Alphonse stepped aside to let them in and Jeannot led Hélène into the basement apartment. Edith was sitting by the tiny fire and seeing Jeannot she jumped to her feet.
‘Jeannot!’ she cried. ‘Where have you been? We were so worried when you didn’t come home again.’ Then, as if noticing Hélène for the first time, her eyes narrowed and she said, ‘And who’s this? Why have you brought her here?’
Before Jeannot could answer, Hélène announced, ‘I’m Hélène St Clair, and I don’t know why he’s brought me here. I want to go home.’ It was not an auspicious start to their introduction.
‘This is Hélène,’ Jeannot said, scowling at her to shut up. ‘Used to work for her family. She’s all right… most of the time.’
‘But why have you brought her here?’ repeated Edith.
‘We was caught in the bombing,’ Jeannot explained. ‘Had to get off the streets double quick. Nowhere else to go, and,’ he added winningly, ‘I knew you’d take us in, Tante Edith.’ He turned back to Hélène. ‘This is Monsieur and Madame Berger. Tante Edith and Oncle Alphonse. They’re kind people. They took me in, in the siege.’
He gave her a nudge and Hélène held out her hand and said, ‘How d’you do, madame?’
Edith looked at her suspiciously before giving her hand a brief shake and turning her attention back to Jeannot. ‘Are you hurt?’ she asked.
‘No, we’re both all right, but Hélène’s brother was injured, he hurt his leg. He told us to run and we did, so we don’t know what’s happened to him.’
‘He told us to go home,’ said Hélène.
‘So, why didn’t you?’ asked Alphonse suspiciously. ‘If he told you to go there, why didn’t you?’
‘Too dangerous,’ answered Jeannot cheerfully. ‘She lives right in the middle of the sixteenth district, it’s the target area. House could be bombed out an’ us with it.’ He gave Edith his most charming smile and said, ‘We can stay here for a while, can’t we, Tante Edith? Just till things settle down a bit? Don’t worry about food an’ that, I’ll see you right.’
Edith sighed. ‘I suppose you can,’ she agreed reluctantly, ‘but only for a few days until the bombing’s stopped.’ She nodded at Jeannot. ‘You can stay as long as you want to, helping us out, but not her, we don’t need another mouth to feed.’ Hélène flushed red at this, but at a look from Jeannot she held her tongue.
There was an awkward silence before Jeannot said, ‘That’s settled then. Don’t worry about us, Tante Edith, we won’t get in your way. We’ll sleep by the fire in here.’ He looked round hopefully. ‘Anything for breakfast?’ he asked. Seeing the anxious look on Alphonse’s face, he added, ‘I’ll go out and find something else as soon as we’ve finished.’
‘Are they really your aunt and uncle?’ Hélène asked Jeannot in a whisper as they drank coffee and ate bread with a smear of jam.
Jeannot shook his head. ‘Nah! Course not! Just what I call ’em. Told you before, I ain’t got no family. I’m on my own. But we need them now, so just try and keep on the right side of them, all right?’
After they’d eaten, Jeannot left Hélène with the Bergers and set out in search of food. As he made his way through the streets he could hear the relentless pounding of the guns and they seemed to be getting louder. The war, he realised, had come closer.
Pointless going to the market if that part of the city was under fire, he thought, ’cos nobody’ll be selling nothing today. ’Cept perhaps some of the small shops. It’d be worth keeping his eye open.
He changed direction and headed to his usual haunts. There was unusual activity in the streets and several times he ducked into a doorway or branched off into an alley to avoid not only the National Guards, but ordinary citizens scurrying from place to place, heads down, eyes averted. He would go and find Paul and the Monkey, he decided, and discover what had been happening while he’d been cooped up with Hélène in the stable. Things certainly seemed to have hotted up. Jeannot thought of the bombardment they’d escaped the previous night and wondered briefly what had happened to Georges. Was he still alive or had he died in the street? Well, he shrugged, not his problem.
He found his mates hiding in the old cellar they shared and crawled in beside them.
‘What’s going on then?’ he asked. ‘Something big, by the sound of it. You been out to see?’
‘Yeah,’ replied the Monkey, ‘and came back sharpish, I can tell you.’
