Belle - Lesley Pearse [179]
Gabrielle sat on the bed for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the note. It was on quality cream writing paper, but it had clearly been torn from a pad, as the top was a little jagged.
‘Or the sender tore off the address that was on there,’ she murmured to herself.
‘A hotel!’ she exclaimed as the thought came to her. ‘Of course! That’s how she gets her engagements.’
She knew it was common practice for wealthy male guests in the smartest hotels to ask a doorman or concierge to find them some female company. She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered this before as Belle was ideally suited for such work. She didn’t look like a common prostitute, and she had the poise and good manners to hold her own with sophisticated men.
Gabrielle suddenly felt queasy, for Belle could have had the misfortune to meet someone very dangerous. While most businessmen away from home wanted nothing more than uncomplicated sex, there were always those who were perverted and cruel and saw a prostitute as fair game for any sick activity they had in mind.
She put her hand under the ruffle round the high neck of her dress and ran her fingers over the bumpy scar there. Her son Henri had just had his first birthday when she had the misfortune to meet the man who called himself Gérard Tournier. He seemed like a perfect gentleman, agreeing to fifty francs, then took her to supper first. But instead of accompanying her back to her apartment as they’d agreed, he’d taken her into a back alley and slashed her neck with a knife. She was lucky in that she was found before she bled to death, but the resulting hideous scar was a permanent reminder of what she used to be.
‘Belle’s smarter than you were though,’ Gabrielle told herself, tucking the note into the pocket of her apron and leaving the room, locking it again behind her. She knew if Belle wasn’t back by the morning she must enlist someone’s help in finding her because she was sure she couldn’t live with herself if the girl was found dead and she had just stayed here and done nothing.
Gabrielle had cut herself off from everyone she knew during her time as a prostitute. She wanted no reminders of her old career. And she never wanted Henri to discover what she’d done in the past. But there was just one person connected with that world that she remained in touch with, for she had nursed Gabrielle back to health following the attack in the alley, and looked after Henri. When she got up the next morning to find Belle still hadn’t returned, Gabrielle resolved to go to Lisette after she’d given the guests their breakfast and Henri had gone to school. She didn’t expect her old friend to have any idea of where Belle could be, but she might know people who would.
Unless she was taking Henri out for the day, Gabrielle rarely went beyond a half-mile radius of the Mirabeau, and then only to buy food, because she felt safer close to home. She never made any effort with her appearance either for by looking dowdy she attracted no attention to herself. But she felt compelled to make an effort for her visit to Lisette and changed into an old but still smart grey and white dogtooth check costume. The jacket was rather too well-fitting for a woman who liked to conceal her shape in loose clothing, but she tied a white scarf at a jaunty angle to hide her scar, added the black velvet hat with a half-veil she wore to Mass, and was pleased that she neither stood out nor looked too drab.
When Lisette had taken care of her over a decade ago they had both had rooms in the same house in Montmartre, but a year afterwards, when Gabrielle had left Paris to act as housekeeper for Samuel