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He kicked the door. “One last chance, whore. And it’s more than you deserve. Open the fucking door.”

The shadows remained still.

He smashed the glass window with the bar and pulled out his lighter. The rag took to the flame quickly and he threw the bottle into the shop.

Madame screamed.

He laughed and walked back down the street.

Fabienne watched the flames taking hold. She couldn’t go too soon because he might see her, or he might be intending to return. The flames licked around the window. There was movement in the shadows inside the shop. She prayed Madame would stay inside just a bit longer. If not, he would likely return to finish the job. She watched him walk past his parked car and enter the bar, and ran across the road.

“Madame Guillaume, it’s Mademoiselle Brun. Open the door, please. You need to get out of there.”

The door opened and Fabienne saw the fear in her eyes. Flames crept up the wooden shelves above the shop counter to her left. She tugged Madame into the street and across the road, back into the cover of the archway. The flames licked at the inside of the shop like a hungry wolf, consuming everything in its path. A truck stopped and soldiers climbed out. They started to tackle the fire with blankets and buckets of water from the fire hydrant in the street.

Madame slumped to the ground in tears. Fabienne crouched next to her, caught the smell of burning flesh. “You are hurt.”

Madame shook her head. She drew her arm from behind her, and Fabienne stared at the raw skin and the burnt edges of what was left of her shirtsleeve.

“Maybe a little, but it is nothing.” Madame trembled.

It was more than nothing. She was in shock. “We need to get you to the church, to treat the wounds, then get you to safety.”

“What is the point. He will come again, and again. It is not the first time, Mademoiselle, but I don’t care to live like this.” She punched lamely at her belly and sobbed.

Fabienne took her hand to stop her, calm her. What could she say? Women were being attacked every week. No exchange of words was needed to recognise the pain and suffering of another. They were all hurting. The best they could do was to stand together, fight together, and pick each other up after they had fallen.

“I will kill him,” she said.

Madame touched her arm. The sadness in her expression, like most people’s, wouldn’t change that until the war ended. Even then, Fabienne was sure their grief would haunt them.

“Please be careful, Mademoiselle Brun. He is a very cruel man.”

She helped Madame to stand. “He is the worst kind, and he will be punished. I will make sure of it, Madame, I promise you.” Fabienne glanced across the street to a fire truck that had arrived, and towards the bar to check that Müller wasn’t lurking outside. “Now we must go to the church.”

Madame shook her head as she watched the men trying to extinguish the fire. “And what then? I have no business now. How will I survive?”

Fabienne didn’t have any answers. She led her away. Madame walked shakily, and Fabienne feared she might collapse before they got to safety. “Once you are better, we will find a solution.” She didn’t know what exactly, maybe Madame could work out of the bakery?

“My knives. I cannot work without my tools,” Madame whispered.

More fire trucks passed them, heading towards the butcher’s shop.

The soldiers would put out the fire and leave. She doubted anyone would loot the place before the morning curfew was lifted, and Fabienne had a work permit to be out before five a.m. “I will go back first thing and see what I can recover.”

Madame sniffled. “You are too kind.”

They entered the church. Father Michel walked towards them and took Madame’s arm. He nodded. “Come with me, Madame Guillaume. We will take care of you.”

Fabienne leaned towards her and whispered, “I promise you.”

Madame squeezed Fabienne’s hand but the downcast look she gave Fabienne said she didn’t believe she could be so lucky.

Perhaps it was too much to ask of anyone, but Fabienne had given her word, and she always delivered. Now, she had to get home before curfew.

15.

FABIENNE HAD MANAGED TO retrieve three knives from the burnt-out shop.