Maman too? But she said shed never visit Sophies flat again.
Never set foot in that heathen temple had been the precise phrase.
I told her it was Christmas and shed have to swallow her pride, said Claude. She shouted at me a bit, but deep down she wanted to be told.
Yes, said Janine ruefully. I know how she feels.
The truce lasted all that evening and even survived Janines amazement the next morning at the way in which rationing and growing food shortages did not seem to have affected her mothers preparations for Christmas dinner. Probably all over Paris, housewives were performing similar miracles, she assured herself. But she had a feeling this miracle had started with a bit more than a few loaves and fishes.
Just on midday with the house rich with the smell of baking and boiling and roasting, the door burst open to admit a tall, broad-shouldered, red-bearded man, resplendent in a beautifully cut suit, pale grey almost to whiteness, a virginal silk shirt and a flowered necktie fastened with a diamond-studded gold pin. He had the look of a pirate king dressed up for his bosuns wedding. On his arm was an elegantly furred woman with tight black curls, a great deal of make-up, bright-red nail varnish and a good figure, slightly thickening with rather heavy thighs.
My God, Miche, is that you? said Janine.
Cousin Janine, how are you, girl? Boucher cried, stooping to give her a kiss which went a little way beyond the cousinly. His beard was soft and fragrant with attar of roses.
I hoped youd be here. Ive brought a few things for the kids. Hey, this is Hélène Campaux, by the way. La Belle Hélène, eh? She dances at the Folies. Some mover! Now where are those kids? And wheres the old folks?
I think theyre in the bakehouse, said Janine. Ill go and tell them
Warn them, she meant. But it was too late.
The door opened.
Madame Crozier stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the newcomers.
Then spreading her arms, she cried, Michel, my dear. Youve come!
And with an expression of amazement which matched anything her father ever produced, Janine saw these old antagonists embrace with all the fervour of dear friends, long parted.
It soon became clear that the reconciliation had taken place some time before and obviously had much to do with Cousin Miches new affluence. He presided over the feast like a red-bearded Father Christmas, commandeering Paulis help to fetch in from a rakish Hispano-Suiza bottles of champagne, a smoked ham, a tub of pâté de foie gras and a whole wheel of Camembert. In addition there were the promised presents, a huge fairy doll for Céci and a football and a penknife for Pauli.
Janine demurred at the knife.
Hes far too young. Hell cut himself.
Nonsense! said her cousin. Me, I was carrying daggers and knuckle-dusters at his age!
This reference to his criminal past, far from offending Louise, provoked her into peals of laughter. But she went on to say, Janines right. Hes too young for a knife.
Pauli said, Maman, its not all a knife. Its got all kinds of things.
He demonstrated, pulling out one after another a corkscrew, a bottle-opener, a screw-driver, a gimlet.
I cant cut myself with these, he said earnestly. If I promise not to open the blade till Im old enough, can I keep it? Please, maman?
He fixed his unblinking wide-eyed gaze upon her, not beseeching, but inviting her to retreat before the logic of his argument.
As usual, there seemed nothing else to do.
All right, she said. Only, Pauli, Ill decide when youre old enough, you understand?
Yes, maman.
Then promise.
I promise, he said solemnly.
Janine, are you sure? Hes only a child, protested Louise. Youre far too soft, I always said.
Except when you said I was too hard, retorted Janine.
This small crack in good will was smoothly papered over by Hélène, who said, Isnt it lovely to see them opening their presents? I just long to have children of my own, Janine. Youre so lucky to have this beautiful pair.
She sounded as if she meant it and Janine found herself warming to her. Soon they were deep in domestic conversation, while Madame Crozier busied herself being the perfect hostess, and Boucher and Monsieur Crozier talked nostalgically about the great cyclists of the thirties. One thing that no one mentioned was the immediate past or the foreseeable future. The Paris - indeed the France - that lay outside the door might not have existed. Christmas, always a game, was being played with extra fervour this year.
Only a child to whom all play is reality could not grasp the rules of this game. Pauli ate his dinner silently, and drank his wine and water, and looked after his little sister who still found it hard to discriminate between nose and mouth. And all the time he hardly ever took his eyes off Michel Boucher. But Janine knew, and the knowledge wrenched her heart, that it was his father he was seeing.
