Catholic family, had a respectable job in the Civil Service, and was unfailingly polite towards her.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘How are your charming parents?’
56
She’d never met them but knew that Valois senior was an important deputy. That was how to get the good jobs; have a bit of influence behind you! She felt envy but no disapproval.
‘They are safe and well, madame,’ said Valois. ‘My father continues to look after the country’s interests in Vichy.’
He spoke with a bitter irony which seemed to be lost on Madame Crozier.
Janine came in.
‘Christian, is there news?’
‘Nothing, I’m afraid. But my contacts in the Foreign Ministry are still trying. And I’ve written to my father asking him to help.’
She turned away in disappointment and flopped into a chair. He looked at her with exasperation. Clearly she regarded his efforts on Jean-Paul’s behalf as at best coldly bureaucratic, at worst impertinently intrusive. His sacrifice of pride and principle in writing to his father for assistance meant nothing to her. Why Jean-Paul had ever hitched himself to someone like this, he couldn’t understand. A silly shop-girl, good for a few quick tumbles.
He said brusquely, ‘There’s another matter.’
‘Yes?’ said Janine indifferently.
‘Perhaps a word in private.’
‘Come through into the shop,’ said Janine after a glance at her mother, who showed no sign of moving.
In the shop, Valois said, ‘Have you seen Madame Simonian lately?’
‘Not for a while. I usually take the children on Sundays, but they’ve been ill. Why? She hasn’t heard anything, has she?’
The sudden eagerness in her voice irritated Valois once more.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s her I’m worried about. I went to see her earlier. The concierge said she’d just gone down to the greengrocer’s so I went after her. I found her having an argument with a German sergeant who’d seen her pulling down the JEWISH BUSINESS poster the greengrocer had put in his window.’
‘What poster’s that?’ interrupted Janine.
‘Don’t you pay attention to anything? It’s been decreed that all Jewish shopkeepers have to put up these posters. Fortunately the sergeant clearly thought there weren’t many medals in arresting a seventy-year-old woman for threatening him with a bunch of celery, so he was glad to let me smooth things over.’
‘Yes,’ she said, taking in his neat dark suit and his guarded bureaucratic expression. ‘You’d be good at that, Christian. Personally I think you’d have done better to join in bashing the Boche with the celery. If we all did that, we’d soon get things back to normal!’
‘All? Who are these all?’ wondered Valois.
‘People. You don’t think any real Frenchman’s going to sit back and let the Boche run our lives for us, do you?’
He said, ‘Janine, it’s real Frenchmen who are putting their names to these decrees. I’ll tell you something else that real Frenchmen have done. It’s been suggested - that’s the word used - suggested to publishing firms that they might care to do a voluntary purge on their lists, get rid of unsuitable authors such as German exiles, French nationalists, British writers, and of course Jews. They’ve all agreed! No objections. Not one!’
‘Oh, those are intellectuals with their heads in the clouds, or businessmen with their noses in the trough,’ said Janine wearily. ‘It’s the ordinary people I’m talking about. They won’t let themselves be mucked around by these Boche. Just wait. You’ll see. But thanks for telling me about Sophie. I’ll keep an eye on her.’
As she spoke, Valois realized just how much on edge she was; emotionally frayed by worry about Jean-Paul, physically exhausted by her work in the shop combined with sleepless nights looking after the kids, and doubtless worn down by the simple strain of daily life with the formidable Louise.
Behind him the shop door opened and a German officer came in. He was a stocky fellow of indeterminate age with an ordinary kind of face, were it not for a certain shrewdness of gaze which made you think that every time he blinked, his eyes were registering photographs.
‘Good day, Ma’m’selle Janine,’ he said in excellent French. ‘I hope the children are improving. I was asking after them when I talked with your excellent mother earlier. I thought perhaps a few chocolates might tempt their appetites back to normal…’
He proffered a box of chocolates. Janine ignored it and glanced furiously at Valois. She was angry that after what she’d just been saying, the civil servant should see her on such apparently familiar terms with this Boche. Feeling herself close to explosion, she took a deep breath and said, ‘No thank you, lieutenant. I don’t think they will help.’
‘Oh,’ said Günter Mai, nonplussed.
He regarded her assessingly, placed the box carefully on the counter and said, ‘Forgive the intrusion. Perhaps your dear mother, or you yourself, might enjoy them. You’ll be doing me a favour.’
He patted his waistline ruefully, touched his peak in the shadow of a salute and brought his heels gently together in the echo of a click.
It was the gentle mockery of these gestures plus the diplomatic courtesy with which he’d received her rejection that finally triggered off the explosion.
She pushed the chocolates back across the counter with such force that the box flew through the air, struck him on the chest and burst open, scattering its contents all over the floor.
‘Why don’t you sod off and take your sodding chocolates with you?’ she shouted. ‘We don’t want them, do you understand? I can look after my own kids without any help from the likes of you.’
59
The door from the living quarters burst open.
‘What’s going on!’ demanded Madame Crozier. ‘What’s all the noise?’
‘It’s nothing, madame. The young lady is upset. Just a little misunderstanding,’ said Mai with a rueful smile.
‘I’ve been telling your Boche friend a few home truths,’ cried Janine. ‘You talk to him if you want, maman. Me, I’ve had enough!’
She pushed her way past her mother and disappeared.
‘Janine! Come back here!’ commanded Madame Crozier. ‘Lieutenant, I’m so sorry, you must forgive her, take no notice, she’s overwrought. Excuse me.’
She turned and went after her daughter. Soon angry voices drifted back into the shop where Mai and Valois stood looking at each other.
‘And you are…?’ said Mai courteously.
