Code name butterfly, p.13
Code Name Butterfly, page 13
Nevertheless, she sat at her tiny desk, pulled out a sheet of paper and began to transcribe.
Dear Elodie, it began, I have lived these years without you and now I feel as though I hold my breath in anticipation of seeing your face.
Elly paused in her writing, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Whatever you wanted to say about Grant Monterey, he was absolutely, unequivocally committed to whatever task he took on.
I have been in the company of beautiful women. It was not your visage that caught my eye although the more I am around you, the more I realize that there is not a single woman who holds a candle to you when you enter the room. What is it about you that compels me so? My darling, I am not sure. Is it your air of determination? The way your eyes light up first when you see something that fills you with joy? Or the air of pensiveness that follows you around like your shadow with every step you take? You never opened your mouth to say a word, but, my dear, you didn’t have to. You’d already spoken to me.
Elly stopped writing, no longer blushing. What a lovely writer Grant was. And all of this hid another message? Elly picked up her pencil and continued to translate. Just when she completed it, she heard the apartment door open and the light footsteps of Claire. Elly lowered her pencil. She was ready to dive into decoding but this might be her only moment alone with Claire for some time.
Leaving her room, Elly met Claire in the kitchen where the younger girl was pouring herself something to drink.
“Bonjour, Claire. Ça va?”
“Oui, ça va bien, et toi?” Claire’s abundant hair had been wrestled into a single plait and she was in her school uniform.
Elly could have tried to continue the conversation in French but she had spoken more French today than probably her whole time in the country. A hammer was beginning a slow knock on her brain at the very thought of using it anymore. “I’m good, Claire. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay,” the girl said quickly. She’d also straightened to her full height, eager to be treated like an adult.
“I know your grandmother does not want to leave Paris. I know she’s not worried about the Germans. I believe she should be, if not for her sake, then for yours.”
“You mean because I’m Jewish?” Claire’s father might be French but Judaism was passed down through the mother.
“Oui. I’m concerned, Claire. There are rumors that for every country Germany has invaded, they’ve searched out the Jews. He’s a very strange man, that Hitler. As someone who comes from a people who has had to live side by side with their oppressors, you don’t want to do it,” Elly said, thinking of her early years in the South. “You will lose every single time and they will laugh about it. They will not be kind to you because your father is French and you are a girl. When people hate your kind—when they think you’re not worth the dirt beneath their feet—it doesn’t matter your age or your education or your connections.” Or your skin color.
Claire lowered the glass in her hand onto the kitchen counter. “I am not as ignorant of the situation as you think. My grandmother thinks I do not have much communication with my mother’s side of the family and for many years, I didn’t. But now that I am older, we talk sometimes. We are aware of the situation.”
Elly squeezed her hands into small fists at her sides. Aware of the situation. “They are putting Jewish people in camps, Claire. I don’t know what those camps are for, but there is no such thing as separate but equal. Whatever is happening, the Jews are getting the worst end of the stick. Claire, my advice to you is to leave this country. With or without your grandmother. Go to … Spain,” Elly said, stumbling across the neutral country.
“That all seems very fantastic.” Claire frowned, unhappy with the word she’d used. “Like bigger than what I can do,” she explained, using her hands.
For the first time ever, Elly understood a bit more about her ancestors. Running away from slavery, running from the South to the North, must have seemed fantastical; bigger than they could do because they were leaving behind the devil they knew for something completely unfamiliar. And if things didn’t work out …
“Sometimes I think about leaving,” Claire said slowly. “But Grandmother …”
Elly took a step forward and reached for Claire’s hand. She met the girl’s brown eyes knowing that the choice before Claire was excruciating. She and her grandmother were very close. And if she had to strike out alone, it was not going to be easy. “Claire, when the Germans invade, I am not going to stay here and let them take me. I am going to run as far away as I can. I suggest you do the same.”
Being raised by a reverend meant that Elly had been in her fair share of plays. There was nothing like a holiday to inspire a congregation to take up acting. Elly had seen more versions of Jesuses on the cross and Marys and Josephs knocking on the doors of inns than she ever wanted to see again in life. Those particular Sunday mornings had always been guaranteed to be hectic with last-minute scene changes, actors falling ill, and outfits suddenly not fitting.
None of that even remotely compared to the opening night of Paris-London. Elly dipped and dodged dozens of scurrying people as she made her way to the backstage of the theater where the dressing rooms were located.
“If you say one more thing to me!” Jo was yelling at some fellow Elly had never seen. Hair wrapped, barefoot, clothed only in a short, silk robe, Jo stood in the narrow hallway with anger radiating throughout her body. Amazingly enough, no one else around them was paying the least bit attention to the confrontation. “I’ll …” Jo didn’t finish her statement. She raised a fist, shook it in the man’s direction, growled, and returned to her dressing room, slamming the door shut behind her. The man that she’d been yelling at—boy really—did an embarrassed turn and disappeared down the hall.
Reaching Jo’s door, Elly paused, counting to sixty. Then she knocked. “Who is it?” Jo demanded.
