The Button Box by Dilly Court

Author:Dilly Court
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008137427
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Clara wandered from one department to another, but weariness was beginning to take its toll and the heat from the hissing gas jets was making her feel nauseous. Outside darkness was gobbling up the city and the lamplighters were making their rounds, creating golden pools of light against an indigo sky. Several times Clara walked past Sabine’s counter, but a mere glance from Mademoiselle Boucher was enough to make her hurry on.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours and when Clara was close to exhaustion, the last customer was ushered out of the store and the great double doors were closed and locked.

Sabine beckoned to Clara, glancing anxiously in Mademoiselle Boucher’s direction. ‘You must not be seen to be loitering after closing time. I’ll come for you as soon as the tills are emptied and I’ve left everything ready for the morning. Wait for me at the foot of the stairs.’

‘What then?’ Clara asked in a whisper. ‘I can’t stay here all night.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve thought of that – just go quickly – before she sees you.’ Sabine jerked her head in the direction of the glass doors leading to the stairwell, and Clara slipped away unnoticed by the tired staff who were intent on clearing up. Setting down her valise, and taking off her ruined bonnet, she draped her shawl over her arm and waited for Sabine. A sudden blast of warm air and a wave of sound enveloped her as the doors opened and the women made a rush for the stairs. They flowed past her as if she were a rock in the middle of a stream, to be avoided but otherwise unremarkable. Sabine was the last one to emerge and she took Clara by the arm.

‘Come with me. We’ll catch Monsieur Loussier before he leaves for home.’

‘Who is he, Sabine?’

‘He is second only to Monsieur Marchand, who owns Automne. If he agrees to my idea then you will have a job here for as long as it takes to find your friend.’

Clara stared at her in disbelief. ‘But I can’t speak a word of French. What could I do?’

‘There is plenty of work in the sewing room or the packing department. I’m sure that Monsieur Loussier will find something for you.’ Sabine took the stairs, dragging a reluctant Clara in her wake.

‘I’m not sure about this,’ Clara said breathlessly as they came to a halt on the third floor.

‘Be practical. You need a bed for the night and something to eat. Have you any better ideas?’

Clara shook her head.

‘I thought not. Let me do the talking, although I’m quite certain that Monsieur Loussier speaks English.’ Sabine led the way along a narrow, wood-panelled corridor, coming to a halt at the far end. She raised her hand and rapped on the door.

‘Entrez.’

Sabine opened the door and stepped inside, clutching Clara’s hand as if afraid she might break loose and run away.

Henri Loussier stood by a large knee-hole desk with his hat in his hand. He was wearing an expensive-looking overcoat with an astrakhan collar, and was obviously preparing to leave.

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