Addison

Part 7 // Roots

Bijoux de qualité had seen no customers that Friday.

Mrs. Blondeau had contributed nothing as per usual. The elderly woman must have known her business was in ruins. In Northern France, Parisians could barely afford to feed themselves these days. Let alone purchase ostentatiously priced jewellery.

Rhea had slipped away at noon. With errands that demanded to be run, she sacrificed her lunch break in order to check in on Ingrid and shop around the market.

"I'm worried about you. It's not healthy for a child to be cooped up all day," Rhea voiced her concern.

Ingrid rushed to help her with some of the paper bags. Hopefully, she peered inside, as if expecting something less disappointing than degrading vegetables. "Pardon me, but it too scary to be playing outdoors these days. Nazi flags seem to be everywhere you look in these parts. You know Addison, if you even want me gone, just say."

"Sorry?"

"You can barely afford you pay for food without me here."

"Don't be absurd," Rhea assured her. "You're staying here for the meantime. Neither Victor or I would want you eating out of rubbish bins again."

Ingrid bit her lip. She tucked a strand of her pale unruly hair behind her ear, as if what Rhea had said caused her great embarrassment.

"Look at the bottom of the bag."

The nine-year-old's round eyes widened in surprise. Timidly, her hand grazed the contents of the paper bag, and pulled out something that had been hidden underneath. Her hands let the corners of the napkin to fold over. Ingrid's face broke out into a grin.

"Thank you so much," she was overcome with excitement.

Neither of them remembered the last time they had a treat. But a small piece of sponge had brought Ingrid a moment of childish delight, and she looked up at Addison like she was God. These days, it was a challenge to get your hands on the basics.

Rhea had known exactly what to do. Slipping her fake wedding ring off her finger, she bumped into the baker with deliberate intent. He had knocked her bag clean from her arms. A few potatoes rolled down the alley, and the man was beyond apologetic.

The baker was horrified by the accident. Little did he know, for several weeks, Rhea had seen the thirty-something watching her through the shop window. It was all down to picking the right moment.

"My lord, I'm so sorry!" she had gushed, trying to gather her things. "I should have seen you there, I didn't mean to –"

"N-no, it was my fault," the baker had insisted, picking up a potato. "I should be the one saying sorry, I wasn't looking. Now I've gone and made you spill all your groceries," he looked so defeated, Rhea started to feel bad for taking advantage of him.

With the chime of the bell, he dashed through the doors of the bakery. Pressed something in her hand. It was wrapped with extreme care. The man had apologised once again to her. There was a strong impression what he did was strictly forbidden by his employers.

Despite the guilt, Rhea felt it was worth it.

As she went back to work, Rhea found it hard to wipe the smile off her face. Maybe the jewellery store would gain a sale this afternoon. The train incident was now over, and she was beginning to think she was meant to be in espionage.

Someone had just screamed.

Caught off guard, Rhea scanned the passing stranger's faces. The noise had come from far away. Frowning slightly, there wasn't a single officer from the German Army in sight. She decided to keep walking. If there was a disturbance, it was unwise to involve herself with it.