‘My dear,’ repeated Simone quietly.
‘I’m sorry,’ replied Adèle. ‘I’m prattling on, amn’t I? Let me say this then.’ She cleared her throat as if she was about to address a room full of unruly factory workers. ‘We are very happy to have you here with us, Pierrot. I have no doubt that you will be a tremendous asset to what we like to think of as our little family here at the orphanage. And my goodness, aren’t you a handsome little fellow! You have the most extraordinary blue eyes. I used to own a spaniel with eyes just like yours. Not that I’m comparing you to a dog, of course. That would be terribly rude. I only meant that you put me in mind of him, that’s all. Simone, don’t Pierrot’s eyes remind you of Casper’s?’
Simone raised an eyebrow and glanced at the boy for a moment before shaking her head. ‘No,’ she said.
‘Oh, but they do, they really do!’ declared Adèle with so much delight that Pierrot began to wonder whether she thought her dead dog had come back to life in human form. ‘Now, first things first.’ And here her expression turned quite serious. ‘We were both so sorry to hear about what happened with your dear mother. So young and such a wonderful provider, from what we’ve been told. And after all she’d been through in her life too. It seems terribly cruel that someone with so much to live for should be taken away from you just when you need her the most. And I dare say she loved you very much. Don’t you agree, Simone? Don’t you think that Mme Fischer must have loved Pierrot very much?’
Simone looked up from a ledger into which she was writing details of Pierrot’s height and physical condition. ‘I imagine that most mothers love their sons,’ she said. ‘It’s hardly worth commenting upon.’
‘And your father,’ continued Adèle. ‘He passed away a few years ago too, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Pierrot.
‘And you have no other family?’
‘No. Well, my father had a sister, I think, but I’ve never met her. She never came to visit. She probably doesn’t even know that I’m alive or that my parents are dead. I don’t have her address.’
‘Oh, what a shame!’
‘How long will I have to stay here?’ Pierrot asked, his attention drawn to the many pictures and drawings on display. On the desk he noticed a photograph of a man and woman seated on two chairs with a large gap between them, such serious expressions on their faces that he wondered whether they had been captured in the middle of an argument; he knew by looking at them that they were the sisters’ parents. Another photograph, placed on the opposite corner of the desk, revealed two little girls holding hands with a slightly younger boy who was standing between them. On the wall was a third photograph, a portrait of a young man with a pencil moustache wearing a French army uniform. The picture was taken in profile, so from where it hung, the young man was staring out of the window into the gardens beyond with a rather wistful expression on his face.
‘Many of our orphans are placed with good families within a month or two of their arrival,’ said Adèle, sitting down on the couch and indicating that Pierrot should take a seat next to her. ‘There are so many wonderful men and women who would like to start a family but have not been blessed with children of their own; others simply want to bring an extra brother or sister into their home out of kindness and charity. You must never underestimate how kind people can be, Pierrot.’
‘Or how cruel,’ muttered Simone from behind her desk, and Pierrot glanced across at her in surprise but she didn’t look up.
‘We’ve had some children who were with us for only a few days or weeks,’ continued Adèle, ignoring her sister’s remark. ‘And some who were here a little longer, of course. But once, a little boy of your age was brought to us in the morning and he was gone again by lunch time. We barely had a chance to get to know him at all, did we, Simone?’
‘No,’ said Simone.
‘What was his name?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ said Adèle. ‘The point is that you can’t predict when someone will find a family. Something like that might happen to you, Pierrot.’
‘It’s almost five o’clock,’ he replied. ‘The day’s almost over.’
‘I only meant—’
‘And how many never get adopted?’ he asked.
‘Hmm? What’s that?’
‘How many children never get adopted?’ he repeated. ‘How many live here until they’re grown up?’
‘Ah,’ said Adèle, her smile fading a little. ‘Well, it’s difficult to put a number on that, of course. It happens occasionally, of course it does, but I very much doubt that it will happen with you. Why, any family would be delighted to have you! But let’s not worry about that for now. However long or short your stay may be, we’ll try to make it as enjoyable as possible. For now the important thing is that you get settled in, meet your new friends and start to feel at home. You may have heard some bad stories about things that go on in orphanages, Pierrot, because there are an awful lot of people who tell terrible stories – and then there was that horrible Englishman, Mr Dickens, who gave us all a bad name with his novels – but you can rest assured that nothing untoward goes on in our establishment. We run a happy house for all our boys and girls, and if there’s ever a moment when you feel frightened or alone, you simply have to come looking for either Simone or me, and we will be happy to help you. Won’t we, Simone?’
‘Adèle is usually quite easy to find,’ replied the older sister.
‘Where will I sleep?’ asked Pierrot. ‘Do I get my own room?’
‘Oh no,’ said Adèle. ‘Even Simone and I don’t have our own rooms. This isn’t the Palace of Versailles, you know! No, we have dormitories here. Separate dormitories for boys and girls, of course, so you don’t need to worry about that. They each have ten beds in them, although the room you’re going into is a little quiet at the moment so you’ll only be the seventh boy in there. You can take your pick of the empty beds. All we ask is that when you choose one, you stick with it. It makes everything easier on wash day. You’ll take a bath every Wednesday night, although’ – and here she leaned forward and sniffed the air a little – ‘it might be for the best if you take one this evening too, just to wash the dust of Paris and the filth of the train away. You’re a little ripe, dear. We rise at six-thirty, then there’s breakfast, school, lunch, a little more school, then games, dinner and bed. You’ll love it here, Pierrot, I’m sure you will. And we will do our very best to find a wonderful family for you. That’s the funny thing about this line of work, you see. We’re so happy to see you arrive but we’re even happier to see you leave. Isn’t that right, Simone?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Simone.
Adèle stood up and invited Pierrot to follow her so she could show him around the orphanage, but as he walked towards the door, he noticed something sparkling inside a small glass cabinet and walked over to look at it. He pressed his face against the glass and squinted as he stared at a circle of bronze with a figure at its centre hanging from a strip of red and white striped fabric. A separate bronze bar was clipped to the material, inscribed with the words Engagé Volontaire. At the base of the cabinet stood a small candle and another photograph, a smaller one, of the man with the pencil moustache, smiling and waving from a train as it pulled out of a station. He recognized the platform immediately, for it was the same one where he had disembarked from the Paris train earlier in the day.