The Paris Affair

35 Christoph

35

Christoph

August, 1942 – Paris

Christoph stood in the corridor outside Sylvie’s room and tried to catch his breath. What had he done? Seeing the Kommandant’s gloves had made him lose all reason. She’d opened her heart to him and he’d thrown it back in her face.

Christoph glanced at Sylvie’s door. Maybe it was best if they both calmed down. He’d find her later and apologize. Besides, he’d promised Jean that he’d change the dressing on the young man’s leg today, and it was already late.

Up in the storeroom, the man’s face was paler than usual. He sat against the wall, his leg straight out in front of him.

‘How are you feeling?’ Christoph asked.

‘A bit better,’ he said. ‘I feel like my temperature has gone down.’

Christoph touched his forehead. ‘It seems normal to me. Let’s have a look at your leg.’

The cut on the man’s shin was still raw, but it smelled all right, which was a good sign.

‘I’d say another week and it will be much better,’ Christoph said, tying the new bandage firmly. ‘Any idea when Jean intends to get you out?’

The man rolled his trouser leg back down. ‘Soon. He’s made contact with my family. They’re hiding in a village in the Loire. The plan is to get over the border into Switzerland, once I have joined them.’

Christoph thought of the journey ahead. It was fraught with peril.

‘What were your family doing here in Paris?’ he asked.

‘We came in 1940 from Belgium, four months before Hitler invaded. We never expected the Germans would follow us all the way to Paris.’

‘It must have been terrible,’ Christoph said. His country was responsible for so much upheaval. He wished there was an end in sight.

‘It’s been unbearable. The laws, the restrictions, gradually strangling us. I can’t stand feeling like I’m not normal, as if I don’t have the right to even be here.’

Christoph bowed his head. ‘It’s us Germans who shouldn’t be here.’

The man gripped his hand. ‘It doesn’t matter what you say, you’re just one among thousands. Sometimes, I think it’s not worth living, slowly suffocating up here.’

Christoph couldn’t bear the emptiness in his voice. ‘You’ve already come this far. Just a bit longer and you’ll be free, I’m sure of it. You have Jean’s support, and mine too. Don’t give up.’

The man nodded. ‘Thank you, Christoph. If some Germans are like you, then maybe there is hope.’

‘I’d love to know your name, if you’d be willing to tell me.’

The man drew in his breath. ‘I’m called Jacques. Jacques Morgenstern.’ He looked up at Christoph, fear in his eyes. ‘Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?’

Christoph saw the morning star in his mind’s eye, rising over the fields near the farm on a snowy winter’s dawn. The star was clear and bright, the air icy and fresh, so different from this dark, stifling attic.

‘I promise,’ he said. ‘You’re going to get out of here.’

Jacques smiled wryly. ‘Am I supposed to trust the word of a German soldier?’

Christoph shrugged. ‘Not ordinarily, but this one you can. I guess you’re not much younger than me …’

‘I was eighteen in March. My father gave me a blessing, in secret, at home. And my mother asked me what I wanted for the year ahead.’ Jacques shook his head. ‘I wish the war would end and I could carry on with my life.’

The sadness in his voice pained Christoph. Jacques’ life had been reduced to this dark place.

‘I hope with all my heart there will be a future for you,’ Christoph said. ‘What do you want to do when all this ends?’

Jacques thought for a moment. ‘Nothing spectacular. I’d like to travel, see the world, get rich and then get married.’ He grinned, and his eyes lit up briefly. ‘My mother said I always went for the impossible girls, the ones who were out of reach. I’d like to find a woman like that one day and win her over.’

Christoph’s heart contracted at the hope in his voice. ‘Then I pray you will.’

The next morning, Christoph went downstairs to see Sylvie. After talking to Jacques, he knew that life was too precious to waste with suspicion and arguments. He strode towards the kitchen, but in the hotel lobby a soldier called out to him.

‘Herr Leutnant, the Kommandant would like to see you in his office.’

Christoph pictured the Kommandant peeling off his gloves in Sylvie’s room. Nausea filled his stomach. But there was no avoiding him: Christoph had to go when summoned.

The Kommandant sat in his leather chair. He didn’t invite Christoph to sit down.

‘I’ve received a report about the incident at the farmhouse,’ he said.

Christoph frowned. ‘I wouldn’t say it was an incident, Herr Kommandant, more a misunderstanding.’

‘Ah, well, that depends on how you look at it. The soldiers’ superior wasn’t happy that one of my men had got involved. I was very displeased to find my name mentioned. So yes, I’d call it an incident.’

