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Michelle sighed to herself as René took Yvette's arm and hurried her into the back room. A trace of Yvette's lipstick was still on his neck. If only the war wasn't ongoing. If only Michelle was a simple peasant girl working in a café. If only René wasn't the hero of the Resistance.Michelle sighed again and shook her head. No, René would never abandon the café, his wife, his mistresses, or the Resistance to run off with her to Switzerland. Not even if she stole the Fallen Madonna With the Big Boobies to fund an illicit, extravagant lifestyle for them to live. René was too proud, too brave, and too honourable to ever abandon France in her struggles. Well, maybe Michelle's dreams could never come true but she could spend the war fighting by René's side.Michelle of the Resistance stiffened her resolve, banished all thoughts of René taking her in his arms, and followed him into the back room. "Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once..."
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Michelle frowned as she wasn't sure she understood. "You will turn ze café into a coffee shop? What difference will zat make?""Zere will be no German officers, for a start!" René grumbled, scrubbng at the tabletop with a cloth. "Look at zis cognac stain. You'd zink zey'd be able to find zeir mouths, but no. It is amazing zey managed to find France! I will only be serving coffee, nozzing else!""The Germans drink coffee.""There will be no gateau. Not even ones from ze chateau!"Michelle thought that was a pity. "Zat will be a loss. Ze gateaux from ze chateau are most enjoyable.""My wife will no longer sing." René straightened, the cloth in his hand, and the look of a man who has beheld heaven on his face. "No more singing.""René, ze officers do not come to hear your wife sing or to eat her cooking or to drink your cognac. Zey come to go upstairs wiz your waitresses, put on ze flying helmets, and use ze egg whisks and ze wet celery. Are you going to put ze egg whisks back in ze kitchen (where zey will need a zorough washing), cancel your exceptionally large celery order wiz Monsieur Zeublouze ze greengrocer, get rid of ze flying helmets, and give your waitresses ze sack?""I can't do zat! Where would zey go? Zey are orphans, you know.""And where will you get ze coffee? Zis is wartime. Zere are restrictions on everyzing.""Oh, very well. But, one day, I shall have a shop zat only sells coffee. I shall call it Etoiledollars! People will come from far and wide to sit in my shop and drink coffee!"Michelle of the Resistance shook her head. "Why would anyone go to a shop just to drink coffee?"
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Michelle of the Resistance stared into the face of the latest member of her Resistance cell. The face bore a remarkable resemblance to her own. If Michelle hadn't been completely convinced of her own identity, she would have sworn this was her. "How...?""It's easy," 'Michelle' replied. "I've always been able to do it." The dark eyes closed, then opened to reveal the cold, hard grey gaze of Herr Flick. "I've frightened my mozzer on several occasions."
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Michelle of the Resistance looked doubtfully at the tall cabinet in front of her. "Are you sure zis will work to 'ide ze British airmen?"Monsieur Alfonse nodded eagerly. "I bought it myself from Le Grand Bouffon. I will demonstrate. Once I have shut ze door, you will tap ze door wiz zis wand, say 'Abracadabra!' and I will disappear like a phantom into ze night." He stepped into the cabinet and pulled the door shut.Michelle felt even more doubtful but she dutifully tapped the door with the wand and muttered, "Abracadabra," under her breath. After a few seconds, she opened the door to find the cabinet was empty. "Monsieur Alfonse?"There was no reply.Michelle's gaze turned to one of awe. It worked! Forget the British airmen, with this she could rid her beloved France of her German invaders. One magic show at a time.
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Michelle sighed to herself as she waited for the spaceship to land. She'd thought her life was difficult enough running the Resistance in Nouvion but that had been a breeze compared to this. The travelling alone...As she disembarked, the members of Pling'tu's small but effective Resistance group lined up to greet her. Michelle's heart swelled with pride at the group, every member of which wore a trenchcoat and beret, and held a bicycle by their side. She did wonder, though, how they cycled without any legs.
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The back room of the café was quiet as the group assembled there waited. The only noises were the ticking of the clock and the sounds of distant artillery fire. Michelle looked up at the grown ups around her as they huddled together in the cold. Her mama had said it was miracle the café was still standing.The hands of the clock reached the hour and the clock chimed eleven. Eleven chimes for the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month. Even before the chimes had finished, the sounds of the guns stopped to be replaced by jubilent cheering. Michelle's mama cried and cuddled her tightly as Monsieur Artois, his face half-hidden by bandages, cried out, "Vive la France!"The cry was taken up by every grown up and echoed back from the streets outside and Michelle's breath caught in her throat at the love and pride in every voice."Vive la France!" she shouted with them. "Vive la France, Maman!"They ran outside to join their neighbours, their voices singing La Marseillaise, and every face was filled with joy and a hope for a better tomorrow. Michelle vowed to herself she would never, ever forget the moment when she realised how much her country meant to everyone she knew.