Being Nadine

Chapter 1: The Letter

The bells had just struck four, and with relief Henri shut the bakery door for the day.

Market days tended to be exhausting and busy. A good kind of busy, Henri reminded himself, because that meant he would sell a lot. He counted himself lucky that he did well with the bakery. Many people were in a different position these days. Resources were running out. And that was definitely the fault of old regime. The failed monarchy kept taking its toll, even now after the king had been executed.

Ever since, there has been a sense of change in the air, but where this change would lead, nobody knew.

The unknown worried Henri sometimes.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

Henri had just pulled the last of the iron sheets out of the oven to clean. After a short pause, he continued his task. There was nothing more he could give out today. The last batch of bread rolls had already been sold half an hour ago to the old woman who lived across the street.

A second later, the door opened timidly.

"We're closed," Henri said, as he looked up.

What he saw then was most peculiar. A man, dressed in culottes, an embroidered long coat and an elaborate hat took a hesitant step inside the small customer area. From behind the counter, Henri watched him with surprise and suspicion. He hadn't seen anyone in such clothes in a very long time.

This man was not from this neighbourhood. With his tights he looked like a royalist.

When the man realized that Henri would not attempt to start a conversation, he asked: "Are you Henri Morand?"

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Lawrence Dupois, valet de chambre at the Château de Saint-Cloud," the man said, as he took off his hat.

Henri didn't respond to the formalities and the man continued: "From what I gathered, this is Henri Morand's bakery?"

Henri didn't understand. Why would a random valet from a palace be looking for him?

Outside a horse neighed impatiently. Through the small window, Henri could make out a fancy and embellished carriage that was waiting for its master. Hopefully this wouldn't bring on too many spectators. Henri didn't want to be associated with people who had fancy carriages.

"I don't have much time," the valet pressed. "From your silence I take it you are the same."

Henri didn't object, confirming Lawrence's implication.

Lawrence took a step towards the counter, and pulled out a folded paper from his jacket, and handed it to Henri.

"Does this look familiar to you?"

Reluctantly Henri unfolded the paper. It was his mother's handwriting.

'Dear Nadine' he read on the first line.

His heart sank. There was no need to read further. He knew what this was. Just to confirm the obvious he turned the sheet around to see his own handwriting covering the reverse side. That's what they always did when they wrote to the same person.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, trying hard not to give away how much this affected him.

"I brought it as proof in the hope that this will make you believe me."

Henri felt the blood rush through his head. How did this piece of paper get into the hands of this man?

"What do you want?" he blurted out.