The Book of Lost Names(16)

“Very well,” the woman said, holding out her pen and turning the book around for them to sign. “Madame Fontain. Mademoiselle Fontain. I am Madame Barbier, the proprietress here. There are few frills, but it is a safe place to stay, as long as you can pay. Speaking of which, you have money?”

Eva nodded.

“Very well. You’ll be in room two, end of the hall, though there’s just one bed, I’m afraid. There is a key to the front door on your dresser. How long will you be with us?”

“We don’t know yet.” Eva hesitated. “Are there other tenants here, too?”

Madame Barbier raised both eyebrows. “You two are the only ones foolish enough to take a mountain holiday from Paris in the middle of a war.”

Eva forced a smile. “Very well. Thank you, Madame Barbier. Good night.”

“Good night.” Madame Barbier turned to Mamusia. “Spokoynoy nochi.”

“Spokoynoy nochi,” Mamusia replied politely, but she wasted no time in hurrying down the hall toward room two. Eva followed as Madame Barbier’s gaze burned into her back.

Once alone in their room, Eva changed her traveling clothes for a nightgown and slipped wearily into bed. Exhaustion soon overtook her, and she slept soundly that night, curled up against her mother.



* * *



“Do you think she believed us?” Mamusia asked as Eva awoke the next morning, blinking into a room filled with sunshine. The light seemed clearer here, brighter than it was in Paris.

“Madame Barbier?” Eva yawned and rolled away from her mother, finally releasing her hand. They hadn’t let go all night. “She must have. She took our details and let us stay.”

Mamusia nodded. “You told her we had money, Eva. What will we do when she realizes we don’t?”

Eva gave her a guilty shrug. “We do.”

“What?”

“I, er, liberated some francs from the kitchen drawer in Madame Fontain’s apartment.”

“You what?”

“I was looking for pens. There just happened to be some money there, too.”

“Eva Traube! I did not raise you to be a thief!”

Mamusia looked so indignant that Eva had to stifle a laugh. “I know, Mamusia, and I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. But we needed it, and let’s be honest, she would have sold us out to the authorities in an instant if she hadn’t been so busy worrying about her mother.”

Mamusia’s expression softened a bit. “Eva, if she calls the police because she realizes we stole from her…”

“Mamusia, we’re long gone. And what will the police do, add us to their list for a second time?”

When they emerged from their room thirty minutes later, Madame Barbier was waiting for them in the parlor, a bowl of plump red strawberries in front of her. She gestured to seats across from her, and after exchanging nervous glances, Eva and her mother sat down. My God, Eva hadn’t seen a strawberry since before the war.

“Eat,” she said simply, and Eva’s stomach growled so loudly that Madame Barbier raised an eyebrow.

“We couldn’t possibly,” Eva said. “We don’t have ration cards, and—”

“I grow these in my garden,” Madame Barbier interrupted. “And you both look—and sound—famished. So have some food. I won’t ask again.”

Eva hesitated before nodding and reaching for a berry. She bit into it and had to stop herself from moaning with pleasure as the sweet juice filled her mouth. “Thank you,” she said after she’d swallowed. She reached for another berry, already wondering what the price of these would be.

However, after Eva and her mother had polished off the bowl, Madame Barbier merely nodded. “Good,” she said, standing. “There will be potato soup for dinner at seven sharp.”

“But we can’t—” Eva began, but Madame Barbier held up a hand to stop her.

“We can’t have you going hungry. How would that look for my business?” And then she was gone, striding purposefully out of the room, the floorboards trembling beneath her.

“Well, that was kind,” Mamusia said after a long pause.

Eva nodded, but she was troubled. Madame Barbier had been looking at them like specimens in a jar while they ate, and she had the feeling that her mother’s attempt at Russian conversation last night had failed miserably. So what was their hostess up to? Still, they couldn’t afford to turn down free food. “I think you should stay in the room today, Mamusia,” she said softly. “Just let me go out for a bit on my own. I don’t have an accent, so I’ll attract fewer questions.”

“My accent isn’t that strong,” Mamusia said defensively.

“Mamusia, you sound like W?adys?aw Sikorski.”

Mamusia made a face. “Gdy s?oneczko wy?ej, to Sikorski bli?ej.”

Eva rolled her eyes at the popular saying exalting the Polish prime-minister-in-exile: When the sun is higher, Sikorski is near. “Just stay inside, Mamusia. And keep the window unlocked in case you need to flee quickly.”

“Now you want me to leap out the window?”

“I’m just being cautious, Mamusia. You must always be thinking two steps ahead.”

“You speak as if I’m another Mata Hari, but look what happened to her,” Mamusia muttered, though she stood and shuffled back toward their room anyhow. Eva waited until she heard the lock click before heading toward the front door of the boardinghouse.