in the dark, and I threw myself against the side of the building. Luc. I smelled him first, and then I felt his warmth. ‘It’s you,’ I said, and we kissed. ‘I can’t believe it.’ We kissed again. ‘It’s been so long…’
He glanced back at the wall. ‘That’s certainly going to cause some concern tomorrow.’
Glass bottles crashed nearby, followed by clopping footsteps down the street. ‘Someone’s there,’ I said.
Luc put a finger to his mouth to be quiet, and we snuck away, the collar of his coat popped up against his face. ‘Where’s the car you’ve been using?’
‘It’s parked near the promenade, to save petrol.’
We hugged the darkest spaces of the street until we made it to the promenade that ran along the Allier River where the tree branches cracked and creaked from the cold. A RAF balloon flew over our heads, dropping leaflets all around, into the icy river lapping against the bank and over the pavement, where Luc stopped and twirled me in the dark among hundreds of falling white papers.
We hopped into the car, giggling, full of excitement, driving right past Monsieur Morisset’s and up the hill to Papa’s vineyard and rushing into the barrel cellar. I yanked on the lapels of his coat, pulling him in for a kiss as I kicked the door shut, smelling the salty sea on his skin from a distant land. ‘I want you so much,’ I said, and then was overcome by my own insatiable urges, pulling him into his secret radio room, tugging on his trousers and unfastening his belt, where we devoured each other in a fury of heated kisses and fast-moving hands.
*
I barely slept, waking several times throughout the night, thinking of the mural, and Luc, even as he held me. ‘Is it morning?’ I asked when I felt him stir. I breathed in an excited breath, and he rolled over to kiss me. ‘I can’t wait to see what the wall looks like.’
‘Wait,’ he said, ‘before you leave. I have something for you.’ He reached into the pocket of his trousers that lay crumpled in a pile on the floor. ‘Don’t look.’
‘What,’ I said, closing my eyes. ‘What is it?’ The kerosene lantern hanging on the hook warmed my face, and I pretended we were in the sun. I could almost smell Papa’s post-war grapes bursting from the vines. ‘The war is over and Hitler’s dead.’
He chuckled. ‘Not quite.’
Something dangled above my face, tickling my nose, which made me giggle.
‘All right. Open your eyes,’ he said, and I gasped, smiling. A heart pendant the size of a pea hung from a delicate gold chain. He clasped the necklace around my neck, centring it just below my collarbone. ‘A deserving gift after your success last night.’
I kissed him. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful, and I shall never take it off.’
‘Shall?’ He smiled. ‘Now who is sounding British?’
He kissed me passionately, but I knew I had to leave. ‘I must go,’ I said. ‘I have a painting to see about.’ I slipped on my clothes, barely able to hide my excitement.
‘I’ll see you after,’ he said, and I kissed him one last time before hurrying off.
Mama was already up and in the kitchen. ‘Don’t move,’ I said, rushing past her for my bedroom. ‘I have a lot to tell you!’ I slipped on a new dress only to rush back into the kitchen to scrub off the paint in the sink and tell her all about last night. ‘It was dark,’ I said, ‘but I think it’s actually good. I’m off to see it now, helping Charlotte.’ I stopped short of telling her I’d spent the night with Luc, and she didn’t ask.
‘Were you scared?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, and my stomach fluttered, thinking of the image, and how bold I’d been to paint out in the open. ‘Still am a bit. Nervous—an excited nervousness.’
‘I was scared,’ Mama said. ‘Oh, Adèle…’ I looked over my shoulder to her sitting at the kitchen table, surprised by her tone. ‘I was so worried. More worried than I’ve ever been when you’ve gone off with Gérard.’
‘What?’ I dried off my hands. ‘Mama…’
She put her hand up. ‘Never mind me,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s natural for a mother to be worried. Between you and Charlotte I don’t know who worries me the most.’ She lit a cigarette and smoked at the table. ‘I’ll be better after a smoke. How is she?’ she asked. ‘Charlotte. The baby.’