Elly cleared her throat. “It’s Elly.”
Two seconds later, the door opened revealing Polly. Polly, usually happy and carefree, was carrying a deep frown on her face. “Come on in.”
Elly obeyed and carefully shut the door behind her. “What happened?”
“It’s that ridiculous man,” Polly told her before shooting a glare at the wall in the direction, most likely, of the ridiculous man.
“What man?”
Sitting in front of the vanity, Jo held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. If I keep thinking about him, I might hurt somebody.”
Polly reached for one of the Paris-London fliers and pointed at the name next to Jo’s: Maurice Chevalier. Elly knew this French actor. She had seen quite a few of his films because he acted in American movies.
“Rude, insufferable, arrogant …” Despite her earlier declaration, Jo continued to fuss. “Who does he think he is talking to me that way! He thinks that just because he is French he’s more French than me! I’ll show him!”
“Well,” Elly said slowly. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She’d decided today was a good day to wash and redo her hair, which was always a headache of its own but then her drying machine decided it wanted to do other things rather than working. Realizing the clock was ticking and she needed to hurry to the theater so that she could change, she had decided that having hair that was not wet was going to be the best that she could do. “Polly, can you help me pull my hair into a chignon?”
For the debut of Jo’s new show, Elly would be entertaining a number of people in one of the private balconies. Three of those people were the men suspected of selling the new rifle designs to the Germans.
“Yes. Get out of those clothes. I pulled that red dress for you that’s hanging next to the mirror. What do you think?” Polly asked as she returned to Jo’s side and began opening her makeup supplies.
It was another ball gown that cinched at the waist and flowed widely in the skirt. In the past month, Elly had been dolled up more than she’d ever been in her life. And while a part of her was loving it, she’d never really been able to enjoy the makeup and the gowns. Each fancy outfit was starting to represent someone who was not quite her.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as she walked over to touch the fabric of the skirt. And it was. But Elly was also thinking about all she’d have to say and do to convince someone to tell her their secrets. Something in her stomach performed a familiar flip. You’ve done this before, she reminded herself. You’ll be fine. And truthfully, it was getting easier to socialize with people she had no relationship with and to act as though she were having the time of her life. But she did need to see if she could put more pressure on her targets. December would not last always.
“Look, that’s what Jo is wearing,” Polly said, nodding at a shiny, feathery thing that was hanging on a hook.
“That’s the whole thing?” In her chair, Jo began to laugh while Polly snickered. But there was nothing there, just shiny things and feathers.
“Which part covers …”
Elly stopped talking as their laughter got louder. Well, at least she’d managed to pull Jo out of her bad mood.
“Think about the audience,” Polly explained as she ran a makeup brush across Jo’s cheeks. “We’re not entertaining ladies and gents.”
“Soldiers, you mean?” The whole point of Paris-London was to boost morale among the French and British servicemen who at this point were sleeping outside and eating out of cans for seemingly nothing. Elly knew that Jo was planning on performing several British numbers along with her greatest hits from France. It was supposed to be patriotic and supportive and unifying, et cetera.
“Many of them haven’t seen their wives and girlfriends in months. We’ve got to give them something to think about.” Elly briefly touched the plumes and rhinestones. And here she’d thought she was doing something with that pink dress she’d worn months ago. “That outfit is for the last number. Rosevienne designed it. It’s perfect for ‘Mon Coeur est un Oiseau des Isles’.” It did sort of put Elly in mind of a bird.
“You can try it on after me,” Jo teased. Elly turned and released a laugh. “Oh, goodness no.” If she wore such a thing she wouldn’t look alluring and attractive, she’d look ridiculous. The fewer clothes you were wearing corresponded directly to how much confidence you carried and the moment Elly put that on, she knew all confidence would flee.
While Polly put the finishing touches on Jo’s makeup, Elly quickly removed her dark green dress and slipped into the red ball gown. She’d already put on the correct undergarments so it took no time at all. Polly came over and zipped her into it. The dress was sleeveless and the only thing holding it up were two straps that tied around her neck and formed a V on her chest. One thing she hadn’t noticed earlier was that the skirt was layered. Elly turned this way and that to get the full picture in the long mirror in the room. “You have some gorgeous gowns, Jo.”
“Designers give them to me for free more often than not,” Jo said as she slipped on her first dress of the evening.
“A shame there’s no man to appreciate you in that, Elly,” Polly said with a sigh. Elly was thinking the exact same thing. For two seconds she imagined running into Grant—he was here somewhere. But then she stomped on that fantasy. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in her. And while she was beginning to trust him to a degree, there was still something about him that made her wary.
“I have an idea! Polly, we could find someone for her!” Jo said excitedly.
“Oh, no thank you!” Elly said quickly.
“I’m wonderful at matchmaking! Remember that one couple, Pol? What was that girl’s name who danced with Jean? Oh, I know! Danny’s currently in the market.”
