His voice was full of concern which slightly irritated Janine. True, he was a very old friend of Jean-Pauls, but this hardly entitled him to put his concern on a level with, if not above, that of a wife and a mother.
We are going to have some tea, Christian. Will you stay? said Sophie.
Just for a moment. I have to get back.
Back where? asked Janine in surprise. Surely there is no work for you to do. I thought everyone to do with the Government had run off to Bordeaux?
I stayed, said Valois shortly.
In fact, his gesture in staying on at the Ministry was proving rather a strain. It hadnt taken the Germans long to realize that he had neither authority nor function. A friendly Wehrmacht officer had suggested that if he was worried about his pay, hed quite happily sign a weekly chitty certifying that the undermentioned civil servant had attended his place of work. This kindly condescension was far more infuriating than any hostility or threat could have been.
That was brave, said Janine sincerely.
Valoiss thin sallow face flushed. He opened his mouth, realized he was going to say something pompous about duty, bit it back and said instead, Thank you.
The two young people smiled at each other. Sophie Simonian noted this with approval. She liked young Christian and it had always seemed a shame that he and Janine didnt get on. A mans first loyalty was to his family, but he needed his friends too, much more than a woman did.
As they sat and drank their tea, Janine told her story once more. Valois frowned as she told of the German planes attacking the refugee column.
Bastards! he said.
Its war, said Sophie. What do you expect? Stop the war is the only way to stop the killing.
You think so? Perhaps. Only the war will not stop, will it?
But the Marshal is talking with the Germans about a truce, cried Janine. It was on the wireless.
Truce? Defeat, you mean. Is that what you want? demanded Valois.
No! I mean, I dont know. I hate the Germans, I want to see them thrown out of France, of course I do. But the only way for Jean-Paul to be safe is for the fighting to stop! I mean its stupid, hes out there on the Maginot Line somewhere and all the Germans are here in France behind him! I mean its just so bloody, bloody stupid!
She was close to tears. Sophie put her arm around her and frowned accusingly at Valois.
Im sorry, he said. You know Im worried about Jean-Paul too. Listen, there will be a truce, an armistice, something like that, Im sure. Hell be safe. But thats not what I mean when I say the war wont end. De Gaulles gone to England, a lot of them have. I heard him on the British radio saying that he would fight on no matter what happened back here.
De Gaulle? Whos he? asked Janine.
Hes a general, a friend of the Marshals.
But the Marshal wants a truce, doesnt he?
Thats right.
And everyone says the Boche will be in England soon too. Theres nothing to stop them, is there? What does this de Gaulle do then? Go to America? asked Janine scornfully.
At least theres someone out there not giving up, said Valois.
He finished his tea and stood up. Janine saw his gaze drift round the room coming to rest on the large silver menorah on the window sill.
Are the other apartments still occupied? he asked casually.
Sophie said, A lot went. Soon theyll be back when they see its safe, no doubt. Madame Nomary, the concierge, is still in the basement. Like me, too old to run. And Monsieur Melchior is still upstairs.
Melchior?
You must have seen him, said Janine. The writer. Or artist. Or something like that. At least he dresses that way, you know, flamboyantly. I think hes
He likes the men more than the ladies is what she doesnt care to say in front of silly old Bubbah, mocked Sophie. But hes a gentleman and very quiet, especially since the war. I think hes been hiding up there, poor soul. Why so interested in my neighbours, Christian?
No reason. I must go, Madame Sophie. Take care.
Id better go too and rescue maman from the kids, said Janine, jumping up. Bye, Bubbah. Ill bring Pauli and Céci next time.
Be sure you do, child. God go with you both.
Outside in the steepsided canyon of the Rue de Thorigny they walked in silence for a little way.
Finally Janine said, Whats worrying you about Sophie, Christian?
He shot her a surprised glance then said, I thought I was a better actor! Its nothing. I was just wondering how I could suggest that it might be politic not to, well, advertise her Jewishness
In the Marais? Dont be silly. And why would you say such a thing?
You must have heard how the Boche treat Jews. Some of the stories
But thats in Germany, protested Janine. They wouldnt dare do anything here, not to Frenchmen. The people wouldnt let it happen!
