Northern Girl (18 page)

Maman stopped what she was doing, and turned to look at her daughter. ‘Who is “we?”’ she asked.

‘“We” is all of us,’ Madeleine put in quickly. ‘Oh,
you needn’t worry, Maman. It was all above board.’ Well, that wasn’t a lie really, she thought. She felt slightly guilty, all the same.

Maman, looking reassured, asked, ‘And who is he, this English soldier?’

Madeleine, braver now, because Maman was being so reasonable, said enthusiastically, ‘He’s called Tom, and he’s billeted just outside the village, and he said that he would like to call on me—’ She corrected herself quickly, ‘On
us
. With your and Papa’s permission, of course! You will make it all right with Papa, won’t you, Maman?’

‘Just give me time to think, will you, Madeleine?’ Maman answered, sounding harassed, before changing the subject. ‘Is Papa still working down there?’ She glanced through the kitchen window towards the bottom of the garden.

Madeleine had forgotten about Papa working in his workshop, what with all the dramatic revelations since getting home. ‘Oh, Maman, he is, and I forgot all about him! I didn’t even take him a coffee, or go to tell him about the fair! And after I forced him to let me go, too!’

‘Don’t worry. Papa would have come in if he’d been desperate,’ Maman said consolingly. Then she added, ‘Come on, help me with the dinner before he finishes. No doubt he’ll be starving after being out there all day.’

And so there’d been no more talk about the fair, or soldiers.

Martine was feeling strangely liberated. She knew that what she’d said would remain between her and her sisters. She could see no reason to worry her parents – or anyone else – about something that was over; even though Louis’s betrayal, not just of her, but of her country, still hurt.

Simone, on the other hand, was sitting in her bedroom, trying to take in what Martine had just told her. She clenched her hands into fists, feeling a confused mixture of fury and gratitude. She was furious with Martine for leaving her to suffer and repent all this time, when her fling with Louis, although wrong, had had a positive side. But then she was also grateful to know why he’d suddenly disappeared. She’d thought that he’d lost interest in them both, and that that was why he’d vanished without a word.

Anyway, she’d saved her sister from a life of hell.
After all, he was a complete bastard! Well, what else would you expect from someone called ‘Louis Lamont’? She laughed mirthlessly. It probably wasn’t even his real name.

She remembered how gullible she’d been, from the very first moment she’d set eyes on Louis. It was an evening in the autumn of 1943, and he’d come to take Martine to a nightclub. Simone had been envious, not just because her sister was going to have fun while she stayed in to study, but because Louis was a stunner: blond, debonair, impeccably dressed.

She flinched even now, remembering how – because Martine was still excitedly getting ready – she’d opened the door of the flat to Louis. He’d insisted on kissing her hand, and she’d blushed. Once inside, he’d prowled around, picking up ornaments and examining them minutely, opening doors, and glancing up at paintings.

‘Martine won’t be long,’ she’d said.

He’d just smiled, answering her with a question, ‘What are you going to do, Simone, while we are dancing the night away without a care in the world?’

‘Me! Oh, I will be studying,’ she’d answered. ‘It’s all I ever seem to do these days.’

He’d smiled widely. ‘And what wonderful job are you studying for, if I may ask?’

‘I want to be a pharmacist, but I sometimes wonder why.’

‘That’s a good profession, but life is too short for a dazzling girl like you to spend your time studying, especially now. After all, who knows what the future
holds?’ Then, after gazing at her with a smile on his lips, he’d added, ‘You look like you need some fun.’

Martine had walked into the room at that point, looking gorgeous in her one and only best dress. The red fabric had set off her auburn hair amazingly, and Louis had devoured her with his eyes; he’d looked at Simone in much the same way earlier.

Simone’s heart had ached with jealousy as she’d heard them laughing in the street. Once they’d slammed the car doors and driven off she sat on the settee miserably. She glanced over at the small dining table and two dining chairs heaped with her papers and textbooks.

The apartment was comfortable enough, but that evening it felt empty and dismal. With a sigh, she got to her feet and made a decision. She walked over and gathered up her papers and books, shoving them in the deep drawer at the bottom of her bedside cabinet. She’d had enough of studying, she decided. Louis was right. Who knew what would happen in the future? She could be dead tomorrow.

