China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) by Madalyn Morgan (top 100 novels of all time TXT) 📕

teat between her lips she closed her mouth and turned her head away. Claire lowered the bottle. ‘If you don’t like it, darling, you don’t have to drink it,’ she said, and unbuttoned her blouse. She offered Aimée her breast, but as she did to the bottle, she turned away. ‘Not hungry?’ She put Aimée back into her pram and buttoned her blouse. Rocking the pram with her foot, she picked up the bottle of formula and put it to her own lips. It was sweet, a bit thick and powdery-tasting, but it had all the goodness required. Aimée began a grizzly hungry cry, so Claire took her from her pram and put the bottle to her lips again. She sucked and pulled a face. Then she closed her eyes and sucked contentedly. By the time the bottle was empty, Aimée was almost asleep. ‘Good girl,’ Claire said, lifting her daughter and putting her over her shoulder. She rubbed Aimée’s back until she was winded, and then put her down for her afternoon nap in the warm June sunshine.

Édith entered the yard and went straight over to Aimée. ‘So you are home from your walk, my lovely,’ she cooed to the sleeping child. ‘It is a beautiful day, but too hot for your aunt.’ She turned the pram a little so the sun was not directly on it. ‘Any news?’

‘Jacques said more men were taken from German headquarters to Périgueux prison today. He didn’t know if Alain was among them.’ Claire shook her head. ‘His friend who works there is trying to find out, but as always I don’t expect he’ll come up with anything.’

Édith touched Claire affectionately on the shoulder. ‘I must take off these shoes,’ she said, entering the kitchen.

‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ Claire called after her.

‘What is this?’ Édith returned almost immediately holding the baby formula at arm’s length.

Claire knew Édith wouldn’t approve. ‘I thought I’d try her on it in case I was ever held up somewhere. Then you could give her a feed. I mean, if you don’t mind?’

‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind.’ She clicked her tongue, looked into the pram, and cooed again the way doting aunts do.

‘This message is to go to London as soon as possible, Jacques.’ Claire gave the wireless operator the hand-written message.

‘Hot dogs in abundance. Uncle Sam looking for his children. Might hitch a lift. But need seaside togs and papers. Any news of The French Can? China Blue,’ Jacques read. ‘At this time of day I expect a reply. If you would like to wait?’ he said, showing Claire into his sitting room. Ten minutes later Jacques joined her. ‘It is done. And the reply,’ he said, ‘Paris is nice at this time of year.’

‘Thank you, Jacques. London has given me permission to go to Paris.’ Claire put her arms round the flamboyant man, who when they first met she had not trusted, and hugged him to her.

‘You are welcome,’ he said, when Claire released him.

Claire had grown fond of Jacques. His jubilant personality and extravagant clothes, a cover for the heartbreak he felt over the loss of his wife, was as much a part of him now as his fedora and umbrella.

Claire left Jacques at seven and strolled along the avenue. It was a sultry evening, a perfect evening for lovers. She began to walk faster. God willing she would one day, in the not too distant future, see her lover again. But now it was her daughter that she longed to see.

As she entered the yard and approached the kitchen, Claire heard Aimée laughing. She put her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. It was a joy to hear her daughter happy. When she left that morning Aimée was grizzling. Her cheeks were bright red. She’d made a fist of her small hand and was trying to put it in her mouth. Édith said she was teething and had rubbed something on her gums to soothe them. It had obviously worked; it appeared to be working still.

‘Hello?’ Claire called, opening the door. Entering the kitchen she saw Aimée, held safely in Édith’s strong hands, sitting astride a wooden rocking horse. When she saw her mother the little girl squealed.

‘Just in time for dinner,’ Édith said. Claire put her hands out to lift Aimée from the horse, but the little girl held on to the horse’s mane and kicked out, making the horse quiver beneath her small frame. Édith and Claire laughed, and Aimée squealed again. ‘I may have made a mistake borrowing the horse,’ Édith said. ‘Put your hands over your ears. I don’t think this little miss will be happy when I lift her off.’ With a swoop, she took Aimée in her arms and swung her round. Aimée began to wail and Édith began to sing. Claire moved the rocking horse into the passage and by the time Édith had stopped singing, Aimée had stopped crying. A few minutes later, Aimée rubbed her eyes with the back of her small hands and reached for her mother. Claire bounced her sleepy daughter on her knee while Édith filled two large bowls and one small one with stew. When they were sitting with their food in front of them, Édith added a cold potato that she had taken from the stew earlier. She chopped it up into small pieces and mashed it into Aimée’s meal.

Claire fed her daughter while her own food cooled. At first Aimée ate greedily, wanting another spoonful as soon as she had swallowed the first. Then she turned her head away and yawned. Claire wiped gravy from her mouth and chin, lifted her up, and held her against her chest. Supporting the sleepy child with her left hand, Claire ate her supper with her right. By the time she’d finished, Aimée was asleep. ‘I’ll take her up,’ she said.

When she