Pam Jenoff - The Sweethearts Collection

3 DECEMBER 1939: Whichert House

13 DECEMBER 1939: Levant, Sussex

CHRISTMAS DAY, 1939: Blythe Cottage

16 JANUARY 1940: Newbury Racecourse

18 JANUARY 1940: The English Channel

1 FEBRUARY 1940: Wahagnies, France

21 FEBRUARY 1940: Wahagnies

10 MARCH 1940: Wahagnies

11 MARCH 1940: Wahagnies

13 APRIL 1940: Mousehole, Cornwall

21 APRIL 1940: Whichert House

22 APRIL 1940: Northern France

6 MAY 1940: Wahagnies

12 MAY 1940: Wahagnies

14 MAY 1940: A Road Near the River Ath

15 MAY 1940: Waterloo, Belgium

19 MAY 1940: A Road Near Gaurain-Ramecroix

19 MAY 1940: Tournai, Belgium

20 MAY 1940: The Escaut Canal

22 MAY 1940: The Escaut Canal

23 MAY 1940: The Road to Hazebrouck

24 MAY 1940: The Road to Hazebrouck

25 MAY 1940: Hazebrouck, northern France

Part Two

3rd SEPTEMBER 1940: Blythe Cottage

9 SEPTEMBER 1940: Blythe Cottage

22 SEPTEMBER 1940: Blythe Cottage

6 OCTOBER 1940: Blythe Cottage

11 NOVEMBER 1940: Blythe Cottage

CHRISTMAS DAY 1940: Blythe Cottage

19 JANUARY 1941: Blythe Cottage

9 FEBRUARY 1941: London

29 APRIL 1941: Blythe Cottage

27 MAY 1940: The Orphanage

27 MAY 1940: The Orphanage

6 SEPTEMBER 1941: Thurlestone Sands, Devon

Afterword

Acknowledgements

Paris by the Book

Dedication

Epigraph

PROLOGUE

PARIS, WISCONSIN

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

PARIS, FRANCE

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The Lost Girls of Paris

Back Cover Text

Praise

Dedication

Quote

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

Questions for Discussion

About the Publisher

The Bonbon Girl

Linda Finlay

To my Bonbons, Jack, Heather, Darcey and Chloe.

With special thanks to Darcey for naming this novel.

Prologue

Colenso watched as the rising tide advanced towards the Devil’s Frying Pan. The turbulence created by rough seas surging through its entrance was legendary. Her father had chosen his spot well. Desperately she tugged at the ropes binding her hands, only to wince as the damp hemp tightened, cutting deeper into her flesh.

As white-tipped waves swirled ever closer to her feet she shuddered. In the distance she could hear the sounds of the organ from the travelling fair. Loud and brash, its purpose was to attract the crowds, and judging from the shrieks of laughter coming from the villagers on the green it was doing its job. Nobody would hear her screams and Kitto, dear unsuspecting Kitto, would be waiting for her.

The light was fading, the wind rising, bringing with it a thick bank of rolling mist. She licked her salt-coated lips. The crescendo from the waves pounding the tidal cave and reverberating around the serpentine rock was deafening now, blotting out all sound of the fair. Her father had promised to return for her decision before the tide was in full spate but, intent on his mission and wishing her scared witless, she knew he was deliberately cutting it fine. He’d have a wasted journey though, for she had no intention of changing her mind. Her heart belonged to Kitto, and without him her life would serve no purpose. She would take her love to the grave if need be. And if it was deemed to be a watery one then so be it.

Spray from the advancing swell covered her feet before receding to allow her respite, albeit momentarily, and she gave a laugh that came out as a high-pitched shriek. How ironic that her name Colenso should mean ‘from the dark pool’ for now it looked as if she would be returning to it much sooner than she’d thought.

Chapter 1

Cadgwith, The Lizard, Cornwall

‘An’ it harm none, do what thou will’

Wiccan Rede

With these words ringing in her ear, Colenso put the bread to bake then set about making the pastry for her pasties. Today was a special day and she had a plan. Excitement bubbled up as she mixed swede, potato and onion with the scraps of meat old Buller the butcher had given her in exchange for helping him earlier that morning.

‘ Don’t forget the herbs, Colenso. Marjoram for love, rosemary to stimulate the heart, sage for wishes, and best put in a pinch of parsley for lust. ’

‘Really Mammwynn,’ Colenso chided, colour flooding her cheeks. Her grandmother believed her beloved herbs were the answer to everything, nurturing varieties that by rights shouldn’t even grow let alone flourish on this wild peninsula. Then she remembered and looked up with a start. Sure enough, the room was empty for her beloved Mammwynn had passed on at Samhain last October. Being the festival that marked both the end and beginning of their year and a time of celebration for those who’d gone before, Mammwynn would have thought it perfect timing. But Colenso had loved her grandmother dearly and still felt her loss keenly.

‘Oh Mammwynn, I do miss you so,’ she murmured, dashing a tear from her eye. ‘The weather’s been bitterly cold this winter and many of your plants are lying dormant so I’ll have to use the ones I’ve dried.’ As she reached up to take a handful from the clothes pulley above her head, she felt the slightest of touches on her shoulder and knew her grandmother approved. Crumbling them into the mixture, she finished making the pasties adding a decorative finish to the biggest with a flourish. She hoped Kitto, her beloved, would appreciate it.

As the aroma of baked dough filled the air, she removed the loaves to cool, added the pasties to the tin and slid it back into the hot recess of the Cornish stove that was her mamm’s pride and joy. It had been her father’s wedding present to her and about the only thing he’d ever bought her, she thought, staring around the room with its hand-me-down dresser and rickety table and chairs. The tiny window let in very little light even on the brightest day and there wasn’t enough space to swing a rat. Imagine the luxury of living somewhere with room to put her things, not that she had many, Colenso sighed, as she set about tidying up. Mamm worked on call as the Sick Nurse and after sitting in with old Mrs Janes would appreciate returning to a clean room with their evening meal prepared. Her Father and elder brother, Tomas, laboured long hours at the works and were forever hungry.