“He wants you to show the collection, Clothilde. He simply dismissed me without looking at the gown, and requested that you model everything. I dare not go back there.”
“I was afraid that might be his attitude,” Clothilde felt cold inside. “We had better give him what he wants.”
She went down to the showroom in a variety of day dresses, suits and then more evening gowns. Major Von Sturmbakker proved to have a discerning eye, choosing only the best of what he was shown. In the end he ordered three evening gowns, four dresses and two rather special suits with slim line skirts that clung lovingly to the hips.
“When can you have the clothes ready for collection, madame?”
“By Thursday of next week, major. I shall put all my girls to work on your order to have it ready for you.”
“I shall arrange for my aide to pick them up. You will be paid immediately in French currency. You will discover that German officers are good customers, madame. We require pleasant service and efficient delivery, and contrary to what you may fear we do pay our accounts.”
“Yes, of course, major. I can only thank you for your custom.”
“I shall let it be known that you are ready to welcome German officers, madame.” His cold eyes glittered. “There are some that prefer to close their doors. This is foolish. Our friends have nothing to fear from us, and you will find us generous.” He turned his chilling gaze on Clothilde. “I am giving a party this evening in the Hotel Marmont. I should be pleased if you would permit me to send an escort for you. Captain Von Secker is completely trustworthy. You will be forced to do nothing you do not wish – but I admire beautiful women and like them about me. You would please me by consenting to accept my invitation, Mademoiselle Sanclere.”
Clothilde was trapped. To refuse his request would be seen as an insult after he had made his position clear. She neither liked nor trusted the major, but she knew she must accept – and there was always the chance that she might hear something important.
Clothilde had no idea how she would pass on any information she gathered, but there was sure to be a way. She would have to be very careful; the Germans would not hesitate to dispose of her if she abused their hospitality – and the Resistance would assume she was a collaborator because she associated with Germans.
“I should be happy to accept Captain Von Secker's escort, major.”
“Until this evening then.” He clicked his heels and inclined his head to Madame Robards. “I shall bring my friends here, madame. You may rely on that.”
After he had gone, Madame Robards poured a small brandy for both of them.
“I think we need this! I have never been so terrified, Clothilde. I would have given him the clothes just to get rid of him.”
“Oh, that one will pay,” Clothilde said with a curl of her lip. “He may have seized the currency from some other unfortunate, but he will pay and he will expect a generous discount – but he will bring others here providing we do as he says.”
“And to think we are forced to live under the heel of such men!”
“For the moment we have no choice. We must accept with a good grace, madame.”
“Will you go to the party, Clothilde?”
“I must. Major Von Sturmbakker would be a bad enemy, madame. Besides, there may be some advantage – to France.”
Madame Robards turned pale. “Be careful, Clothilde. What you are thinking is dangerous.”
“I shall be careful – but I may hear nothing. If I do I must find a way of passing on what I hear.”
“Annette spoke of knowing someone. Her father may favour the Resistance I believe. I only say may – it is best not to know these things.”
“Where may this person be found?”
“This I do not know. You must ask Annette…” Madame Robards broke off as Marie came in. “Yes – what is it?”
“A telephone call, madame: a general this time. He wants to bring his cousin for a fitting tomorrow morning.”
“I shall come.” She glanced at Clothilde. “Is there something you would like to borrow for this evening – the blue gown perhaps? Major Von Sturmbakker ordered it in white…”
“May I really borrow the gown?” Clothilde was excited.
“I think you’ve earned it. By the sound of things I think we may be busy…”
“Are you going out this evening?” Marie asked, looking at her curiously.
“I’ve been invited to a party…”
“Only the Boche have parties now.” Marie’s face registered scorn. “Surely you will not go?”
“It was an order rather than a request. If we want to keep the salon going and our jobs – perhaps even our lives – it is better to agree.”
“I would pretend to be sick. People will think the worst of you, Clothilde.”
Clothilde shrugged. “They may think what they please. I want to keep my job here. If that means being nice to Germans, what does it matter? They are only men after all.”
She could see from the look in Marie’s eyes that the other woman thought she had sold out to the enemy, but why should she care? Clothilde had been given little choice, and she might learn something of interest.
Clothilde was waiting at the appointed time for Captain Von Secker. She had flutters in her stomach, but was determined to face whatever came with resolution. However, she was pleasantly surprised by the young man who had been detailed to fetch her. He was hardly older than Leon, fresh faced and good looking with dark hair and grey eyes – and his smile was reassuring.
“It is an honour to be your escort for the evening,” he told Clothilde. “Major Von Sturmbakker will be pleased that you have kept your promise. He does not like to be let down…”
“Grandmere always told me that a promise must be kept, whatever the cost.”
