Jeannot and his mates lay low for that night and the next day. The dangers of the street far outweighed the need for food, but after a second night spent in the safety of their cellar, the boys emerged into the daylight. The sounds of the battle continued, but were more distant now. The battle had passed them by.
‘I’m off,’ Jeannot said when he’d slaked his thirst at one of the public fountains. ‘Got to find something to eat.’
‘Share and share alike,’ Monkey reminded him. ‘Meet back here with anything you’ve found.’
The boys disappeared in three different directions to see what they could scrounge in the way of food… or anything else.
Jeannot decided his best chance of something to eat was at Tante Edith’s, and he headed back towards the Bergers’ basement. This time he was even more careful than before, taking care to steer clear of any main thoroughfares, but as he zigzagged through narrow side streets and alleyways, he could see the destroyed barricades, many of them with bodies still lying where they had fallen; women and children amongst them, all dying in answer to the Commune’s call to arms. He saw the body of a boy about his own age, lying on his back, his face to the sky, his eyes already missing; empty sockets left by the crows. Jeannot shuddered as he realised that if he hadn’t escaped from the working party, he too could be lying dead in the street.
It was as he looked at the scattered bodies that an idea came to him. He looked round but there was no one else in sight. With slight reluctance, he crept towards the body of a man in workman’s clothes that lay like a discarded rag doll across the top of the barricade; not a soldier, but a man of the people. Jeannot kneeled down and slipped his hand into the man’s pocket. When he withdrew it again, he was clutching two francs. Riches!
Jeannot had few scruples about robbing a dead body. The man didn’t need the money any more, but he, Jeannot, did. Those coins could be the difference between eating and going hungry. He slipped them into his own pocket and scurried hurriedly away. Others might not take such a pragmatic view of his actions, and though there was no one in sight, you never knew who might be watching.
He risked two more such robberies and though they were not so lucrative, he added another franc and twenty sous to his cash. He might not have any food to take to Tante Edith, but at least he had something to offer her.
The door to the basement was flung open even as he clattered down the steps and Tante Edith greeted him with a hug.
‘Jeannot,’ she cried, ‘thank God. We thought you were dead. Where’ve you been?’
‘Had to take cover,’ replied Jeannot. ‘Things got really hot out there.’
He followed Edith back inside and looked round the little apartment. The curtain that divided off the sleeping area was drawn back and he saw at once that Hélène was not there.
‘Where’s Hélène?’ he demanded.
‘Gone,’ sniffed Alphonse from his seat in the corner.
‘What d’you mean, gone?’ cried Jeannot. ‘Gone where?’
‘Gone and good riddance!’ muttered Edith.
‘When you didn’t come back, boy,’ Alphonse said, making clear that he thought it was Jeannot’s fault, ‘Edith and the girl went out to try and buy some food. And she ran off.’
‘Ran off?’ echoed Jeannot, turning to Edith. ‘Ran off where?’
‘How do I know?’ said Edith. ‘I was in with old Felix Vellier. He had a hambone and it took me time to get it. When I came out of his shop, she’d gone.’ She patted Jeannot on the shoulder. ‘Forget her, Jeannot, she ain’t worth it. We gave her food and then she run off.’
Jeannot forgot about the money in his pocket and turned to the door. ‘I must go and find her,’ he said.
‘Wait!’ Edith’s tone was peremptory. ‘What have you brought us? You promised to bring back food if we looked after that girl.’
‘Well, you ain’t,’ Jeannot snapped. ‘You ain’t looked after her, have you?’
‘Not our fault if she run off,’ muttered Alphonse.
Jeannot paused in the doorway, and then putting his hand in his pocket pulled out one of the franc coins. ‘Here,’ he said, tossing it onto the floor. ‘You can have that.’ And by the time Edith had scrabbled for it he was out of the door and heading for the Avenue Ste Anne. He didn’t know if Hélène would go back there, but it seemed the obvious place to look.
When he reached Passy he found there was a semblance of normality as a few people were out in the streets. He looked out of place in such a prosperous area and he received some suspicious glances, but no one actually challenged him and he ducked into the lane behind the house. He was relieved to find the back gate unlocked, that must mean someone was here, but when he reached the stable, it was empty.
Hélène was not there and he had no way of knowing if she had been. Nor was she in the house. The back door was still unlocked but the house was empty. But someone had been there, he was sure. Marcel, perhaps? Or maybe Georges wasn’t as badly injured as they’d thought and he’d come back. But if so, where were they now?
Jeannot wandered round the house. In the drawer of a desk in what must be Monsieur St Clair’s study, he found a small leather purse containing nearly twenty francs. He couldn’t believe that anyone would leave so much money lying in an unlocked drawer, but never one to turn down such largesse, the purse disappeared into his pocket. He was sure Monsieur St Clair wouldn’t miss it, and if he did, he’d think Gaston had taken it when he’d taken Hélène. Anyway, Jeannot reasoned, they owed him. He’d done his best to save Hélène and if she’d run off now when he’d got her to a safe place, there was nothing he could do about that. He was sorry, of course, he found he’d come to like the girl, admired her spunk, but he wasn’t her keeper. His job was what it had always been: to look after number one. With twenty francs in his pocket, he was king of the world!
A quick search through the rest of the desk drawers revealed nothing else worth having, just papers and ledgers and such, all useless to Jeannot.
Having found the money he decided that it was time to leave; he didn’t want to be caught there by any of the St Clairs now, not even Hélène. He closed both house and stable doors behind him, no need to advertise that someone had been there, then he was out through the gate and off down the street to his own part of the city. He’d share with the Monkey and Paul, but not equal shares. A man had to keep something for himself.