Lili ignored her question. "You must be an informer to get this food. Come on, I won't say anything." She paused. "You better be careful, you don't look so thin anymore."
"How did you get in here?"
"I've followed you for days, silly. You're not very observant," Lili said, crawling through the dirt. "Nice and cool in here."
"You followed me—why?" Then Sarah added it up. "Lili, don't be greedy. I share with others. You get enough."
"My concierge is greedy. Another family moved into my apartment," Lili said, picking at stones embedded in the dirt wall. "If I don't give her more I can't stay with her."
Sarah registered the dark shadows under Lili's eyes, her gaunt cheeks, and the patched soles of her shoes. "I'll try to get more. The trains will be running again soon. We'll escape!"
Lili stared at her. "Who do you inform on?"
"No one! A soldier trades with me," Sarah said defensively.
"What kind of soldier? What do you do for him?"
"What do you care, Lili? Thanks to me you're eating." She tried not to feel ashamed. "Leave it at that."
Some clods of dirt fell. Panic-stricken, she saw Helmut descend, blocking the weak light. Lili began screaming and backed into the wall. A black-uniformed Helmut smiled quizzically, staring from one to the other. Then he gently put his hand over Lili's mouth, sat her down, and beckoned to Sarah with his finger.
"It's all right, Lili, he won't hurt you," she mumbled.
Lili's terror-stricken expression alternated between accusing glances and a dawning recognition of why this Nazi was visiting Sarah. Helmut pulled some fancy tinned salmon out of his pocket and put it in Lili's hands.
"Ja, ja, take it, s'il vous plaît," and he put his finger over his mouth. "Shhh. . .ca va?"
His eyes narrowed. Lili's blotchy red face registered both hunger and fear. She opened her fists and gingerly took the tins of salmon without touching his fingers.
He shrugged. "Sarah," he said, putting his arm around her waist. "Ja, your guest has few manners."
Her cheeks were on fire. Lili looked jealously at the two of them. She realized Lili viewed them as lovers.
"Tell him thank you and leave quietly," Sarah said, averting her eyes from Lili's face.
"Merci," came out of Lili's mouth in a high-pitched squeak. She quickly scrambled up the ladder rungs.
Helmut asked, "Who is she?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Just my schoolmate, silly and stupid, she wears a yellow star. Don't worry." She pushed Lili's expression out of her mind.
Helmut looked at his watch. "I just came to say I've something to pick up then I'll be back." He'd traded his shift because he hated leaving her alone at night.
He pulled out a string of oily bratwurst from his SS kit bag and winked. "Some butcher in Hanover's contribution to the war effort."
Later he returned with duck terrine marbled in aspic and herbs. They ate while candle wax dripped lazily across the tea box. She tutored him in French after they ate, as she usually did. Her large wool sweater fell off her shoulders as she corrected his verb conjugations with a thick pencil.
"Très bien, Helmut, good work." She smiled. "Bravo."
He set the notebook down and pulled her toward him. Unbuttoning his uniform with one hand, he spread the jacket down as a pillow over the dense earth. She grew alarmed and gripped her fingers in the dirt. She'd had no brothers, never even seen her own father without his shirt. Taut muscles spread above Helmut's lean chest, his skin glistened.
Torn between gratitude and fear, she was paralyzed. Wasn't he looking for her parents? Giving her food? The Nazis who'd supervised the police roundups in her neighborhood hadn't been like him. Helmut was always so funny and generous with food. Under the flickering candlelight he laid her down and her black hair tangled in the storm trooper insignia glinting off his jacket. She went rigid.
She shook her head. "Non, Helmut."
Tracing her features with his finger, he cupped her face in his other hand. As he opened his mouth to speak, she winced. She wanted him to stop.
"Don't worry, Sarah, I won't h-hurt you." He drew close, rubbing her pearl white cheek with his.
She inhaled his smoky scent as he burrowed his face in her neck. He gently brushed the side of her neck with his lips, his kisses went down the front of her throat.
Tears welled in her eyes. Why was he doing this? His lips trailed down her navel and waves of heat passed through her. He kissed under her nipple and up the side of her breast, all the time caressing her face. For a long time he stroked the hollows of her cheeks and kissed behind her ears and her eyes, just holding her. She moaned. Now she didn't want him to stop. Finally their shadows entwined and rocked back and forth on the cavern walls of the old Roman catacomb.
On her way to school the next morning, she thought everyone would notice the straining seams of her school uniform. Too much rich food. But they only noticed the star. She entered the "synagogue," the last Metro car and the only one Jews were allowed to ride in, feeling so tired. She'd only fallen asleep at dawn when Helmut left. In her classroom there was a new teacher and an empty desk. Madame Pagnol was gone. So was Lili.
TUESDAY
Tuesday Morning
AIMÉE WOKE UP AND pulled on a crumpled T-shirt full of Yves's musky smell. He'd gone. Part of her felt angry with herself for jumping in his bed last night. And part of her purred contentedly. A year had passed since Bertrand, her hacker boyfriend, had waffled on his commitment and moved to Silicon Valley.
She and Yves had spent a lot of time in the tub again. Things had only gotten better. La relation fluide seemed a good term to describe their involvement. She decided to mop up the tiled bathroom.
Aimee paused to savor the previous night's pleasure. Yellow sunlight streamed from the street-level windows above the bed. Mentally and physically they'd moved in rhythm, which so seldom happened to her. Something felt right about him. Except for his Nazi affiliations.
There was no way to get around that.
Her bare leg scraped something and she reached to move it. Her state-of-the-art tape recorder, out of its plastic bag, came back in her hand.
How long had this been here? She'd been concentrating on the videos and had forgotten this the other night. She must have been drunker than she'd thought. Had Yves noticed? She clicked the play button and the tape started. The tape had definitely been rewound to the beginning.
Her heart sank. Yves must know she wasn't who she pretended to be. Had he planned on confronting her but got carried away? Had he told the others? If he'd known, why hadn't he told her? What an idiot I am, she thought.
Disgusted with herself, she bolted from the bed and pulled on her black jeans and jacket. Whatever game he'd been playing, she quit. Perhaps he'd been about to expose her tape recorder and illustrate his loyalty. Lili's mutilated forehead swam before her eyes. All the way to her office, she wondered how she could have been so wrong.
Tuesday Afternoon
RENÉ FOLDED THE CORNER of the page and slammed the paperback down as Aimee entered the office.
"I've got a bank promissory note from Eurocom. Twenty thousand francs," he said.
Aimee hugged him. "Superbe!" She picked up the book, The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir, flipping the pages. "You read too much, Rene."