Northern Girl (26 page)

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Authors: Fadette Marie Marcelle Cripps

BOOK: Northern Girl
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Feeling weak, she sat on the cold stone step and
shivered, not knowing what to do next. And then, from somewhere inside, she heard the sound of footsteps running downstairs. She got up from the step and suddenly found herself face to face with a man who had just let himself out of the front door. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said with a grin, ‘What do we have here?’

Madeleine said haltingly, ‘Er, I am Madeleine, a friend of Nicole’s.’

‘Sure you are,’ he answered. ‘I had better let you in then.’ And he stood to one side. Uncertainly, Madeleine squeezed past him, and was halfway up the stairs when he called, ‘Madeleine … I will see you next time, eh?’

Madeleine stopped and looked over her shoulder, with no idea what to say in reply. Instead, she shrugged and continued to the top of the stairs. His quiet laugh as he closed the door made her uneasy, and she waited until she heard him run down the stone steps outside, before knocking on the door to her right.

‘One minute!’ said a voice from the room at the other side of the door. And, with relief, Madeleine recognized it as Nicole’s.


Oui?
’ Nicole enquired, as she opened the door. Then she took a better look and exclaimed in horror … ‘Madeleine?’

Madeleine, suddenly feeling her knees giving way beneath her, just managed to say, ‘Nicole,’ before collapsing.

‘Oh,
mon Dieu
! What is it, what is wrong?’ Nicole said, shaking Madeleine gently. ‘Wake up, Madeleine. Wake up!’ She called out in panic, ‘Maman! Come quickly!’

‘What is it?’ Ginette said, appearing from an inner room. Seeing Madeleine lying on the floor she said calmly, ‘Get her to the divan.’

As Nicole tried to coax her to her feet Madeleine murmured something unintelligible, and Nicole and her mother half-dragged her to the divan.

‘Don’t talk, Madeleine, just lie still,’ Nicole said. Her mother fetched a blanket and a glass of water, and Nicole gently covered up her friend before tilting her head towards the glass.

Madeleine sipped gratefully, then lay back on the cushion, murmuring, ‘So sorry, I’m so sorry.’

Nicole glanced at her mother, who beckoned her to the kitchen. ‘Who is this girl?’ she asked.

‘It’s Madeleine, Maman! The friend I told you about, who used to call in at the
boulangerie
!’

‘What, the one who lives in Calais? Who suddenly disappeared?’ Her mother sounded tense.

‘Yes, Maman, the one who lives near Calais. And before you say anything else, I’m sure she had a good reason for disappearing like that.’


I
can guess why it happened,’ Ginette said.

‘You think it’s because she found out about our life? I think it’s more likely her sisters did, and ordered her home without explaining why. I just know she wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye to me. Not if she’d had any choice.’

‘I hope you are right. I remember how upset you were when she vanished.’

‘She’s here now. And she obviously needs our help.’

‘Obviously,’ Ginette echoed.

Madeleine started to move and Nicole ran over to her. ‘Steady, Madeleine, take it easy.’ She helped her to sit up.

Madeleine, trembling, looked around. The room was cosy and refined, with a red carpet and antique furniture. It was like something from a magazine, she thought fuzzily. Maybe she was still asleep, and this was all a dream. She slumped back down on the divan.

As she lay there a soft voice that she remembered hearing earlier asked, ‘Are you feeling a little better now?’

When Madeleine turned her head slightly she saw a slender, glamorous woman, who had to be Nicole’s mother, standing in front of her. Close to tears, Madeleine said, ‘I am so sorry to have disturbed you late at night, Madame Jobert, but I had nowhere else to go.’ She struggled up from the divan. ‘I must leave now, but thank you for your kindness.’

‘You will do no such thing,’ Nicole scolded. ‘You can sleep here tonight,’ she added, glancing at her mother for approval.

Her mother nodded. ‘OK, we will talk tomorrow. There are a few questions that I’d like to ask you, young lady, before you
disappear
again.’


Maman!
’ Nicole exclaimed.

Madeleine put her hand on Nicole’s arm. ‘It’s OK. I understand. We do need to talk.’

Chapter 19
Marck, France
Wednesday, 5 December 1945

Tom and Dominic travelled all night. They were so tired when they arrived in Marck that they could have slept leaning on a clothes line. Maman opened the door, and when she saw Tom standing next to Dominic, she perked up immediately, and, taking his hand in both of hers, her voice suddenly full of hope, she said, ‘Oh, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see
you
, Tom!’

