I Looked for the One My Heart Loves Read online

  “And for the old lady who can’t walk …” a large woman said out loud. “Thank God, we have a wheelbarrow!”

  Some people filled containers at the water fountain, while others looked for their pets to put them in a wicker basket, a cage, or a cardboard box. From opened windows, people tossed mattresses and pillows down to the sidewalk. Here and there, shutters closed, doors were boarded up. It all felt so surreal to Anne.

  She headed for Rue Lamarck, wondering if Alexis was already gone. She just had to know. Arriving on Rue Becquerel, she walked toward the Messagers’ house. A cat meowed at her.

  “It’s you!” Alexis said, coming out of a shed.

  “Hi.”

  “You guys haven’t left Paris yet?”

  “We’re going tomorrow? How about you?”

  “As soon as my mother is ready. I’m putting air in the bicycle tires.”

  “Are you going far?”

  “It’s going to depend on the Germans. And what happens to my father. We still don’t know where he is!”

  Anne lowered her head, trying to hide her sadness. From now on, nothing would be the same. What would become of Alexis? The roads throughout France were treacherous. The idea that something bad might happen to him made her sick to her stomach.

  Seeing Anne’s tears, he went over to her.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “We’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m not scared,” she said.

  “So don’t be sad, then. Soon we’re all going to be back in Montmartre.”

  The more he tried to console her, the harder she cried.

  “Do you want a hanky?”

  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, but it was stained with grease.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That’s all I have.”

  “It’s okay,” Anne said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “You keep it anyway,” Alexis said.

  She was going to give it back to him when he added, “We’ll all come back, and I’ll protect you. … It’ll be our secret!”

  She looked him in the eyes to make sure he was being serious. How could he remain calm in the midst of the insanity and mayhem going on all around them? He was so young and yet so mature. …

  “You have to believe me,” he said.

  She nodded, then turned on her heels and ran back home. Breathless, she waited a moment before going up the stairs of her apartment building. Why had Alexis promised to protect her? It didn’t really matter. A promise was a promise. …

  The very next day, the ordeal began. Yves Chastel had prepared his and Monique’s bicycles for a long trip. Each of them would carry one of the children on the luggage rack. As such, they couldn’t take many belongings with them. The parents only carried important documents, jewelry, and money sewn into the lining of their clothes. The children weren’t allowed to bring much of anything. In backpacks, Monique carried some cookies, a compass and a flashlight, as well as raincoats and heavy sweaters. Getting out of Paris wasn’t easy. Carriages clogged the exits. Hitched to horses, donkeys, dogs, everything that could transport people and belongings had been put to use. Anne could see that her mother was getting exhausted from stopping all the time, putting one foot down, and then taking off again on her bicycle.

  “I can walk next to you,” Anne said.

  “Absolutely not. In this crowd, we’d get separated in no time.”

  The trip to Cormery took four days, with stops at farms where the Chastels had to pay a fortune for food and lodging. In the evenings, the refugees talked about their tribulations. Some had experienced attacks from the terrible Stuka dive-bombers, which fired hails of bullets into the fleeing crowds. The Chastels managed to avoid this danger by staying off the main roads. Still, they would need to cross the Loire River. If attacked on the bridge, there was no way to escape.

  “We’re going to cross the river as soon as night falls,” Yves said when they reached the city of Amboise.

  When they finally reached the other bank, Monique said she wanted to stop.

  “We have to get out of town first. It’s safer.”

  “I will not take another step,” she said, before breaking down. Exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion, she burst into tears. Then she managed to say, “I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t!”

  Not one to usually show his feelings, Yves put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Leave me alone!” Monique screamed.

  Anne looked on, stunned. And so her mother, usually so self-possessed, was capable of losing control.

  “I don’t want to pedal anymore! I want to sleep! Sleep!”

  “Think of the children.”

  “If I wasn’t thinking of them, I would’ve lain down a long time ago, in some field.”

  “We’re going to stop soon, I promise.”

  Out of respect, Bernard had stepped away from his parents. Anne now did the same. She was also exhausted and could barely stand on her own two feet. Off in the distance, dogs were barking. She raised her head to the sky. The quarter moon was partly covered, and few stars could be seen. A cool wind ran through a tree nearby. At the end of what seemed to her like an eternity, Anne’s father called them over. They were hitting the road again.

  After one last overnight stop in a barn, they traveled some ten miles before reaching Cormery. Anne had never seen so much traffic on this town’s main road before. Large automobiles driven by chauffeurs sounded their horns for refugees on foot to get out of the way.

  “Well, looks like some people were able to find gas,” one woman muttered as she stopped to remove a pebble that had worked its way into her shoe.

  Situated on the road that linked the towns of Tours and Loches, Cormery was overrun by people who didn’t know whether they ought to keep on heading south, or stay put until the weaker members of their families could get a bit of rest. At city hall, volunteers sent those who seemed worst off to the few places to stay that were still available.

