Page 24 of The Dressmaker's Gift
‘How long do you think he’ll have to stay here?’
Vivienne drew her red-gold braid over one shoulder. ‘Not long. Don’t worry, they’ll get him out. And Mireille was right last night – hiding him here is the safest option all round. Now then, you and I and Mireille need to keep to our usual routines at work. It’s absolutely imperative that no one has any reason to suspect there’s anything out of the ordinary going on in the apartment on the fifth floor.’
Claire nodded and took a sip of her tea. Vivi’s calm presence was reassuring. The three girls were in this together now, bound not only by their friendship but by the secrets that they kept for one another.
Mireille was wondering how she might find an excuse to visit the dyer the next day, when, fortuitously, Mademoiselle Vannier asked her to go and collect some lengths of fabric that would be needed for making up some of the samples for the autumn collection.
Her first question when she reached the shop, was whether there was any word about Monsieur and Madame Arnaud. The dyer pressed his lips together grimly and shook his head. ‘We’ve suspended all activity along the network for the time being. There haven’t been any further arrests so far, so it looks like they’ve managed not to divulge any information that could be of use to the Gestapo. God only knows whether the two of them will be able to hold out, though.’
From the shelves behind him, he gathered up the orders he’d completed for Delavigne Couture and laid the paper-wrapped packages on the counter. Then, reaching into a cupboard he drew out a smaller parcel from behind a pile of colour swatches. ‘Make sure Vivienne gets this. And tell her to keep it hidden for the time being. She won’t be able to use it until we’ve worked out a new route ...’ He stopped, realising that he’d already said too much. ‘I’ll get word to Monsieur Leroux. Don’t worry, there are other networks that we may be able to tap into until we can get things up and running again. In the meantime, can you keep your visitor hidden, do you think? Come and let me know if it becomes a problem. We must be careful ... although I know I don’t need to tell you that. Just sit tight for a few days. We’ll work something out.’
‘Merci, monsieur.’ Mireille slipped the parcel for Vivi into the inside pocket of her coat and then gathered up the larger packages.
The dyer held the shop door open for her. ‘Try not to worry,’ he told her. But his reassuring tone couldn’t disguise the tension that was etched into the creases on his forehead.
During the working day the girls stayed out of the apartment, leaving the young man there alone. He’d promised not to move around, for fear of someone hearing a soft footfall or the creak of a floorboard when visiting the storerooms immediately beneath the fifth floor. Mademoiselle Vannier and the other seamstresses often had to retrieve a client’s mannequin, or go in search of a particular pattern or a bolt of cloth. But in the evening, after everyone else had gone, Mireille, Claire and Vivi could relax a little and their ‘guest’ could be allowed out of his room to share their supper with them.
His face lit up when he saw Mireille that evening. ‘I have a name!’ he said, brandishing the false identity papers that she’d given him. ‘Allow me to introduce myself: Frédéric Fournier at your service, mademoiselle.’ He made an elaborate bow, taking her hand and kissing it theatrically.
‘Hmm,’ said Mireille, pretending to look at him appraisingly, although she made no move to withdraw her hand from his, ‘it suits you. But we will call you Fréd. It looks like you’ll be spending a few days here with us, Fréd, so I hope you won’t get too bored, stuck up here with nothing to do.’
‘On the contrary,’ he said with a smile that mirrored hers, ‘I have plenty to do. Tonight I am planning on doing my laundry, if I may make use of the facilities in this excellent establishment, and then I hope to spend a most enjoyable evening in the company of my very kind hosts.’ He looked down at her hand which he was still holding and then gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘One of my very kind hosts in particular,’ he said, quietly. And then he raised her hand to his lips again and kissed it with a tenderness, this time, that melted her heart.
While he was in the bathroom, washing himself and his socks, Mireille went to find Vivi in the kitchen where she was attempting to make a meal that was scarcely adequate for three stretch to feed four. Mireille hadn’t had a chance to tell her what the dyer had said earlier, but she did so now. She also handed over Vivi’s package and passed on the message about keeping it hidden for the time being. Vivi frowned, but said nothing and took the parcel to her room.
That evening, Mireille and the newly named Frédéric sat up late into the night, long after Claire and Vivi had gone to their beds, continuing to talk about their families and their lives before the war turned the whole world upside down. She was careful to avoid telling him anything that might put her family in danger if he were caught, but it still felt good to share a part of herself with this man and to hear his stories in return.
