In Love and War (16 page)

‘Don't let's talk about it,' Elsie said, shuddering. ‘I can't bear to think of the dreadful hardships they must be suffering.'

‘Shh,' Marianne said, frowning. ‘He's coming back. They must have a vat of the stuff behind the counter.' She gave the boy a brilliant smile as he placed the steaming bowls in front of them. ‘Thank you.'

He bowed gravely before making his way to a customer who was calling for service.

Marianne sniffed the fragrant soup, redolent with the scent of garlic, caramelised onion and cheese. ‘It looks as if this is going to be our staple diet from now on,' she said, dipping her spoon in and tasting. ‘Hmm, it's very good. Food like this almost makes it worth being treated like schoolgirls by the formidable Miss Dorgebray.'

‘Working there is like being back at school. I hope she relaxes a bit when she gets to know us.'

‘At least she told us where to get a decent meal.' Marianne said, swallowing a mouthful of toasted bread. ‘This onion soup is very good, although my breath will stink for the rest of the day. They're very generous with the garlic but I won't be kissing anyone in the foreseeable future, so I suppose it doesn't matter.'

‘It's tasty,' Elsie agreed. ‘And this café is near enough to the lodging house for us to come here for all our meals. I can't see myself cooking much on that gas ring.'

Marianne was silent for a few minutes while she finished her food. She looked up, wiping her mouth on her handkerchief. ‘I suppose table napkins are a thing of the past,' she said with a wry smile. ‘And judging by the stains on the tablecloth, soap must be in short supply too. Madame Chausse doesn't seem to use much of it in the lodging house.'

‘Mrs Tranter would be horrified if she could see how dirty the place is,' Elsie said in an undertone. ‘But I didn't realise that things were going to be so bad here. It's far worse than I expected.'

‘And I was hoping we'd do something more exciting than filing and sorting out that woman's in-tray.' Marianne reached into her handbag and took out an enamelled compact. She stared into the mirror, dabbing powder on the tip of her nose. ‘I thought we'd be doing something more useful.'

‘We've got to learn the ropes, Marianne. This is our first day.'

‘I know, but it's hard to be patient. I want to do something that will help to end the war.'

Elsie glanced over her shoulder to see if any of the other customers could hear. ‘Don't look now,' she whispered. ‘But that man who's just come in lives in our building, on the same floor. He scared me half to death this morning when I came out of the lavatory and saw him standing there.'

Marianne gazed over Elsie's shoulder. ‘That man mountain with the black wiry hair?'

‘I said don't look now. But yes, that's him. His name is Raoul Dubroc.'

‘I didn't see a soul when I went to that ghastly little room that smells like a sewer, but I'm glad I didn't bump into him.'

‘Do you think he's followed us?'

Marianne frowned. ‘Of course not. I expect he works near here.'

‘It's a strange coincidence all the same.'

‘It's all strange to us, Elsie. Don't worry, everything will be fine. We'll become accustomed to this way of life, eventually.'

‘Maybe we should have stayed in London. We were doing worthwhile jobs there.'

‘And we'll be even more useful here. They have to get to know us, just as we have to get to know them.'

‘You're right, of course.' Elsie pushed her plate away. ‘I'm just being silly. It's all so strange and I miss everyone at home.'

Marianne reached across the table to pat her on the shoulder. ‘Not everyone. Guy is here somewhere, fighting for us.'

‘That makes me feel even worse.'

‘And we're not entirely alone in Paris. Henri's parents have an apartment not far from here. I thought I'd call on his mother, although it's possible she might have gone to Provence. Maybe I'll go tomorrow.'

‘I hope Henri's safe and well,' Elsie murmured, looking away. ‘He was kind to me when Ma died.'

‘He's a darling man, and I adore him.' Marianne glanced at the large, white-faced clock on the wall above the shelves, which were crammed with bottles of all shapes and sizes. ‘It's time we were heading back. I'm afraid Miss Dorgebray might make us stand in the corner with our faces to the wall if we're late returning from lunch on our first day.'

Elsie laughed and immediately felt better. It was typical of Marianne to say something ridiculous that would put all her fears into perspective. She rose from her seat. ‘Let's go then.'