  Monique, who had regained her composure, got off her bicycle to open the gate to her parents’ house. Followed by her husband and children, she walked to the small backyard, where a large amount of clothing hung to dry. A stranger turned to them.

  “Hi,” Monique said.

  “Hi.”

  “Is my mother here?”

  Having heard a familiar voice, Yvonne stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Finally!” she said. “I was worried sick!”

  Anne noticed that her grandmother was holding back tears as she hugged them one after the other.

  “My poor babies,” she said. “Come right inside! You must be dying of hunger!”

  In the vestibule, they had to step over suitcases and boxes.

  “We’re accommodating as many as we can. We even put up hammocks in the yard for people to sleep at night. Children, I had to give your rooms to a couple of families. You’re going to sleep up in the attic with kids your age. Your grandfather brought some mattresses up there!”

  Locals and refugees learned to live side by side. In spite of the tragic circumstances, Anne didn’t dislike the beehivelike atmosphere that prevailed in her grandparents’ home from morning until night. At the height of the exodus, twenty-two people of all ages were spread throughout the modest home’s three floors. In the morning, people rolled up the mattresses to make room in the house. On sunny days, everyone ate out in the yard, where trestle tables were set up. Boys were in charge of fetching water from the well and had to help out in the fields. Girls peeled vegetables and did the dishes, under Monique’s supervision. Every time Anne had some free time, she joined up with the friends she’d made over the years. Whenever they were drawing or making costumes out of old things found in cellars, the war became a distant abstraction. Even as the adults were always going to the teacher’s house to listen to the radio. One day in mid-June
, they all returned talking about old Marshal Pétain, who was in favor of surrendering to the Germans.

  “He’s right,” Yves said. “Better to save what hasn’t already been destroyed.”

  The German army’s arrival was announced by the flight of planes with swastikas on their wings. Flying at low altitude and in tight formation, they roared over the village a few times.

  “You kids are not allowed to leave the house anymore,” Monique told her children.

  In two days, the Wehrmacht crossed the Loire River in Blois and Amboise. In Tours, air raids caused gigantic fires around the cathedral and the museum.

  “It’s all over,” Marcel Biron said as he watched French regiments retreat and head south, looking beat-up and demoralized.

  When the Germans entered the village, its inhabitants hid behind their windows. Anne finally got to see the people who had forced them to leave their home. Sitting in jeeps and the backs of trucks, they looked proud and mighty. An insidious fear grew inside Anne. Now that the Germans were here, what was going to happen?

  As soon as the armistice was signed, new rules came into force. First was the imposition of German time on France. But that wasn’t all. On top of the confiscation of animals and food, people weren’t allowed to come out of their house after ten thirty at night, or leave their lights on during the night. There was also the drawing up of a demarcation line that split France into two. Cormery was in the occupied zone, while villages just twenty miles south were in the free zone.

  Anne wanted to know more about that line and what it meant.

  “It means that we’re not going to be able to go freely from one zone to the other,” her mother explained.

  Anne wondered where Alexis was. In the free zone? In that case, he might not be able to come back to Montmartre! Since they had left each other, she thought only of seeing him again. “I’ll protect you. It’ll be our secret.” Had he really made that promise to her or did she only dream it?

  Yves Chastel headed back to Paris as soon as people were allowed to travel again. Monique and the children, for their part, spent the summer in the Touraine province, where, in spite of the restrictions, it was easier to find food. Most of the refugees had returned home. What would they find there? Homes burned down? Looted? There was no way for them to know in advance, as the mail service had been interrupted. A few miles from the village, it was possible to cross the demarcation line by presenting an Ausweis delivered by the Kommandantur. Only doctors, midwives, veterinarians, and people owning land on both sides of the line could obtain this precious document. Some people who knew the region very well walked through the forest and crossed the line illegally to visit family members in the other zone. Others decided to leave the occupied zone forever. People talked about it in veiled terms. Many times, Anne heard the word Jew come out of her grandmother’s mouth, but she didn’t try to learn more about it. Her obsession remained to leave the Touraine region. At the end of each day, she checked off the date on the calendar.

  Finally, Anne and her family climbed aboard a train that took them back to Paris painstakingly slowly, as there were many security checks throughout the trip. At the Gare d’Austerlitz, German soldiers standing at the end of the platform watched the passengers going by them closely. Anne, who had nothing to hide, felt guilty under their suspicious gazes. Outside, silence spread across the city. Apart from those belonging to the occupying forces, no gasoline-powered vehicles were allowed on the streets. Everywhere, signs in German showed the way to strategic points. In Montmartre, the enemy’s presence was even heavier. Known for its cabarets, cafés, and brothels, the neighborhood held a strong appeal for many. Even before her parents said a word, Anne knew that playing in the street or the square would be prohibited.

