Summer Blossom

Rushing through the street, I checked my watch again, slinking the chain around my wrist and spotting the big hand as it ticked around again, hitting the hour spot. I continued on, brushing through the incessant crowds on the street, and on towards the place I had retired to meeting Eliza again. Paris felt useless at this hour, everyone was panicking to get home and not miss the trains that ran in and out of the city. I was going against the flow of people, and they tutted their dislike to me, their French words ringing in my ears. I was unfamiliar with the blasphemy of the French language, and smiled at the words that I had never heard spoken before, though knew well enough to recognise. I could see the tower far ahead of me over the rooftops, and knew that I was approaching the street where the café lay that Eliza had mentioned the name of. Her French accent had been pitiful, and I had laughed when she told me the name of the café, correcting her. I had met her here three times before now; each one I had ordered the exact same cup of coffee, which seemed like the most wonderful coffee I had ever tasted. Its French tint of flavour was luxurious and thick, and the colour was creamy and warm. Eliza was pacing at the corner of the café wall when I spotted her, and I shouted her name over the chatted of the crowd. I had experienced crowds like this before, but today it seemed they had more to talk about; I knew that many soldiers had bee in Paris in the past two weeks, and conversation topics were usually centred on them, but this noise was ridiculous. She had not heard me, and I pushed through the crowd onto the almost deserted street compared to them; it was difficult to push my way out of the flow of people traffic on the wide street, but as I pierced the edges, I was spluttered out onto the cobbles. Eliza looked up and saw me emerging from the chaos, and laughed at my flustered expression as I patted my hair down, exaggerating the fluster.

‘Bonjour!’ She cried, still displaying her awful French accent. Her hair had changed colour, it had grown darker, which I wondered at and guessed she had recently been to have it coloured.
‘I believe you should stick to German, Frau.’ I laughed, touching her forearm, which was bare as she stood in just her pale blue blouse and skirt on the street corner, her jacket slung over her other arm at her waist. We sat down at the nearest table, which was as far away from the busy crowd as we could manage, as to avoid any commotion and noise, and also to avoid anyone over hearing our conversation.
‘Did you tell your parents?’ She questioned me, and I looked up from where my finger traced the metal frame of ivy on the table surface.
‘Yes, they were not very pleased, at all. I felt like I was letting them down, but after many a discussion, they told me that if I wanted to use my linguistic skills to help my country, then I should.’ I smiled at the corner of my mouth, a smile that told her of my acceptance, along with a shrug of my shoulders. I was wearing my new pencil skirt and blouse, tailored in a different style to Eliza’s pencil skirt which hugged her thighs then set itself in frills at her knees, mine was close fitting all the way down. My blouse was cool and I felt the breeze brush it against my chest and stomach.
‘Well, that’s good, because we’ve got our first mission already set. I hope you’re prepared.’
Thoughts of panic rushed through my head, and I realised I had no idea where we were going, or who with. A pathetic thought that I knew would never take flight splattered my mind then, and I wished we would be sent to somewhere near Peter. This didn’t seem very possible though as I didn’t even know which section he was with. I knew he had been split off from my brother, and my mother had been disappointed that they could not stay together and keep each other company. I wondered how the news had been broken to them, or if they had even had a chance to say goodbye to each other. How would two friends in uniform say goodbye? It wouldn’t seem masculine to get upset about leaving a friend to go and fight alone; it seemed wrong to be going to the war alone. I looked back up at Eliza and smiled, I was ready. I felt some sort of dedication to the army now, although I was always one to be patriotic and support the country, though now I had two people worth saving, worth helping through this war.
‘Come on, I’ll take you back to your train and explain things. I can’t tell you everything here.’ She stood and swept her jacket around her slim shoulders, ruffling the blouse around her stomach which was then flattened against her slim figure with the wind. I gulped down the remaining pool of coffee in my mug, which I cupped in my hands and felt the heat through my fingers. It was thick and creamy as always, and I thought about how I might not be drinking coffee quite as pure as this for a while, with the war containing many sanctions and rules on imported foods. I sighed. It was only the beginning of the war now, what was to come, who knew. On the train back from Paris that evening, the day before Peter and Sebastian were to come back to Lannion and visit us, I was dreading the thought of him telling me he was leaving to fight along side my brother, even though I already knew. The idea of us having the conversation made the excitement of our ‘young love’ seem worthless. This shouldn’t have been invading the new thing I had discovered, the thing I could keep with me. All I had no was time; time to wait and see what came of the world.