The Child Left Behind (19 page)

Bridgette was quite embarrassed to hear her mother talk like this, and she didn’t really need the advice. Xavier, not wishing her to approach the wedding bed in total innocence, had already
explained things to her. She didn’t say any of that to Gabrielle, though she was glad when she finished and they could return to discussing the wedding itself.

‘Are you sure that you won’t mind living with the Laurents after your marriage?’ Gabrielle asked.

Bridgette shook her head. ‘It makes sense. I want to continue working at the shop. At least until the babies start arriving.’

‘I hope you have better luck in that department than me,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I will pray that your marriage might be blessed with children.’

‘Ooh, yes,’ Bridgette said. ‘Xavier and I have discussed it and we want a houseful. By then, of course, we shall have a place of our own. And,’ she added, ‘you would hardly recognise the room we have. It is Xavier’s old room, which is plenty big enough for the two of us, but Marie said it needed redecorating for newlyweds, and Xavier moved out to stay with his friend Edmund Gublain while the whole place was done over with new curtains and even fluffy rugs to match. We ordered a double bed and a bedroom suite, and with that in place it looks like a little palace. I know we will be more than comfortable. I would love you to see it.’

‘Maybe I will come with Yvette,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I am so longing to see her.’

Bridgette knew how much her mother had missed her family and wanted to invite them to the wedding. She could barely remember them, but she wanted to thank Yvette for her kindness
to her as she was growing up, and let them see her fine young husband. And so she wrote to her aunt.

But it was Henri, Yvette’s husband, who wrote to Legrand and asked permission to come to celebrate Bridgette’s marriage to Xavier. He grudgingly gave it, fearful of alienating such a rich and influential man. Gabrielle was like a dog with two tails at the thought of seeing her sister again, although Yvette had written to say that Bernadette was too old and frail to make the journey.

‘Almost everything is sorted now,’ Bridgette said to her mother. ‘But who am I going to ask to walk me down the aisle?’

Gabrielle went cold inside. It was obvious that Bridgette didn’t want it to be Legrand, and she couldn’t blame her. She knew that was the point when she should have told Bridgette who her real father was, though she could guess what her reaction would be if she did that. She would probably ban Legrand from even attending the wedding. Gabrielle could guess his fury if Bridgette did that and she was afraid because she had to live with the man after the wedding was over.

‘Your father would probably be very angry if you don’t ask him,’ she said quietly.

Bridgette was about to retort that she didn’t care how angry he got, and then she looked into her mother’s eyes and knew who would bear the brunt of her father’s temper if she were to make this stand against him. So for her mother’s sake she said, ‘I had
better ask him then,’ and she heard her mother’s sigh of relief.

‘What else could I do?’ Bridgette said to Xavier later. ‘If I do not ask my father then he will take it out on her. It was there in her eyes.’

It was on the tip of Xavier’s tongue then to tell Bridgette that Legrand wasn’t her real father but he stopped himself. Nobody would benefit from that knowledge spurted out now. Bridgette could not help but be disturbed by that revelation and it would also almost certainly cause further trouble for Gabrielle, and he couldn’t risk that. Really, regardless of how he felt, it had to be her decision to tell Bridgette the truth when she thought the time was right.

‘I do understand,’ he said. ‘Don’t fret over it. Nothing else matters but our love for each other and so I can put up with your despicable father for the short walk down the aisle. Once I stand beside you and the priest pronounces us man and wife, my joy will be complete.’

The following Sunday morning, after Mass, Bridgette suppressed a sigh as she said to her father, ‘It’s a simple question. Do you want to walk me down the aisle or don’t you?’

‘I just expressed surprise that I was being asked to do anything at all,’ Legrand commented sourly. ‘So far this wedding seems to be going on without me being involved in any way.’

‘Fathers usually aren’t involved in wedding
preparations,’ Bridgette said dismissively. ‘But most fathers walk their daughters down the aisle and I just wondered if you wanted to do the same?’

Most fathers also pay for their daughters’ weddings, Bridgette might have said but she knew there would be no point. Instead she chivvied her father. ‘Yes or no?’

‘Yes, I suppose,’ Legrand said in the end. ‘It would seem mighty odd to the townsfolk, not to mention Yvette and her fancy husband, if I refused.’

