The Paris Affair

26 Christoph

26

Christoph

August, 1942 – Normandy

Christoph sat at his desk, finishing off last-minute preparations before the trip to Normandy. The week had passed quickly and finally it was here: he was going to spend almost two days with Sylvie.

The Kommandant had driven off in a cavalcade of vehicles to his meeting, his wife and son at his side. Before he left, he told Christoph that General Winkler, Head of the Production and Supplies Division, would be arriving soon. ‘We will hold a special dinner on his arrival,’ the Kommandant had said. ‘Show him what German hospitality looks like at Le Meurice.’

Now all that remained was for Christoph to speak to M. Dupont and let him know that he was taking Sylvie with him. He telephoned through to the kitchens, asking him to come up to his office. He was still debating whether to say anything about the young man in the attic when M. Dupont knocked on the door.

He stood awkwardly by Christoph’s desk. Christoph motioned for him to sit down.

‘I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Sylvie with me to Normandy for a couple of days,’ Christoph said.

‘That’s fine. We’ll manage.’ M. Dupont regarded Christoph carefully. ‘Is that all?’

‘No,’ Christoph said, finding the words. ‘I wanted to talk to you about someone else. I think you know who I mean.’

M. Dupont’s jaw clenched. ‘Possibly.’

‘If there’s anything I can do to help, you must let me know.’

‘I see,’ he said. ‘May I ask why you’re taking such an interest? You could have advanced your career by reporting it.’

Christoph leaned closer. ‘I have a sister, a little younger than the man in the attic. She doesn’t fit the Aryan mould. Life has been very difficult for her. My mother keeps her indoors, out of sight, but we never know when the doorbell will ring and someone will try and take her away. I can’t help her right now, but I can help that man you’re hiding.’

M. Dupont took in his words. ‘I appreciate that,’ he said, ‘but your silence is all we need. The fewer people visiting the storerooms the better; it will only draw attention to his hiding place. For now, that’s the best way to help him.’ He nodded. ‘And please, call me Jean. Thank you for keeping this a secret.’

After he’d gone, Christoph thought about what Jean had said. He was prepared to do more than just be silent, but perhaps for now that was all they needed.

Sylvie waited in the lobby, clutching her bag. A fluttering feeling stirred in Christoph’s veins. In his room upstairs was a letter from Hilde. She’d written about plans for the wedding. With each sentence, another link in the chain was forged. But for the next two days, he’d pretend the future didn’t exist.

He took Sylvie’s suitcase and put it in the boot of the car. He’d been allotted a Volkswagen Kübelwagen to visit the farm. Sylvie climbed into the passenger seat.

‘So, it looks like we’re off,’ Christoph said.

Sylvie nodded. It was hard to tell if she was glad to be going or not. She stared straight ahead and fiddled with the clasp on her handbag. Christoph started the engine and the car spluttered to life. He reversed out of the courtyard and drove on to the rue de Rivoli. Well, she was here, which was something, and that was all he could rely on for now.

The farmer’s wife had allotted Christoph a small one-roomed cottage adjacent to the main farmhouse. There’d been some mix-up and the telegram to say that a female translator was coming with him hadn’t been received. The farmer’s wife pursed her lips and looked Sylvie up and down.

‘Is there anywhere else I could sleep?’ Sylvie said. One half of the cottage was a kitchen with a basic stove, table and chairs. The other half, separated by a curtain, contained a double bed.

The woman sniffed and shrugged. ‘ Non . We’ve got my sick mother in the spare room, and three children in the other. I can bring some extra blankets and a camp bed. My brother-in-law and his wife had no complaints when they lived here. But now she’s got the baby she’s gone back to live with her mother.’

‘Thank you, I’m sure we’ll manage,’ Christoph said. ‘I was hoping to see the fields now, if possible?’

‘My husband is at the market. He’ll be back this afternoon,’ the woman said, folding her arms.

‘May we have a wander around in the meantime?’ Sylvie asked.

The woman frowned. ‘There’s a path to the millpond, best to stick to that. I’ve left food in the cupboard.’

‘Thank you,’ Christoph said.

