Northern Girl (10 page)

Madame Renaude, obviously disappointed that her scandalous titbit had been received so calmly, flounced off, muttering something uncomplimentary about the youth of today.

Really scared now, and with the promises she’d made to Papa echoing in her head, Martine began searching frantically through the crowds.

Madeleine, in a panic, with Tom in close pursuit, had almost reached the carousel when Martine suddenly gripped her by the arm. ‘Where have you been?’ she said furiously. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

Tom, guessing this was one of Madeleine’s sisters, said, ‘I’m so sorry … it’s all my fault.’

Martine and Simone stared at him, and before they could say another word, Madeleine burst out, ‘This is Tom, and we were at the nougat stall. I’m so sorry, I just got carried away and I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.’ Her sisters glared at her, and, in an effort to dispel the tension, Madeleine turned to Tom. ‘My seesters, Martine
et
Simone … not … happy.’

Then she glared at her sisters and continued in her own language, ‘This is ridiculous, I’m almost eighteen, after all!’

At this Martine pulled her to one side. ‘Just what do you think you are playing at, Madeleine?’ she demanded. ‘We trusted you, and you repay us by wandering off with a soldier you’ve never met before! I can’t believe you could be so stupid.’ She pulled Madeleine even further away from the other two, and whispered through gritted teeth, ‘It’s the kind of thing I’d expect from Simone, but not you. I think it’s best if we go home now. I’m not staying here to nanny the two of you!’

‘But Martine, you don’t understand, I did nothing wrong. We only went to buy nougat. I just got carried away for a moment – but I came back as soon as I realized you’d be looking for me. After all, I’m hardly likely to get lost in my own village!’

Tom, who was watching Madeleine and Martine intently, glanced at Simone, conscious that she was weighing him up. ‘I meant no harm, you know,’ he felt
obliged to explain. ‘We were only buying nougat. Look!’ He opened the bag and offered it to her.

Simone was not sure what he’d said, but guessed it was an apology. Always ready to oblige an attractive man, she’d just put some nougat in her mouth when Martine returned with Madeleine, who, in Simone’s view, looked suitably reprimanded.

Simone had never quite managed to disguise the jealousy she sometimes felt towards her two sisters. There were times when she loved them, but mostly she found herself unable to handle the envy she felt in their presence. She had never really accepted that her main problem was her unsubtle attitude towards the opposite sex, and instead thought all her troubles stemmed from her sisters’ ‘meddling’. She was never short of attention from men, but keeping them interested was another matter entirely.

She found it very irritating that whenever she had a boyfriend he quickly preferred the company of her more modest sisters. It made her flirt even more desperately. So she couldn’t help feeling pleased that Madeleine was the one in trouble for a change.

Tom, following the sisters as they started to walk away, caught up with them and courteously handed the bag of nougat to Martine, who stopped to look at him. After staring into his eyes unflinchingly she declined with a curt, ‘
Non, merci
,’ before strolling on.

Madeleine was already feeling humiliated by being ticked off in front of Tom. Seeing Martine shun his offer of nougat so rudely infuriated her. So she turned to Tom
defiantly, making sure that her words were loud enough for Martine to hear. ‘No … be … offend … by my seester …’ Giving up the struggle, she finished in French, ‘I liked the nougat, Tom.’

Tom, slightly bemused, offered her the bag again and apologized once more. ‘I’m so sorry to get you in trouble, Madeleine.’

She waved her hand carelessly, making light of the situation. ‘Forgive me.’ She tried to explain further: ‘
Ce ne pas normal. La guerre nous a fait peur. Tu comprends?
’

What Tom did comprehend was how warmly he was feeling towards this lively girl. He took her hand, and forgetting to speak slowly, blurted out, ‘Look, if it will help, I will come home with you to explain.’

The genuine concern on his face made Madeleine smile. But having understood the word ‘home’, she exclaimed in a panic, ‘
Non!
’ She knew how her parents would react if she arrived home with a soldier.
Mon Dieu
, they’d be angry! ‘
Crayon?
Er … pen?’ she asked Tom. He took a broken pencil from his pocket, and after searching in vain for paper, handed her the nougat bag, which she wrote her address on with some difficulty.