So, he was only doing it because it was the expected thing to do, and he didn’t want to risk making a show of himself in front of Yvette and Henri. But Bridgette didn’t care, if her request might have saved her mother from further misery.

Then Legrand further surprised her. ‘I will make the wedding cake too, and all the pastries for you and your guests if you give me the numbers invited.’

Bridgette couldn’t believe her ears. She was preparing most of the wedding food, together with Marie and Lisette, and as they were all working, two girls had been hired from the town to help. The centrepiece was always the delicious croquembouche, which was difficult to make well, and so she thanked her father sincerely.

‘What else could he do?’ Lisette said when Bridgette told her afterwards. ‘Wouldn’t it look very odd if we had ordered the croquembouche from another baker?’

‘Yes, I know why,’ Bridgette said. ‘He is trying to impress our Parisian relations, Henri in particular.’

‘He doesn’t seem to like women, does he?’

‘I think he sees them as good only for bedding and producing sons,’ Bridgette said.

‘Shame, isn’t it?’ Lisette said. ‘I wouldn’t mind if I had boys or girls.’

‘I wouldn’t either,’ Bridgette replied. ‘Good job really, seeing that we have no choice on the matter. But if I were you I wouldn’t have any at all until you’re married.’

‘Oh, you!’ Lisette gave Bridgette a push and the two girls fell upon each other laughing.

Bridgette was delighted to see Yvette again. She was incredibly smart and although there was a likeness to her mother, her aunt’s hair was much darker and cut in a bob, quite an unusual sight in St-Omer but, Yvette said, quite the thing in Paris, and enabled women to wear the cloche hats which were all the rage too.

She looked the perfect companion to her tall, handsome and very distinguished-looking husband, Henri. Despite his appearance though, Henri was friendly and had eyes that twinkled, and Bridgette guessed that he could be fun and got on with him very well. She loved their two sons too: black-haired Raoul, who was nearly eleven, looked the image of his father, and was very aware of his position as the elder son, and Gerard, who was just nine and had lighter hair and a resemblance to his mother. He was always striving to do things as well as his brother and
Yvette joked they should have called Gerard, ‘and me’.

The arrival of the Dellatres meant that Legrand was on his best behaviour, so when Marie issued an invitation to Yvette and her family to go for a meal, Gabrielle was able to go too because Robert had hired a girl to work temporarily in the shop. It was a lovely meal and they did it justice, and afterwards Xavier and Maurice took Henri and the boys down to the canal, Lisette said she would help her mother with the clearing up, and Bridgette took her mother and her aunt up to show them the bedroom done out for her and Xavier.

She even let them have a peep at the wedding dress. It was a marvellous creation, made of thick white satin with lace decorating the neckline and the puff sleeves. The sequined bodice was fitted; the skirt, covered with tiny seed pearls, billowed out from the waist, helped by layers and layers of lace petticoats, and it was scooped up at intervals and fastened with tiny blue and pink rosebuds. It had been the dress Marie wore at her wedding, but it had been professionally cleaned.

Lisette’s dress of pale blue satin had been made by the local dressmaker to match Bridgette’s, only less elaborate and with fewer petticoats. Yvette declared that Bridgette and Lisette were going to dazzle all the men in the town.

Bridgette smiled at her aunt. ‘I thought the dress was the something borrowed—you know you have to have something old, something new, something
borrowed and something blue—but Marie said that the dress could be something old, though it hardly looks it. She has a deep amber necklace that she was given by her mother on her wedding day, which she says will match my eyes perfectly, so she will let me borrow that.’

‘What about something new?’ Yvette asked.

‘That’s my veil,’ Bridgette said, pulling it from a bag on the shelf of the wardrobe, ‘and the blue is the garters that will hold up my silk stockings.’

‘You know I am so pleased to be here on your wedding day,’ Yvette said. ‘And let me say that you are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, Bridgette, and are a true credit to your mother. I hope that this Xavier knows what a gem he is getting.’

Bridgette laughed. ‘Believe me, I am no gem. Xavier is much nicer than me sometimes. Anyway, I love him to bits, and for me the wedding can’t come soon enough.’

‘Well,’ said Yvette, ‘I would say that is the best way to feel about something that’s a life-long commitment.’