And now her own father, as if catching the thought, broke the rules too and said quietly when Pauli had taken his sister to the lavatory, Any news of Jean-Paul?
Janine shook her head. Boucher said, That man of yours not turned up yet? Thats lousy. Have you tried the Red Cross?
Ive tried everything, said Janine dully. She listed all her channels of enquiry. Hélène put her hand over hers and squeezed sympathetically, while Boucher snorted his opinion of civil servants and bureaucracy.
Then Louise came in with brandy and chocolates and the subject was shelved.
When the time came for the visitors to go, Janine showed them out. After he had put Hélène in the car, Miche came back to the shop doorway and kissed her in a fairly cousinly manner.
Its been great today, he said.
Thats good, Miche. And it was lovely having you and Hélène here.
Yeah. Surprising too, eh? He laughed. I saw your face! Thing is Ive always liked your dad. Hes been good to me over the years, more than the rest of you know. All the family Ive got, you Croziers. It was meeting Hélène that made me realize a man needed a family. So when I started doing well enough to get round Auntie Lou, I thought, what the hell. I can put up with her funny little ways.
Im glad, Miche. You and Hélène are really serious then?
Do me a favour! he said. Im too young to be really serious. But serious enough. Look, Jan, none of my business, but about Jean-Paul, if you like Ill have a word with my new boss, see if he can help.
Your new boss. Whos that, Miche? asked Janine suspiciously.
Doesnt matter, if he can help, does it? laughed Boucher. And if he cant, then it doesnt matter either. Ill be in touch. Hey, what are you doing on New Years Eve? Fancy going to a party?
I dont think so, Miche, said Janine. Im not really in the party mood at the moment.
No? On second thoughts, you probably wouldnt enjoy this one anyway, he said with a grin. Cheers, kids. Pauli, you look after your mother now. Wiedersehen!
And as Janine frowned her displeasure, he smiled, shrugged and said, When in Rome, sweetie, do like they do in Berlin. Lebwohl!
And as Janine frowned her displeasure, he smiled, shrugged and said, When in Rome, sweetie, do like they do in Berlin. Lebwohl!
8
So the year drew to its close. Winter like the Germans came swiftly, hit hard, felt as if it was here to stay.
Ill tell you something, Günter, said Major Zeller. I never thought it would be so easy.
Victory, you mean?
No. Not victory in the field, anyway. It was always possible that that would be easy. No, the remarkable thing is the degree to which we have got ourselves accepted. More than accepted. Welcomed! I actually feel at home in this city, a visitor rather than a conqueror.
He paused, then went on, It would please me, Günter, if from time to time as I spoke to you, that you gave a little nod of agreement or let something other than lugubrious doubt light up that gamekeeper face of yours.
Sorry, said Mai.
You dont agree?
Its early days, sir, said Mai. You knock a man down, he may be concussed and in shock for a long time afterwards. He may even believe that he didnt really mind being knocked down. But youd better wait till hes fully himself again before deciding if you really want him holding the ladder while youre cleaning windows.
Zeller regarded him curiously.
Cleaning windows? How quaint you sometimes are, Günter. I do hope you will not put your quaintness forward as official Abwehr thinking tonight. The SD are keen enough to undermine us without giving them ammunition in the Embassy.
Ill try to remember my manners, sir. I expect in any case Ive only been invited to hand out drinks to the distinguished foreign guests. Is Monsieur Melchior attending on our ticket, by the way?
A glittering New Year reception was being held at the Embassy. All the main sections of the Occupying Authority had been asked to submit suggestions for the guest list. Mai knew very well that there was more chance of Zeller suggesting Winston Churchill than Melchior. The major was still being ribbed by officers in those units put on alert for the non-existent midnight disturbances. He was convinced that somehow the SD had been behind the fiasco to make the Abwehr look ridiculous. Mai didnt discount the possibility but didnt reckon Melchior would have had the nerve to fool Zeller knowingly.
I should prefer not to hear that revolting creatures name mentioned, lieutenant, said Zeller dangerously. I dont know where hes been hiding for the past weeks, but when he finally crawls out of his hole, hes going to wish hed burrowed down the centre of the earth.
