Northern Girl (6 page)

Invariably, those late-night conversations between him and Tom had ended on a light note, and they’d told each other a few jokes. Some didn’t translate well from French, but Tom always laughed anyway.

Then, eventually, the day had come when Tom had called in to let them all know he’d been demobilized, and was going home at last. He’d talked about it for months, but once it actually happened it was obvious he was in no hurry to leave. He told Dominic he hadn’t reckoned on
falling
for anyone, as he’d put it. The thought of leaving Maddie tore him apart, even though he’d known in his heart, right from the start, that it couldn’t last. He’d always been aware that a relationship with a French girl could go nowhere. But, as he’d confessed to Dominic, Madeleine was so lovely she had got right under his skin. Sometimes at night, when he was lying in his bed back at the barracks, he imagined what it would be like when he had to go home. He’d decided that if he and Maddie promised to write to each other the parting would be easier. But what he hadn’t said to Dominic was that, deep down, he had a feeling
that the letter-writing would be short-lived, or simply wouldn’t happen at all. Well, he couldn’t just walk away, could he? He had to tell her – and himself – that they were going to keep in touch.

He’d also told Dominic how he’d hoped he’d get back to normal life quickly once he was home, because then maybe the nightmares would stop. And Dominic felt sad to think, ‘Here I am bringing another nightmare right to his doorstep!’

‘Will all foot passengers please head for stairway C on the upper deck, and prepare to disembark!’ The loudspeaker announcement made Dominic jump, and he looked up to see crowds of passengers pushing towards the stairs. He stayed where he was, marvelling at the mentality that made people fight other people to be first in line. He reached under the table for his case, and brushed the cigarette ash from the sleeve of his now-crumpled jacket. Then he stood up and glanced across to check the state of the queue. As he did so he caught the eye of an attractive dark-haired girl who seemed to be looking in his direction. He smiled, but she quickly turned away. I must have been mistaken, he decided. She wasn’t looking at me at all. This business with Madeleine is playing havoc with my head. He walked towards the end of the queue.

Standing there, he found it impossible not to search through the bobbing heads in front of him to see if he could pick out the pretty stranger. There she was! As he stood on tiptoe, his stomach fluttered. Then she turned her head, their eyes locked again for a brief moment, and she smiled. He felt a pang of excitement. He wasn’t sure if she’d blushed, or if the colour he’d seen had just been the deep red of her coat reflecting on her cheeks. Although she turned back to face the front of the queue, he could see she was shifting nervously from foot to foot. She was aware of his eyes on her, he knew.

Too soon, he lost sight of her. He ran his fingers through his dishevelled fair hair, allowing himself a wide smile, before addressing himself again to the job of finding Tom’s family in … where was it? He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper, on which was written, in his mother’s neat handwriting:

Mr and Mrs Jack Dawson

9, Glamis Terrace

Evenwood

Near Bishop Auckland

County Durham

He pushed the paper back in his pocket, and concentrated on the queue, which was moving more quickly now. Standing on tiptoe again, he made a last attempt to see the mysterious girl, but to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen, and for a brief moment he felt an unreasonable sense of loss.

For Madeleine,
everything
had changed.

She pulled herself up from her bedroom floor, where she’d been sitting since her row with Maman, thoughts whirling in her head. She’d no idea how long she’d been there, fretting about the future. She went to the window and looked out at the back garden, with its neatly-trimmed grass, and rows of cabbages and root vegetables. She remembered how neglected it had been only recently. And, sad as she was, she couldn’t help smiling as she recalled seeing both her papa
and
her maman out there, working to put it right after the mistreatment it had suffered at the hands of the occupying Germans.

She’d found the sight surprising, because before the war Maman had
never
had the time or the inclination to work outside. But once their unwelcome guests had left, she’d spent hours gardening with Papa, and seemed
to enjoy it. It must have been something to do with her new-found freedom. Maman had taken on a fresh lease of life after those hostile bastards left.