Gabrielle said nothing. She hoped and prayed that it would stay that way for her daughter. At least there was no chance that she would have her husband stolen away from her by war, and that was one thing to be thankful for.

Lisette and Marie helped Bridgette dress on the morning of the wedding. As she put her arms into her sleeves she heard the delicious rustle of the many
petticoats as they slid down her silk-clad legs before billowing around her like cloud of lace. Just the tips of her white shoes were visible. Then Marie fastened the bodice, and Lisette put the veil in place, and they turned Bridgette round to look at herself in the mirror. She was transformed, a princess!

‘Darling girl, you look a picture,’ Marie said brokenly. Her eyes were so full of tears that she had difficulty in fastening the amber necklace that she was loaning Bridgette. She managed it in the end, and Bridgette saw that it lay just above the scoop of the neckline and that the deep amber stone was indeed the same colour as her eyes. She turned this way and that, and the gold filigree surrounding the stone twinkled in the light.

‘Oh, Marie, thank you so much. It’s so beautiful.’

‘It matches the person who wears it then,’ Marie said.

Bridgette turned and put her arms around Marie. ‘Thank you, thank you for everything, but most of all thank you for giving me Xavier.’

Marie was too choked to speak and eventually she pushed Bridgette gently away. ‘You will crush your gown,’ she said brokenly. ‘And really we must be on our way.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘By now Guiseppe will be waiting in Rue Jacqueline. When he sees us pass he will come along to fetch you.’

‘We know that, Maman,’ Lisette said. ‘Go on now, and stop fussing. I will look after Bridgette. It’s what bridesmaids are supposed to do.’

With a last look around the room and a kiss
for each girl, Marie was at last prevailed upon to leave.

As they stood at the window and watched her and Maurice hurrying quickly down the road, Lisette grinned at Bridgette and said, ‘Isn’t Maman a mother hen?’

‘She’s lovely,’ Bridgette said. ‘She just wants to make sure that everything goes right.’

‘I know, and it will,’ Lisette assured her. ‘And you look magnificent. I just want to say how glad I am that you are marrying Xavier; there is no one that I would rather see him marry than you. I have enjoyed having you as a sort of sister these past few years and I am looking forward to you joining the family properly.’

It was too much. Tears were raining down Bridgette’s cheeks and she was unable to speak.

‘Me and my big mouth, upsetting you when we have to go in a few minutes,’ Lisette apologised.

Bridgette struggled to control herself as she heard the rumble of Guiseppe’s trap on the cobbles, and then it came into view and the driver pulled up in front of the shop. Bridgette saw white ribbons were threaded into the pony’s mane and tail, and decorated the trap, and Guiseppe himself was dressed in his Sunday finery.

His blue eyes twinkled as the girls emerged. ‘My, my!’ he said, but there was a wealth of meaning in those two words.

Then he lifted first Bridgette into the trap as gently as if he were handling fine porcelain, and
she sat on the silken cushion he had ready, and then Lisette was beside her. With Guiseppe at the head of the pony they set off. It was a glorious spring morning and the sun shone brightly in the pale blue sky, gilding everything in its golden light.

The children of the town, who had been clustered around the shop doorway, followed behind the trap, shouting and cheering, and shoppers and shopkeepers alike stood to watch. Some men doffed their caps and berets, and others just waved their arms in the air, but all had smiles on their faces as they called out, ‘
Bonne Chance!
’ or ‘
Félicitations!
’ By the time Bridgette reached Notre Dame she was warmed through by their good wishes.

She was nervous, though, and as the pony and trap drew to a halt, she whispered to Lisette, ‘My mouth is so dry, I really don’t know if I will be able to say anything.’

‘You only have to say, “I do”,’ Lisette said. ‘Those are all the words Xavier wants to hear.’

‘I know.’

‘And you will be all right. It’s just the thought of it,’ Lisette assured her. ‘Look, there’s your father waiting for you on the steps.’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

Lisette suppressed a smile. ‘Come on, Bridgette. Xavier will probably be just as bad. You do want to marry him, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Well, come on then,’ Lisette said briskly. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

Bridgette didn’t bother protesting any more, but went forward to meet Legrand. ‘You look very well,’ he said to her, almost grudgingly.