by Anne Bennett
‘Nothing. Go to sleep.’
In answer, Yvette got out of bed and, with her robe around her, went to her sister. ‘How can I sleep when it is obvious that you are unhappy? What is it, Gabrielle?’ she said, putting her arms around her.
Gabrielle sighed, glad of the concealing darkness that hid her face from Yvette as she said through her tears, ‘Papa has given me an ultimatum. It is as if I am standing on the edge of a bridge and I can either cross it to Legrand on the other side, or turn back and begin packing up my possessions and those of Bridgette. If I take that course I may just as well jump into the canal and let the water submerge the two of us.’
Yvette gave a gasp. ‘Don’t even say words like that.’
‘It will soon be winter,’ Gabrielle said. ‘How long do you think that I would survive on the streets, and how could I condemn Bridgette to that?’
‘Papa wouldn’t really throw you out, though, surely?’ Yvette said.
‘I don’t know,’ Gabrielle told her sister. ‘At the moment he seems to hate me and still blames me for Maman’s death.’
Yvette was silent because she knew that their father’s animosity towards Gabrielle had become even more entrenched since their mother had died. He did blame Gabrielle and probably always would.
‘In a way he has a point,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I might not have caused Maman’s illness, but I certainly think I helped worsen it. Maybe this is my penance.’
‘Gabrielle, Maman had suffered for years—you know that,’ Yvette replied firmly. ‘This is just something Papa has put in your head.’
Gabrielle shrugged. ‘I can’t get over the feeling that I am somewhat responsible, but anyway, I can’t risk defying Papa, especially now Aunt Bernadette has let out the house in Paris and taken Uncle Raoul to spend the winter in the South of France. I can’t even turn to her.’
‘But how well do you really know this Legrand, Gabrielle?’
‘You don’t really know any man fully until you marry him,’ Gabrielle said. ‘It’s all a bit of a lottery. Anyway, none of this matters. For better or worse my future lies with Legrand, and I must accept it.’
Yvette was flabbergasted the next morning to see the state of Gabrielle’s face and though she did what she could to repair it before Mass, she couldn’t work miracles. Gabrielle had many odd looks from the townsfolk, and when Legrand came to speak to them all after Mass, he noticed straightaway that something very unfortunate had happened to Gabrielle’s nose and her eyes were definitely darkened too.
He was delighted by the change in Gabrielle, though, who greeted him quite pleasantly and even agreed to take his arm. He didn’t know whether he fully approved of Pierre’s methods to make Gabrielle see sense, and yet he knew from his late wife how irksome and annoying women could be at times. Sometimes they needed firm handling, and he guessed that Gabrielle had a stubborn streak in her at times that he too might have to curb once they were married.
TWELVE
As soon as Gabrielle’s marriage to Robert Legrand was agreed, he began bringing his son, Georges, with him to the house at the weekends. Gabrielle thought the child was completely undisciplined and when she said this to Robert he explained that his late wife’s parents had indulged him and he didn’t want to be the one to be reprimanding him all the time.
This attitude was also adopted by Gabrielle’s father. His eyes softened when he first caught sight of the little boy, and she knew Robert had given him what both she and her mother had failed to do: the son or grandson he had craved. As far as Pierre was concerned, Georges Legrand could do no wrong.
The child was allowed to be as noisy and as rude as he wanted. What he really enjoyed, though, was being spiteful and downright nasty to Bridgette, but Pierre had never taken to the baby girl, and Gabrielle knew that Robert merely tolerated her. Only Gabrielle and Yvette minded Bridgette being treated this way, but as no notice was taken of their protestations, Georges soon realised that they held no power in that house.
Gabrielle became quite agitated as the day of the wedding drew closer. She had thought that she would be moving out of the bakery, away from her father, and she was astounded when she learned that wasn’t going to happen.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Robert is moving here,’ Pierre told her. ‘I will teach him all he needs to know in the bakery, and he will help me. I’m not getting any younger.’
