Sidney Sheldon - The Other Side of Midnight

Lanchon watched with distaste as the shabbily dressed stranger entered the door of his shop. Lanchon said rudely, ‘Yes? What can I do for you?’

Jacques Page winked, poked a thick finger in Lanchon’s chest and smirked, ‘It is what I can do for you , Monsieur. I am going to let my daughter work for you.’

Auguste Lanchon stared at the lout standing before him, an expression of incredulity on his face.

‘You are going to let —’

‘She will be here tomorrow, nine o’clock.’

‘I do not —’

Jacques Page had left. A few minutes later, Auguste Lanchon had completely dismissed the incident from his mind. At nine o’clock the next morning, Lanchon looked up and saw Jacques Page entering the shop. He was about to tell his manager to throw the man out, when behind him he saw Noelle. They were walking towards him, the father and his unbelievably beautiful daughter, and the old man was grinning. ‘Here she is, ready to go to work.’

Auguste Lanchon stared at the girl and licked his lips.

‘Good morning, Monsieur,’ Noelle smiled. ‘My father told me that you had a job for me.’

Auguste Lanchon nodded his head, unable to trust his voice.

‘Yes, I–I think we could arrange something,’ he managed to stammer. He studied her face and figure and could not believe what he saw. He could already imagine what that naked young body would feel like under him.

Jacques Page was saying, ‘Well, I will leave you two to get acquainted,’ and he gave Lanchon a hearty whack on the shoulder and a wink that had a dozen different significances, none of them leaving any doubt in Lanchon’s mind about his intentions.

For the first few weeks Noelle felt that she had been transported to another world. The women who came to the shop were dressed in beautiful clothes and had lovely manners, and the men who accompanied them were a far cry from the crude, boisterous fishermen with whom she had grown up. It seemed to Noelle that for the first time in her life the stench of fish was out of her nostrils. She had never really been aware of it before, because it had always been a part of her. But now everything was suddenly changed. And she owed it all to her father. She was proud of the way he got along with Monsieur Lanchon. Her father would come to the shop two or three times a week and he and Monsieur Lanchon would slip out for a cognac or a beer and when they returned there would be an air of camaraderie between them. In the beginning Noelle had disliked Monsieur Lanchon, but his behaviour towards her was always circumspect. Noelle heard from one of the girls that Lanchon’s wife had once caught him in the stockroom with a model and had picked up a pair of shears and had barely missed castrating him. Noelle was aware that Lanchon’s eyes followed her everywhere she went, but he was always scrupulously polite. ‘Probably,’ she thought, with satisfaction, ‘he is afraid of my father.’

At home the atmosphere suddenly seemed much brighter. Noelle’s father no longer struck her mother and the constant bickering had stopped. There were steaks and roasts to eat, and after dinner Noelle’s father would take out a new pipe and fill it with a rich smelling tobacco from a leather pouch. He bought himself a new Sunday suit. The international situation was worsening and Noelle would listen to discussions between her father and his friends. They all seemed to be alarmed by the imminent threat to their livelihood, but Jacques Page appeared singularly unconcerned.

On September 1, 1939, Hitler’s troops invaded Poland and two days later Great Britain and France declared war against Germany.

Mobilization was begun and overnight the streets were filled with uniforms. There was an air of resignation about what was happening, a dèjá vu feeling of watching an old movie that one had seen before; but there was no fear. Other countries might have reason to tremble before the might of the German armies but France was invincible. It had the Maginot Line, an impenetrable fortress that could protect France against invasion for a thousand years. A curfew was imposed and rationing was started, but none of those things bothered Jacques Page. He seemed to have changed, to have calmed. The only time Noelle saw him fly into a fury was one night when she was in the darkened kitchen kissing a boy whom she dated occasionally. The lights suddenly went on and Jacques Page stood in the doorway trembling with rage.

‘Get out,’ he screamed at the terrified boy. ‘And keep your hands off my daughter, you filthy pig!’

The boy fled in panic. Noelle tried to explain to her father that they had been doing nothing wrong, but he was too furious to listen.

‘I will not have you throw yourself away,’ he roared. ‘He is a nobody, he is not good enough for my Princess.’

Noelle lay awake that night marvelling at how much her father loved her and vowing that she would never do anything to distress him again.

One evening just before closing time a customer came into the shop and Lanchon asked Noelle to model some dresses. By the time Noelle finished, everyone had left the shop except Lanchon and his wife, who was working on the books in the office. Noelle went into the empty dressing room to change. She was in her bra and pants when Lanchon walked into the room. He stared at her and his lips began to twitch. Noelle reached for her dress, but before she could put it on Lanchon swiftly moved towards her and shoved his hand between her legs. Noelle was filled with revulsion, her skin beginning to crawl. She tried to pull away, but Lanchon’s grip was strong and he was hurting her.

‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘Beautiful. I will see that you have a good time.’

At that moment Lanchon’s wife called out to him and he reluctantly let go of Noelle and scurried out of the room.

On the way home Noelle debated whether to tell her father what had happened. He would probably kill Lanchon. She detested him and could not bear to be near him, and yet she wanted the job. Besides, her father might be disappointed if she quit. She decided that for the moment she would say nothing and would find a way to handle it herself.

The following Friday Madame Lanchon received a call that her mother was ill in Vichy. Lanchon drove his wife to the railroad station and then raced back to the shop. He called Noelle into his office and told her he was going to take her away for the weekend. Noelle stared at him, thinking at first that it was some kind of joke.

‘We will go to Vienne,’ he babbled. ‘There is one of the great restaurants of the world there, Le Pyramide. It is expensive, but it doesn’t matter, I can be very generous to those who are good to me. How soon can you be ready?’

She stared at him. ‘Never’ was all she could bring herself to say. ‘Never.’ And she turned and fled into the front of the shop. Monsieur Lanchon looked after her for a moment, his face mottled with fury, then snatched up the telephone on his desk. An hour later Noelle’s father walked into the shop. He made straight for Noelle and her face lit up with relief. He had sensed that something was wrong and had come to rescue her. Lanchon was standing at the door to his office. Noelle’s father took her arm and hurried her into Lanchon’s office. He swung around to face her.

‘I’m so glad you came, Papa,’ Noelle said. ‘I —’

‘Monsieur Lanchon tells me that he made you a splendid offer and you refused him.’

She stared at him, bewildered. ‘Offer? He asked me to go away with him for the weekend.’

‘And you said no?’

Before Noelle could answer, her father drew his hand back and slapped her hard across the cheek. She stood there in stunned disbelief, her ears ringing, and through a filmy haze heard her father saying, ‘Stupid! stupid! It’s time you started thinking of someone besides yourself, you selfish little bitch!’ And he hit her again.