The Designer(71)

‘He doesn’t move far from his roots,’ Copper murmured thoughtfully.

‘I think it made a deep impression on him – seeing her fitted, watching the dressmakers at work. It was a mysterious world that he longed to belong to. After those visits, he used to dress me up, playing at being a dressmaker.’

‘Yes, he told me that.’

‘We had to keep it a secret. Our brothers would have teased the life out of us if they’d found out. Of course, I loved the attention. I worshipped Tian and I adored to be fussed over by him. Oddly, I lost most of my interest in clothes as I grew up.’ She ran her hand over the stubble that had started to grow on her scalp. ‘Though Tian was the one who worked hardest to please her, Bernard was the one who got the most attention. He grew stranger and stranger, and we could hardly cope with him. And then our father’s business collapsed. We lost that lovely house overlooking the sea and the garden that our mother made with so much care. When Bernard finally had to be put in an insane asylum, our mother died of grief. Tian was just a young man and her death shattered him. I saw him turn from a bright, happy person into a shy introvert. I think he felt she was taken away from him before he could win her approval.’



Copper felt a deep sadness for Catherine. She had defended her lover with her life, literally; and yet now she could not claim him as her own. Copper spoke to Dior about this bitter irony.

‘I knew there was something going on,’ he said. ‘But I had no idea she was in the Resistance. No idea at all. She would arrive out of the blue, full of life as always. She would spend the night sometimes, and then pedal away furiously on her bicycle.’ He sighed. ‘I thought the big mystery was that she was having an affair and sometimes I asked her, but she would never tell me who the man was. Of course, I assumed there was some complication – that he was married, for example – and that there was a need for discretion. I thought the biggest risk was that she would have her heart bruised, and I warned her against that. I didn’t know that she was carrying secret information in her head. I only found out about that, and about Hervé, after she was deported.’

‘You know she told them nothing, Tian. She endured terrible things to protect Hervé.’

‘I know. When she was arrested, I went completely crazy. I rushed around to everybody I knew, begging for help. People just slammed the door in my face. None of them wanted to be in any way associated with the Resistance – though now,’ he added bitterly, ‘those same people claim they were heroes. The only person willing to help was the Swedish ambassador, and by the time he intervened, it was too late. Catherine was already on the train to Ravensbrück. As for the rest, all those rich people who might have done something to save her, they showed themselves for what they are – miserable creatures hiding behind imposing fa?ades.’

‘You said you would find Hervé and tell him she’s alive.’

Dior hesitated. ‘I have found him. He’s here in Paris. I haven’t spoken to him yet. Catherine asked me to say nothing.’

‘I think she’s longing to see him. It’s a horribly difficult situation. She’s pining for him. And sooner or later he’s going to find out that she’s alive anyway, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. But perhaps she wants it to be his decision whether he comes to her or not.’

‘It’s not your storybook romance, is it? If he comes to her, he’ll break up his family. If he doesn’t, he’ll break her heart.’

‘Love is seldom like the storybooks, my dear,’ Dior responded. ‘Our lives are too tangled for happy endings.’





Twelve

It was a few days after this conversation that Copper opened the door to a knock and found a stranger on the doorstep. He was about forty years old, tall and willowy, wearing a tweed jacket and nervously fiddling with a felt hat. She felt at once that this was Catherine’s Hervé. He seemed too emotional to speak, so she spoke for him. ‘You’re looking for Catherine?’ He nodded. ‘She’s sleeping. Would you like to come in and wait until she wakes up?’

He took a step back. ‘I’ll come back later. I don’t want to disturb her.’

Copper was not about to let him escape. ‘Don’t go. She always has a half-hour nap at this time of the morning. It won’t be long before she wakes up. She’ll be so pleased to see you.’

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be led inside and seated in the plush little salon. Dior was at Maison Lelong and she had been writing an article while Catherine slept. She offered him coffee, but he declined. ‘You’re working,’ he said, gesturing at her papers. ‘I’ve come at a bad time.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ She decided to be direct. ‘When did you find out she was back?’ she asked him.

‘A friend saw her walking in the Tuileries with someone the other day. That was you, I suppose?’

‘Yes. We walk there most days if the weather is good.’

He was fair-haired with a feathery moustache and an aquiline profile. He reminded her of the swashbuckling actor Errol Flynn, and it was easy to see how Catherine had been struck by his athletic good looks. But right now, he was almost painfully edgy, turning his hat round and round in his long fingers, and speaking in a nervous voice.