Survivor (2 page)

‘Oh, Mari, you are such a naughty
girl,’ Belle exclaimed as
she stripped
off her child’s soaked dress and wrapped an old coat of Etienne’s around
her. ‘I was afraid you’d drowned.’

‘Papa told me if I ever capsized,
I was to stay with the boat,’ she sobbed out, coughing and bringing up sea
water. ‘But I couldn’t see it over the waves, and I was so scared. I was
swimming the wrong way. I turned round and then I saw it.’

Belle hadn’t the heart for
lectures now, she was too relieved that Mariette was safe, so she hugged her tightly
to her chest, watching Etienne righting the dinghy and fixing a tow line to it.
There wasn’t much he didn’t know about boats – he’d learned to
sail as a small boy in Marseille, and he was always in demand with the boat owners
in Russell, both crewing for them and doing repairs – but he didn’t know much
about children, and she was angry with him for encouraging an eleven-year-old to
think she knew enough to be out on the open sea alone.

If Miss Quigley hadn’t noticed
Mariette pushing the dinghy out, it might have been another hour or more before
Belle went looking for her. Once out of the bay, the current would have swept the
child away and perhaps her little body would never have been found.

But she said none of that to Mariette,
who had had a big enough fright as it was. For now, all she wanted to do was warm
the child up and hold her tightly.

Etienne was right in saying their
daughter had inherited both the best and the worst of her parents. She was as
fearless as her father, and as determined as her mother. She was also devious,
opinionated and disobedient. Her looks too came from a blend of the pair of them,
with her strawberry-blonde hair which was curly, like Belle’s. She had
Etienne’s high cheekbones, but Belle’s deep-blue eyes and wide mouth.
She wasn’t exactly pretty, but there was something arresting about her
features, in the same way as there was with Etienne’s.

‘Are you
very cross with me?’ Mariette asked in a small, shaky voice once her father
was back on board and stripping off his wet clothes.

‘Yes, I am,’ Etienne
replied, looking very fierce. ‘I’ve told you dozens of times that you
are never to take the boat out alone. I can’t believe that you would disobey
me. You were very lucky that we found out where you were in time and were on our way
to you. It isn’t just about being a strong swimmer, the sea is very cold and
even a grown man like me can become paralysed in the water in no time at all. Do you
know what it would have done to your whole family, if you had drowned?’

‘You’d all be very
sad,’ she said, hanging her head and trying to retreat further into the old
coat Belle had wrapped her in.

‘Not just sad,
broken-hearted,’ he said as he squatted down in front of her. ‘You are
just a little girl, you might have learned to sail quite well in calm water with a
gentle wind, but you haven’t got enough muscle yet to control a boat in a
strong wind. You must learn to obey me and your mother, Mariette. We don’t
stop you from doing things just to be mean to you, but to keep you safe.’

‘I’m s-s-s-sorry,’ she
stammered out, partly from being cold but also because she was in trouble. ‘I
wanted you to be proud of me, that I could sail so well.’

‘You’d make us much more
proud of you, if you were obedient,’ Belle said, getting up to start the
engine. ‘If it wasn’t for Miss Quigley spotting you, we wouldn’t
have known you were out here until it was too late. I hope you’ll take this as
a warning and never go off anywhere again – in a boat, a car or walking – without
first asking either me or your father if it’s alright.’

‘I won’t,’ she sobbed
out. ‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

Belle looked back
at her daughter. She had snuggled into Etienne’s side, the way she used to do
when she was five or six. Her hair had been pure blonde then but, in the last few
years, it had become more coppery and curly and Belle kept it plaited tightly or it
became an unruly mop. She had mastered a wide-eyed, butter-wouldn’t-melt look
from an early age, which Belle and Etienne found endearing but sometimes worrying
because she played both them and others with it. She was truly penitent, for now,
but Belle was well aware that she was the kind of child who would never be meek and
obedient. The very next time she took it into her head to do something that she
shouldn’t, today’s lesson would be forgotten.

When they’d been choosing a name
for her and Etienne had suggested Mariette, because it was his mother’s name,
he had laughingly told her it meant Little Rebel. Was it the name that made her
behave that way?