Gabrielle’s heart sank. That really was the last thing she had thought would happen.
As far as Pierre was concerned, 26 January 1918 was Gabrielle’s first proper wedding. If it wasn’t for Bridgette, he could pretend that that was really so, and he supposed that was why the child irritated him.
Never mind, he thought as he took hold of Gabrielle’s arm in the church porch, there would soon be a houseful of children, with plenty of sons.
The organ began to play, the congregation rose to their feet, and Pierre and Gabrielle began the slow walk down the aisle, Yvette following behind. Pierre delivered Gabrielle into Legrand’s keeping and they stepped forward under the carrel. It was believed that taking wedding vows under that silken canopy before Nuptial Mass was protection against bad luck in the marriage.
The reception back at the bakery was exceptional, as might be expected. The table groaned with food and the centrepiece was the wedding cake, a magnificent croquembouche: a glazed pyramid of cream-filled pastry puffs.
Gabrielle had expected bad behaviour from Georges but she burned with embarrassment as he grabbed food from the table the women had spent hours arranging, spilling or knocking things over in the process. Then he ran around like a dervish, smearing women’s dresses and the men’s suits with the food he clutched in his hands, knocking glasses from people’s hands without a word of apology, and pushing Bridgette over whenever he had the opportunity.
As the night wore on he was still running madly around, insulting any person who said anything to him and kicking out at both Gabrielle and Yvette. Gabrielle knew he was over-tired but her father had said that Georges should go to bed when he wanted, though Bridgette had been tucked up only slightly later than normal. Robert and Pierre seemed amused rather than embarrassed by Georges’s outrageous behaviour.
‘They’re drunk,’ Gabrielle said to her sister, who was rubbing her shin where Georges had kicked her again ‘What do you expect?’
‘I expect Legrand to act as a father to his own son,’ Yvette said in a hissed whisper.
‘How could he tonight?’ Gabrielle whispered back. ‘Look at the state of the pair of them.’
Really she hoped that Robert would drink so much that he would pass out and she would be spared his attentions—for that night, at least. Every time she thought of his hands upon her she felt sick. But she could hardly share that hope with her young sister.
But by the time the guests had left and Gabrielle and Yvette had begun to tidy up, Legrand was still on his feet, still drinking, and the over-tired and belligerent Georges sat on his shoulders.
When Gabrielle returned to the room to collect more dishes he said, ‘Leave that now. It’s time for bed.’
Gabrielle felt her stomach give a lurch and she glanced at Georges.
Robert said, ‘Leave Georges to me. You just get into bed and wait for me. Don’t worry about a nightdress. That will only get in the way. I want you naked.’
Gabrielle’s face flamed with embarrassment. She looked from her father, beaming approval, to Yvette, who was obviously uncomfortable. Georges was also listening, and though the sexual connotations were lost on him, he understood nakedness and giggled at the thought of Gabrielle having no clothes on. She would have remonstrated with her new husband but one look at his licentious, drunken face told her that she would be wasting her time. So without a word, she turned away and went upstairs.
She was very nervous at the prospect of sharing a bed with Legrand, and felt self-conscious as she slipped between the sheets. She had never gone to bed naked before and she trembled from head t
o foot as she waited for her new husband. Her nervousness increased as she listened to his measured tread on the stairs. She heard him first go along the passage to Georges’s room and then she was filled with apprehension as she watched the door knob turn and he was there, his broad frame almost filling the space.
‘You looked lovely today,’ he said, crossing the room, almost tearing off his clothes as he spoke. ‘And I can’t wait to love you properly.’
He snuffed out the lamp and threw back the covers. A blast of cold air hit Gabrielle’s naked body and she gave a sudden shiver as he slid in beside her.
‘And,’ he said huskily, ‘I am ready for you. See?’ He grabbed her hand and pressed it down on his hard penis.
