The Room on Rue Amélie(19)



“It seems to me that that’s very good advice,” Ruby said, her eyes damp. “Thank you.”

Charlotte looked pleased. “So you will come for coffee? There’s something my parents would like to discuss with you.”

Curious, Ruby followed Charlotte next door to their corner apartment, where she found Madame and Monsieur Dacher at their table, a beautiful silver coffeepot and three ornate china cups before them. “We had hoped you would join us,” Madame Dacher said, rising to kiss Ruby on both cheeks. “We wanted to share this with you.”

“How very kind.” As Ruby sat down, Monsieur Dacher began to pour. The heavenly aroma of coffee, so familiar yet so foreign these days, seemed to wrap the room in warmth.

Madame Dacher emerged from the kitchen a moment later with chocolates and a small bowl of sugar. “Charlotte, dear, go get ready for bed.”

“But I’d like some coffee too! And I’d like to visit with Madame Benoit.”

“We need to have a grown-up conversation,” Madame Dacher said firmly. “Please, my dear. You can visit with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not a child anymore, you know.” But Charlotte said a terse good night to Ruby and her parents and headed toward the back of the apartment.

“There is a favor we would like to ask you,” Monsieur Dacher said after all three of them had taken a first sip of coffee and delighted in how wonderful it tasted.

“Yes, anything.”

“After this summer, we think that perhaps Charlotte will not return to school. There are—” Monsieur Dacher paused and began again. “There are circumstances that make it difficult now.”

“I’m very sorry,” Ruby said. The words were woefully inadequate.

“We are sorry too.” Madame Dacher took over, glancing at her husband. “This is not the France we knew.”

Ruby nodded, and the three of them shared a moment of silent understanding before Madame Dacher went on. “I will take over her schooling here at home. But we would like for her to learn English, and we were wondering whether we might impose upon you to help.”

“Of course!” Ruby responded immediately. Not only did she owe the Dachers a debt, but she would actually enjoy the opportunity to spend more time with the girl.

“We feel that it will be an important language for her to know in the future,” Madame Dacher continued.

“Britain will help us win this war,” Monsieur Dacher added. “And we would like to know that Charlotte’s future might include working with them.”

“Also,” Madame Dacher said, locking eyes with her husband, “we do not know what this war will bring for Jews. There are terrible rumors of things happening in the east.”

The Dachers exchanged looks. “As you may know, Sarah is from Poland,” Monsieur Dacher said. “She came to France as a small child with her parents, but she still has many family members who, until recently, were living near Krakow. We do not know what has become of them. As for me, my father is French, but my mother is from Poland too, and in fact, I was born there when she was on a journey to visit her parents.”

“I assumed you were both born in France.”

Monsieur Dacher shook his head. “Some of the reports from Poland in the last months . . .” He trailed off.

“The Germans are sending Jews to work camps,” Madame Dacher said bluntly, her gaze far away. “And there are rumors that some of them are dying.”

“But you see, it’s impossible to know the truth, because things are often greatly exaggerated,” Monsieur Dacher said quickly. “In any case, we feel strongly that such a thing would never happen here. The French will not turn on their own. We must endure the restrictions that have been placed upon us, but we will survive this.”

“Still, we feel that Charlotte knowing English will give her an advantage, whatever the future should bring,” Madame Dacher said. When she looked up, Ruby could see in her eyes that she didn’t share her husband’s optimism.

The coffee on the table between them was going cold, but Ruby was no longer thinking of what a rare treat it was. What must it be like to fear for your child’s future this way? She had been powerless to protect her own child, but she could be there for Charlotte if it came to that. And that was something.

There were a thousand things Ruby wanted to say, a hundred promises she wanted to make. But the Dachers were proud, and Ruby knew they weren’t looking for platitudes. They were looking for hope. “It would be my pleasure to help Charlotte learn English,” she said. “When shall we begin?”



BY MID-AUGUST, THE HEAT WAS sweltering, and the air in Paris seemed strangely still, as if the city itself was holding its breath. Ruby had been working with Charlotte for three weeks, meeting with her every Thursday afternoon. Ruby had never taught a language before, but she had begun to study French when she was just a bit younger than Charlotte was now, so she tried to remember how she had learned. Small words first, the kind you’d teach a young child, followed by pronouns and basic verb conjugations. English seemed more difficult than French, for it drew from so many different languages, but Ruby found Charlotte an apt pupil.

“Do you miss Monsieur Benoit?” Charlotte asked late one afternoon as their lesson was concluding. Ruby had taught her the numbers that day, all the way up to one hundred, and Charlotte had managed to conjugate a few simple verbs.

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