Paris: The Novel

going to have everything that she had been denied. She had deliberately brought him into the world, she was never going to desert him and he was going to know that he was loved.
    When she had first told Charlie she was pregnant, Louise had explained very frankly what she’d done.
    “I chose you to be his father,” she said, “but I want him for myself. You’re free. I can look after him.” It was her pride that she could say this. And it was her absolute determination that no one, not even Charlie, was ever going to part them.
    She also made one other stipulation.
    “I don’t want you to tell your father or your stepmother about Esmé. That’s going to be a secret between you and me. I want you to promise me that.”
    Charlie thought this second stipulation rather strange, but he’d agreed. The rest he accepted easily enough. Though she had never told him the story of who she really was, he could see that it was important to her. Most men in his situation, he supposed, would have been grateful to escape responsibility for an illegitimate child. But he still wanted to do something for his baby son. He knew this wasn’t virtue on his part. It was easy to be generous if you were rich.
    “Come and see us,” she said. “Just don’t ever try to take him away.”
    But she hadn’t foreseen the German occupation.
    What was she to do now? She had no wish to provide the hospitality of L’Invitation au Voyage to Hitler’s henchmen. Could she afford to retire? Could she even sell the business in the middle of the occupation?
    Before the end of July, the situation was made even worse for her when, to her surprise, she received a telephone call from Coco Chanel. Some years ago, the great mistress of fashion had decided to live in a luxurious suite at the Ritz, and she was calling from there.
    “I just wanted you to know, Louise,” she said, “that the Ritz is simply swarming with the German High Command. I’ve told them all that you’re my friend, and that L’Invitation au Voyage is the place to visit in Paris.”
    “Oh.”
    “They all have masses of money, you know.”
    “I know.” It was already a sore point with the French that the money they had to pay for the support of the occupying Germans was calculated in German marks, using an exchange rate that hugely favored them. As a result, the Germans could afford anything they wanted in Paris.
    “I told them they can trust you,” Coco continued. “Don’t let me down.” Then she rang off.
    Louise was still struggling with her conscience a day later when Charlie came to call.

    When Charlie had told his father and Marie what he wanted, Roland had been doubtful.
    “There’s no network to join,” he pointed out.
    “Then I’ll have to build one.”
    “It’s a pity we’ve lost so many men,” his father said.
    It wasn’t just the loss of a hundred thousand, killed in May and June. By the time the fighting was over, the Germans had taken a million French troops as prisoners of war. Sadly, even the French troops evacuated at Dunkirk had been sent back to France by the British, who probably didn’t know what to do with them, and most of those had finished up in German prisoner-of-war camps too.
    “As far as I can tell,” Marie had remarked, “most of the people of our sort would rather follow Pétain anyway.”
    “That’s exactly why I’m not likely to be suspected,” Charlie told her. “And you can help me by providing cover. If we just act the part of conservative aristocrats, the Germans will suppose we’re on their side.”
    The opportunity had come only two weeks later, when a large car with two outriders had drawn up at the château, and a smartly dressed German colonel and two young staff officers had alighted. At the door he had politely introduced himself as Colonel Walter, and explained that he was looking at châteaus which might be requisitioned for army use.
    He spoke excellent French, and Charlie suspected that he might be taking a look at the occupants of the château as well as the building itself. When Marie asked if he could stay to lunch with his staff, he readily accepted.
    As they toured the house, it was quickly established that both the Germanand Roland de Cygne came from military families. Charlie was still walking with a stick and the colonel asked if this was a wound.
    “No,
mon colonel
. I broke my leg quite badly in an accident. So I missed the fighting.”
    “You had good doctors, I hope.”
    “Very. At the