Gabrielle felt sick, but this she told herself was real marriage. She longed to pull her hand away but she allowed Legrand to hold it there and even moved it up and down as he instructed while he groaned with pleasure. Suddenly he rolled on top of Gabrielle, crushing her down on the bed and began mauling her breasts with his big rough hands, then sucking them with such intensity she wriggled in discomfort and bit her lip lest any cry of pain escaped to annoy him.
He continued to suck at her breasts, but she felt his hand on his penis, and when he entered her she felt as if he was ripping her in two and she cried out in pain.
Legrand slapped a hand across her mouth. ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch,’ he cried. ‘You knew what it was all about.’
‘It wasn’t like this,’ Gabrielle wanted to say, but with his hand over her mouth she was hardly able to breathe, never mind say anything. As Legrand thrust himself inside her again and again she tried to ride the pain.
After what seemed an eternity, it was over. He he took his hand from her mouth and rolled on his side. Gabrielle lay rigid in the bed, her nerve ends tingling and every part of her aching, but she was loath to move and disturb him in case he was still aroused enough to attack her again.
Then in the quiet room, where the ticking clock was the only noise, she heard Legrand’s even breathing and occasional snore and she knew that it was safe to move. She curled into a ball in an effort to ease her battered body and throbbing breasts as far from him as she could get. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she muffled her sobs in the pillow.
Next morning, Gabrielle got a grip on herself. She knew if that was the way Legrand was, she had to learn to put up with it, as she knew many other women did.
She heaved herself out of bed. It was Sunday and there was a lot to do, though only breakfast to make for the children, for she imagined everyone else would be taking Communion. She had Bridgette dressed and sitting eating her breakfast in no time, but Georges was a different matter.
He was tired that morning and even worse tempered than usual. He didn’t want to get up and when Gabrielle coaxed him to do so, he said he was too tired to get dressed but determinedly refused all help and dawdled over his breakfast. Robert and Pierre, both nursing hangovers, were no help at all and Gabrielle felt she really needed the peace of Mass that morning.
In church she let the familiar Latin words wash over her and prayed for God to give her the strength and wisdom to cope with her husband and his difficult son.
Legrand declared that though he had no intention of adopting Bridgette legally, he was providing for her and as such she was to be known by his name and to call him Papa, as Georges did. Knowing that her marriage to Finn might not have been legal, Gabrielle was agreeable to this. It would be better for the child anyway, she reasoned, because in all probability there would soon be a houseful of children and it would be easier if everyone was known by the same name.
The war that had claimed so many lives rumbled to a close in November of that year. The town was in carnival mood and Gabrielle and Yvette took both children out into the streets so that they could drink in the atmosphere. Gabrielle could well understand the joy and relief of the carousing people, even if the peace had come far too late for her and Finn.
It had been an immense war, with much loss of life. But it was the war to end all wars, people said. Now everyone could get on with their lives in peace, and Gabrielle looked forward to the future.
There was just one fly in the ointment. Despite Legrand’s desire for a son, the first Christmas of their marriage passed with no sign, and then the second. He became impatient and short-tempered with Gabrielle. She understood his frustration and even shared it because she too longed for a child; it would be some consolation for her in a marriage that she knew was less than ideal.
Legrand had begun to drink far more than was good for him, and so did Pierre. Where once he had frequented the bars only on a Saturday evening, now they went out together most evenings and were always well oiled or worse when they returned.
Regardless of his drunken state, Legrand often demanded sex. Many times Gabrielle was woken with his weight on top of her, fumbling at her nightdress, and more than once, befuddled by the fastenings, he had ripped the nightdress down the front.
Eventually, despite her embarrassment, Gabrielle went to see the doctor. Dr Fournier had been good with her mother, but he had aged somewhat since then and become quite feeble-looking. She wouldn’t have minded seeing the doctor half so much if it had been Dr Gilbert, whom she had liked, but he had been killed when his field hospital had been shelled just six months after he joined up.
