shoulder. He was gazing at me full on, and maybe my eyes were used to the dark by now, because I could see his eyes under their straight black brows clear as day. “Do what you want,” he said. “It’s your life and your bairn. You might be underage, but it’s still your life. Not your parents’.”
“They mean well. Even when I’m furious at them, I know they mean well.” Why was I talking so frankly? I hadn’t talked about the Little Problem with anyone, not like this. “Finn . . .” I started to say good-bye, but we’d already said good-bye in the hotel’s court. This whole late-night interlude hadn’t really happened at all.
He was still waiting.
“Thank you,” I said at last, my voice hoarse. And I slid out of the car and turned back toward the hotel. Finn didn’t say anything at all that I could hear. I heard his voice anyway.
Do what you want.
CHAPTER 14
EVE
July 1915
The biggest secret in Lille dropped into Eve’s ear like a diamond. Kommandant Hoffman and General von Heinrich had their usual table, and Eve was just gliding up to clear away the remains of the chocolate mousse when she heard it: “—private inspection at the front,” the general said, sounding anxious. “The kaiser will pass through Lille in two weeks’ time.”
Eve continued to clear dessert plates without a flicker.
“A suitable welcome should be prepared, even if the inspection is clandestine. He must not find our attentions wanting. A small deputation to greet his train—what line will he be traveling?”
Please, Eve begged silently. The train and the date!
The general listed both, peering fussily at a notebook to check that he had it all correct. So German, this attention to tiny details, and Eve thanked God for it. She withdrew before it looked like she was dawdling, feet barely touching the ground. She knew when the kaiser—the kaiser!—was coming to the front. Lili would whoop like a banshee. “Parbleu, little daisy, well done! We will bomb that shit-brained bastard into bits, and this war will be finished!”
“What are you smiling at?” the other waitress whispered. A dim-witted corn blonde named Christine who had long since replaced the heavy-footed Amélie. “What have we got to smile about?”
“Nothing.” Eve took her place against the wall, wiping her face of emotion, but her heart was leaping like love at first sight. This war could be over. The trenches filled with dying men and glue-like mud; the starvation and the humiliation of poor abused Lille; the drone of aeroplanes and the muffled explosion of artillery over the horizon—all ended. Eve imagined yanking down the German street sign nailed up over the French one on her block, and stamping it to bits as victory bells pealed.
The clock had never moved so slowly. “Can you take up the books to Monsieur René?” Eve pleaded with Christine as they finished their final sweep-up. “I need to g-get home.”
Christine shivered. “He scares me.”
“Just look at the f-floor and say yes and no until you’re d-dismissed.”
“I can’t. He scares me!”
Eve wanted to roll her eyes. Why on earth did it matter if something scared you, when it simply had to be done anyway? Why were so many women such timid ninnies? She thought of Lili’s lion-hearted swagger, Violette’s dour and ferocious endurance. Now those were women.
She put the ledger off on the headwaiter and was out the door. Past midnight, the moon very high and nearly full—a bad night for sneaking across borders. Lili would be back through Lille soon . . .
“Fraulein!” The bark of a German voice, German boots behind her. “It is past curfew.”
“I have an exemption.” Eve scrabbled in her handbag for her identity cards and the various other bits of paper. “I work at Le Lethe; the shift has j-j-just ended.”
The German was young, officious, his face marked with acne. “Let’s see this exemption, Fraulein.”
Eve cursed silently, pawing through her bag. It wasn’t here—she’d had to empty everything out on the bed this morning so she could unpick the bag’s lining and make a better smuggling space for her coded messages. The card with her curfew exemption must be sitting on her counterpane. “I’m sorry, I don’t have it. The restaurant is just there, they can c-confirm that I—”
“Do you know the penalty for breaking curfew?” the German snapped, looking pleased to have someone to write up, but a smooth metallic voice sounded from the darkness behind Eve.
“I assure you, the girl works for me. Her papers are