She gave him back the bag, saying hopefully, ‘Anozer day, no?’

Tom smiled widely, and, imitating her glorious accent, answered, ‘Anozer day! Maddie, yes,
definitely
anozer day!’

Noticing how he’d shortened her name, she looked at
him questioningly before repeating, ‘Maddie? I like.’ Then she added in rapid French. ‘I’ll warn Maman, because otherwise when you call she’ll slam the door in your face and say, “There’s no one called that here!”’ She laughed at the idea, and Tom, enchanted but uncomprehending, laughed too. Then he let go of her hand and she began walking towards her sisters, but couldn’t resist one last glance back at Tom. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him still standing there watching her. ‘
A bientôt!
’ she called through the crowds.

This was another expression that Tom had often heard, so he was able to call back confidently, ‘
A bientôt!
’ He stood watching her a few moments longer, hands deep in his pockets, and when he finally turned he walked with a spring in his step, whistling the first tune that came into his head: ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’.

Madeleine broke into a run and caught up with her sisters. Simone, unhappy because they’d had to leave the fair early, had lagged behind Martine a little, and when Madeleine arrived breathlessly at her side, she gave her a sideways glance and said, ‘Well, if that had been me who’d gone off with a stranger like that, there is no way that Martine would have let me linger to say goodbye.’

‘Well, I suppose that even though Martine was cross, she sensed Tom wasn’t a bad person. Anyway,’ Madeleine said, changing the subject, ‘he’s going to call at the house to see me. That way the family can see how
nice he is.’ She added happily, ‘Did you notice he called me “Maddie”?’

Simon was about to reply when Martine butted in, horrified, ‘Well, if you think Maman and Papa will let him visit, you’re more stupid than I thought,’ she said. Martine knew that Madeleine must be wondering why she was being so disapproving. She also knew that she was being unfair, assuming that Madeleine would turn out like Simone, but recent events had made her cynical. They were why she’d left Boulogne earlier than she’d wanted to.

What had happened there was still so raw that she couldn’t even face discussing it with Simone, so instead she’d just endlessly fretted about it, knowing that one day her frustration was bound to come to a head. To be honest, today she was as cross with herself as she was with Madeleine for allowing the incident with the soldier to happen. It was just like Boulogne! Would she ever learn? she wondered. She really resented being the eldest, and always having to watch over her sisters. How she longed not to have to be so responsible all the time. When was she going to have any freedom?

As they reached the exit, Martine looked over at Madeleine and felt a pang of guilt at having been so hard on her. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Madeleine, but I don’t know what’s come over you since I’ve been away. You used to be so sensible.’

‘Well, maybe I’m tired of being sensible. And maybe,
just maybe
, I’ve grown up!’

Martine said, ‘Oh, so you think you behaved like a
grown-up today, do you? I think not!’ She gave a wry little laugh. ‘It’s OK to call you Maddie now, is it? After you made it so clear to us just how much you disliked your name being shortened!’

‘That was then! Anyway, it sounds different in English, and I like it!’

Madeleine walked ahead of the other two on the way home, wanting to get there first, and thinking it would be better if she spoke to Maman before her sisters did, to give her own version of events. Just in case everything got distorted in the telling, particularly by Simone, who’d said very little so far.

Madeleine rushed into the house, only to find a note from Maman saying that she’d taken the opportunity to pop over to see Tante Lucy, and that Papa was in his workshop. Relieved, and preferring not to have any further discussion with her sisters, Madeleine ran upstairs to her room. There, still upset at having been treated like a child in front of Tom, she flopped down on her bed and wondered why Martine, who’d always been so understanding, had reacted like that. Something serious had happened in Boulogne, she decided, and she wouldn’t mind betting Simone was responsible! The tension between the two sisters was obvious, and they’d both changed. Martine was jumpier and crosser than before. And as for Simone: Madeleine had never seen her flighty sister so quiet.

Marck, France

Friday, 22 June 1945

‘Are you coming down?’ Martine called from the bottom of the stairs.

Madeleine had been sitting in the same position for so long, sewing, that she hadn’t realized she’d become numb. She didn’t answer straight away, because she was rubbing her legs to try and get the pins and needles to go away. The next time she heard Martine’s voice it was outside her bedroom. ‘Madeleine?’ Martine tapped on the door. ‘Madeleine, are you asleep?’