That evening, after a tiring day getting to know the routine in the office, it was a relief to tidy everything away and set off for the lodging house. They stopped at the café for a meal, which turned out to be a tasty stew with the tough, stringy meat cleverly disguised by the addition of wine and herbs. ‘We'll have to budget carefully,' Marianne said as they left and walked briskly along the deserted street. ‘I've arranged to have money transferred to a local bank but my allowance won't last long at this rate.'

‘I thought you were well off,' Elsie said, pulling her collar up to her chin and screwing her eyes up against the snow, which had started to fall again in earnest. ‘You always seemed to have anything you wanted.'

‘I'm extravagant. It comes from being given too much too young, I suppose. Anyway, we'll be all right, but we can't exist on the pittance they pay us.'

Elsie glanced over her shoulder.

‘What's the matter?' Marianne demanded. ‘Why are you so edgy?'

‘I thought I heard footsteps, but there's no one there.'

Marianne chuckled. ‘It's probably that glass of wine you had with your dinner and there must have been a couple of bottles of claret in the stew. You aren't used to drinking that's all. The rest is your over-active imagination.'

‘I suppose so.' Elsie had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with Marianne, but she was sure she had heard the heavy tread of someone not far behind them. When she looked back again moments later she thought she saw a movement in a doorway, but the gaslights were dim, forming small pools of yellowish light on the slushy pavements and creating deep areas of shadow. It must have been the wine, she decided, or the fact that she was tired and overreacting.

They arrived back at their lodgings to find that the electricity had been cut off, and the concierge offered to sell them a candle for fifty centimes. When Marianne protested that she was overcharging them, Madame Chausse pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. ‘You can go out and buy one for forty centimes, if you can find anywhere that's selling them at this time of night.'

‘We'll take it, thank you,' Elsie said, fumbling in her purse for the coins. She dropped them into Madame's outstretched hand and took the candle.

‘I suppose you'll charge us for the match as well,' Marianne said crossly.

‘She's joking, madame.' Elsie held the candle out to be lit. ‘Thank you, Madame Chausse. Goodnight.' She headed for the stairs, cupping her hand to shield the flame from the draughts that whistled through the building.

‘Old witch,' Marianne said beneath her breath as they reached the fifth floor. ‘She'll be making a fortune out of the tenants.'

Elsie made her way along the corridor. ‘We didn't have much choice, did we?'

Marianne's answer was drowned by a welcoming shout from Jeanne-Marie, who had emerged from her room and was heading towards them, looking ghostly in the flickering light of her candle. ‘I see you've been caught out by the vampire,' she said, giggling. ‘Don't worry, my dears. She catches all the new residents like that. She'll suck you dry with her little swindles. You'll learn.' She stared hard at Marianne. ‘This must be your sister.'

‘No, but people often remark on the likeness. This is my good friend Aimée Lalonde.' Elsie turned to Marianne. ‘This is Jeanne-Marie, she lives here as well.'

Marianne held out her hand. ‘It's a pleasure to meet you, Jeanne-Marie.'

Jeanne-Marie seized her hand and shook it vigorously. ‘It's nice to meet you too, Aimée. There aren't many of us single girls on this floor. There are a couple of prostitutes occupying two rooms on the first floor, but I steer clear of them. I was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge until it burned down last year, so now I serve in a bar, but I'm a respectable working girl, not like those tarts.'

‘I'm sure,' Elsie said hastily.

‘You must come to the bar one evening. I'll introduce you to some decent men, although most of the good ones are off fighting the Boche, but there are one or two who aren't cripples or in their dotage. Must dash now. Can't afford to be late for work.' She hurried off, teetering on her high heels.

‘Well,' Marianne said, staring after her as the darkness swallowed Jeanne-Marie's departing figure except for a trail of smoke from her candle. ‘We certainly get all sorts here.'

Elsie moved on to unlock the door to their room. ‘I like her,' she said firmly. ‘She seems a good-hearted sort of girl.'

