The teenage girl dropped the gun and ran, still holding the baby in her arms. A team of soldiers gave chase, but Anne-Lise was a fast runner. She grew up in a village outside Paris and was a champion ice-skater.
She had taken part in many missions under the name Sainte Anne. She had killed nine people and always cried after—but would never give up. She was seventeen years old, and her heart was a determined one.
In her pocket were keys, a small notebook of poems, a pencil stub, some string, and a ring her mother had given her for her thirteenth birthday.
She had been asked to leave Paris for a while by the others because she was known to the enemy—but news of the Normandy landings had reached the city. The liberation was a matter of weeks. Plans were being concocted, weapons smuggled in. Sainte Anne’s skills and daring would be vital.
She sprinted toward the river, stumbling on loose cobbles, but never losing her balance. Her hope was to get ahead and then hide under a bridge, or in a boat moored to the bank.
Other moments of her life passed as she darted across streets, through trees, down ancient stone steps.
The smell of oil on her father’s hands. The night she left the window open at her grandparents’ house and snow settled on her bedclothes. Riding a horse for a bet and then falling in love. Lacing up her ice skates. She wanted to marry and live in Montmartre. She loved dancing and American jazz.
As she hurried down the steps to the river, she looked up to see the soldiers passing above. She slowed and tried to appear calm—but then someone sitting idly by the water whistled, and the soldiers turned around.
As she flew up a narrow bank of the Seine, the soldiers shouted at her to stop. They were closing in and the child in her arms was a terrible, screaming weight.
After passing under another bridge, she spotted a narrow staircase that led back to the street. The soldiers followed her up the steps one by one. When she reached a long, straight boulevard, two of the soldiers stopped to fire. Someone screamed. People on bicycles pedaled for their lives. Anne-Lise saw an alley and cut into it, but then halfway down realized it was a dead end.
These were to be the last moments of their lives.
But then a door swung open and a surprised teenage boy in a baker’s apron stood looking at her. She pushed past him into the storeroom and told him to close the door quickly.
It was very dark. They could hear the soldiers’ boots outside. Then the sound of rifle butts slammed against doors and the order to open up. When the baby started to cry, they bashed at the baker’s door, and kicked it with their boots.
Pascal took the baby from Anne-Lise and told her to stay hidden under a pile of sacks.
Then he unbolted the door with the child in his arms.
The soldiers stared at them angrily.
“What’s going on?” Pascal said. “What do you want?”
“Who else is in there?” one of them growled.
“My mother is sleeping upstairs.”
“What about your wife?”
“She went to visit her grandfather in Tours, who says he’s dying but probably has the flu,” Pascal said. “This is my son.”
“Your son?” one of the soldiers said. “What’s his name?”
“Martin,” Pascal said.
The soldiers stared menacingly until Pascal asked if they would like to come in for some hot coffee and something to eat. They entered without saying anything and walked through the kitchen into the place where there were tables. They took off their helmets and set them noisily on the floor. The shop had just closed, but Pascal put on all the lights and warmed some cakes in the oven, as if it were just another, ordinary day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to mention how the story of John and Harriet Bray is inspired, in part, by the real-life story of Bert and Annette Knapp. During World War II, Mr. Knapp served in the Eighth Air Force and was a recipient of the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Purple Heart. He was a member of Operation Carpetbagger when his B-24 Liberator crashed in Nazi-occupied France on 7 August 1944, after being hit by flak. He died in 1994. Mrs. Knapp is ninety-four years old and lives in Connecticut.
The author wishes to acknowledge the following:
Amy Baker; the O’Brien family; Joshua Bodwell; Bryan Le Boeuf; BookCourt; Dr. A. S. and Mrs. J. E. Booy; my dear brother Darren Booy and his wife, Raha; Catrin Brace and the Welsh Assembly Government; Ken Browar; David Bruson; Jonathan Burnham; Gabriel Byrne; Lauren Cerand; the Connelly family; Mary Beth Constant; Rejean Daigneault; Dr. Shilpi Epstein; Laurie Fink; Peggy Flaum; Tom Ford; Foxy; the Gaddis family; Dr. Bruce Gelb; Rich Green; Jen Hart; Dr. Maryhelen Hendricks at SVA; Dolores Henry; Gregory Henry; Nancy Horner; Mr. Howard; Carrie Howland; Dr. M. Kempner; Alan Kleinberg; Hilary Knight; Babette Kulik; the Lotos Club; Alain Malraux; Lisa Mamo; Michael and Delphine Matkin; McNally Jackson Booksellers; Dr. Edmund Miller; Dr. Bob Milgrom at SVA; Cal Morgan; Michael Morrison; Dr. William Neal of Campbellsville University; Neil Olson; Orchard Strategies; Wendy and Jon Paton; Lukas Ortiz; Deborah Ory; Jonathan D. Rabinowitz; Rob; Shambhala Sun magazine; Ivan Shaw and Lisa Von Weise Shaw; Society Club; Dmitri Shostakovich; Philip G. Spitzer; Vi Trayte; the Vilcek Foundation; Virginia Stanley; Jeremy Strong; Lorilee Van Booy; Fred Volkmer; Dr. Barbara Wersba; Sylvia Beach Whitman at Shakespeare & Company.
Also:
Jean-Pierre Melville for L’Armée des Ombres (Army of Shadows), a scene from which served as the inspiration for John Bray’s interaction with the barber.
The inscription on John Bray’s gravestone was written by P. S. Moffat, and taught to me by my daughter.
For their selflessness, attention to detail, and dedication, the author would like to recognize the following individuals and staff:
Serge Blandin; Thomas Ensminger; Colonel Robert Fish for They Flew by Night; United States Holocaust Memorial Museum; the Imperial War Museum, London; the Jewish Museum; the Metropolitan Museum of Art; MoMA; Musée de la Résistance Nationale; the Parrish Art Museum, Southampton; Roy Tebbutt, Fred West, and Keith Taylor of the Carpetbagger Aviation Museum at Harrington; Pierre Tillet.
And very special thanks to:
My partner, Christina Daigneault, for her love, kindness, profound intelligence, support, discreet notes, and Bach duets;
Lucas Hunt, poet, confidant, best friend;
Enormous thanks, as always, to Carrie Kania, my guiding light, whose friendship, confidence, editorial insight, style, and devotion made this book possible:
Michael Signorelli, my kind, charismatic, and deeply intelligent editor;
Madeleine Van Booy, the most wonderful, brilliant, and talented daughter a father could ever wish for.
The team at Conville and Walsh:
Jake Smith-Bosanquet, Alexandra McNicoll, and Henna Silvennoinen, for their remarkable talents, kindness, and outstanding achievements on behalf of their authors.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SIMON VAN BOOY is the author of two novels and two collections of short stories, including The Secret Lives of People in Love and Love Begins in Winter, which won the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. He is the editor of three philosophy books and has written for The New York Times, The Guardian, NPR, and the BBC. His work has been translated into fourteen languages. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife and daughter.
www.SimonVanBooy.com
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ALSO BY SIMON VAN BOOY
FICTION
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EDITED EDITIONS
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CREDITS
Cover design by Milan Bozic
Cover photograph by Robert S. McCombs
Copyright
THE ILLUSION OF SEPARATENESS. Copyright © 2013 by Simon Van Booy. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN: 978-0-06-211224-8
EPUB Edition JUNE 2013 ISBN: 9780062112262
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
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FOOTNOTES
* Members of the French Résistance from rural areas.
* Town council.
The Illusion of Separateness Page 11
