AWAKENING, CHAPTER 30: CACHÉ À LA VUE DE TOUS
Louis entered his flat on Thursday night in the weary but satisfied mood of a man who had worked hard all week. He planned autumn menu updates, squared away work papers for several Polish and Czech refugees, negotiated the purchase of kitchen equipment upgrades, and hired installers who could be trusted to complete the work in his absence during the restaurant's August holiday.
He'd seen his houseguests coming and going all week, a smiling, laughing trio on their way to take walks, visit museums, explore gardens, and poke around neighborhoods. He'd never seen Peter looking so carefree, but then again he'd never seen Peter on holiday. Actually, he wasn't sure Peter had ever been on holiday, other than traveling with General Hogan to visit family in America over Christmas.
This much was clear: Peter's sisters were good for him. Louis had already learned a year earlier that in Mavis's presence, Peter was calm and comfortable. Watching him relax under her warm care had brightened the awful days after the war ended, when Peter was slowly recuperating at Princess Mary's RAF Hospital in Shropshire. Knowing that Mavis was there was the only reason Louis could bring himself to leave Peter's side.
But Nora was a delightful sprite, and she brought out something else, a playful and easygoing spirit. Louis had seen glimmers of that spirit when Peter was with Anja and Hannelore, and even Carter now and then. But not like this. Peter had spent the war coiled like a spring most days, and Louis suspected he'd been that way for years. But in Nora's company, a boyish quality that had been nearly extinguished had resurfaced.
On Monday, Louis stood chatting with Mavis at the foot of Sacré-Cœur when Peter and Nora rode the Montmartre carousel together and laughed and threw their heads back in complete joy. The sight of the two of them riding painted horses up and down made him want to laugh too. At 20 and 22, they were certainly not children, but in that moment they were completely uninhibited and focused on having fun with one another. They'd lost so many years together, Louis realized, and it reminded him of what he had said to Colonel Hogan when Peter was just 17: "He's lived harder and faster than most men twice his age. He deserves to simply be a boy now and then."
Now, on Thursday night, Louis could see as he padded down the hallway that the bedroom next to his was dark and quiet. The young ladies were asleep. But as he rounded the corner, he saw a light at the end of the hall in Peter's room.
He loosened his tie, wandered toward the light, and rapped on the door. "Pierre?" he asked.
"Come on in, mate," came the reply. He entered the narrow room and found Peter sitting on the top of the bunkbeds he and Henri had slept in when this was their grandparents' flat. He had a notepad on his knees and was writing carefully.
"Busy?" Louis asked.
"Writing a letter to the Gov, t-telling him what we've been up to," Peter replied, looking up with a relaxed smile. "Come on up." He laid his pad and pencil aside.
Naturally he chose the top bunk, Louis thought. He hauled himself up and sat beside his friend.
"This was Henri's bunk when we were boys. I was scared to climb up here," Louis said. He was smiling almost shyly at the memory. He must have been nine or ten before he got the nerve to get on the top bunk.
"You, scared of heights? I've seen you scale a wwwall and a towering tree. I've seen you climb up the side of a mansion onto a balcony with g-guards still on duty," Peter replied. He elbowed Louis in the ribs. "I can't imagine you being scared."
"Oh, I was terrified. I was a small boy, and it was too high off the ground," Louis said with a shrug. "I liked the bunk down below. If you hung the blankets up, it was like a little cave."
Peter laughed, amused by the thought of LeBeau as a little lad hiding behind a blanket. Out of all his mates, he thought he was the only one who ever got scared, not that he ever showed it. And maybe Carter, he decided. Yes, if he was scared, surely Carter was also afraid. Because it was bad enough that he was younger than Carter; he couldn't be less brave than Carter too.
"If I had a ch-choice, I always p-picked the top bunk," Peter said. "That way there was nothing above mmme, hemming me in."
"It's always wise to seek higher ground," Louis said philosophically. He clapped a hand down on Peter's thigh. "How was your day? Are your sisters wearing you out?"
Peter shook his head in a weary sort of way, but he was still grinning. "Nora has a lot of energy," he said. "Mavis and I are scr-scrambling to keep up with her." His face was suddenly serious. "Her health is better than I expected, Louis. It's easier to get insulin, and that helps. She takes th-three injections a day now instead of two, and that's made a b-big difference too."
"You worry about her," Louis said simply.
"I do worry, but probably more than I need to do. You've ssseen that she eats like a horse and still stays thin," he added with a laugh.
"She has a healthy appetite, and she's not fussy, like certain people I could mention," Louis said, poking Peter in the ribs.
"I'm not that f-fussy any more, am I?" Peter asked, swatting LeBeau's hand away.
"No, you're an adventurous eater. I almost miss the old Pierre," Louis said.
"Me too," Peter replied. "But people change."
