The Paris Affair

13 Lisette

13

Lisette

June, 1942 – Paris

At first light on the third day after being arrested, Lisette was hauled back into the interrogation room. She trembled as she walked. All night she’d lain awake. Had Hélène given her away under duress? Nausea cramped her stomach as she sat down. It was a different man today, of higher rank, Lisette guessed by the uniform. He stood with a light behind him, a tall, thin shadow, holding a file.

‘I’m SS-Sturmbannführer Rodert,’ he said. ‘Please sit.’

Lisette did as he instructed. What was going on? A general? Her legs felt weak. This didn’t bode well.

‘Why were you in that building?’ SS-Sturmbannführer Rodert asked, with no preamble.

‘I told your colleague: the head chef sent me to get cloves.’

‘And how long have you known Hélène?’

Lisette squirmed under his quick-fire interrogation. Stay calm.

‘I don’t know her,’ she said.

The SS-Sturmbannführer leaned over the table, the light glinting on his glasses. ‘And Seraphin, what about him?’

‘I know no one of that name either,’ Lisette said. Had she replied too quickly? The SS-Sturmbannführer was staring at her. Her insides quailed. Oh God, please let me not buckle . ‘I was just trying to find the man who sold cloves.’

‘Did you come across anyone in the building when you were there?’ the SS-Sturmbannführer said, straightening up.

Lisette slowly let out her breath. This she could answer. ‘There was a girl playing on the stairs.’

The general glanced at the file. ‘What was she doing?’

‘Arranging buttons,’ Lisette said. She could picture the girl, as clear as day. ‘By size and colour.’

The SS-Sturmbannführer slapped the file closed.

‘Well, it seems you have luck on your side,’ he said. ‘The woman we arrested didn’t mention you.’

‘I can go free?’ Lisette couldn’t believe it. She only hoped Hélène would be as fortunate.

‘Not exactly. The little girl couldn’t say for certain which apartment you’d been to. We want to keep an eye on you. The Kommandant needs a cook over at his quarters in Le Meurice. You’re to start straight away.’

‘But I work at Maxim’s, I can’t just leave.’

‘Oh, but you can. The Kommandant’s man has come to collect you. You’re lucky the Kommandant likes your cooking.’ He gave Lisette her papers back.

‘And my recipe book? Can I have that too, please? I’ll need it if I’m to cook for Herr Kommandant.’

‘Leutnant Baumann has it,’ SS-Sturmbannführer Rodert said. ‘It’s out of my hands now.’

Lisette recognized the lieutenant the moment she saw him. It was the soldier who had come into the kitchens in Maxim’s. She said nothing and kept her eyes down while he signed the paperwork, wondering if he recognized her too.

The soldier at the desk handed him a package. ‘ Das Rezeptbuch ,’ he said. Leutnant Baumann nodded.

‘Please, may I take it?’ Lisette said.

To her dismay, Leutnant Baumann slipped the book in his pocket. ‘ Pardon ,’ he said, ‘I’m under strict instructions to keep it with me.’ He glanced at the door. ‘Shall we go?’

Lisette followed him, quickening her pace as he crossed the road and headed into the Tuileries. She balled her fists as she walked, cursing his authority. The book was hers. He’d no right to keep hold of it.

A commotion caught her eye. Off the main path, down an avenue, two German soldiers had cornered a young girl. The girl was crying as they jostled her. Lisette glanced at Leutnant Baumann. Hadn’t he noticed, or didn’t he care?

‘Nothing is worse than active ignorance,’ she muttered. The moment the words were out she regretted them, wishing she could take them back.

‘That’s from Goethe,’ Christoph said, curiosity rather than anger in his voice. He studied her face. Lisette held her breath. Was he going to haul her back to Avenue Foch?

‘Wait here,’ he said.

His boots crunched on the gravel. The soldiers, startled by his appearance, let go of the girl. He spoke in calm, measured tones and sent them on their way. The girl scurried off. Leutnant Baumann returned to Lisette, a deep frown on his forehead.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll be late.’

Lisette glanced at him. He’d only acted because he had been shamed by her words. But she was surprised that he had acted, and curious that he could feel shame. She hadn’t believed any of them capable of it. It still lingered in the red flush on his cheeks.

When they reached Le Meurice, Leutnant Baumann took her straight to the Kommandant and handed him the recipe book. The Kommandant sat at his desk, thumbing through the pages, and eyed Lisette.

‘A fascinating book. You certainly have an interesting array of recipes, Mlle Sylvie. Of course, the proof is in the pudding.’

