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Lucille
Nights passed where Lucille would stay tucked up in the loft, the two English soldiers resting beside her. They were mostly uneventful, spent reading, talking and eating. It was a nice escape from the daytime, in which both the soldier and her father would breath down her neck, watching each and every move she made.
It was a wonder how she got away with attending the rally meetings on the odd morning. Those too, however, had been uneventful and boring. The most they had done was decide who would deliver and distribute the food on a weekly basis. It of course had been placed onto Lucille shoulders- perhaps because they thought her hands weren't rough or dirty enough, that she had no responsibility and they would therefore be just in giving her one.
That was untrue of course. They had given her no further help with a route away from the occupation or at least their area. They didn't know what was resting on it, they didn't understand the urgency. But then again, they never would; Lucille kept her promise. But at least Amélie would be there with her at the deliveries.
She had told the two boys about her plans after the women's second meeting, about her ideas of hiding and sharing their resources, surviving with more than the German's believed they would have. It made her proud, to see the impressed glances that were shot her way, especially since her presentation had been left with sceptical looks and bored gazes upon her first try.
In the loft, a sleepless night was inevitable. She lay each evening, waiting for the restless shuffling and moaning and whimpering coming from the room across. It was almost as if she could hear the shovels that Tommy had said plagued his dreams, knocking tauntingly and rhythmically against the wall. On cold and unforgiving nights that had become more frequent, it frightened her. The looming threat of the officer finding an escaped prisoner in her house, was enough to make her feel sick to the stomach.
Since Tommy had told her of his nightmares, she had noticed his droopy eyes staring into the darkness and up at the ceiling. It was as if the white against ocean blue glowed, urging her to take a peak from where her head hid under her blanket. Lucille was drawn like a magnet to him, now that she knew he was always awake.
She could even hear his breathing. It was never slow and never fast. And it wasn't soft or harsh either. It just was. It became a natural backing sound that her ears searched for each time she lay down her head- it became a coping mechanism- one that lulled her to sleep.
"How do you cope?" She asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence that had persisted at that time each night.
"Without sleep?" Tommy asked, and he could sense the nodding of a head through the darkness. "I'm used to it."
"You're cakes help." He said, as he brought a half eaten one up to his mouth and bit into it.
"You've been saving them?" Lucille asked with a laugh and finished his cake.
"They're good cakes." He said, and Lucille raised her brow in both embarrassment and disapproval.
"I could sing?" Lucille suggested, and Tommy turned to her in confusion. "My mother always sang when I couldn't sleep and it always put me to sleep."
Lucille didn't wait for a response as she shuffled around, moving to sit next to him so her voice wouldn't wake Dawson. She laid back, her head resting on the pillow that Tommy had tried to use but had discarded with days ago.
"It won't work if you're sitting. You'll never fall asleep." She whispered. Tommy hesitantly shuffled his way to the floor, laying down beside her, his head resting on a blanket.
"Close your eyes." She instructed quietly, and he followed, his heart beat quickening as complete darkness took over his vision.
"Tu le reverras Paname, Paname, Paname, le tour Eiffel, la place Blanche Notre-Dame, les boulevards et les belles Madames." Lucille began to sing, her voice faint but loud enough to reach his ears that were barely inches away.
His eyes fluttered open as he watched her sing, she smiled as she noticed his eyes in her. It reminded Tommy of the first moments he had seen her, surrounded in an angelic glow, her face bright without an inch of fatigue or hardship wearing her eyes. As he looked across at her, he could see the small, dark bags that gathered around her eyes. Even surrounded by darkness, Tommy still felt as if he had been blessed with an angelic presence to guide and protect him. But he didn't understand what he had done to deserve it.
"Tu le reverras Paname, Paname, Paname, le métro, le bistrot, où tu prenais l'apéro après le boulot. Comme c'est loin tout ça mais tu le reverras à Paname." She continued to sing, her voice heavenly and sweet.
Tommy felt his eyes droop as he let sleep take over him, her soft singing voice soothing him despite him not knowing what she was saying. He allowed his fatigue to overcome, as he dropped off into a restless but dreamless sleep.
Note: the song used was apparently used in World War One to lift the spirits of soldiers, but I'm not entirely sure of the whole context and dates of the song so if it's used in this book wrong or before it was written, just ignore x