They sat together for the next hour. Peter retraced his adventures of the past four days while Louis recounted what he'd missed in the restaurant. The highlight came during the first dinner seating just that evening, when a middle-aged customer got down on his knees to propose to his equally middle-aged date. Louis would have made their champagne complimentary at that point, but when he noticed the tattoo on the lady's arm, he comped the entire meal and sent glasses of champagne to everyone in the dining room. The triumph of the human spirit deserved a celebration, and nine bottles of champagne was the least Louis could do.
"I gave the toast, and sent up a silent prayer for my Grand-Mère," Louis told Peter. He'd had to excuse himself to wipe his eyes in the restaurant, and they were welling up again. His grandmother's death in Auschwitz was a bitter loss to the family.
"I wish you'd been there," Louis said softly. "You would have appreciated it."
Peter nodded. He was sure Louis was right about that, but the lump in his throat prevented him from saying so. He reached over and brushed away the tear from Louis's cheek, then wrapped an arm around him. He didn't have words for this—and he was quite sure he would have stumbled over them if he did know what to say. So they sat silently for a moment until Louis squeezed Peter's hand and asked about Mavis and Nora's visit, even though he already knew the answer.
Mavis and Nora were enjoying everything. They were enchanted by Paris's fountains and cobblestones and flowers and cafés. They eagerly attended Peter's football practices on Tuesday and Thursday just so they could meet his friends Julien and Gaston. On Wednesday Peter introduced them to Suzanne, and had the pleasure of presiding over lunch with a bevy of sweethearts—including Adèle, because he didn't have the heart to leave her out. And day after day, they hit all the sights they'd planned to, and a few more to boot. Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Les Invalides, the Champs Elysées, a barge on the Seine, the Luxembourg Gardens, the Tuileries, the Musée de l'Orangerie, and on and on.
Louis couldn't suppress his pride as he listened to Peter describing all the places he'd taken his sisters, how they got around, and what surprises they found along the way.
"Pierre, if I didn't know better, I'd say you love Paris," Louis teased. He expected a smart answer, but didn't get one.
"I do, Louis," Peter replied earnestly. "With all my heart, I do. I never knew you could fall in love with a place, but Paris has a soul. It's going to be difficult to leave."
XXX
Twelve people could pack around the dinner table at Chez LeBeau—and on Friday evening, they did. They were elbow to elbow, but they were a friendly bunch and not even the newcomers seemed to mind.
After four courses they adjourned to the living room while the commis chefs took charge of preparing a dessert course and a cheese course. Louis had scheduled a 45 minute intermission on the grounds that guests might try to beg off on the flambés and soufflés that awaited them if they weren't given a decent interval to digest the main courses.
Cosette was in high dudgeon over the mass invasion of what she clearly regarded as her queendom, and had hissed at Danielle and slashed her cousin, François, who had only come to help even out the numbers. Henri attended to the victim; Peter disappeared to comfort his darling with a small plate of paté, grudgingly provided by the host. He led her to his room murmuring soothing words about what a perfect girl she was and assurances that he knew she never meant to be naughty, and soon enough Cosette was sleeping in the middle of Peter's bottom bunk.
Returning from his duties, Peter paused in the archway that led to the living room and took in the crowd. Mavis was in an animated discussion with Danielle and François, who appeared to have survived Cosette's assault. Louis and Henri were debating the merits of dogs versus cats; cats were losing. Suzanne was laughing with Nora, Gaston, and Jean-Claude. And Julien and Josette only had eyes for each other.
A smile formed on Peter's lips as he watched the young lovers. Julien's hand was on Josette's cheek—the way Peter had touched Anja and Suzanne. Josette's hand was on Julien's waist, a finger tucked under his belt like a stitch that bound them together. His black hair tumbled into his face as he leaned down toward her, and Peter realized that he hadn't noticed how shaggy Julien was, because his hair was usually tucked away under a toque. Josette gazed up at Julien as his fingers ran a circle on her cheek and then on her neck, brushing back her shiny dark brown hair. They seemed just right together. Peter wondered if they had set a wedding date yet.
He cast his eyes over to Suzanne, and as he did, she turned, saw him, and smiled merrily, laughing at something Gaston had said. Peter flashed back his best smile and nodded. He would be right there. Then his gaze traveled back to Julien, who looked up and spotted Peter just as Josette was tucking his hair back behind his ears. Julien grinned sheepishly at how Josette was fussing over him; Josette smiled and rolled her eyes. "Men," she seemed to be saying with a warm, loving confidence. Peter bit his lip, but couldn't suppress the smile in his eyes as he glanced down and away.
XXX
Peter strolled up to Suzanne, wrapped an arm around her waist, and tugged her closer. She leaned into his shoulder, and he could feel her brown ringlets tickling his neck. He felt strong holding her, and he could see admiration in Nora's eyes. He fell right into the conversation; they talked, they laughed, and it came out that Gaston had spent boyhood summers at his Grand-mère's home in Picardie. Suddenly Suzanne and Gaston were in rapt conversation about places they both knew.
