The Paris Affair

50 Lisette

50

Lisette

May, 1978 – Paris

Paris was bathed in sunshine when Lisette arrived. She’d got to the apartment early. The piano had been delivered and stood in the living room as a surprise for Christoph. She’d bought eggs, flour, butter, sugar and lemons and a special madeleine tin. She consulted the recipe book and mixed the ingredients.

She put the madeleines in the oven, glancing at the clock. He should have been here half an hour ago. Today, she planned to tell him the truth about her past: that she’d been a spy during the war. The secret had troubled her for too long. Up to now, she hadn’t had the nerve. Since 1972, they’d managed to meet for a few days every year. There’d never been an opportunity to tell him. But this time, they were spending a whole week together.

Lisette took the madeleines out of the oven. She sat down and watched them cool, steam rising. The sun had gone behind the building opposite. When was he coming? How foolish they’d been not to make contingency arrangements. He could be ill or injured or anything and she’d never know.

At last, the telephone rang. It was Christoph.

‘Where are you?’ Lisette said.

‘I’m here in Paris.’

‘In Paris? What do you mean?’

‘I’m with Daniel. We’re staying near the Louvre.’

His voice was neutral. Lisette sensed him holding the truth down, clamping his lips over each word. Daniel. He must be eight years old now.

‘Why has Daniel come with you? I don’t understand.’

‘Hilde thought it would be a good idea if I showed him Paris now that he’s a bit older. My annual teaching job at the conservatory is finishing. I’m just here to tie up loose ends. I won’t be coming back again.’

He sounded close to breaking. Lisette breathed fast. She was the loose end. He was here to tie up their relationship. Hilde must know about them.

‘But Christoph, you can’t just –’

‘I have to,’ he said, ‘or it will be difficult to see Daniel.’

That’s when it hit her. Hilde must have found out. His wife had made him choose. Daniel or her. She let out a deep breath.

‘Is he with you now?’ she said.

‘He’s asleep. I insisted on seeing you to end things properly. Hilde agreed, but only if I brought Daniel with me. To remind me of what I’d be losing if I didn’t go through with it.’

Lisette sat down. ‘Oh, the poor boy. It’s not fair on him. How can she do this?’

‘She has a knack for surviving,’ Christoph said. ‘She knows that no matter how much I love you, I can’t desert my son. Sylvie, I hope you understand.’

‘Yes,’ Lisette said, because she did understand. ‘It’s still the worst news nonetheless.’

‘Meet me tomorrow, please. I have to see you one last time. I’ll tell Daniel you’re a friend from the conservatory, we’ll go to the zoo. He won’t ask questions.’

‘No, Christoph, I can’t do that. I can’t spend the entire day with you pretending we’re just friends and hiding the fact that my heart is breaking. But I will meet you, on the corner by Le Meurice. To say goodbye.’

‘You’re not going to talk me out of it then?’ Christoph said, his voice barely a whisper.

‘Do you think I could? Even if I did, I’d hate myself. He’s just a child. He doesn’t deserve to lose you.’

‘No,’ Christoph said. ‘I’ll never leave him.’

The line went quiet. There was nothing more to say. ‘By the corner at eleven then,’ Christoph said.

Lisette put the phone down and steadied herself against the table. So, this was it. The end had finally come. He’d never play the piano she’d bought for him. She’d never tell him what she did during the war. They’d barely spent any time together, not in the grand scheme of things. But each moment had had its own exquisite taste that she would never forget.

She glanced at the madeleines. Grief filled her heart and mixed with anger. Not with him – she knew he had no choice – but with fate and the circumstances that kept forcing them apart. She tipped the madeleines into the bin. He would never taste them now.

But she couldn’t say goodbye without giving him something to remember her by.

The recipe book stood propped up by the fruit bowl. The story of their love was written in its pages: each recipe contained a memory. If anything could lead him back to her one day, it was this book.

The next day, Lisette walked to Le Meurice. She saw them waiting – Christoph pensive, a small boy wearing a duffel coat holding his hand – and nearly turned around. How could she say goodbye to him, here on the street corner?

But Christoph caught sight of her and waved. The little boy glanced over. He was so like Christoph it took her breath away.

‘How are you?’ Christoph asked in French, as if this was a normal meeting. His white, stricken face told a different story.

Lisette’s heart splintered. The incalculable loss she was about to suffer began to sink in.

‘I’m fine,’ Lisette said, forcing a smile. She reached into her bag. ‘I can’t stay, but I wanted to give you this. To remember me by.’

Christoph felt the package and guessed what it was.

‘I can’t take it,’ he said. ‘It’s yours. It means too much.’

‘Please,’ Lisette said.

‘Thank you,’ he said, thrusting the recipe book deep into his pocket. He pulled her close.

‘I love you. I will always love you. Please don’t ever forget that,’ he whispered.

‘I love you too,’ she whispered back. Then, conscious of Daniel’s puzzled stare, she broke away.

‘ Au revoir ,’ she said, smiling at Daniel. ‘Have a lovely afternoon at the zoo.’

Then she went, tears streaming down her face, plunging back into the crowd, not looking back, not ever looking back, running away from the man who loved her and whom she loved. The man she could never have.