I Looked for the One My Heart Loves (2 page)

2

Up until the end
of the school year
, Anne didn't give her father's alarmist views much thought. Too many other things occupied her mind. First, there was the trip to the Louvre with the cultural society of Montmartre, which organized outings for both adults and kids in and around Paris. The children had already been to Versailles and the Château de Chantilly, and now they explored the treasures of ancient Egypt. Alexis kept close to the tour guide and lingered in front of every display case. Anne had never seen him with such an enraptured expression! Intrigued by his enthusiasm, she joined Alexis, and little by little, found herself interested in the Nile and pyramids where pharaohs were buried. In the middle of the tour, she suddenly realized that she and Alexis were the only ones paying attention to what the guide was saying. The other kids yawned and whispered among themselves. They couldn't wait to get out of the museum and go play outside. At the end of the tour, as the group reached the exit, Alexis closed the notebook in which he'd jotted down a few notes. Anne would've liked to ask him if he could lend it to her so she could transcribe his notes, but she didn't dare.

On Awards Day, Alexis took first prize in French and geography, and second prize in history. Each time, he climbed onstage to receive a large book with red-and-gold binding. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort happened to Bernard! Sitting next to her parents, Anne wondered if her brother would at least receive a certificate of merit. He did … for gym.

“We're deluding ourselves,” Yves Chastel said bitterly as he walked out of the school hall. “Our son is never going to be an intellectual.”

Intellectual.
Anne wasn't sure what the word meant.

“Is Alexis an intellectual?” she asked her mother.

“Why do you ask?”

“He won a lot of prizes!”

“His father is an intellectual,” Yves Chastel said. “And no doubt a Communist! Just take a look at the books in his store's window!”

To Bernard, who'd just joined them, he added, “Even if that kid works hard in class, I don't want you and him being friends. And I certainly don't want to see him in my home!”

Alexis left for summer vacation before Anne. Since Anne knew that she wouldn't run into him on the street or in the square now, she couldn't wait to leave Montmartre as soon as possible. Two days before Bastille Day, she filled her suitcase with the treasures she didn't want to be without: a notebook that contained the beginnings of a stamp collection, some postcards, a few paper dolls, two packs of miniature cards that she used to play solitaire. Every summer, the Chastels took their children to the Touraine region to visit Monique's parents. In Cormery, a village known for its abbey and its macaroons, Anne joined up with the local kids. They could usually be found hanging out in the main square skipping rope, or playing tag or dodgeball. But the thing she most enjoyed was picnicking on the banks of the Indre. Swimming in the river and playing charades distracted them from the heavy atmosphere that seemed to worsen every day among the adults. It was when Anne overheard a conversation between her grandparents that she understood just how serious the situation had become.

“Thankfully, you're too old for the draft,” Yvonne Biron said. “But what about Yves?”

“With two children, he should be okay. …”

Anne suddenly felt anguished. Was her father going to go to war? And, maybe, die?

She walked into the kitchen.

“Daddy isn't leaving us, is he?” she said, startling her grandmother.

“You were eavesdropping?”

Seeing tears fill the little girl's eyes, she stroked Anne's hair.

“Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

Anne wanted to believe her, but the poisoned seed was planted in her mind. Later, as she played with stickers in her grandparents' small backyard, she thought of what she'd been taught about the Great War of 1914–1918, the trenches, the killing fields … Thank God, Bernard was too young to be a soldier! The same for Alexis! But what would become of everyone? Thinking about it all made her heavyhearted, even though she loved being here, with her grandmother's rituals in the house and the warm atmosphere in the kitchen as she cooked. Without having to be asked, Anne peeled the potatoes, removed the stems from the green beans, pitted the cherries for the pie, kneaded the dough. Everyone had his own tasks, and every hour was punctuated by the chiming of the clock. As soon as he came in from work, Marcel Biron did crossword puzzles and chain-smoked. He was a carpenter, and his shop was near the church. On rainy days, Bernard visited him. With a hammer and some nails, he tried to build things.

“Know what, son?” his grandfather said. “You're pretty good at it.”

“Do you have to go to school for a long time to be a carpenter?”

“I know what you're thinking. …”

Bernard had confided to his grandparents and his sister that he wasn't going to live in Paris when he became an adult. He needed to be in contact with nature, he said, to breathe fresh air …

On September 3, the police officer walked around the village beating his drum. Two days earlier, Hitler's troops had invaded Poland, and France and England had soon declared war on Germany.