Peter was dying for a smoke, and he lured Nora out onto the balcony with him. He lit a fag, but she snatched it out of his lips for herself, so he was forced to light another one, rolling his eyes at the indignity of it all. They looked out over the quiet Paris street on a warm summer night, saying nothing, just letting the calm scene wash over them and smiling like conspirators as they blew smoke rings at one another.
Inside, the most senior commis chef had stepped into the living room to whisper in Louis's ear. Louis nodded and patted his back, and as the commis left, Louis plinked his fingernails on a wine glass. The ringing sound commanded attention, and he spoke.
"Everyone! It's time to return to the dining room!" Louis said loudly. "The coffee is hot, we have petit fours, we have cheese and port, and the soufflés and flambés will be ready any moment." Peter heard the mumblings and footsteps through the door. The living room quickly went quiet, but he intended to finish his smoke before returning to the party. When he ground out the last ash, he took Nora by the arm to go inside.
Nora and Peter had just stepped inside from the balcony when they realized they had interrupted something. In a far corner of the room, Jean-Claude had his hands on Henri's waist; Henri had his hands in Jean-Claude's hair. They thought they were alone in the dark and had snatched a quiet moment to kiss lovingly; at the sound of the creaking balcony door, their heads spun around. Henri was visibly relieved that it was Pierre until he noticed he had his sister with him.
Peter had to think fast, and he decided that the best thing to do was to take the moment in stride. "As you were, gentlemen," Peter said cheerfully as he hustled Nora across the room.
As they exited, Nora pulled Peter by the arm and tugged him into the corridor. They stood there as Henri and Jean-Claude walked back into the dining room for dessert. Henri's hand was on the small of Jean-Claude's back until they were in sight of the room; then he dropped it.
"Did you see that?" Nora whispered in Peter's ear.
"Yes," Peter replied. "Don't stare."
"I wasn't staring. I was just surprised," Nora said, elbowing her brother in the ribs. "Did you know about them?"
"Oi! Stop that." Peter rubbed his side, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, I knew. Why?" He knew he should have tapped the brakes, but instead he kept going. "They are French, you know. They do a lot more kissing than we're used to."
"French—oh, please, Peter," Nora scoffed. "There's polite kissing and then there's the real thing." Like Peter, Nora was nothing if not perceptive, and she had a smart answer for everything. Making jokes was her first instinct, but she liked LeBeau, and his brother and Jean-Claude seemed so pleasant, so her face softened as she continued.
"It's just… they could be arrested for that in England, Peter. Or have their arses kicked," she said, leaning in close to Peter. She looked quizzically at her brother. "It doesn't bother you?"
Peter paused before replying. Words Louis had said to him in Stalag 13 flooded his mind, and suddenly he was saying them. "What do I care who another person loves? When two people want to become one, it's their business, not mine."
Nora looked up at him in surprise, unsure what to say next. Her brother must have grown up in some ways she couldn't have predicted; a man with a man was a shock to her, but he must have seen this before. "There are laws against it, you know. That's all I'm saying, love."
"Well, you know what Mr. Bumble said," Peter replied. "'The law is a ass—a idiot.' Anyway, we're not in England. This is France, and there's no law against it."
"So you think it should be allowed?" Nora persisted.
"It'll happen whether it's allowed or not," Peter snapped. He lowered his voice. "Look, love, I know the two of them, and you don't. Henri and Jean-Claude are good people and they're devoted to one another. What else matters?"
Nora bit her lip. They did seem like fine people; she was just thrown. "I didn't expect to see two men doing THAT, that's all. It's just new to me, I suppose," she said.
"Yes, well, it wwwas new to me, too, at one time," Peter said. "But I understand it now." He searched his sister's face and found questions still lingering there. "Don't hold it against, them, love. They're j-just like anyone else."
"Really?" Nora said with obvious skepticism.
"Yes, really. Just like you and me," Peter said firmly. He decided it was time to change the subject. "What were you and Gaston and Suzanne laughing about?"
"You, mostly," Nora smiled in relief to have something less jarring to think about. "We're all convinced Cosette is your one true love."
"Of course she is," Peter said. "But I don't think she feels the same way about me. We'll have to see if she follows me back to London."
"Maybe she'll write to you," Nora said seriously.
"She'll never write," Peter replied with a sulk in his voice.
"Oh? What makes you so sure?" Nora inquired.
"Because she's always been terribly im-purr-tinent. And also, she has no thumbs. The poor girl can't grip a pencil for love nor money," Peter said. He took another sharp elbow in the ribs for that, then linked arms with Nora and went into the dining room to inspect the desserts.
Peter's comment beginning with "What do I care who another person loves?" were spoken to him by LeBeau in "Flirting with Danger," a bonus chapter of "Peter and Anja" that was published on AO3. Mr. Bumble is a character in Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.
