Red Rainbow by G Johanson (best e reader for academics txt) 📕

self-serving) argument. If they could make it easier for their liberators, there was a case for them having a duty to do that. That old zealot mindset had led to trouble before. Not just danger, though that was a consideration, but moral trouble too. Hilaire would not be rushed into anything. Others better placed would step forward to help, the Communists and other Resistance groups, the man and woman on the street too.

Hilaire spotted that there were wet patches on the carpet when she returned. It had been raining, and she guessed that Florence’s shoes had got wet. She was about to accuse her of going out when she saw that there was a newspaper on the floor – Florence wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Good day at work, honey?” Florence asked. If she wanted to play the little woman indoors welcoming the worker home, doing some housework may have helped with the act. Not that Hilaire wanted that – she would do things so half-arsed she’d make them worse.

“We can’t survive getting hit by a mortar or a sniper rifle. Don’t let them know you’re here! Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.”

“You need a good fuck so badly.”

“What?”

“You’re frustrated.”

“You got that bit right.”

“Sexually. You said there had only been three men and that the last one was a long time ago. You really should follow that one up.” Florence was fascinated by this topic. She hadn’t had to drag it out of her, Hilaire being foolishly indiscreet. She did not want to be thought of as the virginal old maid, which would only give Florence scope to look down upon her with her many loves. Hilaire had not gone into details but had told her that an old flame could yet reignite.

“I’ll think about such things if we survive the war. Until then it’s a distraction and a weakness I don’t need. I’ll only put him in danger right now. It’s because I care about him that I’m not getting involved with him.”

“And what will your excuse be after the war?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. You wouldn’t understand anyway. Have you ever cared about anyone?”

“I’ve returned to occupied France, haven’t I?”

“Yes, following the food,” Hilaire said snidely.

“My plate already spilleth over. That I still want more is neither here nor there. The comment about young men’s energy is just the old pervert in me. We do still have young men back over there and plenty of young women, and their energy far surpasses that of the male – unsurprising when you think about it. When they’re menstruating it’s another level! Look at the two of us. Old crones to look at… and fucking warheads. I’m quite indiscriminate, male, female – as long as they have some vim, come to Mama.”

“I didn’t mean the young American soldiers – and, quite frankly, if you take any energy from any Allied soldiers who need their strength, even ‘just a smidgen that they won’t notice’ – you drain them in the slightest, and you deserve to be shot as a traitor, in my opinion. The Nazis are why you came, a food source you can go nuts devouring without guilt or shame.”

“Only partially true. I only came back this year, via Spain. If I wanted to feast, I could have come back a lot earlier. As the war dragged on, it got harder to ignore. I wanted to help end it.”

“I thought it was Meyer’s call?” Hilaire said. She was willing to believe Florence, it would just be easier to do so if she could pick one account and stick with it.

“Yes. But I had to make the decision to come. I didn’t accept his invitation straight away. I’d have come back a lot sooner if you’d asked me.”

“How would I have known where you were?”

“I’m not hard to find.”

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Florence was being preposterous and Hilaire let her know it. Florence’s ego was so huge that she thought her spotlight was visible across an ocean, not the case at all. If she carried on as she had here, perhaps that would apply.

“You’re so contrary. I love it! Anyway, don’t worry about when the soldiers come marching in, I will leave their energy alone, if not them. I may play up to the black widow image, and sexually I do prey on younger men, but when it comes to energy young women make a better snack.”

“You say you play on the image, but you have been widowed six times. You said two of your husbands were younger.”

“It’s worse than that. Even the older ones died young – what we now consider young based on our ancientness. Four of them died under 40.”

“It seems very coincidental.”

“Three of them I didn’t even feast on. Obviously, I tried out their energy...”

“Obviously,” Hilaire said sarcastically, as if this were the most natural thing in the world to do.

“...but I didn’t do anything regularly. Crawford was sickly so I let him be. I can’t be sure that I didn’t sleep feed.”

“How reassuring,” Hilaire said, just the news she wanted to hear now that they were house sharing.

Florence let out a deepthroated laugh at this. She picked up the paper and laid it on the table for Hilaire to read. Hilaire sat down and saw the part Florence wanted to draw her attention to. A notice that Deveral Meyer’s funeral was taking place this Friday at 10:40 am at a synagogue. Even though she didn’t know him, Hilaire was a little surprised at this – surprised that any services were taking place at synagogues nowadays since the purges.

“Interesting venue, I thought. He wasn’t Jewish.”

It was typical of Florence to speak in absolutes. While it seemed unlikely that Deveral would have been able to evade racial detection and deportation all of these years, it was not impossible. Hilaire assumed that Florence assumed this, a double assumption based on Hilaire doubting Florence could know this as fact. Unless... Oh.

“Fancy putting on