She had to continue with her daytime job assisting at the local pharmacy, if only because she needed the money. Anyway, she’d probably learn a bit while she was there. It beats going to evening classes twice a week, she thought. She was going to enjoy herself instead. She reasoned that there would be plenty of time to study after the wretched war was over. It couldn’t go on much longer, could it?

She was very nervous the first few times she missed her classes; she went to the cinema instead with her
friend Nadine – who worked with her at the pharmacy – and hoped no one would see them. Nadine had no career plans of her own, so was happy enough to tag along wherever Simone went. Nadine’s dream was to marry her boyfriend, Philippe, and have as many babies with him as possible.

As Martine became more and more entranced with Louis, Simone found it easier to skip her classes. She told her tutors that she had to go home to Calais for a while to see her family. And after a few weeks she became confident enough to stop hiding away in the cinema, and instead frequented one of the most popular cafés in the
centre ville
, where she and Nadine met all kinds of interesting people.

Simone tried her first cigarette there. Well, everyone else seemed to be smoking, so why not? And anyway, it made her feel sophisticated. She and Nadine spent very little money on these outings, sometimes making two cups of coffee or a beer last all evening.

Nadine, like Simone, didn’t want to sit around while life passed her by; or, even worse, wait for a bomb to ‘drop on her head’, as she put it – to Simone’s amusement. Both girls really looked forward to the free time they spent together, and Simone convinced herself that it was doing her much more good than studying. She told herself she had enrolled in the school of life. Even Martine, engrossed in her work and the ubiquitous Louis, commented on how much more easygoing and contented her sister was. Simone didn’t know it – but she was about to have a new experience. And one
that, at the time, she foolishly imagined would make her happier.

Feeling hot and flushed by that particular memory, Simone got up from the bed and walked to the window, where she cooled her face against the glass, hoping that if she gazed at the garden for long enough, she would think about something else. But her mind was brimming with memories; there wasn’t any way to avoid them.

That night was still so vivid that it could have happened yesterday. She remembered saying goodbye to Nadine outside the café before setting off for her bus stop. And a car drawing up beside her, and slowing down to walking pace. She tried not to look at the driver, and walked with her head down. But then she heard a familiar voice call out, ‘Hey, Simone, no night class tonight, then?’

Oh
merde
, she thought, I’m in trouble now. He knows I’ve been playing truant. But she held her nerve, and said casually, ‘Oh, hello, Louis. No, I didn’t have any classes tonight.’

‘Hey, slow down, Simone. What’s your hurry?’ he asked, as it started to rain. ‘Look, get in and I’ll run you home.’

She had no umbrella, so with only the slightest hesitation she jumped in, and when he turned his roguish smile on her she felt she’d melt.

‘So Martine doesn’t know your little secret?’ he’d said, laughing, obviously knowing the answer.

‘I am going to study. Just not now,’ Simone said, feeling strangely confident.

‘I guess some lucky man is pleased by your decision,’ Louis said playfully.

‘Oh no! I haven’t been meeting a man,’ Simone answered quickly. ‘I’ve been with a girlfriend.’ For some odd reason she wanted to make that clear to him, and she knew it wasn’t because she was scared he’d tell Martine. In fact, she’d known for sure that he wouldn’t. She simply wanted him to know there were no men in her life.

When they arrived at the end of her street he stopped the car, suggesting that it might be safer to get out there than in front of the apartment. She agreed, and he leaned over to open the door for her, just as she turned her head to give him a peck on the cheek. Whether by accident or design she still wasn’t sure, but their lips met and she didn’t object. In fact, she was so overcome by desire that she pulled him tightly towards her. She sensed he was fully aware how much he excited her, but she didn’t care. He gripped the back of her hair and kissed her lips so fiercely that their soreness caused her, reluctantly, to pull away.

‘Can we meet?’ he asked with urgency.

‘Soon, very soon,’ she answered, and two days later they were in the apartment alone, frantically undressing each other.

And that was when they’d been caught by Martine, who had walked out of the bedroom without a word, banging the door behind her.

