“Girls?” Madame Fontain’s voice piped in from the entryway as the door closed.
“Maman!” Colette and Simone raced down the hall and threw themselves into their mother’s open arms just as Eva entered the parlor.
Madame Fontain squinted at Eva and didn’t take her eyes off her as she knelt and hugged the girls.
“You’re still here, Mademoiselle Traube?” she asked when she finally straightened, emptying the girls from her spacious lap.
“Yes, of course,” Eva replied.
But instead of thanking her, Madame Fontain frowned. “And your mother?”
“I’m here, too.” Mamusia emerged from down the hall, her eyes still glassy and dazed. Two strips of her hair hung in flat plaits, where the girls had apparently been braiding it. “Is your mother all right, Madame Fontain?”
Madame Fontain sniffed. “My mother is none of your concern. And I’ll thank you to leave my apartment immediately.”
Mamusia blinked a few times. “I was simply being kind.”
“I don’t need the kindness of a Jew.”
Simone was dancing around in a circle, babbling to herself, but Colette watched wide-eyed, following the exchange like she was watching a match at the Stade Roland Garros.
“You didn’t have any qualms about asking for our kindness last night,” Mamusia said, her voice sharp. The blank stare was gone from her eyes, replaced with pure ice.
“Yes, well, now you’ve put me in the position of harboring fugitives.” Madame Fontain sniffed.
Mamusia opened her mouth to reply, but Eva swiftly crossed to her side and put a firm hand on her arm. “We were just going, weren’t we, Mamusia?”
“How could she act as if we’re unwelcome here after we’ve done her a kindness?” Mamusia cried. “After we watched the police haul your father away?”
“Well, they got one of you, at least.” Madame Fontain waved dismissively.
“How dare you—” Mamusia began, but Eva was already dragging her toward the door.
“Madame Traube? Mademoiselle Traube?” Colette asked, her voice tiny. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m afraid we must, dear.” Eva glared at Madame Fontain. “It seems we have overstayed our welcome.”
“Won’t you come back and play another time?” asked the girl as Eva moved past her, still pulling her mother. She grabbed the suitcase, leaving the typewriter behind. It was too unwieldy to bring along, and too conspicuous.
“Oh, I think not,” Madame Fontain answered, giving Eva a smug smile. “In fact, it looks as if the Traubes are leaving forever.”
And then the door closed behind them, leaving Eva, her mother, and all their worldly possessions alone in the cold, dark hallway.
“What do we do now?” Mamusia asked.
“We go to the train station.”
“But—”
“Our documents aren’t perfect, but they should at least get us out of Paris, God willing.”
“And if they don’t?”
“We have to believe,” Eva said, starting toward the stairs. For all she knew, Madame Fontain was already calling the police, reporting two Jews who had slipped through the sieve. “Right now, hope is all we have.”
Chapter Five
“Where are we going?” her mother asked in a small voice ten minutes later as they hurried along, heads down, Eva clutching the suitcase in one hand, Mamusia’s trembling arm in the other. The day was hot, oppressive, and Eva could feel herself sweating.
“To the Gare de Lyon,” Eva said as they passed the Place de Vosges, where TatuĊ had once taught her to ride a bike, where he had picked her up countless times after she’d skinned her knees. Her heart ached and she pushed thoughts of him away.
“The Gare de Lyon?” her mother repeated, breathing hard as she struggled to keep up. She had unbraided the lopsided plaits the girls had given her, and now her hair hung in waves that clung to her neck.
Ordinarily, Eva would have slowed down, been more sympathetic to the fact that her mother didn’t do well in heat and humidity. But the longer they were out on the streets, the more exposed they were. Paris was deserted today, and that would only make Eva and her mother more conspicuous. “We’re going south.”
“South?” Mamusia panted.
Eva nodded as they made a sharp turn onto the tree-lined Boulevard Beaumarchais, a street she usually found beautiful. Today, though, the soaring buildings on either side made her think of walls holding them in, funneling them toward an uncertain fate. “To a town called Aurignon.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Your father is here, Eva. How can you be suggesting that we travel to a place I’ve never heard of?”
“Because he’s trapped right now, Mamusia!” Eva said, frustration quickening her pace. “And the only chance we have of saving him is to save ourselves first.”
“By running?” Mamusia yanked her arm from Eva’s grip and spun to face her. “Like cowards?”
Eva’s eyes darted around quickly. She could see a man watching them from a shop window across the way. “Mamusia, don’t do this here. You’re making us look suspicious.”
“No, Eva, you are making us look suspicious!” Mamusia grabbed Eva’s wrist, her nails digging in. “You with your fancy plans of fleeing, like we are spies from one of your books. You can’t be suggesting that we simply abandon your father.”
“Mamusia, he’s gone.”
“No, he’s—”
“He’s gone!” A sob rose in Eva’s throat, and she choked it back as she pulled away from her mother and began walking again. After a few seconds, her mother followed. “I promise I will come back for him. But we have to go now.”
“Eva—”
“Trust me, Mamusia. Please.”
Her mother went silent then, but she kept pace, and that was all Eva could ask.
Fifteen minutes later, the station was in view. “Just act as natural as possible,” Eva whispered to her mother. “We are middle-class French citizens who don’t care one way or the other about what happened here last night.”
“How convenient to so easily turn your back on your own people,” her mother muttered.
Eva tried to ignore the words, but they pierced her heart as she went on. “We are secretaries, both of us. You are a Russian émigrée, and I am your daughter. My proud French father—your husband—has not returned from the front. We fear him dead.”
“Yes, Eva, let’s pretend your father has been killed.” Mamusia sounded furious.
“Just listen to me, Mamusia! Our lives could depend upon it. We will buy train tickets to Clermont-Ferrand, via Vichy.”
“Vichy?”
“I looked. It’s the fastest way to Aurignon.”
“What is this place?”
“Your sister, Olga, lives there,” Eva said firmly. “She is ill and has begged for our help with her three children.”
Mamusia simply rolled her eyes at this.
“Mamusia, this is serious. You need to remember everything I’m saying.”