‘She hates me,’ Sylvie said after the farmer’s wife had gone. ‘She probably thinks I’m a Parisian woman of the night.’ She glanced around the room, her face disapproving of it all. ‘Besides, you don’t really need a translator. Your French is superb.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Christoph said. ‘I can take you back to Paris if you like.’

Sylvie gave him a brief smile. ‘We’re both sensible adults. We’ll just have to make the best of it.’

The room felt intimate. He’d never shared a space like this with anyone. Their suitcases stood side by side near the stove.

Sylvie clearly felt it too. She cleared her throat. ‘Let’s go and find the millpond she mentioned.’

The woods were filled with foxgloves, and wild sorrel grew in among the trees. The footpath twisted and turned until it opened out by a rundown mill. The stream rushed through a channel before slowing down and entering a millpond fringed with trees.

They stood for a while, listening.

‘It’s so peaceful.’ Sylvie let out a contented sigh.

Christoph took his jacket off and laid it on the ground, flattening the long grass. He sat down, hoping she might relax here, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Sylvie sat down beside him, arms clasped around her knees.

‘What do you hope to do after the war?’ Christoph said. He reclined on one arm, looking up at her. She was beautiful, so near, yet out of reach.

‘After the war? I can’t imagine it ending,’ she said. ‘But if it does, it depends on what the world looks like. I’d like to try and follow my dreams. Everyone should have that chance. But when this war ends, things will be very difficult, for so many people. So much damage and destruction has been done.’

‘Yes,’ Christoph said. He and Sylvie were on opposing side. For the war to end, there’d have to be a winner and a loser. If the Germans won, and Hitler had his way in Europe, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. And if the Allies won, what would that mean for him, on the wrong side of history?

‘But if things ever go back to normal,’ he continued, ‘what do you imagine doing?’ She was so near he wanted to reach out and stroke her arm, but he resisted.

The tension in her face eased a little. ‘I’d open a restaurant and run it myself. Ristorante La Casa in Rome would be my inspiration. I’ve heard it’s incredible,’ she said. ‘And do you still intend to go back and study the piano in Bonn?’

‘I thought I did. I can’t imagine doing anything else, but now …’ The aspiration sounded hollow to his ears. Thousands of people had been displaced and killed, families torn apart, cities ruined. In such a world, what use was a concert pianist?

Sylvie turned towards him. ‘If it’s at all possible, you should pick up where you left off. Promise me you’ll do that . ’

Christoph smiled, amused by her fervour. ‘I’ll try. And you must start that restaurant.’

She bowed her head. ‘It sounds unreal, doesn’t it? The war is like a night that stretches on and on, and the worst thing is, there’s no telling when the end is coming or if we’ll be here when it does.’

He glanced at the curve of her lips, the little scar above her eyebrow, the tiny pulse in her neck. She smelled … familiar. Like nobody else, yet utterly known.

‘Sylvie, if we do survive, and it does end, then you and I –’ He stopped, filled with an impulse to tell her something, yet what it was, he didn’t know.

‘Let’s not spoil the day by talking about what ifs.’ Sylvie glanced at the pond, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. ‘Let’s go for a swim. Freshen ourselves up after the drive here.’

Christoph swallowed his words. Now clearly wasn’t the time. ‘It looks pretty cold.’

‘Come on. Diving into cold water is like being reborn.’

‘All right,’ Christoph said with a smile. ‘But if I catch pneumonia, I’ll blame you.’

Sylvie went behind a bush to get changed. Christoph took off his uniform. It was a relief to feel the air on his skin instead of the itchy fabric. He plunged in.

‘Come on,’ he called, shivering in the water. ‘This was your idea.’

Sylvie came out from behind the bushes. His eyes widened. Dressed in just her plain undergarments, she was more beautiful than he could have imagined. In one fluid movement, she dived beneath the surface. When she emerged, her hair sleek against her skin, she was smiling.

‘Do you feel reborn?’ Christoph said.

‘Yes,’ Sylvie said. ‘And you?’

‘Things have never felt clearer.’

He drifted towards her, closer and closer, until there was barely anything between them. Christoph felt as if the war had been washed away. Briefly, his arms encircled her waist. Sylvie held his gaze for a moment, then laughed and wriggled free, diving under the water. She surfaced and swam away from him. He watched as droplets cascaded from her arms and caught the light like molten glass.