Northern Girl (11 page)

Madeleine decided that she was going to go on seeing Nicole. And so she continued to do so, not caring whether there was an air raid or not. Things were quiet for a while after that, so Madeleine assumed that
Martine thought she’d successfully put her off going to the
boulangerie
. Martine didn’t bring up the subject again, which made it easier for Madeleine to go on dropping in there: she didn’t have to lie.

On later trips to Boulogne, Madeleine always visited Nicole in the mornings, making a special effort to concentrate on her studies and her sewing in the afternoons; and because Martine saw Madeleine’s work progressing, she became relaxed and even-tempered. At least until a little later, when Madeleine – convinced that if Martine met Nicole she would like her – plucked up the courage to ask if she could invite her friend to dinner one evening.

Madeleine nearly jumped through the ceiling when Martine turned, with a look like thunder, and shouted – actually shouted – in disbelief, ‘You mean the girl from the
boulangerie
?’

‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered.

Martine yelled, ‘No, she can’t come here!’ And refused to explain why.

Totally dumbfounded, Madeleine was about to speak when Martine said, ‘Are you telling me that you’ve been going there all this time, behind my back?’

Madeleine’s stunned silence answered the question.

‘Well, it’s obvious that I can’t trust you!’ Martine said. ‘I asked you not to go there for your own good.’ Then, after hesitating, she asked, never taking her eyes from Madeleine’s face, ‘Have you been to her house?’

‘No, I have not!’ said Madeleine, feeling really agitated by now. ‘But what if I had?’

‘That’s enough!’ Martine warned, holding up her hand to stop her confused younger sister from saying another word. Then she grabbed her coat, telling Madeleine, ‘I’ll have to talk to you about this later. I need to go out now.’

‘OK, if you won’t tell me,’ Madeleine said indignantly, ‘I’ll just have to ask Simone when she comes back. I’m sure
she
will be only too happy to explain!’

That had been the end of the conversation, and later, to Madeleine’s astonishment, the reason for Martine
needing
to go out had become abundantly clear. She’d bought a train ticket, so Madeleine could go home the very next morning.

When Simone came home later that night, Madeleine was still so upset that she stayed in her bedroom and didn’t bother to ask her about Nicole. She thought she probably wouldn’t get an honest answer while Martine was there, anyway.

She’d agonized about it all the way home on the train, and been unable to imagine what the problem could possibly be. But she made up her mind that she was going to get an explanation; she wasn’t going to let it go. Unfortunately she didn’t have Nicole’s home address, so couldn’t let her know what had happened. She wrote to the
boulangerie
, just in case, but never got an answer.

What
must
Nicole have thought of her leaving without saying goodbye? she wondered now. She knew her sisters were expecting her downstairs, but she wasn’t
sure she wanted to join them just yet. The events at the fair, on top of all this unresolved stuff about Nicole, had made her determined to force an explanation from Martine as soon as possible. She was jolly well going to find out what was going on!

On this positive thought, she picked up the little jacket she’d been remodelling and tried it on in the mirror. One sleeve was set into the shoulder completely wrong. As she ripped out the stitches she listened for the sound of Maman’s footsteps outside on the road. Although, if she knew Tante Lucy, she’d be filling Maman in on all the local gossip, which meant Maman could be gone for ages. She hoped not; she wanted to talk to her before Papa came in from his workshop.

Even though she had no doubt that Maman and Papa loved them all, and had done everything they could for them, Madeleine couldn’t help feeling that if only she was allowed a little more independence – and came up against fewer secrets – she’d be able to cope with things better, the way her friends did.

The reason for the awkwardness between Martine and Simone was yet another secret that was being kept from her. Well, she wasn’t a child, and she wasn’t putting up with it any more. She was going to let them know that there were to be no more secrets in this family.

At least Dominic confided in her. She smiled at the thought of her brother, only to realize with a jolt that she was guilty of exactly the same thing her family was doing. When the soldiers had been billeted in their
house during the occupation, hadn’t she lied to Dominic to protect him?

‘Why are you suddenly so jumpy and irritable?’ he’d asked.