“Can't believe we're back at it after only twenty years,” Marcel Biron muttered.

His grandchildren followed him to city hall. The walls were covered with posters calling men to arms. Amid the cacophony of the crowd, the older folks remembered the horrors of Verdun, while the younger men reluctantly prepared to report to the barracks indicated on their draft papers. As for the women, they kept saying they couldn't believe that war hadn't been averted. During the previous armed conflict, many had lost a father, a brother, a husband, a son! Anne saw one of her grandparents' neighbors wipe away a tear with the corner of her shawl. As the bells began to ring out, the crowd headed for the church for the celebration of mass. Anne followed the flow of villagers and joined a few of her friends once inside. A ball of anguish was wedged in her throat, and so she couldn't recite the Apostle's Creed. Around her, everyone had grim looks on their faces. This time, it would be a battle to the death between the free world and the dictators.

Afraid that roads and communications might get cut off, Monique decided to take her children back home. On the train, Anne shared a seat with Bernard. In front of them, their mother was engrossed in reading a magazine. In the train's aisle, there was a constant flow of travelers overloaded with luggage. After a long stopover in Orléans, Anne finally fell asleep, waking only when the train came to a stop at the Gare d'Austerlitz. Stepping off the train, she spotted her father coming their way quickly, looking a bit frazzled.

As soon as they walked out of the station, Anne saw the familiar dark buildings of Paris. Everything that could be pulled by either horses or humans was going up and down the city's streets: wagons, carts, carriages. People almost fought to join the flow of vehicles.

“You can't find gasoline anymore!” Yves said.

They reached Montmartre by metro. Anne, who was thirsty and hot, began to feel nauseous. Oddly enough, though, it felt to her as though her neighborhood hadn't been invaded by fear. Vendors were still selling their fruits and vegetables. Cafés were filled with customers. You could almost convince yourself that there was no war after all.

As she walked by the bookstore where Alexis's father worked, Anne noticed that the iron riot gate was down. At the sight, the girl's heart filled with disappointment and sadness. Since the end of June, not a day had gone by without her wondering about Alexis. What if he never came back? The thought made her feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Anne's mother asked. “You look pale.”

“It's the trip …”

“A bit of mint alcohol is going to make you feel better.”

Over the course of the next few days, Anne helped Monique stash nonperishable food items in the kitchen's cupboard. Not knowing what winter was going to bring, Parisians were buying lentils, sugar, beans, flour, chickpeas, dried fruit, oil, coffee, and chicory, as well as hygiene products and a supply of medicines. In the Chastel home, there was enough to get by for many weeks if the German army managed to break through the French defenses and make it to Paris. Each night, Yves and Monique listened to the news on the radio. Though Anne didn't understand what the Nazi-Soviet Pact was all about, she saw that it meant a great deal to her parents.

“Serves them right!” Yves exclaimed. “The Commies were stabbed in the back by their own leader!”

Monique nodded as she sewed a lining into the drapes to hide the light inside the apartment. Because of the possibility of an air raid, no lights were to shine through any windows. Similarly, every streetlamp and car headlight had been painted blue. Many other precautions were taken, such as knowing where the air-raid shelters were situated, and never forgetting to bring your gas mask when stepping out of the house. When Anne, her mother, and her brother went to the Concorde neighborhood one morning, she noticed sand bags piled up in front of monuments and public buildings. In detail, Bernard began to explain to her what kind of damage an air raid could cause: flames shooting out of buildings, water and gas lines exploding, people stuck under the rubble, waiting for emergency services that didn't come.

“Shut up!” Anne said.

With a sadistic smile, Bernard continued his description, until she put her fingers in her ears.

3

Ann
e
w
a
s
standin
g
i
n
line
in front of the bakery, a few coins in her tight fist.

When she finally reached the counter, the baker said, “What about you, little girl? A large loaf, as usual?”

After she paid the man, Anne turned to the exit. As she put the loaf of bread into her grocery bag, she bumped into someone.

“I'm sorry …”

“Hey! Don't you recognize me?”

She raised her head.

“Alexis,” she muttered.

She noticed that he'd grown a lot, that his hair was longer, his face suntanned.

“I came back yesterday! Tell Bernard, will you?”

“Yes …”

On the street leading to her house, Anne relived every second of their too-brief encounter. She was filled with joy, but also had regrets. She should've been more talkative, more engaging. As she saw her reflection in a store's window, she hated the big, stupid bow tied around her hair that made her look like a little girl. From now on, she'd refuse to share her mother's old-fashioned tastes.