‘No. I’m just freezing,’ Madeleine said.

Martine smiled. ‘Well, it’s warm downstairs. Come on down, and we’ll have a coffee before Maman gets back from Tante Lucy’s.’

‘OK.’

Martine added hopefully, ‘I’ll go and make the coffee, shall I?’

‘If you like.’ Madeleine carried on rubbing her feet,
pleased that Martine seemed to have forgiven her. Madeleine knew she’d behaved thoughtlessly at the fair, and that she couldn’t really blame her for being angry with her, but she also knew that Martine had overreacted. In the past Martine might have been strict, but she’d always been fair, and very tolerant. Except, that is, for that last trip Madeleine had taken to Boulogne a year ago. She’d felt she hadn’t been treated fairly then, either: over a simple friendship she’d formed with a local girl called Nicole. Madeleine hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye to Nicole before Martine had whisked her back to Marck so quickly that her feet had scarcely touched the ground.

She could still remember the delicious smell of baking bread that had first drawn her to the curious little
boulangerie
just down the street from Martine’s apartment. The café inside was warm and cosy. It only had four tables, but they were covered with fresh red cotton tablecloths. Even better, and despite the shortage of eggs, flour and butter, there was a chocolate gateau displayed smack in the centre of the glass-fronted counter on that first visit, and her mouth fell open at the sight of it.

Nicole, who worked there, was kind to her right from the start, and they’d both been so grateful to have someone of their own age to talk to that they’d soon become friends. From then on, whenever Madeleine was in Boulogne visiting her sisters, she would drop in on Nicole at the
boulangerie
, and they’d chat and giggle their way through portions of gateau that Nicole saved
specially. They’d both revelled in the friendship, loving the way it made them oblivious to the depressing, rubble-strewn streets – and even the war itself.

More often than not, these meetings were made even more fun by three old locals who frequented the place. These women, who always wore their headscarves pulled forward, were dressed from head to toe in black – which went well with their equally dark conversation. Madeleine and Nicole got to hear who’d died, which street had been bombed, who had been caught fraternizing with the Germans, and how no one seemed to care that Boulogne had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of burnt stones.

Listening to these dismal conversations brought out Madeleine’s natural mischievousness, and on one occasion, unable to resist winding the old ladies up, she nudged Nicole before eating her slice of chocolate gateau with loud cries and gasps of ecstasy. The resulting disapproval made the two girls collapse with laughter.

Madeleine and Nicole talked endlessly, about many things, but Nicole never said much about her family, and Madeleine didn’t ask. All she knew was that Nicole lived nearby with her mother, Ginette Jobert.

They did, however, discuss their schools, and tell each other stories about their childhoods – another source of much hilarity. So it was an uncharacteristically solemn moment when Madeleine discovered that Nicole’s father had left her mother some time ago, for another woman. But Nicole didn’t dwell on the subject, and
Madeleine didn’t press her, sensing that her friend didn’t want to discuss it in any detail.

Madeleine had such warm memories of Nicole, and whenever she thought about how quickly their friendship had ended she felt a confused anger towards Martine which saddened her.

Martine had never said why she’d done it, nor had she explained why she’d reacted so violently at the very mention of the
boulangerie
. It still irked and puzzled Madeleine. ‘Why do you need to go there?’ Martine had snapped, after finding out about Madeleine’s visits. ‘It’s easy enough to make coffee here in the apartment. And besides, what about all this studying you’re supposed to be doing?’ She’d gestured at the books and papers lying around the flat. ‘Surely the best time to do it is while Simone and I are out at work?’

Madeleine, shocked and hurt, had said, ‘So you want me to study
all
day?

‘Of course I don’t expect you to stay in all the time. But I don’t want you sitting in that café, either.’ Then she’d added, almost as an afterthought, ‘And, besides, the
boulangerie
is too far from the bomb shelter. What if the sirens go off? Where would you go?’

‘I’d just follow the others to their shelter, of course!’ Madeleine had retorted, finding it hard to believe that Martine would say anything so ridiculous.