And she’d said, ‘No reason. Everything is fine. Really.’ At the time she was terrified that, if he knew, he’d kill the soldier who was tormenting her. Everything had certainly not been fine. But she’d lied to protect him.

She cringed at the thought of those slimy Nazi hands, and the way they’d touched her at every opportunity. She’d been so terrified that she hadn’t even dared confide in her friends, in case it got back to her parents via theirs. What could Papa and Maman have done, anyway? What could anyone have done?

It had happened after the German soldiers had taken over the bedrooms. Madeleine had been adamant that she wanted a private place to herself, so she had ended up on a folding bed in the tiny room next to the
bouanderie
, which was normally used for storing odd bits of furniture. This had left poor Dominic, much to his chagrin, with no alternative but to share the attic with his parents. The family had been given no choice about it; they’d just had to cope as best they could.

The first few months of the occupation were nothing short of hell. The soldiers expected their clothes to be washed, dried and ironed for them – and there was endless cleaning to be done, the soldiers delighting in walking in muddy boots across freshly scrubbed floors.
There were two sittings for every meal: the soldiers provided luxuries for themselves like meatballs and sausages, and after they’d been fed, and started drinking by the fire, the family would sit down to the sparse leftovers, padded out with potatoes from the vandalized garden, and, very occasionally, vegetables and eggs from Tante Lucy.

As a result Madeleine gradually became so tired and debilitated that she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. And one night, with Maman’s help, she managed to get to bed early. Once there, she didn’t do her usual thing, and lie awake worrying, but fell into a deep sleep.

In the depths of her dreams she became vaguely aware of a presence, and sensed movement, but her eyes were so heavy she was unable to open them. Her dreams, though, became troubled and uncomfortable. In an unconscious bid to stay asleep, she wriggled around before turning on to her stomach. But, still semi-conscious, she became increasingly uneasy. And with her eyes still tight closed, but unable to hold on to her desperately needed sleep any longer, she lifted her head to push her pillow into shape, and, to her horror, felt a hand under her body!

As she tried to leap away, and scream, the nauseating smell of alcohol filled her nostrils. A hand was clapped over her mouth, and the stale-cigarette odour that oozed from it made her retch. The soldier it belonged to tried to rip her nightdress off with his free hand, and she struggled and fought with a viciousness that she had no
idea she possessed. But his strength was greater, and he managed to push her back down on the folding bed. Holding her down with both hands gave him the opportunity to straddle her, his full weight pressing down on her writhing body.

Once astride, he reached behind with one hand to lift her nightdress, while with the other he covered her mouth. Hearing the cotton fabric rip, she desperately bit into the hand covering her mouth. Salty blood filled her mouth, and the soldier snatched his hand away cursing with rage.

At that moment, her disgust far outweighed her fear. She struggled like a wild animal, biting and tearing at the soldier with her nails, and she managed to push him away, using not only her hands but her knees. Then she screeched, ‘Get off me, you bastard!
You … monstre!
’

And the way he laughed drunkenly at that somehow gave her the strength of another creature altogether, so that with one, final, almighty shove she pushed him on to the floor. Adrenalin took over, and, for one brief moment, as she stood over him, hands on hips, she was the one in charge. She looked down at his prone body in the darkness, and through gritted teeth said, ‘
Get out!
’

Her moment of triumph was over almost as soon as it began. He stood up, looming above her in the tiny darkened room, and, gripping both of her arms tightly, he said, ‘I’ll be back.’ Then, to make sure she understood, he repeated in bad French, ‘
Je reviens
.’

He let go of her and she stood there shaking, listening
to the sound of his boots clanking across the tiles. The thought struck her that the idiot hadn’t even had the sense to remove his boots before attacking her. But what had struck her more fiercely was that he intended to come back. And there she was, in the darkness, with no idea which soldier he was. The fact that he’d have a bite on his hand wouldn’t help her identify him, either, as the German soldiers wore black leather gloves most of the time.

