It was stupid. She was stupid. She shouldn’t be here. Running across Paris because she’d seen Camille in the arms of some stupid boy with a square jaw and too many muscles. It was pathetic.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
There wasn’t time for this. She still believed in Camille, and their plan.
She just wasn’t sure she trusted her.
Forcing herself into the first coffee house, Ada ordered coffee then picked up bread and cheese and any other bits and pieces she could find on the way back to Saints-Innocents. Threading towards the market, she nearly barrelled into Al. He looked terrible: pinched and grey as if he was still covered in a fine layer of ash from the fire.
‘Ada – oh, thank god I found you.’
‘I should be saying that. You left with no word. You know that’s against protocol—’
‘Shut up. Sorry, I mean, just shut up.’ He thrust a crumpled letter into her hands. ‘This is more important. Tell me off later.’
It was unaddressed, but on expensive, creamy paper.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I must have been followed – I know, I said shout at me later – but some scrote slunk out of nowhere to give me this. I think I shook him off but—’
‘We’re being watched.’
‘Looks like.’
Ada swore, turning the letter over. She didn’t recognise the seal. ‘Cam should know.’
‘And yet I don’t see you rushing back to her side.’
Ada gave him a dark look.
‘Oh dear, trouble in paradise? Want to talk about it?’
‘Absolutely not.’
He looped his arm through hers. ‘Come on, let’s walk. Give our watchers something confusing to think about.’
Ada only hesitated for a moment. Camille could be angry at her for leaving all she liked. Ada didn’t really care right now how Camille felt.
They traced the riverbank, pot of coffee rapidly cooling where it was tucked under her arm. She spotted a news-sheet sticking out of the pocket of his olive frockcoat.
‘Is that today’s? What does it say about the fire?’
She reached for it but he shimmied out of her reach. ‘No, it’s old.’
‘It’s not – I can see the date.’
‘Oh, really? How strange.’
‘Al—’
‘You’ve got enough to carry as it is.’ He pointed to the parcels of food she was juggling. ‘You don’t have to be in charge of every meal, you know. But I will have some of that cheese, thanks.’
She let him tear off a chunk of bread as well.
‘I know. But I want to. My mother always fed us when things went wrong. It was how she showed us she loved us.’
‘Funny. My mother used to lock me in the nursery with no supper when I annoyed her. One time she forgot about me for a whole day.’ He folded up the cheese and bread in a handkerchief and shoved it in his pocket. ‘That’s when I learned to always be prepared.’
