Mama said. ‘A bed set up out in the open?’ She laughed her dry, smoker’s laugh.
‘How often does he come inside?’ I said, and then wondered if he’d be eating supper with us every night, which made my stomach flip again.
‘Not often,’ she said. ‘The cellar door is shut when he’s gone, left open when he’s here. The Résistance likes it that way. Luc said it was to throw off suspicious neighbours. If the doors are open, what would we be hiding?’
‘What is he hiding, guns?’
‘I saw a radio transmitter,’ Mama said. ‘He said the Germans were driving around Lyon looking for radio pings.’
‘Germans?’ The bowl slipped from my hands and broke in the bottom of the sink. ‘In the Free Zone?’
Mama reached into the sink and fished out the broken bits of bowl. ‘It was only a matter of time, Adèle. Only a matter of time.’
*
Mama went up to bed, and I wiped down the counters and turned off the lights before taking one of Mama’s cigarettes outside with me for a smoke. The night looked darker than it did the other night, with little pricks of light for stars that barely lit up the vineyard. Reminded me of the last time I smoked on the patio.
The night before Charlotte’s wedding.
She sat with her back to me as I looked out the door. Mama and Papa had already gone to sleep and I thought she had too, so I was surprised to see her outside all by herself in her blue and poufy sleeping gown. I sat down beside her, accidentally scaring her, and her hand flew to her chest.
‘Adèle!’ she said, catching her breath, but then smiled.
I offered her a cigarette after lighting my own.
‘You know Henri doesn’t like cigarettes,’ she said.
‘He’ll never know,’ I said, pushing it at her. ‘It’s your last night here.’
She reached for it after a short pause. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head, but then took the cigarette. ‘All right. One won’t hurt.’ I struck the lighter and she took a puff with her lips drawn up like a coin purse.
I laughed, watching her struggle.
‘Stop that,’ she said, coughing, waving the smoke away.
‘Just breathe normally. You’re trying too hard,’ I said, and we smoked together on the step.
‘You’ll visit, won’t you?’ I said. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose my cooking partner.’
‘I’ll have a house of my own,’ she said. ‘Henri says he’s going to buy us a nice apartment near the square. Brand-new furniture too.’
‘Where’s he going to get brand-new furniture?’ I said, and she shrugged.
‘I don’t know. That’s what he said.’
‘Well, you can still visit…’ I flicked ash from my cigarette. ‘Besides, your paints are here, all your canvases,’ I said, and she exhaled. ‘You promised me a painting of the vineyard. Remember? Papa’s vines in the summer… I want to remember it always. The sun and how it shines on the grape skins. Only you can capture—’
‘I’ll try.’ She looked down, sighing.
‘Of course, I could try to paint it myself,’ I said, and her mouth hung open.
‘Don’t touch my paints,’ she said, but I was only teasing.
‘Can I have your bed quilt?’ I said.
‘Ready for me to leave, are you?’ she said. ‘Yes, you can have it. But you can’t have my bedroom.’
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘You won’t be needing it. I think I might like your bedroom. It’s bigger.’ It was then I thought about what it would be like without Charlotte around, and having her bedroom empty. I didn’t even want her bedroom. ‘I won’t take it. But do paint me something soon.’
She puffed on her cigarette, blowing great big clouds of white into the air, but then she coughed uncontrollably into her arm, laughing.
‘What?’
‘I can’t imagine what a painting of yours would look like.’ She slapped the patio with her hand, still laughing.
‘Shh!’ I looked up to Mama and Papa’s bedroom window. ‘You want to wake up Mama and Papa?’ I said, and she shook her head, her laugh turning into a giggle.
‘I can’t be that bad,’ I said. ‘With you as a sister? Maybe I could do it?’
She snubbed out her cigarette. ‘Umm. Hmm.’
‘I wouldn’t even try.’ I nudged her.
She adjusted the poufy blue fabric spread out around her and over the step. ‘Are you going to wear that tomorrow night with Henri?’ I wouldn’t put it past Charlotte. She’d probably wet her hair to keep the curls down, and bathe with special salts too.
‘I don’t know yet,’ she said.
‘Are you nervous?’ I