But Dr Fournier listened to all she said, and examined her sensitively, and told her that as far as he could tell, she was perfectly healthy and there was no reason why she couldn’t conceive; that it was often a waiting game.
Gabrielle returned home and told her husband this, but he continued to taunt her about her barren state, which upset and angered her.
She knew that it wasn’t a child Legrand wanted but a son. If she were to give birth to another daughter, he would ignore her, as he did Bridgette.
As time had passed, though, while Legrand redoubled his efforts to beget a second son Pierre put all his energies into the one male child he had. He indulged Georges atrociously, even more than his father did, and Georges soon learned that the man he called Grandpapa would give him anything he wanted and allow him to do what he liked. Knowing this, he behaved like a little prince in the home, where he did as he pleased. Any discipline that Gabrielle and sometimes Yvette tried to exert over Georges was never supported by either of the men and so Georges took no notice.
Pierre Jobert died in the October 1921 when Bridgette was just passed her fifth birthday. There was no warning to his death. He got up from the table one day after his lunchtime meal saying he didn’t feel very well, and he was dead before he fell into the armchair he was making for.
When Gabrielle told Bridgette of the death of her grandfather she seemed remarkably unconcerned, and Gabrielle couldn’t blame her. The little girl often bore the brunt of his bad temper. She was frightened of Georges too, who thought nothing of pinching, kicking or scratching her, or pushing her over. He was also fond of taking whatever she happened to be playing with, if he took a fancy to it, and Pierre had seemed even to encourage him. Bridgette had learned not to make a fuss, because that only made things worse.
So when Gabrielle told her young daughter that her grandfather had died and gone to live with Jesus, she was glad. She didn’t tell her mother but, as far as she was concerned, Jesus was welcome to him.
Gabrielle learned the real cruelty of her father after the funeral when she found that he had disinherited not only her but Bridgette and Yvette too. He had left everything to Legrand, and to Georges on his death, unless Gabrielle were to have a son, in which case the inheritance would be split between them.
The ownership of the bakery changed Legrand, but not for the better. Gabrielle wasn’t surprised when Yvette elected to go back to Paris with her aunt and uncle after the will had been read. She was, however, totally unprepared for what Legrand told her after they had gone, which was that he had no wish for them to return and that they were no longer welcome in ‘his’ bakery.
‘Robert, please,
you cannot do this,’ Gabrielle said. ‘They come at least once a year. This is my family that you are banishing.’
‘And you are my wife.’
‘And as such do I have no say in any of this?’
‘No,’ Legrand said. ‘Before God and half of the town you made a promise to obey me, and this is how I want things. You will be too busy to miss them for, as you cannot give me the sons I crave, you must earn your keep in another way. I have engaged a boy but he will not start until eight and so I want you up at five to help me. When he takes your place you will have plenty of time to see to Georges and Bridgette, make a bite for me and still be in the shop for nine o’clock.’
Gabrielle knew that she would, because there was nothing else that she could do. The future she had once looked forward to unnerved her totally.
Every day when Georges and Bridgette came home for school, Legrand would get out of bed to sit and talk to his son while Gabrielle returned to the shop with Bridgette. There, Bridgette would practise the English words Gabrielle had been teaching her. Bridgette knew instinctively that she had to keep this a secret from her father, but she was keen to learn because she loved pleasing her mother.
And Gabrielle was relieved as well as pleased. She knew that there would be no secondary education for Bridgette, because Legrand had made it plain that he would not pay to keep Bridgette at school a moment longer than necessary. She would have just the basic education and leave at twelve. Gabrielle reasoned that English, which was, after all, the language her real father spoke, might stand her in good stead when she would have to make her own way in the world.
Gabrielle was always glad, though, when the clock showed six o’clock and she could thankfully lock the door, draw down the blinds and go into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. By the time she had eaten, Gabrielle was usually very tired, but while she insisted on an early bedtime for Bridgette, she could not seek her own bed until Georges decided to retire.
