can carry. Mum’s jewellery, a few bits of clothing and the documents. Then we’ll head back into town and try contacting Henderson by telephone. If that doesn’t work we’ll have to move south on foot. We’re both healthy – we should be able to walk it in four or five days.’
‘I guess,’ Paul said warily. ‘I just hope the German tanks don’t beat us to it.’
* * *
3Seventh arrondissement – a district of Paris, similar to a British postal district.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marc felt like he was going to wake up. It would be one of those intense dreams, where your back is all sweaty and it takes a couple of seconds to realise that it’s not for real. But Paris was real.
For an hour he walked through streets of apartment blocks. Sometimes along grand boulevards with more cars queuing at the traffic lights than he saw passing the orphanage in a week. Other roads were narrow, with crates of bottles, overflowing bins and the smell of piss in the air.
These outer streets went on for so long that Marc began to wonder if he was going in circles. But occasional glimpses of the city centre reassured him, with the tall buildings gradually growing in size. He passed several Metro stations that could have whisked him away, but he’d never been on a train before and somehow imagined that he’d make a fool of himself or, worse, get mangled on an escalator or trapped between the doors.
There were signs of war everywhere: sandbags piled up in front of windows, anti-aircraft guns in the squares and German planes skimming overhead. The previous night had seen the heaviest bombardment of the war and Paris was capped by a cloud of ash and smoke that kept the sun under wraps. But the scale of the city made the odds of actually being shot or bombed seem slight.
Marc had spent his whole life dreaming about running away to Paris, but the longer he walked the more reality wore him down. He’d managed a good breakfast, but soon he’d be hungry again. Soon he’d need lunch, and dinner and a place to sleep, and clean clothes and … Human needs are relentless. The money would run out. He’d have to find work, or steal, or …
But he’d known that from the start and he reckoned he’d done OK so far. Marc realised, as he approached it, that the city centre would bring no great revelation and would probably be more crowded and intimidating than the outlying districts. He decided to make a go of finding some food and a place to stay in the next decent neighbourhood he came to.
It happened to be a small shopping street two kilometres north of the city centre. One of hundreds throughout the city where locals bought food, newspapers, had their clothes laundered and gossiped in a café.
Marc stopped by the grand frontage of a cinema with posters for an American movie in colour. But it was early, and the metal grilles were pulled down over the front. At the orphanage the nuns would rig up a projector and let the boys watch silent comedies every Christmas, but Marc had never been to a proper cinema and the prospect excited him. At the side of the cinema was a sizeable but largely empty café. After a second’s hesitation he stepped inside. The miserable-looking waitress took one glance and decided that she didn’t like him.
‘Refugee?’ she snorted.
Marc nodded. There was no point denying it – he was filthy after getting bounced around inside the army truck and any children still living in Paris would be at school.
‘Do you have money?’ she asked, blocking Marc’s path before he could get near a table.
He pulled a small bundle of notes from a trouser pocket – Sabine had advised him to divide the money between his pigskin bag and several pockets so that he couldn’t lose all of it at once.
The woman crinkled her nose and dragged a chair out from a table. ‘It’s too early for lunch, but I can fix you a plate.’
Marc nodded. ‘Would you mind filling my bottle of water?’
The waitress looked like this was a great imposition, but eventually snatched the empty bottle. The only other customers sat three tables across. Much to Marc’s relief the miserable waitress sat herself at a distant table and lit a cigarette. His food and refilled water bottle were brought out by a great barrel of a man. It comprised a bowl of soup