“Oh, that’s all right!” Danny was very nice but the more time she spent with him and his optimism, the more she felt like she was with Catau. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
“Serious!” Now decked out in rhinestones and shiny pieces, Jo turned to Polly. “Serious,” she repeated in disbelief. Jo pointed a finger at Elly. “Let me tell you as someone who has been married three times. Serious is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Elly said cautiously. As Jo and Polly continued to stare, waiting for more, she mumbled, “It takes a lot for me to trust someone.”
“Yes, but Elly I think it’s like that for everyone,” Jo said as she turned her chair around and plopped down into it, resting her chin on the headrest. “You don’t have to trust a person to enjoy their company.”
Logically, Jo made sense. Why couldn’t she enjoy a night on the town with an attractive man just for fun? Did she always have to make that leap to whether or not the man would make for a valid candidate as a life partner? But men aside, she was the same way when it came to plain old friendship. It was not easy for her to be friendly nor to accept an offer of friendship—which was not to be confused with making acquaintances. The flip side of it was that once Elly had deemed you worthy, she was loyal to you for life. She had a feeling that when she finally fell in love, the poor man she rested her affections on wouldn’t know what hit him.
“Yes,” she said simply. Anything to end this subject because her mind wasn’t going to be changed and neither was theirs. “You’re right.”
Jo and Polly exchanged a look that said that they weren’t convinced by her words.
Turning away, Elly reached for the purse she had tucked her jewelry into earlier. She pulled out her fan, double-checking to make sure it hadn’t ripped or torn when she’d grabbed it in her haste to get there on time.
“Not that old thing,” Josephine called over her shoulder. “I’ve bought some new fans. Just for you. Polly, whenever I see Elly whip out one of those things, I know information is being exchanged.” Elly looked up, a bit disconcerted that Jo had seen through her one, solitary trick. She walked over to the side table where Jo indicated the fans were. All of them were elegant and beautifully designed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, dear,” Jo said just before touching the needle of the record player. Elly heard that familiar spinning, and then Billie Holiday filled the space singing about locking her heart away with a key.
“I need to think about something happy before I go out on stage,” Jo announced. She grabbed Polly and then moved over to Elly. Then, she slipped an arm around both of their waists. “To the right.”
Polly seemed to know exactly what she meant but it took Elly a second to realize they were supposed to be dancing chorus-girl style. Jo started singing the lyrics but then decided that dancing in formation was more important.
“To the right.” They moved to the right. “To the left. Kick.” They were hopping and skipping and stumbling a bit over each other, giggling all the while. “Spin around. Together again.” Polly and Elly obeyed Jo’s orders until the song ended and then the three of them collapsed onto the couch together. None of them said anything as they soaked in these few seconds of peace. Because on the other side of the door was war.
CHAPTER 16
Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Polly asked as she put the finishing touches on Elly’s hair.
“Picture time!” It was Danny.
Polly poked Elly in the shoulder, and made her eyes grow wide in the mirror. Elly made sure her expression was dead flat. Polly giggled. “Come on in, Danny! He’s sweet,” Polly whispered. “You have to give him a chance.”
Elly elected not to respond as she stood up, finally good to go.
The door opened, revealing Danny, camera in hand and dressed in a suit. “Came to see if the lovely Miss Baker wanted me to take some photos tonight?”
“Always, Daniel,” Jo said, as she stood up and showed off her outfit, which covered quite a lot. The plan was that she’d work her way to fewer and fewer clothes with each costume change. No man would remember Chevalier after the show was over.
Playing with the new white and gold colored fan in her hand, Elly began some very careful breathing exercises, exhaling Elly Mitchell and inhaling Jo Baker’s cousin.
“A picture of you, Elly?”
“No, thank you, Danny.”
“Danny, Jo and I still need to do a few things. How about you escort Elly to her seat?”
Elly flashed her eyes at Polly who was giggling.
“Sure thing.” Danny crooked his elbow. “Come on, Elly.” Elly grabbed her gloves and purse and slipped her arm through Danny’s.
“Have fun!” Jo called out to their backs. Elly turned to look over her shoulder, tossing Jo a dirty look too. Jo grinned widely.
“Break a leg, Jo,” Danny replied, missing everything that was happening around him.
With Jo’s door shut, Danny stopped and waved a hand at his nose. “Man, but it stinks over here. I pity the kid who has to clean the zoo.” Elly shook her head at herself. She could not believe it, but she was starting to get used to the scent. She knew now that Jo spent her time in there between rehearsals. If not for Polly putting her foot down, there probably would have been a pig or a goat wandering around the dressing room as they got ready. “You look nice this evening.”
“Thank you. Where’s Pierre and Grant?”
“In the orchestra pit. Most of the folks you met a few weeks ago are gone now. Returned to the States.”
“And why didn’t you join them? Can we stop for a second?” Taking a step away from Danny, Elly slid on her long white gloves.
Danny held up his camera. “This is my chance, isn’t it? To document what life is like when a country is at war. Maybe I’ll be able to sell a photo to a fancy magazine. You never know where life may lead.”
“True, but why … be involved? There’s a risk, isn’t there?” Elly asked, trying to delicately probe at his motivations.
“Listen, I’m smart. I have eyes. And I was staying. Do you really think those four could keep anything from me?”
