The Darkest Hour(20)

Schuster’s annoyed expression sweetens slightly as he takes in Sabine. To her he asks, “It’s nice to meet you … ?”

“Fifine,” she says, holding out her hand for Schuster to kiss, which he does gladly. “You’re more than welcome to join us, but my friend and I must take a quick powder first. Won’t you excuse us?”

Before the boys can answer her, Sabine whisks me toward the lavatory, with her hips swishing as she goes; and more than one soldier’s head bobs up to stare at her. So very typical. We squish inside the cramped space, and Sabine gets to work applying a new layer of lipstick.

“What’s the matter with you?” she says. “You went almost white when that Schuster fellow joined us.”

I flush because I don’t want to tell her about Schuster. I don’t need her wagging a finger at me, but she needs to know the truth. “I ran into Schuster last night. On my way to meet Travert.”

She utters a curse so ugly that even Harken would blush. “He saw you?”

“Not me. Sister Marchand. He stopped me while I was heading to the church.”

She braces her hands against the small sink and sighs. “Do you know the danger you’ve put us in?”

“Me? This isn’t my fault! How was I supposed to know that he’d end up on our train?”

“Hush now! We don’t want the Germans overhearing us.”

I want to shout that she’s the one hurling accusations at me, but I sew my lips shut. Sparring with Sabine won’t keep us safe. It’s risky enough that we’re talking in here. “We have to change cars,” I say.

“That would look even more suspicious.”

“If he recognizes me, though, we’re done for.”

“Then you better convince him that you’re truly Fleurette and not anyone else”—she huffs and unbuttons the top button of her blouse—“and I’ll do what I can to distract him.”

“But if he—”

“Here’s some advice,” she says like she always does. Then she hands me a few tissues to place in my brassiere. “You’ve been given assets. Use them.”

When we return to our seats, Sabine employs every one of her own assets and presses the entire left side of her body against Schuster’s. “Did you miss us?” she says.

Schuster goes a little slack-jawed, but it isn’t long before his gaze crawls toward me once again. My cheeks warm, and I pretend to giggle at some joke that Captain Oster is telling.

“You were gone for nearly an eternity.” Captain Oster pulls me toward him, so close that I can smell the brandy on his breath. Beyond the window, I notice our train pulling into the station at Lison. Thankfully it won’t be long until we reach Cherbourg. If I can keep Schuster at bay until then, we’ll be fine. If not …

Captain Oster prattles on about making plans for dinner, but Schuster ignores him and leans forward, a hard look in his eyes. “Have we met before?” he asks me.

My heart jumps. “Have we? No, I don’t believe so.”

“You look familiar. I’m very good with faces.”

“That he is!” says Captain Oster. “Friedrich has one of those—what are they called?—photographic memories.”

Just my luck, I think, but I have to keep playing my part. “Perhaps you’ve attended a club where I’ve sung, Lieutenant. Are you familiar with Le Grand Duc? Or Ciro’s?”

“Oh, Ciro’s!” Sabine jumps in. She must have heard the accusation in Schuster’s tone, and now she’s trying to draw his attention away from me. “We should go there together, Lieutenant. We’ll have so much fun. What do you think?”

Schuster ignores her bait and stares back at me. “I swear that we’ve met.”

“Fleurette often gets mistaken for others,” Sabine says, hooking her arm around Schuster’s. “Why, just yesterday a girl stopped us on the street because she thought Fleurette looked exactly like her sister. Remember that?” She laughs, but for some reason Schuster shoves her away from him.

“What did you say?” he says to Sabine.

She falters. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I heard you.” His head snaps toward mine. “Sister.”

My pulse stops. Schuster’s spine tightens like a tuned guitar string, and Sabine’s eyes widen at her mistake.

Schuster shoots out of his seat and drags me out of my own by my wrists. “I knew I’d seen you before!”

I turn my frantic eyes toward Captain Oster. Maybe Schuster will listen to him. “Please, Lothar! Your friend is mistaken. Tell him!”

Captain Oster sloppily tries to rise to his feet. “Wait one moment, there, Friedrich. That’s no way to treat our new friend.”

“Open your blasted eyes! These girls aren’t your friends, you fool,” Schuster yells. The entire train car is now staring at us. Our cover is completely blown. The train begins moving again, causing Schuster to wobble, and I break free from his grip. But he’s quick to shout, “Detain her!”

The soldiers erupt from their seats. Two of them stalk toward me with their hands on their holstered pistols while another shouts at Sabine to hold up her hands.

“Close off the exits!” Schuster cries.

I search for Sabine, and she nods at me. There’s only one choice left.