‘The army’s in,’ Paul told him. ‘Heard some treacherous bugger opened the gate at Pointe du Jour and let them in. There’s soldiers everywhere. Need to steer clear of them. They’ve been streaming in since dawn.’
‘Where you been, anyway?’ demanded Monkey. ‘Ain’t seen you for days and then you turn up outta the blue an’ ask what’s going on! What d’yer think’s going on? City’s invaded, that’s what!’
‘I been holed up in a nice comfortable stable,’ Jeannot said. ‘We could hear the guns, but not close, not till now. Anyway, I thought I’d come out and find out what’s what.’
‘Mad to be out there,’ Paul said. ‘You was lucky you wasn’t shot. There’s National Guards and soldiers everywhere. They don’t care who they kill. They been shooting anyone what gets caught in their way. We ain’t going out now.’
‘I can’t stay here,’ Jeannot said. ‘I’m getting food.’
‘Getting food? Then you’re the only one, mate. Anyone with any sense is keeping their head down. If the government lot don’t get you, the National Guards will. Saw them in the street this morning early. Prodding folks with bayonets, they was, making people go and work on the barricades.’
‘Bit late for barricades, ain’t it?’ Monkey said. ‘Saw them building one with carts and waggons and paving stones and stuff. That ain’t going to keep the army out, is it?’
‘Waste of time, if you ask me,’ agreed Paul. ‘Just going to blow their way through that shit, ain’t they.’
‘Good time to be picking up a few bits, though,’ pointed out Jeannot, who always had an eye for a chance. ‘Empty houses. Stuff lying about asking to be took.’
‘You can take it, mate,’ said Paul. ‘I’m like Monkey. I’m going to keep my head down here. May go hungry for a few days… done that before. Don’t kill yer, not like a bullet from an army rifle. They’re putting sharp shooters on the roofs now, picking off people; just use anyone for target practice, they do.’
Jeannot listened to all they said but eventually left them safe in their cellar. He went back onto the streets. He couldn’t stay there and miss all the excitement; he was determined to see for himself. What he saw amazed him. The artillery had finally punched huge gaps in the city walls and government troops were pouring through in their hundreds. He darted along through the back doubles, hiding in alleys, in deserted courtyards and behind walls, astonished at the damage being inflicted on the city, inflicted by both sides. Paul and the Monkey had been right. All over the city bells were ringing, the Commune’s call to the citizens of Paris; to man the barricades, to keep the enemy at bay. Citizens were answering the call, too. He saw a group of women armed with rifles, carrying the red flag of the Commune, marching to one of the barricades, and ducked down behind a collapsed wall. He’d heard the women were some of the worst and he wasn’t going to mess with them.
You got to be extremely careful not to get taken up by either side, he thought, as he crouched behind the wall ready to make a dash for the basement yard opposite. It was then that he felt it, something hard pressed into his ribs. A gun barrel.
‘Now then, whippersnapper,’ said a voice. ‘We could use a likely lad like you. Come on, there’s a barricade to build.’ The owner of the voice, a large man in a National Guard’s uniform, grasped him by the ear and propelled him unwillingly round a corner and into the next street where he found there was feverish activity, constructing a barrier to block the main road. Two heavy carts had been laid end to end across the street and beyond them several men were at work lifting paving stones and cobbles and carrying them to add strength and weight to the barricade. Beams, taken from the ruins of nearby buildings, were being heaved up to make another layer of defence.
‘Right, lad, get stuck in here,’ instructed his captor. ‘There’s some sandbags over there what wants to be brought here. If they’re too heavy to carry, just drag them. Look sharp, we’ve plenty more of these to build.’
Jeannot moved away to where another lad was heaving at some bags of earth. He cast an eye backwards, but saw at once that there was no chance of running off. The National Guard who’d collared him was watching, rifle loaded and in hand.
‘Who are you?’ demanded the boy.
‘Jeannot. Got you too, did they? What’s yer name?’
‘André,’ the boy said. ‘Watch out for that big bloke. He’s real mean.’
Together they heaved at the heavy earth-filled bags. Gradually a wall was built across the road and on the top, behind a parapet of beams, was a firing step.
As soon as it was done several National Guards climbed up and settled down, rifles protruding over the top, preparing to hold the army at bay.