No baby was ever wanted more. Belle had
been told when she lost a baby while married to her first husband, Jimmy Reilly,
back in England that she was unlikely to be able to have any more children. As
things turned out, with Jimmy being severely wounded in the war, and all the
problems that brought with it, Belle accepted that she was never going to be a
mother, and she tried very hard to put babies out of her mind. But she had never
quite succeeded. It was always a sore place inside her, a constant source of
sorrow.

Then, right at the end of the war,
Spanish flu flared up and, along with tens of thousands of others, Jimmy caught it
and died, as did his Uncle Garth, Mog’s husband.

Belle and Mog came to New Zealand to
start a new life. And yet, young as Belle was, she had no expectations of finding
another man to love. She once heard someone refer to her and Mog as the ‘Two
English Widows’, and
she guessed
that was what everyone called them. She thought then that they would grow old
together, making a living at dressmaking and millinery, and that the closest they
would get to a child would be watching out for their neighbours’ children.

Then Etienne, a man she had loved and
thought had been killed in France, turned up looking for her. To this day she still
considered it a miracle; she had accepted at that point in her life that she was
never going to feel love and passion ever again.

She had shocked the people of Russell by
failing to hide her desire for the gallant Frenchman, but she didn’t care. She
thought God – or just fate – had stepped in to make up for all the sorrow in the
past. She was four months pregnant when they married, and no bride in history could
ever have gone to the altar so proudly or joyfully.

So much had happened since then –
hardships, disappointments, periods of great anxiety. And yet, having Etienne at her
side, and the joy that came with each of their three healthy, beautiful children,
made even the most troubled times seem insignificant.

But now, as Belle glanced over to
Mariette again, she realized that children could bring even bigger heartaches than
any of the bad things she’d experienced in the past. Mariette was far too
brave and reckless for her own good, and as headstrong as both her parents. By the
time she was fifteen or sixteen, her boldness and sense of adventure were likely to
make her rebel against the quiet, sedate life here in Russell and search out
excitement elsewhere. Belle knew only too well what dangers lay in wait for young
girls, and just the thought that Mariette might be subjected to some of those made
her blood run cold.

Mog had taken the boys home, and left
two blankets on
the jetty. Etienne wrapped
Mariette in one of them, put the other around his bare shoulders and, after securing
the boat, he lifted Mariette into his arms to carry her home.

Back at the house in Robertson Street,
Mog and the boys were waiting on the veranda. The binoculars on the table were
evidence that they’d been watching the rescue anxiously from the shore and had
only returned home when they knew Mariette was safe.

Mog was never one for dramatics; she
just held out her arms for the shivering child and said she had a warm bath ready
for her and that Etienne should get in it afterwards.

‘Are you going to smack her
bottom?’ seven-year-old Noel asked, somewhat hopefully.

Both boys had Belle’s dark hair,
and their eyes were cobalt-blue, darker than hers, but they had their father’s
facial expressions – suspicious, watchful. Yet neither of them was as adventurous as
their elder sister. Etienne always laughed when that was remarked upon, and said,
‘Give them time!’

‘Don’t be silly,
Noel,’ Alexis said. ‘She’s had enough of a fright nearly getting
drowned.’

Belle smiled at his superior tone. He
used it often, as if to point out to Noel that he was a year older. He reminded
Belle of her late mother, Annie, with his strong features and the same tendency to
be frosty. But, fortunately, Alexis was sensible and could always be relied on to do
as he was told.

Later that evening, after the children
had eaten their supper and gone to bed, Mog fetched the bottle of brandy she kept in
the pantry, and poured a measure into three glasses.

They were in the kitchen, the washing-up
done and put away, darkness had fallen some time ago, but the golden glow of the oil
lamp made it snug and conducive for a family talk.

‘I know you’re both worried
about Mari,’ Mog said as she
handed
a glass each to Belle and Etienne. They had both been ominously quiet throughout the
evening meal; all three children had picked up on it and had gone to bed without the
usual delaying tactics. ‘But perhaps it was a good thing she had a bad scare
today. I doubt she’ll be so quick to take such a risk again.’