Carrying her bag, Anne hurried to school. Kids were playing in the yard before the bell rang. Anne made her way through the crowd to meet up with Agnès, who was talking to a new girl. The bell finally rang, and they headed for their classroom.

Anne took her place in the third row, at a desk covered with ink stains and dried-up glue. Standing in front of the classroom, the teacher waited until all the girls were seated.

“We're going to start the morning in prayer for all the men who are at the front. Hail Mary, full of grace …”

Until then, Anne hadn't realized that she'd been spared by the war, as her father was still around. That same afternoon, she learned that Alexis wasn't as lucky. She'd stopped in front of the bookstore when a lady opened her second-floor window.

“The manager's regiment was called up,” she said. “That's why the store is closed!”

The cultural society of Montmartre decided to organize a year-end celebration in spite of the war, and some of its youngest members began rehearsing a play. In an isolated castle, ghosts were preventing Santa Claus from placing his presents under the magnificent tree that stood in the middle of the living room. The castle was owned by an ogre who was trying to lure little children from the surrounding area with a multitude of gifts. … Alexis had the role of the oldest ghost. With an otherworldly voice, he was the one who gave directions to the other ghosts. Covered with white sheets and jingling chains, they tried to be as scary as possible. As part of the group, Anne's job was to produce loud and harrowing moans. The play also featured singing and dancing—circle dances, farandoles, and pas de deux.

“Alexis and Anne … your turn!”

A mirror in hand, Alexis shone some light on the set to confuse Santa Claus. Behind him, Anne was singing a traditional nursery rhyme, but the words were different, again to baffle poor old Santa. As she took a step forward, the white sheet she wore slid a bit and her eyes were no longer lined up with the holes. Tripping over a stool, she took a nosedive and hurt herself.

“Anne fell on her face! Anne fell on her face!” the other kids started to chant.

Embarrassed, Anne tried to get up, but as she did she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. Breathing hard, she managed to get back to her place, trying not to limp.

When the rehearsal was over, Alexis was the only one who came over to her.

“You sure you're okay?” he asked.

“Yes …”

Once in the street, she waited until Alexis was gone to start hobbling home.

“It's a sprain,” her mother said when she looked at the swollen ankle. “Let me get some bandages.”

People called it the Phoney War! On the Eastern front, the French army had been waiting for three months for an enemy that remained invisible. To kill time, the soldiers played cards, read whatever they could get hold of, wrote their family and friends. When would combat start? No one could predict it. Just before Christmas, many soldiers were able to come home for a few days on leave. One of them was Alexis's father.

On the day of the year-end celebration, Anne spotted him in the audience. Sitting next to his wife, he was waiting for the play to start. Backstage, excitement was growing by the minute. The amateur actors were putting on their costumes. Santa Claus looked very impressive, the ogre even more so! Then the lights were turned off in the hall, and Anne took a deep breath. No way was she going to trip over something this time, or forget her lines. There would be no slip-ups.

Thunderous applause broke out at the end of the play. The performers stood and enjoyed the praise, and then posed for photos. Her hand in Alexis's, Anne bowed repeatedly. Then, just as they had rehearsed, all the ghosts took off the sheets that had hidden their identities. The audience applauded once again, some parents shouting “Bravo!”

As soon as the photos went up for sale, Anne asked her mother to order some. She selected two of them. In the first one, the actors all wore their costumes. In the second one, they had removed them.

“You can see all of us in that one,” she told her mother, without revealing that she was only interested in Alexis.

As soon as she was in possession of the pictures, Anne wondered whether Alexis had also bought some. But maybe he had other things on his mind. Since his father's return, he rarely left the bookstore. She had seen them both decorate the window with beautifully bound books. But what did she know about him? Very little! He was an only son, and his family lived not far from Rue Lamarck, in a building that used to house a bookbinding shop. That was pretty much it.

“He's often alone in the evening,” Bernard told Anne. “His mother is a wardrobe assistant, and she comes home late from the theater.”