You think not? I hope so, he said doubtfully.
Im glad you didnt say anything, though. It would really have worried Bubbah.
It wasnt just her I was concerned about, said Christian gently.
Me? Why should it worryoh my God. Jean-Paul, you mean? If they capture Jean-Paul
She stood stricken.
Im sorry, he said. It probably wont happen. And hell be a prisoner-of-war in any case, under the Geneva Conventionwhere are you going?
Shed set off at a pace that was more of a trot than a walk. Looking back over her shoulder she cried, Ive got to get back to the children, see theyre all right. Goodbye, Christian.
Goodbye, he said. Ill call
Already she was out of earshot. He headed west, frowning, and in a little while turned on to the Rue de Rivoli. He walked with his shoulders hunched, his head down, and did not see, or at least did not acknowledge seeing, the huge red and black swastika banners which fluttered everywhere like prospectors flags to mark out what the Germans were claiming for their own.
3
Hey kid, whats your name?
Pauli looked up at the man whod just appeared in the doorway of the little courtyard behind the bakers. He was a big man with long red hair, a longer beard and a strong curved nose. He looked as if hed been living rough and as he moved nearer, Pauli realized he smelt that way too.
Pauli, he said. Well, Jean-Paul, really. But maman calls me Pauli.
Pauli, eh? Maman, you say? Would that be Janine?
Yes, thats mamans name, said the boy.
Well, Ill be blowed. And look at the size of you! Little Janines boy! Well, Im your Uncle Miche, Pauli. Not really your uncle, more your half-cousin, but uncle will do nicely till Ive stood out in the rain long enough to shrink to your size.
This reversal of the usual adult clichés about growing up into a big boy amused and reassured Pauli. He stood his ground as the big man moved forward and rested a hand on his head. He noticed with interest that this new and fascinating uncle did indeed seem to have been standing out in the rain. His shapeless grey trousers and black workmans jacket were damp with the moisture which the morning sun was just beginning to suck up from the high roofs. Here in the confined yard, it was still shadowy and chill. Michel Boucher shivered but with a controlled shiver like an animal vibrating its flesh for warmth.
Why dont we go inside and surprise Uncle Claude? he said. I bet its nice and warm in the bakehouse!
It was. There were two huge ovens, one down either side of the vaulted ochre-bricked building and both were going full blast. Claude Crozier was removing a trayful of loaves from one of them to add to the mornings bake already cooling on the long central table. Boucher looked at the regiments of bread with covetous eyes and said, Morning, Uncle Claude. Hows it been with you? Christ, theres a grand smell in here!
The baker almost dropped his tray in surprise.
Whos that? Michel, is that you? What the blazes are you doing here?
Just passing, uncle, and I thought Id pay my respects.
Kind of you, but just keep on passing, eh? Before your aunt sees you.
Crozier was not a hard man but his nephew was an old battle, long since lost. The baker had been more than generous in the help he gave his widowed sister to bring up her two children. But when within the space of a year, their mother had died of TB, Mireille had married a farmer on holiday and gone to live in the Ain region, and Miche had got two years juvenile detention for aggravated burglary, Louise broke her disapproving silence and said, Enoughs enough. Not a penny more of our hard-earned money goes to that neer-do-well. Hell never be more than a crook, youll see.
Now here he was again.
You cant stay, said Crozier urgently.
Oh I wont stay, uncle, said Boucher. Just long enough for a bite of breakfast, eh?
The bakers consternation at this prospect changed to terror as the door to the shop opened and his wife came in.
She stopped dead at the sight of Boucher.
Morning, Auntie Lou, he called cheerfully. Just dropped in to pay my respects. And have a bite of breakfast.
He took a couple of steps nearer the tray of new-baked bread as he spoke.
My God! cried the woman, peering closely at him. Youre wet! Youre dirty! Youre unshaven! And you smell!
Her tone was triumphant as well as indignant. There were few pleasures dearer to her bourgeois heart than being justified in a fit of moral indignation.
Yes, well, Ive been down on my luck a bit, said Boucher.
Suddenly Pauli moved forward to the table, picked up a roll and presented it to the man.
