“She decided to rest. Now come on. Get a move on, for God’s sake. We need to be back in good time to change if we’re to dine at Maxim’s.”
I heard the voices come closer, then pass right behind me. I kept the handkerchief pressed to my face and hoped that my hat was concealing most of that tell-tale red hair. I waited like that for a good minute after they must have gone, trying to control my panic. I was safe in France, surely. Justin Hartley could do nothing to me here. And I was now married to an American. But I couldn’t shake off the fear that somehow the English authorities might catch up with me and drag me back to Ireland to stand trial. I had been an unwilling participant in that failed jail break in Dublin, but a participant nonetheless. And the English didn’t care too much about details when they convicted would-be republicans.
I removed my handkerchief to see the young man still looking down at me with concern. “Are you feeling better, madame? It would be no trouble to fetch you a glass of water.”
“No, thank you.” I stood up, now horribly conscious that Mrs. Hartley, Justin’s mother who had taken such an interest me, was also now in the hotel. I had to get away from here as quickly as possible. “I must be on my way. Turn down to the river at the Place de la Concorde, you say?”
“That’s right, madame. The Quai de Billy. Close to the Trocadéro gardens. You can’t miss it.”
I thanked him, came out of the Ritz, and crossed the Place Vend?me. I was still in such a state of panic that I almost didn’t see a motor car, driven fast, until its klaxon sounded, making me leap backward, my heart now pounding. I would never get used to the speed of automobiles and the way they came up on me. I made my way back to the gardens and that lovely colonnade and turned right as instructed. I wondered if it really would only take me fifteen minutes to walk to the American Club, and wondered how long it would then take to reach Mr. Bryce’s house. I couldn’t leave Liam with Madeleine for too long, especially not past his next feeding. It wouldn’t be right, even though I trusted her to take good care of him. I started walking even faster in the shade of the colonnade, not daring even to glance at those enticing boutiques and little cafés. The colonnade ended at a vast open area with what looked like an Egyptian obelisk in the middle and traffic circulating at great speed around it. Vague memories stirred of those long-ago French lessons. “Place de la Concorde,” I muttered, and waited until the policeman who was directing traffic from a platform in the middle of the street blew his whistle for us to cross. As I made my way down to the river I felt the fresh breeze in my face, tinged with that smell of water and rotting things that seems to come from rivers.
The scene along the riverbank was quite delightful with more gardens and what looked like a palace beside me, more impressive buildings on the far bank and a procession of little steamers, tugboats, and barges making their way up and downstream. And there ahead of me that improbable edifice, Mr. Eiffel’s tower, soaring over the rest of the city. How could those women not have been impressed by it? To me it was a marvel and I would have liked to have had time to go up it.
I should have been excited to finally be living my geography and history lessons but I was too engulfed in worry to really appreciate what I was seeing. Now it wasn’t only a question of finding what had happened to Sid and Gus. It was also the additional fear of being found by Justin Hartley. And I had to complete my task and get back to Liam. It was a greater distance than the man at the Ritz had suggested. My feet were beginning to hurt and I was feeling hot and thirsty by the time I came to the sign saying Quai de Billy and saw the club with its stars and stripes hanging over the front entrance. I hoped that there might be cold drinks or maybe even an ice-cream soda to be had at the club as I went up to the front door and knocked. The elderly porter who opened it stepped back in surprise at seeing me.
“Yes, ma’am. May I help you?” I was glad to hear an American accent and not to have to speak French any longer.
“You may. I’m trying to find Mr. Reynold Bryce. Is he a member here?”
“Mr. Bryce is indeed a member,” he said. “But he’s not here at the moment, I’m afraid. In fact…” then he paused.
“Perhaps you’d be good enough to find me his address.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am but it is against club rules to give out the address of a member.”
“Look,” I said. “It’s very important that I speak to him soon. I’ve come over from America—” I decided to stretch the truth a little, “—with a message from his family. But I omitted to bring his address with me.”
He stood, effectively barring the door to me.
“May I come in and speak to the club secretary?” I stepped forward, wondering if I could force my way past him. “I’m sure he’d be able to assist me.”