The Librarian Spy(26)
You will be staying at 21 Rue Lanterne with a “cousin”—second floor, door on the left. I’ll send your things.
If he was sending her things, it meant she might remain at the new location longer than a night. Etienne had generously stored Elaine’s clothing at his apartment so she could travel from one safe house to another unburdened while more permanent lodging could be found. One small bag of effects and an outfit or two was less cumbersome than trying to haul all her belongings around.
The idea of not having to be on the constant move to a different apartment every evening brought more relief than she had expected. Sleeping in a new place always required a period of adjustment, to grow used to the sounds and scents around her. The perpetual rotation of new beds was enervating and left her mind fogged with exhaustion.
While the long-term place to stay was welcome, she could not help the ungrateful thought that she would have preferred for the missive to be good news about Joseph’s release instead.
That evening, she trudged up two flights of stairs to her new accommodation, anticipating a stark room, scarcely furnished with a lumpy bed. As usual.
She rapped softly on the door and tried to ignore the spiced fragrance of cooking food and her growling belly.
“Oui?” a voice called.
“It’s your cousin Elaine.”
The door swung open to reveal a delicate blond woman in a black dress with a hem that fell to her slender calves. Her lips twitched into a smile that her deep brown eyes did not reflect. “Ah, yes, Elaine. It is so good to see you, cousin. Please do come in.”
It was a charade Elaine had played over many times if the safe house was occupied, maintaining a persona of friendship or relation. Though in many cases, the places she stayed were empty, the nights filled with silence and loneliness. Not that her hosts were ones for conversation, but at least having a presence there made the space feel less bleak.
Her current hostess opened the door, displaying a modestly adorned apartment that appeared home enough to make Elaine’s chest ache for her own. The aroma of food was stronger inside than it had been in the hall. Sausage, perhaps?
Elaine breathed in discreetly, savoring the scent as if she could fill her belly with smell alone.
Yes, definitely sausage.
“I’m Manon,” the woman said. “You will be staying with me for some time, I understand. Please, follow me to your room.”
Elaine nodded in thanks and did as instructed. They walked through a living room with a blue velvet couch, heavy matching drapes that most women would have made into a coat by now, and a piano adorned with framed pictures. Manon opened a door to a single, narrow room, the fireplace hearth empty, but the bed layered with a thick, downy blanket. A box lay near the door, likely Elaine’s clothing Etienne had sent earlier.
“I will have some supper for you in the kitchen once you are settled,” Manon said. “I expect you are hungry.”
It wasn’t a question. Aside from the Germans, everyone was hungry these days. None of Elaine’s previous hosts had been so considerate before, leaving her to eat whatever she managed from the black market or to acquire in the interminable queues.
“I had bread earlier,” Elaine lied. The woman’s limbs looked frail as bird’s bones and her neck was so slender, it seemed almost incapable of holding up her head. Elaine would not take her food.
Manon folded her arms over her chest. “The pope has deemed it is no longer a sin to purchase items on the black market. He knows we are all starving.” The corners of her mouth quivered, as if she were trying to offer a smile, but failed. “I have prepared for your stay.”
Elaine blinked at such generosity. “I will be there momentarily, thank you.”
Manon departed the room, leaving Elaine to settle.
The box did indeed contain Elaine’s clothing, the items faded, worn and fewer in number than at the start of the war due to the ration. However, the experience of once more having her belongings tucked into the drawers of an armoire rather than stuffed into a sack like an old peddler was still enormously pleasant.
On her way out of the room, Elaine paused to look at the photos on the piano. A man and woman smiled back at her from most of the pictures while several others were of a baby boy with dimples in each of his cheeks and a swath of dark hair brushed over his round head. A moment passed before Elaine recognized the woman as Manon. Her body was fuller in the images, but more than anything, the difference was in the wide grin that left her eyes sparkling with joy.
In former days, Elaine would have asked after the man and the baby, especially with their absence so apparent in the quiet home. But those were conversations of the past. The less she knew of her hostess, the better.
Elaine straightened and went to the kitchen where Manon had laid out a plate for her with two fat lentil sausages, a few boiled rutabagas, and a narrow slice of bread. It was a veritable feast. Elaine ate everything but the bread—not because she was full, but to tuck away to have delivered to Joseph at the prison the following day. She wasn’t sure such parcels made it to him or not, but it was still worth the effort to try.
Her husband weighed on her thoughts constantly now—the worry at how much longer he would be kept at Montluc, the anticipation of seeing him once more. Even as she climbed into the pillowy bed that night and folded the thick blanket over herself, she begrudged her own warm safety as she imagined what he must be enduring.