Gérard smiled, leaning in to get his kisses after Papa.
‘Adèle,’ Papa said. ‘Would you mind helping Charlotte at her boutique during the week? You won’t be able to visit Gérard at lunchtime any longer, but we had a talk and it is all right.’
‘What?’ I was pleasantly surprised.
‘Her husband left for Paris again, business for the government.’ Papa smiled. ‘And he’ll be gone for a few months. As much as it pains me to take you away from Gérard during the lunch hour, I worry about Charlotte working alone in that boutique he bought her.’
‘Because of the stillbirth?’ I said.
Papa’s eyes narrowed. I know I shouldn’t have said it out loud and in front of Gérard. A woman’s inability to carry a child might run in the family. God forbid if he entertained such thoughts. ‘I know I’m next door, but it’s not the same—she’d never ask me for help.’
Gérard’s teeth bulged from his lips. ‘What’s the name of the shop?’ He chuckled, but I wasn’t sure why.
‘It’s a boutique,’ I said, ‘for expecting mothers.’
Gérard just smiled.
I turned to Papa. ‘Of course, I’ll help Charlotte.’
‘Thank you, ma chérie—’
Gérard elbowed his way between us. ‘This actually works for me too, Adèle.’
‘It does?’ I said.
‘As it turns out, I’d like to start seeing you in the evenings. There’s a soirée tonight at Antoine’s brasserie and I need a date—important people, that sort of thing—maybe spending some real time with the police will rub off on you.’
‘An evening date?’ I smiled to hide my worry, imagining what it will be like spending a whole evening with him, when it’s dark. ‘How nice.’
‘Wear a formal gown, but not too glitzy—don’t want you looking like a prostitute. I’ll send a car for you—and don’t say anything unless talked to first…’
As Gérard rambled on about what I should and shouldn’t do at the soirée, I caught a glimpse of what Papa had already noticed: a tired old woman sitting on the kerb in the courtyard across the street from the Hotel du Parc. Behind her was a Morris Column adorned with posters of Pétain’s face instead of the nightclub advertisements it had been built for. She sat with her legs open, bent at the knee. Her dirty hands picked at the patches of skin visible through the holes in her woolly stockings—the only garments she had on under her skirt.
Gérard was in the middle of telling me about the jewellery I should wear when he turned around to see what had caught our attention. A loose crowd gathered around her, some clapping, others admiring. I was drawn toward them, stepping into the street, but Gérard pulled me back. ‘No, Adèle!’ He motioned to the soldiers standing guard at the Hotel du Parc to take care of her, but she wouldn’t move, even after one of them kicked her.
The crowd chanted and clapped in her favour, which only upset Gérard more, looking this way and that, down streets and through trees, for somewhere to take her. He snapped his fingers, yelling at the two soldiers. ‘There!’ he said, pointing toward the cemetery.
I hooked Papa’s arm. ‘What’s going on?’ I asked, but his eyes were as fixed as mine on the woman, trying to figure it all out. That’s when I reached for Gérard’s arm. ‘Don’t hurt her,’ I said, and he glared. ‘She’s just an old woman.’
‘She’s a résistant!’ Gérard pulled his arm angrily away. ‘And if you knew anything, you’d keep your mouth shut.’ He ran across the street to help the guards with the woman.
She took tube of lipstick from her pocket and was able to scribble the word ‘women’ on her forehead before the soldiers picked her up and carried her away. ‘Women of the Nation,’ someone cried out, and a whip of wind spun her white hair up in all different directions.
Papa and I stood for a good while stunned, not speaking, watching the crowd slowly break up as the woman disappeared into the cemetery with Gérard and the soldiers. ‘Let’s go, ma chérie,’ he finally said, relighting a cigar from his pocket. ‘It’s cold.’
We walked around the corner and past the flower cart that sold flowers from tins. I took a daisy from the bucket, looking back at the kerb where the woman had sat. Brown leaves tumbled over the cobblestones.
‘Just one, mademoiselle?’ the old woman said.
She asked again when I didn’t answer, and I finally pulled my eyes away, blinking, coming to. ‘Just one,’ I said, but with