The clattering of cutlery and animated chatter came to a sudden halt as Tom walked back into the room. His face was ashen, and he was holding a letter in one hand and an envelope in the other.

‘What is it, Tom?’ asked Hannah, getting up from the table and rushing over to him.

Tom didn’t speak. He simply stared ahead and handed her the letter Norah Atkins from No. 1 Glamis Terrace had brought round.

‘The nine must ’ave been mistook for a one on the address, there’s only a small loop at t’ top – look,’ Norah had said, pointing to the number on the envelope. ‘But you’d think the bloody postman would’ve known our names by now,’ she’d added, handing the letter to Tom at the back door. She’d gone on to explain that she’d been out when it had arrived yesterday, and only got home about five minutes ago.
‘So ah thought ah’d better hurry and get it round to you,’ she’d said. ‘It looks like it might be from France, lad!’

‘Aye it does,’ he’d answered. Then, thanking her, he’d torn the letter open and scanned its contents before closing the door. And, seeing his expression, Norah had walked away, knowing better than to ask any more questions.

Seeing the looks on their faces, Rene jumped up from the table, saying to Tom and Hannah, ‘Well, what is it? Has someone died?’

Hannah, having read the short letter twice, dropped her arm until it was hanging limply by her side. Then, looking searchingly into Tom’s eyes, she begged, ‘Tell me this isn’t true, lad!’

She had her answer when Tom flopped down on the couch. Gently, Rene took the letter from Hannah’s hand, and could see immediately that although it was in English it hadn’t been written by a native.

Wednesday, 28 Novembre 1945

Cher Monsieur et Madame Dawson
,

We think that this letter will be a shock for you
.

But we do not know what else to do
.

We have to tell you that your son Tom and our daughter Madeleine are going to have a baby
.

We are sending our son Dominic to talk with you and Tom. He will be travelling to England on Saturday, 1 Decembre, and we hope that it will be OK with you to see him. We very much regret
this shock, but as you will understand, we are very worried, and as Madeleine’s maman et papa we think that Tom should be told about this. With regards, Monsieur et Madame Pelletier

Written on behalf of her parents by Martine, the older sister of Madeleine
.

And we very much hope that this letter arrives with you before Dominic, as everything has been arranged very quickly
.

Having read it through, Rene looked from Tom to her mother, who’d now also flopped down on the couch.

‘Well, it’s not the end of the world,’ she said gently.

When there was no answer to her remark, she looked at her brother, and with eyebrows raised she asked, ‘Is it, Tom?’ There was still no answer, so, without taking her eyes off Tom, she handed the letter to her dad, who, while turning it the right way up to read it was saying, ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’

Mam suddenly sat forward and asked Tom, ‘When did it say her brother was comin’?’

Tom got up and started pacing the floor. ‘He’s already in England now, according to the letter. He could be here any time.’

‘Good God!’ Mam exclaimed. ‘He could arrive terday!’

‘Is there a sweet after dinner, lass?’ Grandda Elliott suddenly piped up, while wiping his mouth, seemingly oblivious to anything but the food.

‘Yes, there’ll be some apple pie in a minute, Da,’ Hannah replied absent-mindedly, getting up from the couch.

Tom followed her into the scullery while Rene and Da sat back down at the table. Jeannie, who’d been playing with some of her grandda’s collection of pipes, looked from one to the other. ‘What’s goin’ on, why has everybody got long faces?’ she asked, and then had a coughing fit because she’d been sucking on one of the empty pipes.

‘For goodness’ sake, Jeannie, what on earth possessed you to do that?’ Rene scolded, patting her on the back, while Jack, who’d made no comment so far on the letter, smiled reassuringly at Jeannie and poured her some fizzy pop to take away the taste of the stale old pipe.

‘Well, Great-Grandda Elliott looks happy enough when he’s smoking a pipe,’ Jeannie said, in all seriousness, ‘and you lot have all got long faces, so ah thought ah’d give it a go and be ’appy like me great-grandda.’

‘“Happy”, Jeannie, not “’appy”,’ Rene implored.

‘Oh, Mam!’ Jeannie sighed.

Rene ignored Jeannie’s protest and turned to her father, placing her hand over his, and saying, ‘It will be all right, you know, Da. It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’