door and ask if Chanel wanted coffee, when the door opened. It was Chanel, looking rather bleary-eyed.
‘Where are my sunglasses?’ she croaked, a frown creasing her forehead. She pushed a straggly strand of hair from her eyes and pulled the belt tight around her silk dressing gown. ‘Coffee. I need coffee. Then run me a bath.’
She went to walk back into her room but stopped and turned to look at me. ‘Did you bring your sketchbook and the dress?’
‘Yes, madame,’ I replied.
‘Good. Leave them on my desk– I shall look at them later.’ With that, she disappeared back into her room.
I was a little disappointed I couldn’t show my work to her myself, but I did as she requested and left the sketchbook and dress on her bureau.
While the coffee brewed, I tapped on the bedroom door and let myself through to run the bath for Chanel. I had to make a conscious effort not to stare at the other person lying fast asleep in bed, snoring his head off. It was, indeed, Kranz.
‘God. I can’t bear the noise,’ said Chanel, shoving the sleeping German to get him to roll onto his side. Kranz groaned and shifted position.
‘I was just going to run the bath for you,’ I said, moving through to the bathroom.
‘Make it nice and hot. I need a soak.’
A few minutes later, Chanel appeared in the bathroom. ‘I can’t put up with him snoring like a warthog. Make sure he’s gone by the time I come out.’
She waved me out of the bathroom, leaving me alone in the bedroom with the semi-conscious officer.
‘Monsieur,’ I ventured, not really knowing how I was going to extricate him from the bed. I moved to the bedside. ‘Monsieur Kranz,’ I said, leaning closer to him. ‘Wake up. It’s time to leave.’
Still he didn’t move. I stood up, surveying the sweaty snoring pig in front of me. It disgusted me to look at him and disgusted me further when I thought of how he was responsible for killing my brother.
I glanced at the pillow on Chanel’s side of the bed. How easy would it be to place the pillow over Kranz’s face? Did I have the strength to pin him down and smother him? Probably not.
It was then I saw his pistol in the holster, lying on the dressing table.
I knew how to fire one, thanks to Marcel. I could easily take the gun and place the muzzle against his head. But what about the noise? I’d have to silence it with a pillow. I remembered Marcel telling me that much. He’d also told me it would save me from seeing all the blood and brains sprayed out on the pillow and from looking him in the eye.
My breathing became faster as I considered the opportunity I was presented with. I could do this. I could kill Kranz here and now. I looked over at the bathroom door. It was firmly shut. I looked back at the pistol.
I could do this. I would do this. I’d do this for Edgar. For France. I reached out my hand.
