learned that stuffing paper into the toes helped to close the gap.
After finding a small bakery along the way, which was weevil free, Suzette purchased a croissant and a cup of tea from the last bit of funds given to her by Monsieur Pelletier. She handed over the coins to the clerk feeling as if she were saying goodbye to her last friend—a silver franc. The morning tea and fluffy pastry brought satisfaction, and Suzette left the café intent on making it to her destination as soon as possible.
She made her way across town to the dress shops along the Champs-Élysées. The avenue, choked with busy shoppers, excited her senses as she passed by stores and restaurants of all varieties. Already her imagination pictured herself renting a furnished room inside a boarding house, after she received her first pay. Nothing would dash her hopes of finding work.
Nevertheless, her dreams quickly faded after hours of rejection. Store by store turned her away, giving every possible excuse. It was obvious that her plain dress, which showed years of wear and frayed seams, ruined her chances. All she received were the contemptible glances of shopkeepers and clerks, eyeing her up and down. She had been repeatedly shooed away like a fly, which fueled Suzette’s anger over her stolen clothes. No doubt the thief had donned her best dress and found work.
By late afternoon, her stomach growled, and she worried about making it back to the shelter in time for her daily meal. After receiving the last shunning glance from a store clerk, she turned and walked across town as quickly as possible. Frustrated over the flopping shoes, which impeded her progress, she removed them and began walking in her stocking feet.
By the time she arrived, they were torn to shreds, but she had arrived in time for her portion of food. After eating another bland meal all alone, Suzette retreated to her bunk bed. She only wanted to hide beneath the covers again and find the strength to face another day.
* * *
Depressed and despondent after days of searching for work, Suzette felt pressured. Her search for employment was no better than most of the girls in the shelter. Bakeries, tailor shops, restaurants, and whatever else she could think of, turned her away one after the other.
Sister Mary warned the shelter residents that St. Vincent de Paul was at capacity and had been turning away other needy women. When housing became scarce, the shelter requested longtime residents to leave in order to make room for the incoming poor. Almshouses elsewhere in Paris were filled to the brim. An appalling number of homeless citizens wandered the streets, contributing to the crime and filth that Suzette witnessed daily outside the charity doors.
To make matters worse, the Parisian government conducted routine sweeps of the city streets, gathering homeless vagabonds and deporting them to remote, rural areas. In response to the aristocracy and bourgeoisie’s request to rid beautiful Paris of what they termed the “scum of the earth,” a new order had been released for roundups to begin within the next week. Suzette knew if she were unsuccessful in finding work, she would eventually be among those taken to the countryside and dumped like garbage without food and shelter.
Sister Mary recognized Suzette’s good-hearted nature and took a liking to her. When she received word that a local washhouse had just a job opening, she told Suzette first before posting it on the board.
“Why don’t you try to get a job as a laundress? One of the local blanchisseries is looking for a female employee. They will provide housing too.”
Suzette had shunned the known sweat houses of Paris, mostly from fear and disgust. Becoming a laundress was a less-than-desirable occupation. Social stigma, long hours, and low pay—none of which sounded appealing—discouraged her from the thought. As Sister Mary wrote down the name of the washhouse and address on a piece of paper, Suzette caught the
Learning to Kill: Stories