A Quiet Little Place on Rue de Lille by A.W. Hartoin

Author:A.W. Hartoin [Hartoin, A.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.W. Hartoin

Chapter 18

She saw him at the Metro stop, lounging against a lamppost and reading a Nazi flier that reminded Parisians that they were now under full control of the Reich as if they might not have noticed. There were more people on the streets, but they all had a similar hunched look like the women in the Metro. Nobody wanted attention and there was still something in the air that said it wasn’t over and anything could happen, open city or not.

The Left Bank had almost no evidence of the occupation in the form of actual Nazis. There were the street signs and posters, but virtually all the quartering of troops and the Reich’s offices were on the Right Bank. The people didn’t know that. It wasn’t in the newspapers, the few that had started up again, and the radio had only warnings and reports of the Reich’s inevitable success so everyone hurried through the streets, glancing up at the sky and avoiding dark alleys.

Stella imitated them and hurried past Mr. Bast without meeting the eyes that she felt on her. She wished she could lose him so she could go home and be left alone. But even if Paris was its old self with teeming streets, she couldn’t have lost Mr. Bast. He was unlosable and he knew where she lived.

He strolled behind her, not bothering to try and catch up. She didn’t look back to check. She could feel him there and he followed her right to her street, walking by when she stopped to unlock her building’s front door. She glanced back at him as he passed and then went inside. He wasn’t a workman anymore, smelly and grimy. She’d caught the scent of good cologne and his suit was a German cut with wide lapels and a tad more boxy than its French counterparts.

So now we’re German.

She climbed the steps to her apartment, aching to get the paperwork out from under her clothes. There was an amazing amount of chafing and the sweatiness wasn’t helping.

“Micheline?”

Stella sighed as she put the key in her lock and for a second put her forehead against the wood. Just a moment’s peace would’ve been nice. Not a lot of time. Just a little.

Claudette’s door creaked open and Stella turned around to find Claudette up and wearing a nice dress. Her hair was even dressed with a scented oil and a snood.

“You look better,” Stella said.

She smiled but held tight to a cane and the door frame. “I am. Much better. You’re late. I was worried.”

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to get out of bed.”

“I did. Dr. Cousin says it’s good for me and I wanted to talk to you as soon as you got home. He told me about your job.”

Stella swallowed and looked away. It appeared to be a show of shame, but it was really exhaustion. “Are you angry?”

Claudette reached for her and Stella came across the hall to take her frail hand.

“I’ve no right to judge. Without you, I’d be dead.

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