In a time and place where they had so little, the hours they spent in each other’s company felt like one of the best gifts she’d ever received.
After work the next evening, Claire went out to try and find some extra food. The three girls had each chipped in from their savings, so she had a few francs in her pocket in case the grocer might have anything beneath the counter that could be bought by slipping a little extra money into his hand. Usually the girls avoided the black market and made do with their official allocations of rations, but with an extra mouth to feed they were all hungrier than ever.
By the time she got home there was a satisfying heft to her shopping bag, where a jar ofconfit de canardwas concealed beneath some dusty potatoes and a bunch of wizened carrots. They would have a feast!
On the first floor, she was surprised to hear a low murmur of voices coming from the sewing room. Vivi must be working late, yet again, she thought, but she heard a male voice too and wondered whether Fréd had risked leaving the apartment.
The door stood slightly ajar and through the narrow crack she caught a glimpse of a man’s hand resting on Vivi’s shoulder. It was a gesture of complete ease, of a closeness and a comfortable intimacy which stopped Claire in her tracks. Vivi had never let on that she had a boyfriend. In fact, she rarely went out at all these days and when she did it was usually at Claire and Mireille’s insistence that she join them for a walk or a visit to a local café. If it was Fréd who sat so close to her then he must have made a very fast move. Anyway, Claire had seen the way Fréd’s face lit up whenever Mireille appeared, so it would be all the more surprising if this were him.
The two figures were intent on whatever it was that Vivi was working on and, as Claire watched, the man’s hand moved from Vivi’s arm to point at something on the table.
Claire shifted slightly, trying to get a view of the man’s face, but as she did so the bag of shopping swung a little, pushing the door open.
Two faces looked up at her, startled. And then the man said, ‘Good evening, Claire. It’s nice to see you again.’
‘Bonsoir, Monsieur Leroux,’ she replied.
He stood, and as he did so she noticed that Vivi slipped whatever it was they’d been studying so intently on to her lap.
‘I’m sorry to have interrupted you,’ Claire said, backing away from the doorway. ‘I just wanted to tell Vivi that I’ve got some supper for us all.’ She held up her bag. ‘It’ll be ready in about half an hour.’
‘That’s quite alright. I need to come upstairs to speak to you all, in any case. There is a plan for your surprise guest’s onward journey, but I need to discuss it with you. Here’ – he took the bag of shopping from her – ‘allow me to carry this for you. Vivi will follow in a minute once she’s tidied up here.’
He was certainly a very attractive man, she thought, but Claire noticed that he used the less formal version of Vivienne’s name, and that an undercurrent of understanding seemed to run between the two of them. Maybe Vivi was one of his mistresses, she thought. It would certainly explain how she’d been recruited to work at Delavigne Couture. And then, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting into place, an image came into her mind of the reflection in the mirror that she’d glimpsed at Brasserie Lipp all those months before. The man sitting at the table with Vivi and the Nazi woman had been Monsieur Leroux. That was why his face had looked familiar when they were subsequently introduced in the Tuileries gardens. Given his closeness to Vivi, he must have known all along that Claire was consorting with a German officer. She felt her cheeks burn at the thought, and was thankful that she was preceding him up the stairs so that he couldn’t see her shame. If she was completely honest with herself, during that evening at the Brasserie Lipp, she had felt a little flicker of triumphant scorn for the party she’d glimpsed at the table across the room; now that she realised who he really was, her shame was redoubled. No wonder he’d been so reticent about taking her on in the network. Had it not been for Mireille’s persuasiveness, she would surely have been ostracised completely.
On the fifth floor, there was no sign of Mireille, and the door of Fréd’s room was closed. In the little kitchen, Claire busied herself preparing the supper, heating the duck legs and peeling the potatoes. She’d refused Monsieur Leroux’s offer of help as there was such little space to move for just one person, let alone two. He leant in the doorway and watched as she began to fry the potatoes with a little of the fat from theconfitjar, adding slivers from a clove of garlic, whose tantalising smell wafted through the apartment as the pan began to splutter and sizzle.
When she glanced up from the stove, he smiled at her. With a flourish, he pulled a bottle of red wine from a deep pocket in his coat which he set on the worktop beside her. Then, from another pocket, he produced three bars of Côte d’Or chocolate which he handed to Claire. ‘I’d better give you these, because I know you will share them out fairly,’ he said, making her blush.
Summoned by the sounds and smells of her cooking, Vivi, Mireille and Fréd soon appeared and set out plates and cutlery in the sitting room.
