She looked down. The soldiers were still there.
The whole of Paris was crawling with them; theatres and galleries, restaurants and nightclubs – wall-to-wall with Nazi uniforms, the air punctuated with guttural German sounds. They strolled in the parks, ordered beer in cafés, stood frowning in front Matisse’s paintings with art catalogues in their hands. There were women, French women, who laughed at their stories, hung on their arms, allowed them to buy them drinks. Eva found them pathetic and desperate, avoided looking them in the eye. She knew what she would find there – fear and despair dressed up in childish bravado and defiance.
‘I’m not that fond of your husband,’ she said after a while.
Yvonne shifted, sighed, like someone forced to wait for a bus when they wanted a cab. ‘What you will get in return is this apartment, and a generous, regular stipend.’
‘I prefer stocks.’
Frowning, she pursed her lips. ‘As you wish. Do we understand each other?’
Eva turned to face her. ‘So you want me to do you a favour?’
‘A favour?’ Yvonne’s eyes flared.
‘What price is your husband’s company or your reputation, Madame Hiver?’ She smiled softly. ‘I’ll consider it, on one condition. I want you to do something for me.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Andre Valmont. I want Hiver to hire him. I want you to ensure he’s protected and classified as essential wartime personnel to the company.’
Yvonne’s eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest. ‘We’re not hiring anyone. Especially not Jews.’
‘He’s a world-class perfumer. A genius. Just the kind of visionary Hiver needs.’
‘I don’t know what you expect me to do.’
‘What if he created a perfume for Hiver?’ Eva persisted. ‘One that was sold exclusively under the Hiver name. Then it would prove he was essential to the future of the company.’
‘The Nazis have taken over our factories,’ Yvonne explained, exasperated. ‘We’re not producing cosmetics right now. We’re making nylon for parachutes and God knows what else!’
‘We could make it, Andre and I – in the shop. We still have supplies. We could produce the formulation in small batches. Your products are still being sold.’
‘It’s old stock. And it’s running out fast. The longer this war lasts the more precarious our position becomes.’
‘Yes, but what if, during France’s darkest hour, Hiver delivers, against all odds, a new perfume. Can you imagine what it would mean to an ordinary woman, at a time like this? Just that something beautiful is being created, that it exists – something uniquely French. What’s more quintessentially French than perfume? Do you think that hope has a fragrance? Allegiance? Loyalty? And the very fact that you were producing it without factories, in spite of the Germans, would spark the imagination. It would seem like an exquisite act of patriotism.’
Yvonne pursed her lips again, said nothing.
Thinking aloud, Eva continued. ‘The bottle should have a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it.’
‘And what will you call it?’
‘Mon Coeur. Now, always, forever.’
Yvonne snorted, shaking her head. ‘It’s ridiculous! And dangerous.’
‘Acts of courage require daring – that’s why they’re admired. It’s perfume, not politics.’
‘Everything is politics. We can’t afford scandal.’
‘Scandal is the best form of advertising.’
‘You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’
‘And you don’t lick the one that rubs your nose in the dirt and beats you!’ Eva snapped back.
‘We’re aiming not to beaten, mademoiselle,’ Yvonne pointed out smoothly. ‘We’re striving to survive intact. Though now I can see why Jacques finds you so fascinating.’
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Eva looked at her sideways ‘He doesn’t. He finds himself fascinating. But only when there’s an audience.’
‘That’s not very flattering to you.’
‘I’m nothing more than a shiny little shard of glass, madam. He looks to see his own face, not mine.’
Some shadow of recognition moved across her features. ‘I wonder that you’re satisfied with so little,’ she said, quietly.
‘The important thing,’ Eva changed the subject, ‘is that the perfume have the Hiver name and that its creator, Andre Valmont, be identified as essential personnel to Hiver Cosmetics.’
‘There are no guarantees.’
‘But you will try,’ Eva pressed.