hand as he chewed and swallowed. ‘I’ll have a car pick you up.’
‘For what?’
‘The dinner. Eight o’clock.’
‘I can’t,’ I blurted. ‘I have work to do at Papa’s, and then Mama needs me.’
‘Yes, you can.’ He smiled. ‘It’s my first night back in so long. Albert will be all right with it, maybe even your mother if she’s suffering like so many others under the rationing. You will be there, and you might just enjoy it. The last time I invited you to a formal dinner you left for the nunnery, missed my police promotion. You won’t miss this one.’ He winked. ‘I know it.’
I gulped. ‘Gérard, I—’
‘It’s good to see you again, Adèle.’ Gérard took a deep breath, slumping back in his chair instead of leaving as I expected him to. ‘You’re prettier than I remembered. The way your hair brushes up against your shoulder—it is like a woman but also very innocent.’
He sounded like a real man—not the sly collaborator I knew him to be, and I sat, dumbstruck by his sincerity. Then an odd sensation roiled in my gut—nervousness, which I hadn’t felt for a very long time
‘I’m back now,’ he said, ‘for good. We can stop with the cat and mouse game. Can’t we?’ He tugged on my hand, pulling me in for a kiss across the table. ‘Remember, eight o’clock.’
I went to leave, slinging my pocketbook over my shoulder. ‘I told you I can’t.’
‘Meet me there if it’s easier,’ he said. ‘Dinner’s at Antoine’s.’
I walked away in a hurry, ducking into an alley to collect myself. He’s back. I closed my eyes. Charlotte had warned me, Papa had warned me. I peeked around the corner to see if he had watched me leave, catching a glimpse of him still sitting at our table, unfolding the newspaper and sipping his coffee.
The cowering dog had followed me and was now at my feet, her little brown eyes looking up at me, licking her lips, a wagging tail between her legs. I unfolded the wax paper and gave her the last of Gérard’s croissant, kneeling to pet her as she ate. She took gulping bites, looking up at me every so often while licking the paper.
‘Gérard,’ I breathed. I still couldn’t believe it. I peeked once more, but he’d moved away from the table and was now talking to one of the Germans, monitoring, pointing down the street and to businesses, and then to his newspaper and the headline about the Catchfly.
I gasped.
‘Come on,’ I said, picking the dog up and tucking her under my arm. ‘You’re nobody’s dinner.’
*
Mama took one look at the dog and then mumbled about having another mouth to feed. She counted the number of fruit jars she had left in the root cellar. ‘We’ve eaten too much of the meat, and the pickles are gone.’
‘I couldn’t leave her behind the rubbish bin. A scrap to be eaten.’
The dog hid under Mama’s skirt and licked her calves as she sat at the kitchen table, tearing a two-day-old crust of bread in half. ‘Not much flour left either. This war has taken everything. Now it’s taken my food too.’
I hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but the flour really had started to go, most of it crawling with weevils.
‘I didn’t think it would come to this,’ Mama said. ‘We’re damn near the bottom now.’
I felt guilty for bringing the poodle home, but what else could I do? ‘If the dog becomes a problem, I’ll take care of it. Not sure how, but I will.’
Mama glanced up. ‘Don’t name it. If you do it’ll be that much harder to get rid of, if the times comes.’
‘All right.’
I picked the poodle up from the floor and sat down with her on my lap. Drool oozed from her jaws as she watched Mama pick at her bread, taking small bites to make it last longer.
‘There’s something else,’ I said, and she looked up. ‘Gérard’s back.’
Mama gulped. ‘What?’ She closed her eyes. ‘Is he…’
‘He thinks were still together.’
‘Jesus Christ, Adèle,’ she said.
‘I know, Mama. I know. He thinks he’s getting a promotion tonight. There’s a big dinner.’
‘A promotion?’
I bit my lip, pausing. ‘But that’s not the worst of it.’ I reached into my pocketbook and pulled out the front page of the newspaper. I hesitated with it in my hand and her eyes grew wide.
‘What is it?’ Mama said as I slid it to her, and her hand clamped over her mouth.