Going to give him a spanking, are we? thought Mai. But the look on his superiors face convinced him it would be unwise even to hint he found the matter more amusing than tragic.
That night as he stood in the most obscure corner of the huge reception room in the Embassy, feeling itchy and uncomfortable in his dress uniform, he wondered if perhaps Zeller hadnt been right about one thing. Looking round the glittering assembly, it was easy to believe that all the richest, most influential members of the Parisian ruling classes were here. Women in elegant billows of silk and satin, necks and bosoms gleaming with gold or dazzling with diamonds; men in tail-suits that actually fitted, some with the medals of other campaigns in other wars pinned proudly on their chests; smiling, dancing, drinking, joking with their conquerors. Could it be that Zeller was right? Could they not only have won the war, but somehow managed to win the peace?
As if summoned by his thoughts, the major appeared. He looked vital, assured, handsome, a true conqueror.
Enjoying yourself, Günter? The perfect end to a perfect year, wouldnt you say? Triumph after triumph! Theres been nothing like it since Augustan Rome!
Remember, you are mortal, major.
What?
Didnt the Romans use to set a slave close behind the conqueror in his triumph to whisper as he acknowledged the cheers of the crowd, Remember, you are mortal?
Did they? And is that the role you think Gods allocated you? said Zeller sarcastically. No, I shouldnt think so. Basically youre too arrogant a bastard to think of yourself as a slave.
Mai smiled. He wasnt about to be provoked into a public row with his superior. That kind of fight was no-contest.
In any case, he definitely hadnt been picked to remind Zeller of his human frailty that night. God had chosen quite another champion. Mai knew this because, over the majors shoulder, he could see him approaching. And soon they could both hear his voice, fluting its deflating message.
Bruno, dear boy! I thought it was you, so unmistakable from behind! Im so glad you could make it!
Zeller swung round to confirm with his eyes what his ears found incredible.
What in the name of God are you doing here? he cried, bewilderment as yet stronger than rage.
Maurice Melchior raised his eyebrows.
Im having a really delightful time, thats what.
He turned round, his elegant silken dinner jacket giving a quick flash of a brilliant scarlet lining.
Walter, I told you hed be here. Bruno, my dear, you know my friend, Walter, of course. But lets be formal, I know how much protocol matters to you military boys. Lieutenant-Colonel Fiebelkorn, may I have the honour of presenting you to Major Bruno Zeller?
Mai saw the delight trembling through Melchiors whole body as he made the introduction. Even clearer was the fury that held Zeller stiff, his fists clenched so tight that the silver signet ring stood out like a weapon. Melchior could live to rue the day he had made the major an enemy.
But as Günter Mai looked at the SS colonels impassive face and unblinking watery gaze, he felt a sudden certainty that it had been a far more dangerous day for Melchior when he had made Fiebelkorn his friend.
Across the room, a gorgeous French film star fanned her nearly naked breasts and complained how warm it was. A gallant Panzer officer immediately leant forward, drew back the heavy brocaded curtains and began to wrestle with a window.
The black-out! Remember the black-out! called someone.
The black-out? said the Panzer officer. Why bother? Theres no danger up there unless Churchill starts sending trained pigeons from Trafalgar Square!
There was a burst of laughter which became general as this shaft of Aryan wit was passed around the room and for a while the open curtain was forgotten, allowing the brilliance of the many chandeliers to spill its diamantine glory into the darkness outside.
A crowd had gathered earlier in the Rue de Lille to see the notables arrive, but as midnight approached, despite a rumoured assurance that the curfew would be suspended for this night, most of the watchers had drifted away to their own houses and their own meditations on the dying year.
A few remained, however. Among them was Janine Simonian. She had felt compelled to get out of Sophies tiny flat that night. Shed let herself drift but hadnt been surprised to find herself in the University quarter. She had been brought here first by Jean-Paul. It was here that her eyes had been opened to a world outside the bakery, a world of ideas and imagination, of criticism and curiosity. Finally the memories had become too much and to escape them she joined the watchers in the Rue de Lille.