distinguished,’ the other model had remarked, languorously rearranging her silk dressing gown where it had slipped open to reveal the black lace of the camisole she wore underneath. She took another drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke towards the ceiling of the room behind the salon, where the models waited in between clients’ visits.
The first model had sniffed. ‘He’s alright, if you like that sort of thing, I suppose. His looks are a little too Germanic for my liking, along with the company he keeps. Ouch!’ She remonstrated, pulling away from Mireille, who knelt at the model’s feet with her pincushion. ‘Watch what you’re doing with those pins, clumsy! If you catch these stockings with one, it’ll cost you a whole week’s wages to replace them.’
And Mireille had ducked her head and smiled to herself as she’d put the last pin in place on the hem of the coat.
If only they could see him now, she thought to herself, as they wandered down the broad, central pathway towards the pond in the middle of the gardens. As if reading her thoughts, he shot her a quick smile before turning his attention to questioning Claire about her family and her home back in Brittany. His tone was casually conversational, but Mireille could sense that he was testing Claire, still making up his mind whether or not she could be relied upon as a member of the network.
They reached the hornbeam avenue and sauntered beneath the straight-cut walls of the trees’ branches. At first glance, the twigs were dead-looking. But Mireille knew that if you looked a little more closely, you could make out the tightly furled buds, waiting to clothe the trees in their summer finery. As the three of them walked down the avenue, they nodded greetings to the few others that they passed who had also decided to skip Mass and enjoy the brightness of a clear spring day instead. After half an hour, they had doubled back towards the Jeu de Paume and Monsieur Leroux prepared to take his leave before they came back in sight of the guard. He smiled and nodded at Mireille, signalling that he was convinced that Claire would be an asset to the network.
Turning to Claire, he said, ‘Well, Mademoiselle Meynardier, thank you for volunteering to help us. You will make a very useful messenger, I believe. Mireille will advise you, and pass you your instructions from time to time.’
He turned to go, but then stopped. ‘Oh, I almost forgot!’ He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a package, containing three bars of chocolate with the distinctive palm tree and elephant design on the wrappers. ‘You’d better make sure you eat these before Lent begins on Wednesday, mesdemoiselles.’
The girls gasped in delight.
‘Merci, monsieur. Look, Mireille,’ Claire exclaimed, ‘we can give one to Vivi too!’ She turned to Monsieur Leroux. ‘She’s our friend – another of the seamstresses, who lives above the shop with us. She loves chocolate as much as we do.’
‘Indeed?’ he replied. He cast an appraising glance over Claire. Did Mireille imagine it, or was there a flash of amusement in his hazel eyes? ‘Well in that case it’s extremely fortuitous that I managed to lay my hands on three bars for you.’
Then his expression grew serious again and he said, ‘Go well, girls. And be careful.’
Claire’s pulse had fluttered with nerves when Mireille had given her her first assignment – a message to be passed to Monsieur and Madame Arnaud with instructions for moving on a Jewish businessman they’d been harbouring for a few days while an escape plan could be put in place. That first job had gone smoothly and Claire had made it to the safe house and back, encountering just one impromptu road block on the way. She’d managed to smile at the guards as they checked her identity papers and she hadn’t wavered when they asked her to open the attaché case she carried. She had shown them the sheet music inside and explained that she was on her way to a singing lesson, as she’d been briefed to do by Mireille. That time, she’d memorised the addresses and instructions, so there was no risk of the Nazis finding anything as they’d leafed through the papers. They had nodded her through the barriers and one had even wished her a good evening as she continued on her way into the Marais.