“Then your grandmother was right, particularly in this case.” He looked at her a little awkwardly as he stood back to let her precede him. She felt that his words were a warning to be careful of the major. “There will be several young women present this evening so you may be easy in your mind. No one means you harm, mademoiselle. Indeed, should there be any trouble, I shall be pleased to escort you home immediately.”
“You are very kind, captain.”
“Perhaps you would like to call me Kurt? I hope we shall get to know one another well in the future.”
“As you wish, Kurt.”
The warmth of the admiration she saw in the young man’s eyes reassured Clothilde. She had no idea what Major Von Sturmbakker had in mind regarding her, but at least this particular German officer seemed to be harmless enough.
“You will understand that we feel a little unsure of the situation for the moment,” she said cautiously. “But that does not mean we have to hate all Germans.”
“Von Sturmbakker is an Austrian, an old and important family. I myself am from the South of Germany. Before the war my family came often to Paris. I am very fond of the city, mademoiselle. I hope that your people and mine can find peace together in the future. I should not like to see either the city or the people suffer irreparable harm.”
“In that we are in perfect agreement.”
He bowed his head, a faint smile in his eyes but said nothing more on the subject.
During the drive Kurt Von Secker spoke knowledgeably of Paris and of the nightlife there before the war. He also spoke about the various art treasures that had been on show in museums and palaces, some of which Clothilde had been told had been secreted away before the invasion.
“It saddens me to see the city lacking its treasures, mademoiselle.”
“Perhaps better a temporary loss than a permanent one.”
He was silent for a moment, then acknowledged this with a nod of his head. “I believe I must agree with you, though it is an opinion others may not share.”
Clothilde glanced at him, seeing the slight frown on his brow. “I shall be more careful with others, Kurt.”
His frown cleared. “Then I count myself fortun
ate. May I perhaps be permitted to address you by your first name?”
“I am called Clothilde. Those I trust and like are welcome to call me by my name, Kurt. I shall be happy for you to do so.”
“Thank you. I am honoured for I know your trust is not given lightly.”
Clothilde did not reply. She believed that Kurt Von Secker might be a friend, but she was wary enough to tread carefully for the time being. It might be that she would need a friend amongst the German rulers one day.
Clothilde’s apprehension about the party proved unjustified. There was a certain amount of ribald behaviour amongst some of the officers present who had imbibed too freely of wine and champagne, but she was treated with respect. She believed it was due to the constant surveillance of Captain Kurt Von Secker, who seldom strayed far from her side the whole evening.
She was greeted by Major Von Sturmbakker, but apart from telling her that he was pleased to have her company and wishing her a good evening, he did not take much notice of her – which was a relief to Clothilde.
The hotel served food the like of which she had not tasted for months, and there was a constant flow of champagne. There was also music, and Kurt invited her to dance several times. She was obliged to accept invitations from other officers, including a rather stout general who laughed a lot and spoke terrible French – but none of them made lewd suggestions to her nor did they try to fumble her during the dancing.
“I trust you enjoyed yourself, Clothilde?” Kurt asked her as they were driven home in the early hours of the morning. “You were not distressed or insulted in any way?”
“No – not at all. I believe I may have you to thank for that, Kurt”
He glanced her way in the semi-darkness of the car. “You are under the protection of Major Von Sturmbakker. I am merely his aide – but I should not have allowed you to be molested or insulted whatever the case.”
“I was glad you were there…”
Nothing more was said between them. When he escorted her to the door, he took the key and opened it for her, returning it with a little bow of his head.
“I shall not abuse your good-nature, Clothilde – but I hope our friendship may deepen in the future.”
“Goodnight, Kurt – thank you.”
Clothilde went inside, put the bolt on the door and leaned against it. She could hardly mistake the inference of his last remark – which must mean that she was safe from the amorous intentions of Major Von Sturmbakker, since his aide would not dare to steal a woman from under the nose of his superior.
If she had to sleep with a German officer to keep her friends safe she would do it, Clothilde decided. However, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do her best to help the Resistance.
She had overheard one small snippet of information about a German convey taking men to labour camps. It might be of no importance, of course – but she was going to try and pass it on if she could.
Annette was wary when she asked her what she knew of the resistance, and at first seemed disinclined to tell her anything. However, when Clothilde told her that she had gone to the party only in the hope of gaining information that she might be able to pass on the girl glanced over her shoulder dropping her voice to a whisper.
“I do not know, you understand? I have heard that there is a priest who may be willing to help in these matters.”
“Are you sure he is a priest? It seems odd that he should want to be involved in something that may lead to bloodshed.”
“I heard only a little of the story. I was listening at the door when my father…It seems that the priest had been working at a home for women and children, refugees that had found their way to France…Jews I believe. The Germans bombed the home while the priest was away visiting a friend, destroyed it completely. They must have known…”
“Yes, I see,” Clothilde said. She could understand the anger that someone who had cared for those unfortunate people would feel at such a wanton act of barbarity. “Tell me, Annette – where can I find this priest?”