On December 31, Montmartre was bustling. The Moulin de la Galette, the Lapin Agile, and all the other cabarets were getting ready for the New Year's Eve celebrations. Wearing a heavy coat, an accordion player opened the festivities by playing popular tunes. In the Place du Tertre, lit by blue lights, an old lady sold hot chestnuts. People were coming up to Montmartre from all over Paris, by foot, bicycles, in horse-drawn carriages. Bernard, Anne, and their parents went to a crêperie for the festivities. When Sacré-Coeur's bells rang in the New Year, the crowds shouted with joy, and balloons were released into the sky. Strangers wished one another a happy New Year, success, and good health. Anne was picked up by a giant of a man, who kissed both her cheeks. His scent of oil, sugar, and fried food was a reminder of good times. It almost felt as though the country was not at war.

School started again a few days afterward. Throughout the winter, Anne worked hard. She even made the honor roll, wearing the blue enameled cross lapel pin that rewarded her efforts. She still enjoyed her dancing lessons, and the teacher took her and other students to a matinee of
The Nutcracker
. As soon as she stepped inside the Paris Opéra, Anne was awed by the marble pillars, the frescoes, and the huge crystal chandeliers. Sitting on the second balcony, she was stunned by the extraordinary luxury of the place. The gilding, the velvet, the brocades—everything so incredibly different from her daily environment. The curtains went up, and she lost herself in Tchaikovsky's sometimes dreamy, sometimes dark music. With the opera glasses that her mother had lent her, Anne followed the heroine's adventures, as a dream took her inside a world filled with toy soldiers, mice, and bats. The scenery and the costumes were perfect. And as for the star ballerina's performance, it was too wonderful for words!

Anne came home to find her mother annoyed by her son's absence.

“He promised to be here at six! Please try to find him. He must be hanging out with his friends in the square.”

Winter being nearly over, kids had begun playing outside again.

Anne asked a boy about her brother.

“Bernard?” the boy said. “He went over to Alexis's. Do you know where he lives?”

“Yes, on Rue Becquerel. On the corner of Rue Lamarck.”

Anne knew that Bernard would be in serious trouble if he did not come home soon, and so she began to run. A carriage porch opened on an alley lined with small houses with decrepit walls. Recognizing Alexis's bicycle, she walked up to a partly opened window and knocked on the pane. Through the tulle curtains, she made out a silhouette approaching the window.

“Good afternoon, madame. I'm looking for Bernard. … He's my brother.”

“He went down to Rue Blanche with Alexis to deliver a package. But … why don't you come in?”

Anne would've preferred to head back home, but curiosity got the best of her. Past the threshold, she found herself in a room cluttered with a sewing machine and a wooden mannequin on which a pattern was pinned.

“Would you like a glass of lemonade?”

“That'd be nice.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Anne sat on a stool and looked at a photo of Alexis tossing pieces of bread at some ducks on a lake.

“I have the feeling I've seen you before,” Madame Messager said, once back in the room.

“The cultural society's play! I was one of the ghosts.”

“Oh yes, the play!”

Anne smiled, and then said, “Today I went to the Paris Opéra. It was so beautiful … I'm never going to forget it.”

Madame Messager's easy-going attitude made Anne comfortable. She smiled and said, “I hear that you're a wardrobe assistant in a theater?”

“That's right.”

They kept on chatting, and the more she got to know Madame Messager, the more Anne wondered why her parents were so critical of Alexis's parents. Her father kept referring to them as “Commies.” What exactly was a Commie? Madame Messager got up to turn on the lights in the room.

“I love my work, but it forces me to leave Alexis almost every evening. Before the war, his father was here with him …”

With a sad smile, she added, “I hate leaving him here by himself. Fortunately, he listens to the radio. That keeps him company. …”

Learning about Alexis this way, the girl realized how different their lives were, starting with their homes. Even though there was nothing lavish about the Messager house, it was very warm. Just like the woman living there. Tall, her black hair held up by a comb, her face round and her lips red, Madame Messager looked younger than Anne's mother. Was it her more laid-back personality, her polka dot dress with a pleated waistband, her flat shoes?

The sound of footsteps coming from outside preceded Alexis's arrival. He looked surprised to see Anne in his house.

“She's waiting for Bernard,” his mother explained. “He's not with you?”

“He went straight home.”

Anne got up and muttered, “Well, I have to go. Sorry to disturb you. …”

“It's dark out,” Madame Messager said. “Alexis will walk you home.”

“It's not necessary. I don't live far.”

“No, no … I insist.”

In the street, they both walked at a good pace. Not saying much, Alexis didn't seem too thrilled to be there. Conscious of it, once they passed the basilica, Anne said, “You can go now. I'm almost there. …”