one big fireplace, so many people had fitted charcoal burners to their vehicles now there was little gasoline. She dabbed at her nose, clicked the compact shut, and slipped it into her handbag.
âBoy, what a swell day for a trip to the countryside,â Miriam said. There was a fresh breeze from the sea, teasing gold leaves from the trees. The Cimetière Saint-Pierre passed by, and the tram headed for the hills.
âItâs just good to get out of that place.â
âYouâre not still smarting about Varian, are you?â
âVarian? I couldnât give a damn about him.â Mary Jayne snapped her bag closed, and her husky voice lowered to a growl. âYouâd think after I managed to spring those four guys from the Vernet camp heâd treat me with a little respect by now.â She bit her lip. I know men like him, she thought. I bet he reinvented himself at Harvard, started eating burgers with a knife and fork and took up smoking just because it looked elegant. To hell with him. Stuck-up dilettante, thatâs what he thinks I am. Spoiled little rich girl.
âIâm sure he does respect you, he just doesnât show it. I know some of the refugees think heâs buttoned up, but itâs just a front to give them confidenceââ
âJeez, Miriam. Respect? Donât you get it? Men like him donât know what to do with a woman if youâre not in their bed, typing their letters, or keeping their house. The ARC is an all boysâ club. I said as much to his face the other night.â
âOh, Mary Jayne, you didnât?â
âWell, why not? They think they are being so clever hiding what they are up to from the girls, but we all know they are doing something crooked.â
âI think heâs rather wonderful. Donât you think heâs attractive?â
Mary Jayne laughed briskly through her nose. âNot at all, my dear. I prefer more macho types.â
âLike Killer?â
âRaymond is ⦠Heâs not what he seems.â
âWell, neither are you,â Miriam said. âYou succeeded where letters from the ERC and the American consulate failed. You still havenât told me exactly how you persuaded the commandant to let those four prisoners out of Vernet.â
âA lady never tells.â A smile twitched at the corners of Mary Jayneâs mouth. âAs Beamish said, I have the most innocent face in the world, and letâs just say the commandant wasnât immune to my feminine charms.â I felt more like the Trojan horse than Helen. Mary Jayne had been their last chance. Emergency U.S. visas had been issued for four of the political prisoners in greatest danger, but all diplomatic requests to bring the men to Marseille under guard to collect them had been refused. Mary Jayne had dressed carefully in her best blue suit with yellow piping and all her grandmotherâs diamonds. When sheâd looked at the reflection in her hotel room mirror, sheâd thought, Good, I look exactly how they want me to lookâlike a pretty, rich American girl . She remembered how, when the commandant offered her a cigarette, Chanel No. 5 wafted from the cuff of her blouse as she leaned in to the flame cupped in his palm. âGod, I was glad to get out of that place. Theyâve got the whole camp penned up behind two barbed-wire fences, and the guards are told to shoot to kill.â She looked down at her hand and twisted the ring on her finger. She could hardly bear to remember the sight of the shaven-headed men, their emaciated faces. They smiled at me the way poor kids light up at the sight of a Christmas tree.
âI hate it,â she said, âitâs inhumane seeing people penned up like that. Everyone knows the Gestapo are just going around cherry-picking whoever they want. The Vichy lot are just doing their dirty work for them.â
Miriam squeezed her hand. âWhat you did was very
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