The Girl from Vichy - Andie Newton Page 0,39

silky peignoir, watching him as he paced around the kitchen taking short, quick steps as if he wasn’t sure how to handle the anger gurgling inside of him.

‘Everything I’ve done has been for this family. Pétain is the way.’ Mama shook her head. ‘We will prosper if we follow his lead.’

‘The Vichy government is a puppet regime—ruled by German policy, not French,’ Mama spouted with her arms lifting in the air. ‘Occupied, unoccupied—Pétain got a country of his own, he’s happy. Until one day… one day when the Reich decides to take it all!’

‘You will see. Pétain will not let us down.’

‘Pétain?’ She sneered. ‘He only appeals to the people because he’s a hero from the war. Sitting out and wait for the Germans to conquer Britain is not a plan.’

‘Easy for you to say—standing in your kitchen. What do you know about risks?’

Mama’s mouth hung open, and her eye twitched. For a moment I thought I saw the fearless nurse she must have been on the fields at Ypres. ‘Don’t. You—’

Papa pleaded with her to listen to him, stretching his hands out for hers, but she wouldn’t take them. ‘My way is the way, Pauline. Why can’t you see that?’

‘Your way.’ Mama threw a tea towel at the wall, and it hit a framed photo of Charlotte in her wedding dress. ‘And what has that gotten us?’ The frame dangled helplessly from one corner before falling onto what looked like their supper dishes from the night before.

‘Charlotte loves her husband, and she’s doing what she can to keep France alive, adhering to Pétain’s wishes. You can’t blame me for—’

Mama crossed her chest with the sign of the divinity, which stopped Papa from talking.

‘And what about Adèle?’

‘That,’ he said, ‘was your doing.’

‘No,’ Mama said. ‘She left because you betrothed her to that… that… collaborator! A German in French clothing.’

‘She left because you gave her the money,’ Papa said.

‘It’s my fault?’ Mama’s face turned red. ‘You came back for a night just so I could throw you out the next morning?’ Papa didn’t budge. ‘Get out!’

She saluted Papa the way Nazi soldiers saluted each other, and his mouth pinched. He raised his valise into the air and shook it along with his fist as if he wanted to hit Mama—but he would never.

I threw open the screen door and stepped into the kitchen. Mama jumped. Papa froze, the valise suspended in the air.

‘I’m home,’ I said, and the door slammed closed behind me.

Seconds passed—neither of them saying a word. Mama’s face was indifferent; I couldn’t read her at all. Papa slowly lowered his valise, his arms dropping to his sides.

‘Glad to see you, Adèle!’ I said, since nobody else did.

Mama reached for her cigarettes and a lighter that lay on the counter. ‘Your father was just leaving.’ She threw her head back to get the hair out of her eyes and sucked on her cigarette as if she mistook the smoke for oxygen. ‘Weren’t you, Albert?’

A slight smile replaced Papa’s scowl. ‘Ma chérie.’ He kissed both my cheeks and in that second I knew he really did blame Mama for me leaving. ‘You’re home! You’ve reconsidered Gérard’s proposal?’ A shimmer of cornflower blue pierced the blackness that had marbled in his eyes. ‘I’ll tell Gérard you’ve come back. He’ll be so pleased.’

My knees nearly buckled. ‘You mean… he doesn’t hate me?’ I looked at Mama and then to Papa, disbelieving, but also very relieved.

‘Hate you?’ Papa almost laughed. ‘How could he hate you?’

‘Because I left him,’ I said, ‘suddenly, without a word.’

‘I’ll tell him you’re back.’ He went for the door as if he were going to do it right then, but I grabbed his shoulder with great certainty.

‘No, Papa.’ I didn’t want Gérard finding out I was home before I was ready. As ready as I could be. ‘What I mean is… I’ll talk to him myself.’ I let go of his shoulder after realizing I was squeezing too tightly. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

Papa took my hands. ‘Alliances are very important. And you two got along so well in those weeks leading up to the wedding. He’s a war hero, Battle of Sedan.’

I took a deep breath, about to lie straight to my father’s face—one of many lies I was sure I’d have to tell. ‘I will be grateful if Gérard gives me a second chance.’

He smiled, and I smiled back.

Mama whipped her head away from whatever she had been staring at through the window and shot us

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