‘I’m so sorry for what’s happened, Madame Pelletier …’ he began, but in answer she just kissed him on the cheeks.

Once she had closed the door firmly behind them, her mood changed again and she said, ‘I’d give anything just to know Madeleine is safe.’

Dominic crouched next to the chair she’d sunk into, and took her hand. ‘We will find her, Maman, I promise.’

‘It’s been so long. Where could she be?’ Maman gripped Dominic’s hand tightly.

‘Try not to worry, Maman,’ Dominic said. He rose to his feet, concerned at how tired she looked.

He glanced at Tom, who came over and put his hand on Maman’s shoulder, and she placed her hand over his before looking up at him. ‘We have looked everywhere that we can think of, Tom. Papa, Martine and Simone are out there now talking to her friends, but they don’t know anything. They’re simply shocked that Madeleine has run away.’ She added quickly, ‘Of course, we haven’t told
anyone
about the circumstances.’

Dominic translated this into English for Tom, who paced around the living room.

‘She’s taken your bike, Dominic. How far could she go on a bike?’ Maman asked, her furrowed brow showing deep lines that he was sure hadn’t been there when he’d left home four days ago.

‘If she’s taken the bike, then she must have been heading further away than we think,’ Dominic said.

The door burst open as Maman answered slowly, ‘But she knows no one outside the village—’

‘But that’s it!’ Martine interrupted, having caught the tail end of the conversation as she rushed in. ‘We’ve been looking too close to home! She
does
know someone else!’ She went over to Maman. ‘Oh, why didn’t I think of it before?’

She stood up and quickly hugged her brother and Tom, while apologizing for the belated greeting. ‘I knew you’d come, Tom,’ she said gratefully.

‘Where do you think she is?’ he asked, trying to fight the guilt, and rising panic, that he felt.

Papa and Simone had just come in through the door. Martine asked Dominic to translate for Tom. ‘Madeleine met a girl in Boulogne when she used to visit us there,’ she said. ‘She told me about her, but I wouldn’t allow her to continue the friendship.’

Dominic explained this to Tom, who immediately asked, ‘Why, who was she? Where does she live?’

‘Slow down, Tom,’ begged Dominic. ‘One question at a time, eh?
Mon Dieu
, I cannot translate that quickly!’

‘OK, Dominic,’ Tom said. ‘But shouldn’t you all have heard something by now if she’s gone there?’

Dominic looked at Martine. ‘Do you have the name of this girl?’

‘Yes. She is called Nicole, and she works in a
boulangerie
near my old flat.’

‘So what was the problem with the friendship?’ he asked curiously.

Martine glanced warily at Maman before answering. ‘Her mother ran a brothel during the war.’

Maman sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘
A brothel!
’ she exclaimed. ‘And her daughter, this … this Nicole, was she—?’

‘No, Maman, I don’t think so,’ Martine interrupted, ‘and Madeleine knew nothing about it at all, as far as I’m aware.’

‘You really think she may have gone to find this Nicole?’ Maman asked, a glimmer of hope in her tired eyes, because by now she didn’t care where Madeleine was – in a brothel or elswhere – just as long as she was safe.

Dominic, knowing his sister the way he did, tried to second-guess what she would have done. He said slowly, ‘Yes … that makes sense. She’d have used my bike to get to the station in Calais.’

And Tom, who was desperately trying to keep up with what they were saying now that Dominic seemed to have forgotten all about translating, raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

‘I will explain later,’ Dominic said in answer to Tom’s silent question. Then, firmly placing his arm round Tom’s shoulder, he said with a decisiveness that he didn’t feel, ‘Come, Tom, we’ve work to do!’ Everyone else got up from their chairs, as if the matter was resolved.

‘Well, I hope you’re right, mate,’ Tom said, begging Dominic to explain what was happening. He couldn’t understand why Madeleine had chosen to go to Boulogne rather than stay with a friend locally, if all she had needed was to get away from the house for a while.

Martine, who was in the middle of writing down the address of the
boulangerie
, stopped and looked up, startled, as if a fresh idea had suddenly hit her. ‘Oh, she wouldn’t!’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘She couldn’t!’

‘Wouldn’t, couldn’t, what?’ Dominic was worried now.

Martine glanced towards Maman, who was now standing at the kitchen table, making a late breakfast for everyone. While she spread her home-made strawberry jam on to thick slices of bread Papa poured coffee. Simone was nowhere to be seen.

