Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

a flexible position with César, two days and a morning on the assembly line. Hilaire’s job was more fixed, five mornings cleaning the factory. She arrived so early by bicycle that she saw the nightwatchmen (there was now two of them, possibly an increased security measure) and the dogs leave. The dogs were scared of her, remembering her prior association. César offered her security work if she wanted it, an accurate assessment of her strengths, but she wouldn’t put the poor dogs through it.

Patience admired Kalle Paget for playing a blinder with the theatre. Deveral had put all of his money into renting the place leaving him destitute and about to become homeless (though he had options sparing him the streets, Kalle and Patience’s homes for starters). With his death and the subsequent investigation and the chaos of Paris right now, the bank had not got round to repossessing it yet. Kalle, Deveral’s righthand man for 32 long years, former juvenile lead and all-round assistant, helping with both cast and crew, opened up the doors to the displaced, the homeless, the desperate. He got a charity involved too to help with food while he organised performances on the stage, starting with the children and planning adult plays too. Patience agreed to go along with Charlotte (out of work but still trying) to help for a Saturday afternoon performance. The bank could eject them at any time, but they couldn’t erase the goodwill Kalle was building up here. This had been a theatre of the people for the people. They didn’t lose their audience through a couple of strange shows – it was understood that the manager had killed a large number of Nazis here at the cost of his own life, a few missteps prior to that understandable and forgiven.

Playing into this background, Kalle had erected a makeshift sign renaming the theatre as the Meyer. He trusted that investors would come forward. Patience was less sure, unable to bother César with this as she knew how much of a money pit this place could be. One afternoon show became a regular Saturday occurrence, which she helped with each week. She still had her machinist job on a Monday, and Tuesday to Thursday working with marketing for César. She initially took the assembly line position as she didn’t want to be any bother, but she got bored and asked him if it was possible, only if it was no trouble, to try another role. He couldn’t have been more accommodating, reminding her that his staff and the building wouldn’t be there without her help (Patience wished this wasn’t true – this demonstration of how much of a positive difference her power could make meant she would have to re-evaluate putting it away in a drawer... at some point). The theatre work was unpaid, a way of remembering Deveral.

Kalle advertised through word of mouth and fliers for a paid revue, the profits going to the theatre's destitute residents (the cat qualified as eligible for this too). Patience was pleased to see several of her co-workers from both of her jobs turn up for this. Maurice Cassard turned up to watch too. Patience went to see him with a cup of coffee between acts and asked him how he was. He had been released and promised her he was fine and taking it easy. She realised the old man who was with him was his partner – she presumed this relationship was potentially secret due to his partner showing no signs of ill treatment, unlike poor bruised and battered Maurice, his hand, wrist and forearm encased in a cast.

“I heard you didn’t speak. That’s so brave,” Patience said, filled with admiration for his bravery. She’d been in that spot and could only imagine how hard that must have been to go through with.

“There was nothing to say, nobody left for them to blame, bar one, and they already knew about her. They came at both of us wanting to punish a dead man. That can be done, but they don’t have that power. I’m glad you made it through safely.”

“People have rallied round me. People I didn’t even know, and friends too. Things are looking up.”

Patience meant the words as she said them – so why was her delivery so unconvincing when it came to things looking up? She enjoyed both of her jobs, she was starting to socialise again – three-day weekends were good for that, Patience going to see live music at least once a week again. Bartholomew’s fate – which was by no means guaranteed to be entwined with hers even if he made it – was at the back of her mind but didn’t seem to be behind her downbeat tone. Something was wrong that she couldn’t put her finger on. She’d felt a heavy cloud of depression looming when it looked like the Love Phantom had croaked but that was replaced with euphoria when he recovered so it couldn’t be that.

Patience returned to dresser duties for the rest of the afternoon, attempting to bury this nagging worry. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad if she couldn’t identify the cause, right? She liked to listen to the blues and they’d rubbed off on her, that was all. She’d been through a lot and it took its toll. Getting through it and being safe now didn’t erase the huge stress she’d endured.

The afternoon proved to be a success all in all – not that Kalle seemed able to appreciate it. A Cinderella act had taken to the stage unannounced late in proceedings. Patience had missed her, having been backstage at the time, though she had heard her and heard plenty about her from a captivated Kalle. The mystery lady hadn’t been one of the booked acts and had not come to Patience for help getting ready. Patience was cross-examined on this point, Kalle stating that the 20s style dress looked like it had come out of wardrobe, except