Red Rainbow by G Johanson (top books of all time TXT) 📗

if they would have her. Otherwise, it wasn’t meant to be, her contribution to the war effort done.

“Let’s make it easier for them. Come on,” Florence said, slapping her shoulder playfully.

Hilaire shook her head. She decided to try and make her rendezvous with Lisette, her mind squarely on Florence as she dashed down to the Metro. Florence would have to act alone – Hilaire had already tried the chaos approach. It had its merits, but Florence would take it too far. Organised and planned chaos was better than what she would unleash. It wasn’t Hilaire’s problem, thankfully. Not yet, anyway.

Lisette didn’t hang around, which was fair enough. Hilaire returned back home to the little cottage she was stuck in until she could return back to her true home – which was an even smaller cottage. That was her parents’ home, though, Maxi’s too. And Rollo’s too, of course, but there were bad memories concerning him attached to the place she didn’t like to think about. There were good ones too, her older brother just too protective in the end. That could be put down to seeing one sister die.

There was a knock at the door late on – later than would normally be acceptable, past the curfew. Hilaire opened the door and saw Florence on the doorstep with several cases. Hilaire did a double-take. Had she got this the wrong way round? Hadn’t Florence offered her sanctuary with her?

“Don’t worry about tidying up, darling. The current climate sees us all slumming it,” Florence entered without waiting for the invitation to be extended. “We can share a bed if you only have the one.”

“I have a spare bed. You’re welcome to it. I just don’t understand why you’re here?”

“The police came to pay me a visit. They were doing their dirty work. I did my own. Frenchmen, yes, but not in their hearts. You understand.”

“Up to a point,” Hilaire said, not liable to lose sleep over the deaths of those enforcing Nazi rule. “I guess you’re here for the duration then.”

“That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Hilaire wondered if she’d caught the weariness in her voice. Unlikely, for she was so thick-skinned and obtuse in these matters.

“You offered me sanctuary. I return the favour.”

“I knew you would. It’ll be fun. We’ll find some activity we can agree on...”

Hilaire didn’t sleep much that evening. She made breakfast for herself and her new housemate and made her position clear. If she was not firm and clear with her, Florence would pester her to do something for the duration of the Occupation, which would be unendurable. Hilaire told her more details of her old group and their triumphs and tragedies. All four of them had powers, with three associates also possessing abilities too. She had enjoyed her time with the group, but it disbanded with Maxi’s death and the surviving members scattered. She had no intention of recreating it. Aiding the Communist Resistance was something entirely different to what she had done before, and that was why it appealed, even if she struggled to be accepted even in an entry-level position.

“I’m being housed by a Red?” Florence said, joking yet utterly disappointed by Hilaire’s poor political judgement.

“We prefer the term Communist.”

“Et tu, Hilaire? I suppose dividing the wealth of others may seem appealing when you have nothing. As far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t be associating with a group like that full stop, but as you’ve decided you want to, you should insist on full input. Show them what you can do,” Florence said, disappointed that Hilaire was letting the Communist group freeze her out.

“I can’t do that. They’re not the same as us. They may view me as a bigger threat than the Nazis if I do that.”

“Who turns down an asset like you or me?”

“Look at how our kind have fared throughout history. I can’t risk it. I don’t want to muscle my way in.”

“Be as impassioned as them as you just have been with me and they’ll accept you and promote you quickly. I can’t join you in that, but find out their plans and then we can maybe do something with the information...”

“No, Florence. You have sanctuary. Settle for that. You have a very distinctive look.” She was, understandably, the most wanted woman in Paris right now, superseding Hilaire’s previous infamy. Common sense dictated that she had to stay behind closed doors for now.

“By birth and by design. I didn’t travel thousands of miles to stay cooped up.”

“You’ve had your feast. Maybe let it settle before second helpings?”

“I have. I wanted more that same night.”

“Tough,” Hilaire said, disinclined to continue the debate. Florence had managed to sneak in a guilt-free gorging massacre in the death throes of the war (probably for her own ends more than for the people of Paris). Getting greedy – greedier – not a good idea.

“We’re both that, tough as shoe-leather. Much tougher than any of them and tougher than the Americans. Everyone seems to think, ‘Oh goody, we’re going to be rescued, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, a rainbow after the storm’ – it’s not going to be that tidy. Buildings are coming down, and a shitload more lives than I took will be lost. The Americans will prevail...”

“Allied forces,” Hilaire corrected, not downplaying America’s immense and valued contribution, speaking up purely to acknowledge the other forces that would soon liberate them.

“The ‘Allied forces’ will prevail, but there’s no time for airy-fairy daydreaming about a free future when there are rivers of blood to wade through first. That’s reality. We can clear the path, minimise the carnage.”

“I have to go to work. Stay in,” Hilaire ordered.

“Yes, boss.” Hilaire had no faith that she’d obey her. She needed to keep her cleaning job so had no choice but to leave her alone. Florence was showing signs of being relentless on fighting back, of how they could use their great powers for the collective good. Cause good carnage over bad. Scarily, there was something to her (admittedly