Some Sunny Day
She has worked in Le Coeur de Lione for just over a
month. She sings in French, German, sometimes in English. Katrine, the
proprietor, buys her black market recordings of British and American music, but
she never sings those songs in public. She sings them after hours, with Katrine
sitting at the piano, fingers stroking the keys in a manner she can only
interpret as erotic. She assumes that Katrine does it on purpose, to taunt her.
She thinks of Katrine as devious, as calculating. She doesn't trust Katrine.
Katrine knows the old piano well enough that she never has to look at the keys.
She plays with an air of pride in this fact.
"...don't know where, don't know when..."
Katrine stops playing; "Mademoiselle de Neuf."
"Is there a problem?"
"You were flat."
"I was not."
"Yes, you were."
"I have perfect pitch."
"So have I, and you were flat."
She raises an eyebrow and decides that it is best to aquiesce, "Then I was
flat."
Katrine smiles and places her fingers on the keys once again, "From the
beginning, Mademoiselle."
She sings again, confident and strong. She plays with the tempo, maintaining the
rhythm and forcing Katrine to compansate for the changes in the pace.
As the song ends Katrine applauds, and Mademoiselle de Neuf takes an amused bow.
"You, cherie, are the greatest singer in all of France."
"Hardly."
Katrine holds up her hand to halt the inevitable list, "You need to learn how to
take a compliment in the spirit it was intended."
"Perhaps."
Katrine glances over to the clock in the corner. "We'll be opening in an hour. I
think you should wear the new dress tonight, the red one."
"Red does not suit me."
Katrine smiles, "Oh, yes, it does. A little rouge on your cheeks, some colour on
your lips... you'll look beautiful."
"Is it appropriate to look beautiful for the occupying forces?"
"Then do it for me."
She watches as Katrine stands and heads towards the stairs at the back. The
woman turns and calls from the foot of the steps, "Remember, the red one."
De Neuf rests her hand on the edge of the piano and marshals her patience. Her
feelings towards Katrine are confusing. She walks towards the stairs, up to her
own room, locks the door behind her as she reaches round to unzip her dress. She
steps out of it and pulls the new red dress from the wardrobe. When she has
negotiated her way into it - it's a little tight across the shoulders, she'll
have to alter it when she can get hold of the correct colour of thread - she
sits at the dressing table and sorts through her make-up. Such things are easy
enough to get hold of; Katrine has made it clear to the German troops that
cosmetics will be accepted as currency in Le Coeur de Lione. Katrine is astute,
although de Neuf finds that she does not always agree with the woman's
decisions.
The lipstick is German, as is the dark brown eyeshadow. The Reich may claim
disapproval of such embellishments, but these items are always in plentiful
supply. She considers these exchanges collaboration, but Katrine is pragmatic in
her beliefs. The singer needs make-up, and bootleg alcohol is easy enough to
come by. The Germans have no appreciation of vintage, says Katrine, and hastily
mixed approximations of Scandinavian beers are enough for them.
De Neuf applies the cosmetics with her usual care and is ready when she hears a
light tap at the door. It is Katrine, her white satin suit shimmering in the
half-light of the corridor. De Neuf sniffs the smoke that drifts up from her
cigarette, "American. I thought you were running out."
Katrine takes a long drag of nicotine. "I am. But they taste so much better than
the German ones, and if I'm going to spend an evening smoking that weed the
Fuhrer seems to think is tobacco, I'm going to indulge myself a little
beforehand." She looks the singer up and down, "I told you red suited you."
"This dress is too tight."
"But you wear it so well. You should relax a little."
"Are you drunk?"
"Everyone in Europe is drunk, Mademoiselle. I don't see why you think I should
be any different."
"Alcohol causes inefficiency."
"You think I might accidentally betray the resistance." Katrine meets her gaze.
"I've had plenty to drink in my time, I know what I'm doing."
A curt nod; "Of course."
"And what will you be singing this evening?"
"Whatever the customers request. I have no preference."
"What about that song we rehearsed earlier?"
"An Allied song. It would not be well recieved."
"Where do you think I got the record?" She drops the cigarette end and grinds it
into the florr with the sole of her shoe. De Neuf stares at the orange lights
that glow on the hardwood boards for a second before they die.
"I see," she says, finally.
Katrine proffers her arm. "Your audience awaits, Mademoiselle."
And arm in arm they walk down the stairs, into occupied territory.