His lips curled in a smile, framed by his black moustache. He clearly thought he was charming. Lisette glanced at Leutnant Baumann. He stood by the Kommandant’s desk, eyes on the ground.

‘For dinner tonight, I want Sauerbraten and potatoes. I’ll know if your story is true by how good the food is.’

Lisette hesitated. ‘Pardon me, Herr Kommandant, but there won’t be enough time to marinate the beef properly.’ Her grandmother had always maintained that the beef needed at least a few days to soak up the flavours.

The Kommandant waved his hand. ‘I want it tonight. Use your skills as a chef and make it work.’

‘Very well, Herr Kommandant,’ she said. ‘Please may I have my recipe book so I can make it?’

The Kommandant smiled. ‘Why of course,’ he said, holding it out to her.

‘ Merci. ’

‘There’s one more thing,’ the Kommandant said. ‘Herr Leutnant, you will accompany Mlle Sylvie to the kitchens. Until her cooking skills are proven, I don’t want her to leave the hotel.’

The kitchen at Le Meurice was bigger than the one at Maxim’s. Three chefs were at work helping the head chef preparing food. They stared as she walked in with Leutnant Baumann.

‘M. Dupont, Mlle Sylvie will be cooking for the Kommandant tonight,’ Christoph said to the head chef.

M. Dupont nodded. ‘The Kommandant told me about the situation.’ He glanced at Lisette. ‘Whites are over there, the larder is at the back. You can work at that counter.’

Lisette went over to where he pointed. Leutnant Baumann followed her like a shadow. Would she never be rid of him? She went to the larder to fetch vinegar, bay leaves, cloves and peppercorns, then took a joint of beef from the fridge. Just like Maxim’s, there was no shortage of food here.

She propped the recipe book up against the scales, her mind working all the while. She had to get in touch with Seraphin. As she cooked, heating up the vinegar in the saucepan, and sprinkling in the cloves, peppercorns and bay leaves, her mind darted over the possibilities for escape.

She placed the beef in a roasting pot and poured over the hot broth. Ideally, it would marinate for much longer, but there were only a few hours before the Kommandant expected his dinner, so she would have to make the best of it.

She picked up the bag of potatoes. They needed scrubbing and peeling. An assistant in Maxim’s usually did jobs like that.

‘Can I help?’ Leutnant Baumann said.

His voice startled her.

‘There’s no need, I can manage,’ Lisette said. ‘But thank you.’

‘Like you did with the bandage?’ He glanced at her hand and smiled. It lit up his face. ‘I’d like to do something rather than just stand about.’

‘All right. Thank you,’ she said, and handed him a knife.

Occasionally, she glanced at him. The peel spiralled off the potatoes. He worked deftly while she pan-fried the beef then added the onion and breadcrumbs to the vinegar broth. She tasted it with a teaspoon, wincing at its blandness. She went back into the pantry and found some beef stock and white wine, added them and tasted again. Much better.

‘May I taste it?’ Leutnant Baumann asked.

She handed him the teaspoon.

‘Remarkable,’ he said. ‘It tastes just like my mother’s.’

So that was it. All this talk of wanting to peel potatoes. He was homesick. Was this what Seraphin had meant about being open to finding the cracks in the Germans’ beating hearts? The thought sickened her.

Sylvie simmered the broth and stirred in some flour, fighting her anger. Johnny couldn’t feel homesick any more. There would be no more letters about his hopes for the future. No more kisses snatched on the platform after one of his short periods of leave. Johnny would never taste his mother’s cooking again, let alone a home-cooked meal in the house Lisette had dreamed of sharing with him. None of the Germans, not even Leutnant Baumann, deserved an ounce of her compassion.

At dinner, the Kommandant tasted the food and smiled.

‘ Perfekt ,’ he said, ‘given the circumstances. Your cooking is every bit as exquisite as you are. Isn’t that right, Herr Leutnant?’

‘Yes, Herr Kommandant.’ He caught Lisette’s eye, then looked away.

The Kommandant pushed back his chair and went over to Lisette. She kept her eyes down. His shiny boots came nearer.

‘I’ll inform Avenue Foch that you’re staying with us,’ the Kommandant said. ‘We can keep an eye on you here and get the benefit of your wonderful cooking skills.’

He reached out and touched her cheek, his thick, full lips curled in a smile.

‘Otto will be pleased you’re here,’ he said. ‘As am I.’

Lisette forced herself to smile. It took all her self-control not to pull away. This move to Le Meurice wasn’t part of the plan, but she’d have to turn it to her advantage. Somehow, she needed to establish contact with Seraphin and continue her work for the SOE.