  “I want you to walk straight home from school,” her father said. “You never know what might happen. …”

  The very next day, Anne ignored the order. Pretending she only wanted to visit the nearby building that housed the cultural society, she ran down Rue Lamarck to Rue Becquerel. Out of breath, she stopped in front of the green gate, which was ajar. Joy overcame her. Alexis was back! But his bicycle wasn’t there. She walked to the ground floor window and knocked on the pane. A young woman soon appeared. At the sight of Anne, she half-opened the window.

  “Good morning,” Anne said. “I’m looking for Alexis.”

  “Alexis? I don’t know any Alexis.”

  “He lives here.”

  “Not anymore, he doesn’t.”

  “But …”

  “He left during the exodus?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve been living here since my husband was demobilized. The place was for rent.”

  Seeing the sadness in Anne’s face, the woman’s voice softened.

  “With the occupation, it can be hard to know where people are. … You’ll hear from him someday.”

  Anne felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. What had become of Alexis and his mother? She didn’t even want to imagine the worst-case scenario, and so she tried to convince herself that they would come back sooner or later. One thing puzzled her though. Why was their apartment given to someone else?

  The first day of school was very odd. Some teachers were missing, as well as a few students. Most had probably remained in the free zone. Anne convinced herself that this was the choice Alexis’s family had made. Never before had she looked so closely at a map of France. If only she could put a finger on the city or village where Alexis was now living. With him gone, Anne’s life made little sense. The one thing that gave her pleasure was her dance lessons. A new pianist had been hired. Her name was Irina, and she didn’t speak to the students. Her braided black hair formed a thick crown around her head. Long lashes shaded her sad brown eyes. When she let her fingers run across the keyboard, she seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. No doubt she was trying to get away from a daily existence that, for everybody, was becoming more and more difficult to bear.

  5

  As early as the end of October, the cold weather came. With the already rampant shortages, finding coal became almost impossible. Yves brought hot water bottles­ from the pharmacy. In order to buy an electric heater, Monique had to stand in line for five hours. During the day, the family stayed in the kitchen, huddled around the oven. Bundled up in heavy sweaters, Anne did her homework while trying to ignore her growling stomach. Everything was rationed, even flour. Her mother put the precious food tickets in a special case. Some days, all she could bring back home were potatoes, turnips, or split peas. Sometimes, a food package arrived from Cormery. To compensate for their deprivations, Yves and Monique took their children to the movies. On Sundays, the movie theater on the Place de Clichy was packed. As soon as the lights went off, people tried to forget about the Germans, some of whom were among the audience. German soldiers were everywhere: in stores, which they cleaned out; in restaurants, where they got whatever they wanted; in theaters and cabarets …

  As Christmas approached, the cultural society decided to put on a new play, but Anne refused the role she was offered. As long as Alexis was away, she wouldn’t act! The harsher the occupation became, the less hope she had of ever seeing him again. When would this war finally end? People around her said that the nightmare was only beginning. In Montmartre, stores owned by Jews were closed down. Monique explained to her daughter that Jewish people were no longer allowed to work in certain fields or own businesses. Many were trying to flee to the free zone, but the trip was becoming more and more difficult and dangerous.

  “How come they can’t work like before?”

  “Because the Germans don’t like them.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Monique said, evading the question.

  One long, painstaking year passed. A thriving black market developed for people with financial means. At a high price, it was possible to obtain meat
, cheese, foie gras, and even caviar! Some restaurants had two menus: the official one and the unofficial one. Buying clothing was even more difficult than getting food. Almost nothing could be found in stores, and so people had to make something new out of something old. Kids kept growing, and so sleeves had to be lengthened, waistbands had to be adjusted, buttons had to be replaced. Anne was wearing dresses that no longer reached her knees, worn-out sweaters, and faded underwear. But shoes were her biggest source of shame. Since the beginning of the war, her feet had grown a full size, and now they were packed into sandals with holes in the bottom.

  In Cormery, Anne got to eat well again. Her grandmother had a knack for preparing delicious meals from vegetables as unsavory as rutabagas and knotroot. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, her grandfather would wait for dinner while reading the paper. The way he spoke, there would be no peaceful spot on Earth in the near future. His only source of satisfaction: the invasion of the Soviet Union by the Wehrmacht would sooner or later weaken the Germans.

  “The Boches are going to get bogged down in the Russian steppes,” he predicted.

  “And as long as they are, they won’t bomb England,” Yvonne added.

  When they talked about the war, one name kept coming up: Charles de Gaulle.

  “Who’s that?” Anne asked one morning.

  “A military man.”

  “Like Marshal Pétain?”

  “In a way,” her grandmother said.

  “No, he’s not!” Marcel said. “De Gaulle is a military man who didn’t cower to the Nazis. He’s fighting for the liberation of France. And those who joined him in London were right to do so.”

  Since the radio speech that Charles de Gaulle had given on June 18 of the last year, the Birons were supporters of the general who, from England, urged the French people to resist. Over at the teacher’s house, they listened to English radio, at the risk of arrest and imprisonment.