Mog had bought the little clapboard
house when she and Belle first came to Russell, but Etienne had extended it
considerably since he married Belle. They were still waiting for electricity to come
to Russell, but the kitchen was now much bigger and there was a separate wash house
with a copper to heat up water for both baths and washing clothes. Etienne had built
two rooms on to the side of the house for Mog, which she could access from either
the hall or from the veranda along the front of the house. Above Mog’s rooms
were two new bedrooms, the boys sharing one and Mariette in the other.

They told people Mog was Belle’s
aunt, which was a far easier explanation than the truth. Mog had, in fact, worked as
a maid for Annie Cooper, Belle’s mother, and had virtually brought Belle up.
Years later, Mog had married Garth Franklin and Belle had married Garth’s
nephew, Jimmy Reilly. Except for a couple of years when Belle was in America and
Paris, and the time she spent as an ambulance driver in France during the war, she
and Mog had always lived together. To Belle and Etienne’s children she had the
role of much-loved grandmother. As such, her opinion about the children – or,
indeed, any other family matter – was always valued.

‘I agree, Mog.’ Etienne
nodded. ‘A bad scare is one of the best ways to teach a child about danger.
Luckily, no real harm was done today, except to we adults. I think I would sooner be
back in Ypres again than relive those heart-stopping moments while I was searching
for Mari in the sea. I know it
was the
same for you on the shore, Mog, and poor Belle still looks shaken up.’

‘We should get rid of the
dinghy,’ Belle burst out. ‘Maybe Mari will be too scared to do it again,
but one of the boys might try.’

Etienne took Belle’s hands in his
and smiled in understanding. ‘We live in a place where the sea is an ever
present danger, and we rely on boats to get about. It was the same for me as a boy
in Marseille. I know it is far better to teach them to respect the dangers of the
sea, and to handle a boat well, than to try to keep them away.’

‘I agree. There is danger
everywhere for children,’ Mog said. ‘Climbing trees, strangers who might
wish to harm them, picking the wrong berries, infectious diseases, the list is
endless. We can’t protect them from everything. You know that better than
anyone, Belle!’

Belle sighed. ‘Yes, I do, but I
thought that by bringing our children up here, in such a beautiful place, the
chances of anything bad happening would be lessened. Do you know what Mari said to
me as I tucked her in tonight? “I’d like to be a heroine like Grace
Darling, or Joan of Arc. I don’t want to work in the bakery or sew
dresses.” If that’s the sort of thing she daydreams about, how on earth
can we hope she’ll marry a good, hard-working man and have a parcel of
children?’

Etienne laughed. ‘She’s only
eleven, Belle. I bet you had such daydreams too at that age.’

‘Only about making beautiful
hats,’ Belle retorted. ‘I didn’t imagine rescuing people in a
rowing boat, or leading a country to war.’

‘I used to dream of meeting Queen
Victoria,’ Mog said. ‘What about you, Etienne?’

‘Having lots to eat,’ he
said. ‘But then I was half starved most of the time.’

‘So you two
achieved your dreams,’ Mog laughed. ‘I didn’t, I couldn’t
even face the crowds to watch Queen Victoria’s funeral procession. You
shouldn’t worry about Mari daydreaming of being a heroine, it won’t hurt
her to aspire to something brave and good. Besides, wait till the boys get bigger,
they’ll do things that will turn your hair white. You can’t wrap any of
them in cotton wool. You just have to teach them the right values, point them in the
right direction and pray! One day, you’ll sit out on the veranda with one of
your many grandchildren in your arms and feel really smug because everything turned
out well.’

Mog was always the voice of reason, and
both Belle and Etienne loved her for it. It didn’t matter what happened –
Etienne losing money in an ill-fated attempt to start his own vineyard, a fire in
the kitchen that meant they had to rebuild the house, or even the cow that wandered
into the garden while they were out for the day and ate most of the plants and
vegetables before they returned home and chased it out – Mog could always find the
silver lining in the cloud. Belle remembered, after the fire, Mog saying that it was
a good thing as they’d always planned to extend the house anyway. She even
joked that if the vineyard had been a success, they might have all started to drink
too much.