“It might be dangerous. I am not sure I should tell you.”
“As dangerous for me as for him. Believe me, I want only to help France.”
“Yes, I believe you.” Annette leaned close to her ear and whispered. “The church is at the Rue St. Honore…”
It was the evening of the following day when Clothilde approached the church, where she had been told she might possibly find a contact that could carry messages to the Resistance.
She pulled forward the scarf over her head so that her face was shadowed as she entered the church, dipping her fingers in the Holy water to make the sign of the cross on her forehead as she went up to curtsey before the altar.
She retired to a bench near the front so that she could see what was happening. A woman was leaving the confessional, and Clothilde got up quickly to take her place. She slipped into the box and was greeted by the priest’s voice asking her if she wanted to make her confession.
“Yes, Father, for I have sinned.”
“What is your sin, my child?”
“I have harboured wicked thoughts against my enemy, Father. I have attended a gathering in order to overhear things that might bring harm to them…”
“There are many who feel as you in these troubled times, my child. It is not always a sin to feel resentment against a common enemy…”
His words were as careful as Clothilde’s own, but she sensed that he was leading her.
“I heard something, Father…about a convoy taking French men to a labour camp…”
“Confess your sin fully, my child.”
Clothilde gave details of the route the convey was to take and the time it would leave Paris the following day.
“That is all I heard, Father.”
“Your confession has been noted, my child. You may go in peace – unless there is something more you wish to confess?”
“No, Father – not since my last confession…”
“Very well. You may say five hail Mary’s as your penance.”
“Gladly, Father. If I should sin in such a way again…?”
“I shall always be prepared to hear your confession, child.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Clothilde left the confessional. The church was empty, except for an old woman sitting in the corner waiting her turn to enter the box.
Clothilde’s heart was racing wildly as she walked back to the showroom. Was her imagination playing tricks on her – or had that been Andre in the confessional? She was almost certain it was his voice, but she could not be sure without seeing his face. She made up her mind to return on the following Sunday and see if she could discover the truth.
Clothilde spent a few sleepless nights that week. The thought that Andre might be here in Paris, and working as a contact for the Resistance, filled her with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Surely it could not be? And yet the voice had been his; she was almost certain – and it was the kind of thing she would expect from her childhood playmate.
Yes, she could believe that Andre might decide that it was worth the risk to help defeat the enemy that had taken over their country. He had felt the calling to the priesthood, and she knew from something Father Caillebotte had once said that it was his family’s wish that he should become a priest, but he was as much a man as any other beneath that habit he wore.
It was so strange that fate should bring them together in this way. She had decided that she would put Andre from her mind after their last meeting, but the mere sound of his voice – she was sure it was his! – had set her pulses racing.
She dressed with care that Sunday morning, selecting a plain grey suit that she had adapted from one of the previous year’s collection, adding a tiny white collar, white gloves and a black hat. She wanted to look smart but restrained, and was satisfied with the effect she had achieved. It was important that Andre should approve of her.
She saw him almost at once as she took her place in one of the front pews, and
her feelings of pleasure almost overwhelmed her. This was something she had not expected to gain when she had decided to do what she could to help the Resistance.
After the service, she joined those taking communion and received the wafer from his hand. Glancing up for one brief moment, she knew that he had recognised her, and that he also had placed the voice with the face. Something passed between them at that moment, an unspoken message of understanding and trust.
Some minutes later, Andre was at the door to say goodbye to his congregation. Clothilde smiled in passing, but did not speak to him. It was better that they did not seem to know each other – safer for both of them if one or the other should be caught.
“This letter came for you this morning when you were out.” Madame Robards handed it to her. “The priest asked for you but I told him you were out and he asked me to give it to you personally.”
“Thank you.” Clothilde took it, her hand shaking. “Oh no…” She gasped as she read what was written on the page. “The priest who gave you this – did he say what his name was?”
“I think it was…Father Caillebotte,” Madame Robards nodded. “Is something wrong? The Germans have not…”
“No,” Clothilde said quickly. “This is from the priest who taught me my lessons when I was a child. He has told me something…”
“Something that upsets you I see. Sit here alone until you feel better. I shall not ask for you will tell me if you wish.”
Clothilde couldn’t answer her. She read the letter again. Father Caillebotte had hoped to see her himself, but he wanted her to know what Madame Fanchot had told him when she died.
She confessed to me that her guilt had haunted her for years. It was she who tried to help your mother when you were born, Clothilde, but it was impossible to save her. She died and Madame Fanchot wrapped you in your mother’s shawl and took you to the church. She believed that Madame Sanclere must have found you there and taken you as her own. I always suspected something, but I was never sure until Madame Fanchot told me of her great sin. Now the truth is all too clear and I see that I was at fault.
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