Christoph nodded. ‘I see. I apologize, Herr Kommandant.’

‘You overstepped the mark, Herr Leutnant, taking that woman from the kitchen with you without my permission. There was no mention of Sylvie in the report. Where was she when all this happened?’

Christoph’s cheeks grew warm. ‘The message about her attending hadn’t reached the farmer’s wife, I’m afraid. We were forced to share the same quarters, but nothing untoward occurred.’

The Kommandant stroked his thumb along the edge of the report. ‘You were perhaps seeking to impress her by addressing the soldiers in such an offhand way.’

‘No, Herr Kommandant.’

The Kommandant stood up, his face stern.

‘I find myself rather interested in Sylvie. I want to get to know her … exclusively, if you understand me, but she seems rather friendly with you.’

Christoph’s heart pounded in his chest. ‘Sylvie has a mind of her own.’

‘Indeed. So, you’ll stay out of my way?’ The Kommandant fixed his gaze on Christoph. ‘I know how much your family back in Germany relies on you, especially your sister.’

Blood roared in Christoph’s ears. The veiled threat towards his family enraged him, but he couldn’t show it.

‘You will stay away from her,’ the Kommandant said, his eyes narrowing.

In the silence, Christoph swallowed hard. Damn the Kommandant for putting him in this position. How could he choose between Sylvie and the safety of his family?

‘If that’s what you want, Herr Kommandant,’ he said.

‘Normandy, in a hovel,’ the Kommandant said with a smirk. ‘It shouldn’t take long to convince her that I can offer more. When you go to the Loire next week to inspect the next farm, I want you to go alone, is that understood?’

Christoph bowed his head. ‘Yes, Herr Kommandant.’

It wasn’t until the evening that Christoph was finally able to go and find Sylvie. He found her scattering herbs into a frying pan of vegetables.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said.

‘More accusations?’ she said.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I was wrong to accuse you. Can you forgive me?’

Sylvie gave the frying pan a vigorous shake, then banged it down on the hob. ‘I’d rather die than have anything to do with the Kommandant.’

Christoph pressed his palms together.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I knew it the minute I walked out of your room.’

‘Then why didn’t you come back?’

‘I don’t know. I was too ashamed of being jealous and jumping to conclusions. I’m sorry, Sylvie.’

He didn’t mention Jacques. Better that she didn’t know.

‘You need to remember who I am. I’d never deceive you with someone else,’ she said.

‘I know. I would have come sooner, but the Kommandant summoned me,’ Christoph said. ‘He’s set his sights on you and forbidden me to get in the way.’

Sylvie’s face blanched.

‘He thinks he can win you over,’ Christoph said in a pained voice.

‘He’s mad.’

Christoph bit his lip. ‘What you said before about making the most of our time together, did you mean it?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Her eyes seemed to brim with unspoken words.

‘I want to be with you too,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘But the Kommandant will be keeping an eye on me. There’s no privacy here.’

Sylvie took a deep breath. ‘Not at Le Meurice,’ she said. ‘But there is somewhere we could go.’

He stared at her. ‘Where?’

Sylvie reached into her pocket and took out two keys.

‘There’s an apartment. Not far from here,’ she said. ‘My grandmother used to rent it out. It’s empty now. We can meet there. The Kommandant will never know.’

‘You’d go there with me?’ Christoph said. ‘Despite the risk?’

Sylvie took his hand and pressed it to her heart. ‘Can you feel that?’ she said.

The thud of her heart pulsed against his hand. He felt the soft curve of her breast too.

‘I feel it,’ he said.

‘That’s what this is about. Life. Living. We can ignore it and stay safe or take a chance.’

‘I don’t want to ignore it.’ He swallowed hard.

‘Then meet me there, tomorrow.’ Lisette gave Christoph one of the keys. The brown fob read: Apartment 14.

‘Where is it?’

‘Rue Pastourelle. Here.’ She took a pen from his pocket. ‘This will help you to remember.’ She drew a shepherd’s crook on the label.

He smiled. ‘Wherever you lead, I’m bound to follow, is that how it is?’

Sylvie didn’t return his smile. ‘Perhaps you won’t always be able to follow me,’ she said, ‘but at least we’ll have something to remember.’

She put the key into his pocket and slipped her arms around his waist. God, how he wanted her.

‘But no more accusations,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to be with you.’

‘I promise.’

He smelled rosemary on her skin, the scent of remembrance. She held him tight.

‘Until tomorrow,’ she said, and the weight of the hours was in her voice.