A/N-Hi, I'm back, with one of my quickest updates ever. Te he he. AM

As it turned out, one night had now turned into fifteen. When Monique had told her that they were short staffed, what she really meant was that they were having trouble finding a new waitress and had resorted to asking their staff to do overtime. Apparently people weren't that keen to work at a restaurant where the majority of its patrons were Germans. To her it didn't really make a difference, she was a maid to the Germans during the day so to serve them in the evening as a waitress wasn't much of a stretch.

She took the silvered teaspoon from the table and stirred the contents of her cup. For the past three weeks she had been limited to working behind the bar and taking orders to the kitchens, but tonight she would be on the floor serving customers. It wouldn't be too bad, she had already worked with some of the other members of staff.

Not including herself there were five other members, three who worked full-time and the other two only part time. She already knew Natalie, she was a friend of Monique's and lived in one of the rooms upstairs. Pierre, another of the full-time employees, was a middle aged man of average height with grey hair and an interest in trains. And Genevieve, the other full time employee, a quiet young woman with mousy appearance and a soft smile that customers seemed to enjoy. They were all fairly pleasant, never a bad word to say amongst them.

She picked up the cup and took a sip, she wasn't that fond of coffee, even the fake concoction currently available, but as long as it was hot and wet she didn't mind the taste. She was supposed to be waiting for Alain, a close friend of Monique and Albert's, and a local farmer as well. He was going to be bringing in some produce from his farm to be used in the restaurant. Carrots, parsnips, cabbages the like. Albert had been waiting for him to arrive but had had to step out for some important reason that he hadn't seen fit to disclose. She sat down in one of the chairs and closed her eyes. If he chose not to reveal what he was doing or where he was going, then it was none of her business. At least it was quiet…and warm by the stove.

Bang. She opened her eyes at the sound and glanced at the door. Monique could get it, she was only in the other room...no…that was unfair. She put her cup down on the table and went out of the room to the door. Alain was standing there, his arms loaded with a large wooden crate. She wrenched the heavy metal door open.

"Hello Alain," she said, holding the door open for him. "Come in."

"Thanks," he murmured, heaving the crate inside. "Where do you want this?" he asked.

"Uh...in here on the desk," she replied, leading him into the back room and retrieving her cup from the desk in the process.

Once the crate of vegetables was in place, Alain turned to her. "It's definitely getting colder out there," he said.

"You don't have to tell me that," she said, smiling. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Don't mind if I do," he replied. "Is Albert here?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"No, he left about half an hour ago," she replied, pouring him a cup.

"Is there anyone else here or are you on your own right now?"

"Monique is in the other room getting the tables ready. Which reminds me, I should probably tell her that you're here. Give me a moment," she said and wandered into the dining room where Monique was dressing the tables for the evening service. "Hey, Monique, Alain's here. I told him to put the crate in the back room for Albert to look over when he gets back."

"Thanks, Ella, can you finish dressing the tables for me? I need to have a word with Alain before he leaves," Monique said.

"Okay," she replied.

She put her cup down on the bar and picked up the pile of table cloths. All in all working in the Candide wasn't too bad; yes she got some rather dirty looks from some of the guests, but the pay was better and she wasn't treated like a servant. The hours were better too.

The evening service started at half six and finished five hours later at half past eleven. She normally finished work at 6:00 which left her half an hour to go home change and then come back. Usually she could make it back to the Candide in time for it to re-open, but other times things could become complicated. There were many people who didn't like her or what she did as a job. It didn't bother her, being called a collaborator, she was used to it. Besides, everyone who worked in the Candide got called a collaborator. Apparently, if you help the 'evil' Germans in any way you are a traitor to your own kind. It shouldn't be that way though; they were all just doing the jobs that they were being paid to do. Whether that be running a restaurant favoured by the Germans or serving them coffee for ten hours a day, it didn't matter. They were all just trying to survive a war that none of them had started.

"Restaurant Candide."

She turned around, Albert was standing behind the bar, telephone in hand. "yes Sir, 8 o'clock," he said. "Thank you, Sir."

Ella paused in unfolding one of the table cloths. "What was that about?" she asked, once he had put the telephone back in its cradle.

"Kessler wants a table for tonight," he replied.

The entire restaurant was packed. She was standing beside Albert waiting for Kessler to arrive. He had asked her to assist him when the German arrived, something about throwing her in at the deep end. It wasn't something she particularly wanted to do. Kessler was something of a greasy weasel, all short and self important.

"Ah, Herr Sturmbannführer, a pleasure," Albert said, stepping forward to greet the new arrival. She looked up, said weasel was standing in front of Albert in all his weasly glory. "Let me show you to your table. Gabrielle, serve the wine." She schooled her face into a sweet smile and did as instructed. Only three more hours.

Oh great! She closed the door behind her and dumped her coat on the sofa. The words 'Chienne d'Allemande', which translated roughly as 'German's Bitch', was scrawled across her door in something that she could only hoped was lipstick. She would have to wash that off.

This was the place that she had been living in for the past four years. The building itself had five floors and she lived in one of the two flats on the top floor. The rooms were small and the facilities poor, just a bedroom, a leaky bathroom with a severely limited amount of hot water and a living room that doubled as a kitchen with just a single wall as a partition. The only upside, there was attic space.

She checked the locks on the front door, making sure that they were all in place and working before heading to her room. There wasn't anyone else living on this floor, but she still preferred to keep her door locked at all times. Some of her neighbours on the other floors were dodgy to say the least. A prostitute, some Black Marketeers and the ring leader of a rather nasty group of thieves. If it wasn't for the fact that they kept to themselves, she would have abandoned the place a long time ago.

The option was still there, but a decrepit flat was better than stuck out on the freezing street. The place was cold anyway, she didn't care, it always was. Coal was too expensive to get and there wasn't any wood. Besides she spent most of her time working, the flat was only for sleeping.

She removed her uniform and pulled on her night dress. What had originally reached her shins was now about 3 inches above her knees; a choice between length or width had occurred and width had prevailed, what did it matter though, no one ever saw it. She flicked off the light and crawled into bed. Across the city, there were people living in luxury, not forced to survive hand to mouth. Those people could afford to eat at the Candide every night. She curled up under the covers and closed her eyes. All those people in their nice warm beds…lucky bastards.

A/N-What do you think? If you liked it, see that little white box below, leave a review in it. :) AM