Chapter Eight Paris, June 1940 Chloe
Chapter Eight
Chloe
Chloe sat close to the wireless. Even though they were permitted to listen to the BBC broadcasts under the occupation, she was always hesitant, preferring to keep it turned down as low as possible to avoid censure.
Since the occupation, every part of her life had changed overnight – from what she could listen to, how it felt to walk outside her door, and the worry if her family were even a few minutes late arriving home.
And those soldiers in her beautiful Paris – it made her stomach turn seeing them walk down the cobbled streets as if they owned the city, as if they belonged.
But tonight, most of her family were safely home, already in bed, and she was alone in the kitchen, tidying up after supper and listening to as much of the broadcast as she could.
The door clicked then and she glanced up, seeing her brother Claude arrive home.
It was late; it always was when he slipped back into their apartment these days, but she didn’t scold him.
Instead, she waved him over, knowing he’d want to hear the broadcast as much as she did.
‘It’s about to start?’ he asked.
Chloe nodded. ‘Charles de Gaulle will be on in moments,’ she murmured.
When the radio crackled to life, Chloe placed her hand on her brother’s shoulder and closed her eyes, listening to de Gaulle’s voice.
‘The destiny of the world is at stake . . . Whatever happens, the flame of French resistance must not be extinguished, and will not be extinguished!’
She opened her eyes to find her brother leaning forward, intently, as if he were listening to the most important speech of his life.
And perhaps he was, for he was no different from thousands of other young men in France.
Too young to have been sent away to fight, but full of enough bravado and anger to make them determined to do something, anything, to save their country.
They listened to the rest of the speech together, and she half expected Claude to leave again, for them to argue as they often did about the hours he was gone, the curfew he flouted time and again.
But when she reached for him, he only smiled and gave her a hug, reminding her of the boy he’d been a handful of years earlier.
She knew, despite her protests, that he could no more stop what he was doing than he could stop breathing.
‘I love you,’ she said, pressing a fierce kiss to his forehead and holding him tight. ‘You know I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, right?’
‘I love you, too,’ he whispered into her hair.
He squeezed her back, but when he let her go she saw a glint in his eye that scared her. She could see that de Gaulle’s speech had only stoked the fire inside him all the more, and it terrified her.
Please keep him safe, she prayed as he turned to go. But Chloe wasn’t even sure who she was praying to anymore, because if there was once a higher being who listened to her, they certainly didn’t seem to be any longer. No deities seemed to be protecting the lives of men throughout Europe.
The next night, Chloe stood in the kitchen preparing dinner, still thinking about the BBC broadcast. She couldn’t stop remembering the way de Gaulle had so passionately announced that France was not alone, because in truth, she’d never felt so lonely in her life.
Being scared wasn’t in her nature, but ever since her mother had passed and the war had begun, she’d never been so frightened.
And if she was honest with herself, it was worrying about her seventeen-year-old brother that consumed most of her thoughts.
Her younger brother, Adrian, she could manage – he came home from school when he was supposed to and listened to her words of caution – but Claude?
Claude was going to be the death of her.
Chloe called out to Adrian to set the table, smiling as she heard him run down the hallway.
As loud as a herd of elephants. She remembered the words her mother had always muttered, but unlike her mother, she didn’t caution him.
If all Adrian did was run too loudly down the hall, that was the least of her worries.
He came into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and his smile kind. She kissed his head, smiling when he squirmed away from her – too big for kisses, but still young enough to be made hot chocolate before bed.
‘Go and call Papa for dinner once you’ve set the table,’ she said, turning around to slice the loaf of bread and take the potatoes and vegetables from the oven.
By the time she took the food to the table, her father and brother were already seated.
She placed a plate in front of Adrian first, with a small amount of chicken on it, and one in front of her father with an even smaller amount.
Hers had none – something her rumbling stomach seemed acutely aware of.
Neither of them would want her to go without, but since her mother had died, she’d taken over her role in the family, and she knew without a doubt that she would have gone without too to ensure the boys had enough.
When Chloe finally sat, her father shook his head and took the chicken from his plate, silently transferring it to hers.
She in turn gave him half back, which resulted in only a meagre amount for each of them.
He barely spoke anymore, but the fact that he’d noticed how little food she had told her he did care.
Adrian didn’t even bother offering to share his.
He knew by now that it was a fruitless argument because no one at the table would ever let him go without.
Just as no one said anything about the fourth, empty place at the table.
Chloe had once left Claude’s plate there and hoped he’d be in before it was cold, but now she kept it in the still-warm oven, knowing that it could be hours before he returned.
‘How is school?’ she asked Adrian, as she ate a mouthful of vegetables. She would save the chicken until last and savour every tiny bite.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, his mouth full as he talked.
She glanced at her father. One of them should have reprimanded him for not covering his mouth before answering, but she didn’t have the heart.
‘And you, Papa?’ she asked. ‘How was your day?’
He gave her a small smile. ‘It was fine.’