‘I suppose we might accept her invitation,' Marianne said thoughtfully. ‘I can't face the thought of spending every evening stuck in this dreadful hole, and it would be heaven to go somewhere warmer than here.'

Elsie went inside, placing the candle on a saucer and setting it down on the small pine table beneath the window where ice was already forming on the inside of the glass panes. She shivered. ‘If only we could have a fire of some sort it wouldn't seem so bad.'

‘Just keep your coat and boots on.' Marianne sat down and opened her handbag. She took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one in the candle flame. ‘We'll get used to all this eventually. Let's just hope we don't get flu. When you went to make the coffee this afternoon our new lady boss was telling me that there's an epidemic of it in Paris. It's just our luck to arrive here with blackouts, flu and the odd bombing raid thrown in for good measure.'

‘You're the one who wanted to come here and work, Marianne.' Elsie made her way towards the kitchen. ‘I'm going to put the kettle on and maybe by bedtime it will be hot enough to make some cocoa.' She lit the stub of last night's candle and went into the tiny kitchen to light the gas, returning moments later. ‘It would be quicker to hold a pan of milk over a candle.'

Marianne stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘I've been thinking, would you mind having lunch on your own tomorrow?'

‘No, of course not. Why?'

‘I thought I'd go to the bank and then I might call at the Bellaires' apartment. I'd ask you to come with me, but I'm sure you don't want to be dragged round Paris on what might be a wild goose chase.'

‘I'd like to see more of Paris than the rue Saint-Roch.' Elsie tried hard to sound casual. ‘So I might tag along, if you don't mind.'

‘That's fine by me. If Madame Bellaire is at home she might even let us use her bathroom. I'd kill for a hot bath.'

The bank in the rue de Rivoli was within easy walking distance, which was just as well as the snow had settled overnight, and attempts at keeping the pavements clear were patchy and had left the surface dangerously icy. Elsie's heart was pounding at the thought that she might see Henri again. She followed Marianne into the building and paused, taking in the opulence of the marble and mahogany temple of finance. White light reflected off the snow-covered rooftops of adjacent buildings and filtered through the stained glass windows, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns on the tiled floor. Bank clerks sat behind desks that would not have looked out of place in a palace or a grand hotel: not that Elsie had ever visited either, but she had seen illustrations in some of Felicia's glossy magazines. The doorman eyed them warily. ‘May I help you, ladies?'

Marianne gave him her most charming smile. ‘Is Monsieur Henri Bellaire in the office today?'

He shook his head. ‘No, mademoiselle. He's away, fighting for his country like all patriotic Frenchmen. I'd go myself but I'm too old.'

‘I'm sure you are doing an excellent job here,' Marianne said graciously. ‘I don't suppose you know whether Madame Bellaire has remained in Paris?'

He shook his head. ‘I believe she has gone to the country, mademoiselle. But Monsieur is in his office if you would like to see him.'

‘I won't bother him today,' Marianne said airily. ‘Thank you for your help, monsieur.' She took Elsie by the arm. ‘I was afraid that might be the case, so I'll make a withdrawal and leave it at that.'

‘But Henri might be on leave.'

‘I'm sure he'd have got a message to me somehow. He knows I'm in Paris because I sent him a coded telegram. It's something we made up when we were children, and now it's come in useful.'

Elsie was bitterly disappointed, but she did not protest when Marianne marched her out into the street. After the comparative warmth of the bank vestibule the cold air took her breath away, and she clutched her hand to her mouth.

‘Are you all right?' Marianne's voice was filled with genuine concern. ‘You're very pale. You aren't going to faint or do anything stupid like that, are you?'

‘No. I'm fine,' Elsie said slowly. ‘It's so cold it took my breath away. I'm sorry you didn't see Henri. You must be worried about him.'

‘I'm all right, silly. You're sweet to be concerned about my feelings, but I'm sure that Henri can take care of himself, although I'd have liked to see Selene again. Anyway, let's get something to eat. You'll feel better with a hot meal inside you.'

It felt as though their roles had been switched and that brought a reluctant smile to Elsie's lips. ‘I'm supposed to be the practical one, not you.'

‘I can be sensible when I want to be, and I'm starving.'