And now, as Madeleine thought about the shame she had brought on the family, the cloud of sorrow hanging over her grew heavier. This war has changed us all, that’s for sure, she thought, weeping as she looked at the neat rows of vegetables. Through her tears she couldn’t help noticing how spectacularly the pale, filigreed carrot tops contrasted with the dark-green sturdiness of the round cabbages. They’re just waiting to be cut and thrown into a pan, she thought, as a disturbing vision came into her head. She could still see the German soldiers laughing as they urinated over Papa’s cabbages, and, not satisfied with that, kicked them off their stems and used them as footballs. She shuddered now, remembering how she’d put her whole family in danger. She’d been so enraged by their behaviour that, for one adrenalin-filled moment, she’d forgotten any fear she had of ‘
les monstres
’. She’d run outside, stopping only to grab a spade. Clutching it in both hands, she’d been about to take a swing at the two nearest soldiers, when Dominic, who knew only too well how they’d retaliate, had come up behind her and taken the spade before it did any damage. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, and there had been total silence as Madeleine was dragged back into the house by her trembling brother. Then the drunken Germans had laughed before resuming their game. They hadn’t stopped until all the cabbages were smashed to pieces.

Madeleine hunched her shoulders. Dominic had gripped her arm tight. Once they were out of sight of the soldiers he had shaken her, shouting, ‘Have you any idea what they’d have done to you? They’re bad enough sober. Don’t you see, they taunt us because they want us to react, and you … you played right into their hands!’

‘You’re hurting me, let go!’ she’d shouted.

He’d released her and backed away, saying quietly, ‘You’re lucky they’re only laughing about it.’

But that was no comfort to Madeleine, who knew the soldiers actively enjoyed her frustration. She was powerless, and they could do anything they wanted. Her biggest regret was that after that – after realizing how spirited she was – she had become a challenge to them for the rest of the occupation, and they had found her even more attractive. She’d drawn attention to herself, and wished she hadn’t. ‘Ugh!’ She shivered at the memory as she wrapped her cardigan around herself for comfort. She refused to think about the Germans.

She was hungry now, and would have gone downstairs, but didn’t want to face the family, so decided to stay in her room. She thought wistfully that if she’d been outside, and it had been summer, she could have picked blackcurrants, gooseberries and raspberries. It seemed a lifetime ago that she and Dominic had been little, and hidden behind those bushes stuffing their faces with as much fruit as possible. How they’d suffered afterwards! Maman and Papa hadn’t been sympathetic about their stomach cramps and desperate visits to the toilet. They’d just ticked them off, and told
them never to do it again. And of course they had taken no notice!

So many things had changed, and now here she was, eighteen and pregnant. She couldn’t bear to think how distraught her Maman was, and as for Papa: she still adored him, but he’d changed completely. Gone were the times when she’d hug him every time he came in from work, her embrace releasing the subtle aroma of wood shavings still lingering on his clothes. That scent had always filled her with a sense of security, so much so that if she’d felt worried about anything, she’d just have to smell shavings to feel calm and safe. She’d lost count of the times she’d wandered into his workshop over the years, simply to be reassured by that powerful aroma, and to watch him plane wood, running a hand over it to check the smoothness until the surface shone like silk. The look of pride on his serene, kindly face had often brought tears to her eyes. But she’d always left him alone if he was concentrating very hard, because she knew he took his work so seriously. Madeleine pulled a face similar to Papa’s now as she remembered his expression at those times. She would watch him quietly, not daring to utter a word, scarcely even breathing. And she wouldn’t relax until the dovetail joints were fitted perfectly, followed by a triumphant, ‘
Et voilà!
’ as Papa set down his mallet and chisel.

Now, with the war over, Papa was taking on jobs that weren’t remotely connected with carpentry or cabinet-making, but he was his usual considered self about it: he simply did what he could. So
why
, she wondered, can’t
he cope with my situation now? How can he have altered so much? she thought, recalling her eleventh birthday. That day, feeling particularly happy, she’d crept into the workshop while Papa was out, and, seeing the giant heap of curly wood shavings against the wall, she had, as usual, longed to jump into them, even though it was forbidden.