Terrified, and with no chance of getting back to sleep, she sat rigidly on the bed, staring at the door, as if anticipating his return. And then she suddenly stood up, shocked.
Mon Dieu!
she thought. Why are you sitting here like an idiot? He’s going to come back! Get out of here – quick!

Panicking, she jumped off the bed, grabbed her coat and peered through the open door, not knowing whether he’d gone back up the stairs. Feeling strangely out of control of her shaking body, she paced back and forth across the tiny room. What to do? What to do? She was too afraid to go out of the door in case he was still there, lurking in the shadows. And her parents were sleeping right at the top of the house, in the attic, so she was unable to get to them without passing the floor where the Germans were sleeping.

Why on earth hadn’t anyone – including herself – guessed that this might happen? Her annoyance at her own stupidity stirred her into action, and made her think more clearly. She moved quickly to the window, where she placed her shoes and coat on
the inner sill. That done, she hoisted herself up on to her knees on the windowsill, and taking hold of the brass hooks each side of the sash frame, strained to push it up. At first there was a slight judder. Then nothing: the window wouldn’t budge.

Oh, merde alors!
Madeleine’s instinct at this point told her to smash the glass and forget about the consequences. But first she gave it one more try, and in desperation shook the window, praying that somehow it would loosen up. She looked over her shoulder nervously, thinking that she must be making enough noise to bring the whole household downstairs. Scared as she was, she didn’t want to waken everyone. After all, the German soldiers wouldn’t believe her, or care, even. She’d seen how they all sniggered and joked whenever she was in the same room. They might all be aware of what this bastard had done, anyway. Perhaps they’d put him up to it. And she knew exactly how her parents and Dominic would react, and that was reason enough not to wake them. Her family would jeopardize their own safety to stand up to these
monstres
.

She’d just given the window another shake when she heard a creak from the
bouanderie
next to her room, and her heart thumped so hard that she almost fell off the sill. Determinedly, she heaved with all her might, and the window moved a little way before sticking again.

Seeing that the gap was now big enough to squeeze through, she dropped to the floor, thinking that she might be able to pull herself through head first if she lay on her back. She shuffled into position, managed to get
her head out, then, holding on to the bottom of the window frame, she heaved and wriggled until she was on her knees on the outside sill, and while she was still facing that way she grabbed her coat and shoes and jumped down to the ground. By standing on her toes she could just reach the bottom of the frame of the newly loosened window, and she jiggled it back shut, covering her tracks in case the soldier came back into her room.

She wasted no time getting into her coat, and when she turned to walk into the darkness of the garden, realized she had no idea where to go. She’d thought no further than getting out of the room. She stood there for a moment, pressed to the wall, shivering until her teeth chattered. She knew she would have to get back into the house in the morning without the family knowing, but decided to worry about that later.

Dominic is going to have to swap beds with me after this, she thought tearfully, because there is no way I am sleeping in that room again. But now she had to find somewhere to hide, so, with her shoes wedged under her arm she ran towards the chicken coop. She opened the rickety wire netting door of the run, causing the chickens to cluck indignantly at the intrusion. ‘Shh, shh,’ she whispered as she fluffed up the straw in a corner of the coop before crouching down in it. And there she stayed for the remainder of the night, wedged into a corner and unable to sleep, with the family totally oblivious. And that’s how she planned to keep them, for all their sakes.

Next morning, having managed to sneak back into the house when her Papa had come out to visit the toilet, she’d been busy at the range, checking on the boiling saucepans, when she’d suddenly shuddered at the clank clank of boots approaching across the tiled floor. Her body stiffened with panic, but she purposely didn’t turn round. Instead, as the soldier’s hand slid across her bottom she lifted the heavy saucepan of boiling potatoes and turned abruptly to face him. Then she looked him straight in the eyes while holding the pan perilously close to his groin.

She knew she’d unnerved him when she saw him hesitate. He didn’t want to lose face in front of his comrades, though, so he’d smirked openly, while she’d continued to stare straight into his eyes. No words were spoken; he just gazed unblinkingly back, and for a second the tension was all-consuming, until, with a mocking grin, he turned and walked away. The grin told her that that wasn’t going to be the end of it.