Thanks, kid, he said, already shedding crumbs with the second syllable.
Pauli, what are you doing! How dare you? thundered Louise.
Maman, whats going on? Whyre you shouting at Pauli?
Janine, attracted by her mothers bellow, had appeared in the doorway. She looked at Boucher without recognition.
I just gave Uncle Miche a roll, explained the little boy tearfully.
Hello, Cousin Janine. This is a good lad youve got here, said Boucher. He stuffed the rest of the roll into his mouth. Delicious! Well, Ill be on my way. Dont want to outstay such a generous welcome. Cheers, kid.
He patted Pauli on the head again, gave a mock military salute and left.
Pauli ran to his mother and said, Maman, he was all wet. He says he stands out in the rain to shrink.
Youll have to do something about that boy, said Louise, annoyed at feeling in the wrong. The sooner he gets off to school, the better.
Janine glared at her mother, then turned and ran back into the shop. A moment later they heard the shop door open and shut.
She met her cousin as he came out of the passage which led into the rear yard.
Here, she said, stuffing a note into his hand. Its not much, but I havent got much.
He looked at the money, making little effort to hide his surprise.
Thanks, cousin, he said. Things have changed, eh?
What do you mean?
Last time we met, you were still at school, I think. You told me you werent permitted to speak to degenerates. Exact words!
Janine flushed, then laughed as she saw Boucher was laughing at her.
People grow up, she said.
Not me, he said. Not if I can help it.
What are you doing, Miche?
Im not sure, he said. I thought somehow, when this lot started, Id be fighting the Boche, slate wiped clean sort of thing. But the first flic who recognized me came charging after me waving his cuffs! So Ive had to keep my head down. Its been a bit rough, but itll get sorted sooner or later I dont doubt.
Havent you got anywhere to stay? asked Janine sympathetically.
No. Well, I was all right at first. I shacked upI mean lodged with an old friend. Arlette la Blonde, stage name, does an exotic dance at the Golden Gate, I dont expect you know her. Well, that was all right, only a few days back, they opened up again and well, late hours and that, it wasnt convenient, you know these show people
He tailed off as he realized that this time she was laughing at him.
You mean she brings friends back for the night and they dont care to find your head on the pillow already!
Yeah, thats it, he said grinning. Then he stopped grinning.
I could have hung on there, slept days. Only I found she was bringing back Krauts! That really got up my nose! So I slung my hook.
You wont have to be so choosy, Miche. Not now theyre our friends.
Friends? What do you mean?
Havent you heard? It was on the radio this morning. An armistice was signed yesterday.
Armistice? Signed by who? Not by the Marshal! Hed not sign an armistice with these bastards. Not the Marshal.
Yes, said Janine. Pétain signed it. At Compiègne. In the same railway carriage.
Bloody hell, said Boucher shaking his head in bewilderment.
Janine! called her mothers voice from inside.
Id better go.
Yeah. Sure. Thanks, cousin. Well keep in touch, eh?
She smiled, pecked his cheek and went inside.
Boucher turned and walked away, not paying much attention to direction. Despite his experiences, hed still gone on hoping that somewhere in this mess there was going to be a chance for a sort of patriotic redemption. But now it was over before it had really begun and he was back to being a full-time wanted man.
He paused to take stock of his surroundings. Hed almost reached the Boulevard Raspail. There was a car coming towards him. It didnt look particularly official, but any car you saw on the streets nowadays was likely to be official. He coughed in his hand, covering his face, just in case.
But the car was slowing. It pulled into the kerb just in front of him. His head still lowered, he increased his pace as he went by. A door suddenly opened. His legs tensed themselves to break into a run.
Miche? Miche Boucher? It is you!
He paused, glanced back, turned.
Bloody hell, he said. Pajou.
4
Maurice Melchior carefully examined his black velvet jacket for dust or hairs. Satisfied, he slipped his slender arms into it, spent some time adjusting the angle of his fedora, then stood back from the mirror to get the total effect.
Stunning, was the only possible verdict. He was a creature perfectly in balance, at that ideal point in his thirties where youth still burnt hot enough to melt the mature, and maturity already glowed bright enough to dazzle the young.