Martine whispered urgently to Dominic, ‘What if she’s trying to get an abortion?’

Dominic, aghast at the suggestion, whispered back, ‘She wouldn’t do that! She wouldn’t know how. And anyway, she’s a Catholic!’

‘Look, Dominic, I know that you and Madeleine were close, but maybe you don’t know her as well as you think any more. She has changed. She’s a woman now, and pregnant, with, she thinks, no support from her family, and no husband. Religion would be the last thing on her mind. She’d be more concerned about the shame and embarrassment she’s bringing on us all.’


Mon Dieu!
’ Dominic whispered. ‘If you are right we’re going to be too late!’

He turned to look at Tom, who had wandered over to the kitchen table, near Maman. He had a slice of bread and jam in one hand, and a tiny coffee cup in the other, and was staring vacantly out of the window.

Papa, who’d said nothing so far, was feeding logs into the top of the range.

Dominic turned back to Martine. ‘We’ve got to leave at once,’ he said.

As he headed for the kitchen she gave him the piece of paper with the address of the
boulangerie
. Then she kissed him on both cheeks, and whispered, ‘Good luck!’

His mother looked up as he gently gripped her shoulder, but addressed Tom. ‘We must go now. I’ll explain on the way.’

Tom, perturbed to see Martine looking so distressed, could only nod in response.

Without speaking, Papa gave Dominic a hug. His eyes brimming with tears, he took Tom’s hand and said only one word: ‘
Merci
.’

With a lump in his throat, wishing he had the ability to apologize to – and thank – this wonderful family, Tom picked up the suitcases. Dominic threw back a cup of coffee in a single gulp before reassuring his mother that he would telephone Martine at work when he had some news.

At the front door Tom and Dominic turned and looked back at the Pelletiers, and the expectation in those faces was almost too much for them. They closed the door quietly and set off for Boulogne.

Boulogne, France
Monday, 3 December 1945

Madeleine slept fitfully while Ginette tried to convince her daughter Nicole that if she wanted her friend to stay she had no choice: she had to tell her about the brothel, and her maman’s way of life.

‘But, Maman, she will be horrified! Now is not the right time!’ Nicole exclaimed. ‘I can’t, I just can’t!’

Ginette, feeling her daughter’s pain, said sadly, ‘I am sorry,
ma fille
, that you are so ashamed of me, but I don’t need to remind you how desperate we were when your papa left.’

‘Oh, I know all that, Maman! But this is the first time I’ve ever had a proper friend, and I don’t want
to embarrass her. Surely you understand that?’

Ginette held her daughter’s hands, and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that Madeleine knows you have nothing to do with any of this, and that you don’t sell your body like your maman.’

The despair in Nicole’s eyes brought tears to Ginette’s.

Nicole asked, ‘Oh, Maman, why do you continue to do this
awful
job?’

Ginette gestured at the flat. ‘Because,
ma fille
, it means we can live like this.’ Before Nicole could answer, she added, with a resigned shrug of her shoulders, ‘It’s as simple as that!’

Nicole realized that as far as her mother was concerned, the conversation was over. She decided to go to bed. ‘Goodnight, Maman,’ she said, smiling and kissing her on both cheeks.

‘Goodnight,
ma fille
.’

Nicole tiptoed over to the divan to check on Madeleine, who, she discovered, was lying there with her eyes open. She hesitated, wondering how much, if any, of the previous conversation she had overheard. But Madeleine only smiled weakly. ‘Goodnight, Nicole,’ she said.

And Nicole, bringing a second blanket, crouched down in front of her and moved her glass of water within easier reach. Then she asked, ‘Would you like something to eat?’

‘Oh no, thank you.’

‘OK.’ Nicole pushed a plate of biscuits towards her,
saying, ‘Just in case, eh?’ She smiled. ‘Goodnight, Madeleine. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘Yes, tomorrow,’ Madeleine answered, touching Nicole’s hand.

Nicole went off to her room, grateful that Madeleine appeared to have heard nothing.

But Madeleine
had
heard what the two women had said, and felt shaky as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. She had a sip of water, took a biscuit from the selection on the little table in front of her, and stared at the doorway where Nicole’s mother had stood earlier.

Everything finally made sense: she understood now why she had only ever met Nicole at the
boulangerie
, and why her friend had never talked much about her mother. But even with these puzzling conditions, she and Nicole had become close. Not exactly in the way Madeleine was close to her school friends, of course, but it was still a loving friendship.

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