But this time she’d been unable to resist, and taken an enormous leap on to the top. It was as soft as landing on a cloud, and there she lay in ecstasy, allowing that aromatic scent she loved so much to fill her whole being. She’d been there for some time when, to her dismay, Papa walked in.

She sat up quickly, stuttering an apology for the mess, ‘S-sorry Papa—’

He looked at her, laughing, and said, ‘I’ll tell you a secret,
ma fille
, I’ve always longed to do that myself, but never had the courage.’

She gazed at him in surprise. ‘Well, come on then, Papa, you must do it now!’ When he hesitated she pleaded, ‘Just think how awful it would be to wish you had done it, when it was too late!’

He smiled at this, and as she held out her hand he hesitated. So she stuck out her hand even further while he looked around furtively to check if anyone else was around. She seized the opportunity to grab his hand, and with a sharp tug he was in. ‘Come on, Papa, get into the middle where you can
drown
in ecstasy!’ she said.

‘Shush!’ Papa answered. ‘If Maman sees us she will think I’ve lost my mind!’

‘Well, you can tell her you were looking for it in the wood shavings, then!’ Madeleine said, throwing a handful at him.

‘If I didn’t know you better,
ma fille
, I’d think you’d been at my wine bottle,’ Papa said. Then, seemingly without a care in the world, they’d thrown shavings at each other, and for a short time Madeleine had glimpsed what her papa must have been like as a boy.

She’d treasured their special closeness. Thinking of it now made her heart fill with love; and sadness, because it had gone.

As she turned away from the window, she caught sight of the pretty blue dress in a crumpled heap on the bed, and, feeling ashamed at how childishly she’d stormed off to her room after the confrontation with Maman, she picked it up and held it against herself. Before the argument, she’d thought, stupidly, that she could bring a little joy into Maman’s day by wearing it. She’d rushed down into the kitchen to show it to her, and even though she’d been unable to look her mother in the eye, her arms had been outstretched to show all the hard work she’d done. And she’d asked with a twirl, trying to provoke the smallest sign of approval, ‘Well, what do you think?’ After all, she’d sewn every stitch herself, and it
was
something that Maman had been nagging her to do, ever since Tante Lucy had given her the material. Madeleine had hoped that maybe Maman would start believing in her again, once she saw that she could apply herself to a difficult task, and wasn’t a complete failure.

But her mother hadn’t given the dress a second glance, telling her to sit down.

There was something much more urgent to discuss: the plan to send her to England.

It had been six months since the daisy-printed material in cornflower blue had been brought to the house by Tante Lucy, and Madeleine had fallen in love with it at once. Tante Lucy was great fun. She was Maman’s sister, and the whole family loved her. She owned a farm just a few kilometres from their home in Marck. As a result she was able to stop off quite frequently and visit them whenever she went to Calais, which was only a few kilometres further on. She’d deliver her farm produce to outlets in and around that town, and if she had time, call in again on her return journey. It was on one of these trips, after she’d been given it by one of her regular customers (who was short of cash that week), that Tante Lucy had turned up with the roll of fabric on her shoulder. The material had been no good to Tante Lucy, who couldn’t even sew a button on without pricking her finger. She’d only accepted it because she knew that Madeleine would put it to good use. And Madeleine, who was always delighted to hear the clip clop of Tante Lucy’s pony, Horace, along with the squeaking wheels of the trap he pulled, had hardly been able to contain herself when her aunt had given her such a lovely present. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a new dress. She usually made do with altered hand-me-downs from one or other of her sisters. But
that day, she’d hugged her aunt delightedly, and danced around with the fabric draped over her shoulders, while Tante Lucy sat her stout little self down at the kitchen table with a satisfied look on her face. As always, Tante Lucy drained the red wine from her glass fast before banging it down on the table to be refilled by Maman. Tante Lucy always managed to cheer everyone up with her funny stories – which became more and more exaggerated after a few glasses of wine. There were days when it was pure luck that she got home at all. When Madeleine once voiced her concern about this, Tante Lucy had answered blithely, ‘Don’t worry, Horace could do the journey with his eyes shut!’ This was reassuring, because Madeleine was sure that Tante Lucy drove him home with her eyes closed, too!