Chloe glanced at Claude’s empty seat again, wishing she could hear the sound of his keys jangling and see him walk through the door.
Her father worried too, she knew he did, but he still seemed able to amble off to bed when Claude didn’t return home, whereas she sat up half the night, making a terrible job of her knitting as she waited.
The worst thing was, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Claude.
‘Thank you for a lovely dinner, Chloe,’ her father said when they’d all finished.
There wasn’t a scrap left on their plates, not with food being so precious now.
‘One day I’ll find a whole bird to roast,’ she replied, smiling as her father reached over to pat her hand, grateful that he’d said more than a couple of words. ‘Adrian, you can help me clean up.’
‘But I have homework to do!’ he cried.
‘And I have a house to keep clean,’ she muttered. ‘You can just clear the table with me, and I’ll do the dishes.’
He grumbled but did as he was told, and she playfully flicked him with the tea towel before he skipped away and headed for his room.
Which is how Chloe found herself, yet again, standing in the kitchen alone, up to her elbows in soapy water, and still waiting for the click of a door that never came.
Until it did.
She turned at the sound, surprised to see Claude’s wide grin as he crossed the living room with his long, loping stride. Usually, he came home brooding or contemplative, but tonight, he looked as if he were on top of the world.
‘You look as if the Allies have just taken back France,’ she teased, welcoming him with a hug.
He hugged her back, and when she held him at arm’s length, she could see that his eyes were shining brightly.
‘I’ve joined the Resistance,’ he said, as casually as if he’d gone to the movies.
‘You’ve, you’ve what?’ she asked, her heart skipping a beat.
‘I’ve joined the Free French,’ he said.
Chloe swallowed, taking a moment to compose herself as she turned around and took his dinner from the oven. It shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d known he was doing something with all the hours he disappeared, and it certainly wasn’t because he was studying.
‘You heard de Gaulle, we have to fight, Chloe,’ Claude said, taking the plate from her and forking the small pile of chicken from it, swallowing it in one mouthful. ‘We can’t stand by and do nothing.’
‘I understand,’ she said, nodding slowly. Because she did understand, and if she hadn’t had to step into her mother’s role, she would have been burning just as brightly to help the cause, sneaking out of the house and joining Claude on his escapades, doing what she could for her beloved country.
‘You do?’ he asked.
‘I do,’ she echoed. ‘You forget that I’m only three years older than you, Claude.’ That all I want is to behave like a twenty-year-old instead of someone twice my age, she thought. ‘But I still wish you’d talked to me first, that you could have discussed it with me before—’
‘Would you have tried to talk me out of it?’
She sighed. ‘Maybe.’ But then again, maybe she wouldn’t have.
‘We’re going to fight the Nazis, Chloe,’ he said, his eyes wide and full of passion. ‘We’re going to blow up convoys and destroy bridges, we’re going to create a network throughout France and fight to get our country back.’
His words scared her, but they also made her proud, and when he set his plate down, she reached out and wrapped him in her arms. ‘I’m so proud of you, Claude,’ she said. ‘Mother would have been so proud of how brave you are, too. I hope you know that.’
‘You truly think so?’ he asked, and when she looked up she saw tears shining in his eyes.
‘I don’t just think so, Claude, I know so. She would have been so proud of the man you’ve become, as am I, even if what you’re doing terrifies me.’
He smiled when she ruffled his hair, and Chloe leaned back on the kitchen counter and watched him eat. He didn’t even bother taking his plate to the table, just ate standing as if he hadn’t been fed in days, and she couldn’t help but think how boyish he looked.
‘Claude,’ she said, as he finished his last mouthful.
He glanced at her. ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to try to talk me out of this.’
Chloe smiled. ‘I’m not, I promise I’m not. But you have to promise me that you won’t bring danger home with you,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t lying when I said how proud of you I am, but Mama would never forgive us if we put Adrian in danger. You have to be careful.’
Claude’s expression was solemn. ‘I know.’
‘So, you make sure you’re not being followed, you keep an eye over your shoulder, and you be careful to keep your identity hidden,’ Chloe said.
He nodded. ‘I promise, Chloe. I don’t want to put Adrian in harm’s way any more than you do.’
She took the plate from Claude then and rinsed it, waving him away when he attempted to take it from her.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Just tell me all about this Free French movement while I finish cleaning up. I might not be able to join it myself, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear all about it.’
And she did. There was a yearning deep inside Chloe, wishing that she could go with her brother, but she had responsibilities now, and she’d made a promise to her mother as she took her final breath.
Just like she’d given up her dream of becoming a writer and going to university – she had to be content now with reading her favourite books instead of writing one.
Her notebooks were in a pile beside her bed, gathering dust, their pages not cracked open for longer than she could remember.
Real life had stolen her once-active imagination.
I will always protect Adrian, Mama. There is nothing I won’t do to protect that boy and shield him from the worst of the war.
Adrian was still a child, and she wanted him to have a childhood and feel safe and loved, and if that meant sacrificing her own life by looking after him and her family, then so be it.