Watching them, Jeannot wondered if Hélène’s other brother, guardsman Marcel, was manning a barricade like this.
Well, rather him than me, thought Jeannot as he and André were gathered up and moved on to another street where a similar barricade was under construction. Here they were set to filling the sacks, digging into the compacted earth beneath the raised paving slabs and shovelling it into the bags. To the background of thundering guns and the rattle of small arms fire, they worked under the watchful eye of the guard who had captured Jeannot. After another hour they were given some bread and strips of dried meat to eat; a pitcher of water was passed round from which they all drank copious draughts, their throats dry from the dust of their own efforts. But there was no chance of escape and Jeannot realised that he should have listened to his mates. He had made a dreadful mistake in risking the streets. The group of citizens who, like him, had been press-ganged into building defences was herded away at the end of each job, the whole time under the watchful eye – and the rifle – of their captor. As they began to move on from the second barricade, André broke ranks, making a dash for the shelter of a narrow lane that led off from the street. One of the guards raised his rifle and fired a single shot and André pitched forward, arms flung wide, as he collapsed to the ground. For a moment the other workers stared at the motionless body, but at a roar from the guard, they moved on, leaving the lifeless boy to the mercy of the city rats. No one else considered making a break for it. Even before seeing André’s ill-considered dash, and the speed with which he’d been dealt with, Jeannot had decided against an effort to escape. He would wait until it was dark and then if the chance arose, he’d slip away.
The government troops were establishing themselves in key positions in the city, moving slowly but steadily through the streets and as dusk turned to dark, and Jeannot’s crew laboured on yet another barrier of paving stones and bags of earth, an advance patrol came upon them unexpectedly and opened fire. Everyone dived for cover, the workers scattering into the nearby streets, some of the guards firing back from the protection of their newly created barrier. Jeannot ran like a hare, vanishing into the maze of streets beyond the Madeleine. Once out of the immediate danger area, he got his bearings and began making his way back to the Monkey and Paul in their cellar. He’d spend the night sheltering with them and decide his next move in the morning.
*
As soon as Jeannot had left that morning, Alphonse jerked his thumb at Hélène who was curled up in a corner, fast asleep.
‘What are we going to do with her?’ he asked.
Edith shrugged. ‘Keep her for a day or two, I suppose,’ she replied, ‘as long as Jeannot brings us enough food. If he don’t, she’ll have to go.’
Hélène kept her eyes closed, maintaining her pretence of sleep, but she listened to what they were saying and made up her mind. She didn’t like ‘Tante Edith’, who looked at her with such coldness in her eyes. She didn’t know why. What had she done? She hadn’t asked to come here, but she knew that Edith didn’t like her and didn’t want her there. And what if Tante Edith went out somewhere? She might be left alone with the weird ‘Oncle Alphonse’, who coughed and wheezed and spat and looked at her sideways; the thought terrified her.
Where was Georges? And Marcel? They’d be worried sick about her when she and Jeannot didn’t come back home as they’d been told to. She looked at the front door. It was stout with a heavy bolt drawn across it. What would happen, she wondered, if she simply got up and walked out? What would the old couple do? Would they try and stop her, or would they simply be glad to see the back of her? The trouble was that, once again, she didn’t know where she was or the way home. Just as soon as Jeannot came back she’d insist he took her there.
But Jeannot didn’t come back. The three of them sat in the apartment all day and waited. They could hear the continuous rumble of the guns and neither of the Bergers was prepared to venture out. Hélène thought of what Jeannot had said. Her home was ‘in the target area’. Perhaps her home wasn’t even standing now.
The basement apartment was dim at the best of times, with only one grimy window looking out into a tiny yard, and as twilight deepened to night, they all sat in the gloom.
‘Buggered off again,’ remarked Alphonse, when there was still no sign of Jeannot. ‘Or killed in the bombing.’
‘Oh, Alphonse,’ Edith gave a cry of distress, ‘don’t say things like that. He must come home again. He’s promised to bring some more food.’
‘Promised?’ sniffed Alphonse. ‘What are promises to boys like him?’
‘He came back last time,’ Edith reminded him.
‘Only ’cos I found him laying in the gutter and we brought him in.’
