‘The grey woollen fabric block in the storeroom. I need it.’
‘You need it? What for?’
Edgar sighed. ‘You’re not supposed to ask questions, remember? Can you get it for me?’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about Papa when he notices it’s gone?’ I asked. I didn’t have a problem helping Edgar, but I wasn’t sure whether Papa would be thrilled. ‘You can’t take it all. How much do you need?’
‘Enough to make a jacket with. I also need matching thread.’
‘A jacket, you say?’ There was only one sort of jacket Edgar would need to make using that fabric, and it wasn’t for him to swan around Paris in. The grey wool was an exact match for a German officer’s uniform. It was why we had it in stock for any repairs they asked us to make.
‘Please, just two metres.’
‘Wait there.’ I hurried back into the storeroom and, making sure the curtains were drawn, I switched on a small lamp in the corner and took the block of fabric from the shelf. Spreading it out on the workbench, I measured and cut two metres, before replacing the block on the shelf. Edgar stepped out from the shadows as I went back into the garden.
He took the fabric and thread and stuffed it inside his own coat under his arm. ‘Thank you. I must go. I’ve been here too long already.’
We looked at each other in the darkness and I had an overwhelming sense of love and fear for him. I hugged him again, and he held me tightly before kissing me on each side of my face. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Our thoughts were as one. With one last look at the gate, he slipped out into the night.
Tears sprang to my eyes and, as I went back indoors and lay in my bed that night, I couldn’t shake off the anxiety that had pitched up inside of me. I had this awful feeling that something bad was going to happen to Edgar, and I knew I would not see him again.
The feeling stayed with me until I went to sleep and was there the moment I woke up.
When I went down to the shop with Papa to open up, he even asked me if I was feeling all right. ‘You look very pale,’ he said. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No. I’m fine,’ I reassured him. I kept myself busy in the workroom that morning.
Just as we were about to close for lunch, it surprised me to see Alphonse appear in the shop.
‘Alphonse. I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ I said. He was wearing his police uniform, and I forced myself to smile– I much preferred to see him in civilian clothes. I hated everything the blue uniform stood for. Collaborating with the Germans– it repulsed me.
‘Nathalie. I wondered if you would like to join me for lunch,’ said Alphonse, removing his hat and running a hand through his blond hair.
I looked at Papa, hoping he’d say I was needed in the shop. I really didn’t want to be seen out with a police officer. It always made me feel uncomfortable. Papa, however, didn’t read the unspoken message I was trying to convey. ‘What a splendid idea. Take as long as you like.’
Before I could protest, I was bustled out of the door. I knew Papa thought that at least this way I’d have something decent to eat, especially as the lack of food was becoming an issue in the city.
‘How are you today?’ asked Alphonse. ‘I haven’t seen you for nearly a week.’
‘I’m very well, but I’ve been busy in the shop, that’s all.’
We went into a small but popular café, which overlooked a small square. German soldiers who treated the city more like a holiday resort with every passing week occupied most of the tables.
We ordered a coffee each and some food.
‘What have you been so busy with in the shop?’ asked Alphonse.
‘Making garments for those in need,’ I replied. ‘Reusing some old clothing and making it into something else. Something practical.’
‘You’re very clever with the needle. I shall look forward to the day when you will sew buttons onto my shirts and darn my socks.’ Alphonse smiled at me, but I couldn’t return the expression. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, a frown now settling on his face.
‘I don’t envisage myself sewing buttons and darning socks for anyone,’ I said. ‘I’ll have my own business when the war is over. My own fashion house. You’ll have to find someone else to do that for you.’ It was possibly an unwarranted display of petulance, but I hated the way everyone had me married and at home before I had even experienced anything of what life had to offer.
‘A fashion house?’ repeated Alphonse, as if the words were alien to his mouth. ‘Why would you want that?’ He made a huffing noise. ‘No wife of mine will work and she certainly won’t have a fashion house.’