‘He’ll come, I know he will,’ Edith said, but Hélène could see that her lip trembled.
She clenched her fists, determined not to cry, but Alphonse’s words echoed in her head: ‘Or killed in the bombing.’ The rumble of the guns had been constant, all day, so people must be getting killed.
Why hasn’t he come back? wondered Hélène in panic. What will happen to me if Jeannot has been killed? And if he hasn’t, where is he?
Edith lit a small lamp and by its light she prepared another meal of soup. It was a great improvement on the soup they’d been given at St Luke’s, hot and thickened with potatoes. She shared it out into three bowls and handed Hélène the smallest portion.
‘Thank you,’ Hélène said meekly. ‘It’s very good.’
‘Not the sort of food you’ll be used to, I dare say,’ said Edith with a sniff. ‘But when you stay with paupers you eat paupers’ food.’
There seemed no answer to that and the three of them ate their food in silence, all of them listening for the clatter of boots on the steps outside, the sound of Jeannot’s return.
Edith cleared away the bowls and then found a blanket which she gave to Hélène.
‘We’re turning in now,’ she said. ‘You can sleep in here in front of the fire. You’ll hear Jeannot when he knocks, but don’t open the door. Wake us and Alphonse will come and do it.’
There was no knock in the night and no sign of Jeannot in the morning. They could hear the battle for Paris raging across the city and they all knew that Jeannot would not be coming back.
‘I’ll go for food,’ Edith said, putting her shawl about the shoulders and picking up a basket. ‘We have to have something or we will starve.’
Realising that her worst fears were about to come true, Hélène said, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Edith was about to snub her offer with a brisk negative, but she caught herself in time. Perhaps they might have more luck with a child begging as well.
‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘Alphonse, you wait here, so you can tell Jeannot where we are when he gets back.’
Alphonse grunted, but made no other comment. He was afraid to go out into streets that were a battlefield, and was glad Edith had told him to stay at home. He hoped that she would be successful in her search for food – surely some bakers were still at work, people had to eat after all – but since the government troops had been besieging the city, no fresh food had come in from the countryside. Well enough for those who had laid in supplies when it was clear there was going to be war again, but they’d had no money for such luxuries, living from hand to mouth, each day, every day.
Edith and Hélène climbed the steps up to the lane and set off towards the main road. Edith didn’t speak to her and Hélène was pleased. She was working on a plan. It was a bright day, and the May sun was warm on her face. It was early yet, but she had already decided that when they were away from that dreadful alley where the Gaston-man had cornered them, she was going to slip away from Jeannot’s Tante Edith. She hated being cooped up in the basement apartment. It was small and cold and poky and it smelled of… Oncle Alphonse. Yes, it smelled of Oncle Alphonse. She had found her way home before by keeping the sun on her face. She could do it again.
She didn’t let her mind wonder what she was going to do if the house had been ruined in the cannonade.
Edith led the way through narrow streets to a boulangerie. The door was open and when she went in the baker greeted her by name.
‘You’re in luck, Madame Berger,’ he said. ‘I kept a few loaves back for my regulars.’
Although he had saved some, the price was high and Edith winced as she handed over the two francs he asked for. He reached under the counter and produced two loaves. ‘Only two,’ he said as she put them into her basket and covered them with a cloth.
Two francs for just two loaves of bread! Her small stock of cash was almost halved. Further on she managed to buy a cabbage and three potatoes, and a meat bone from the butcher, but the prices were incredibly high. How she missed Jeannot’s talent for finding ‘free’ food. If he wasn’t back with some soon, that girl would definitely have to go. She looked around as she came out of the butcher’s, but the girl was nowhere in sight. She stood for a moment, looking along the street, but there was no sign of her.
You take the girl in and feed her and then she runs off, thought Edith angrily. Well, good riddance. With her acquisitions safely in her basket she set off for home. They would eat for another day or so, and one less mouth to feed was good news!
Hélène had watched Edith enter the butcher’s shop and had made her decision. She was going home. With a quick glance through the window she saw Edith haggling with the butcher over a marrow bone and hid in a doorway further down the street. She watched as Edith came out of the shop, looked about for her and then marched off down the street. Once the old woman was out of sight, Hélène emerged from the doorway and set off in the other direction.