The Child Left Behind

by Anne Bennett

‘Oh, Xavier!’

  Xavier gave a grim laugh. ‘I’m not frightened of the man, Maman. Anyway, for all his talk, he is as cowardly as his son. I’m sure, though, he would take great pleasure in withholding his permission for Bridgette to marry, especially me. But I am twenty-one, old enough to take a wife, and neither of us wishes to wait for four years, until Bridgette is old enough to please herself.’

  ‘Well, don’t go near Legrand,’ Marie advised. ‘Speak to Gabrielle.’

  ‘She has no voice or influence in that relationship. You have said that yourself.’

  ‘She has where Bridgette is concerned.’ Marie said. ‘Legrand is not her father.’

  Xavier’s eyes showed his astonishment. ‘Not her father?’

  ‘No,’ Marie said. ‘Gabrielle told me that Bridgette’s father was an Irishman in the British Army, stationed here in the early part of the Great War, and they fell in love. Well, you know how it is? She felt for that young soldier the same burning love that you have for Bridgette. Gabrielle was young too then and the affair was a clandestine one because she had to sneak out to meet her lover without her father’s knowledge. There was the added pressure that her soldier could be shipped out at any time.’

  ‘Are you telling me that Bridgette is illegitimate?’ Xavier asked. ‘It will make no difference if she is.’

  ‘No, Gabrielle married her soldier,’ Marie said. ‘But, of course, Bridgette was born not that long after the wedding.’

  ‘And her father?’ Finn said. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He was killed before the baby was born.’

  ‘Then why did she marry a man like Legrand?’ Xavier asked. ‘It has always puzzled me. He is so much older, for a start, and uglier, apart from being a right nasty piece of work.’

  Marie nodded. ‘I agree with you. Gabrielle told me that her father wanted to marry her off quickly, and to anyone who would have her. When Legrand offered marriage Pierre threatened to put Gabrielle and the child out on the streets if she didn’t marry him.’

  ‘Would he really have done that?’

  Marie shrugged. ‘Who knows, but could she take that risk?’

  Xavier shook his head. ‘That poor woman has suffered all her life.’

  ‘Yes,’ Marie said. ‘Gabrielle did confide to me that, had she produced a son, her life might have been easier. But the man is brutal and he beats Gabrielle like he did his previous wife.’

  ‘I despise men like that,’ Xavier said contemptuously.

  ‘So do I,’ Marie said. ‘But it does mean that in this case Legrand has no jurisdiction over Bridgette, though she has no idea that he is not her father.’

  ‘Why doesn’t Gabrielle tell her the truth? Bridgette would probably be glad that she isn’t related to Legrand. I know I would be.’

  Marie nodded. ‘All this secrecy is no good for anyone, but Gabrielle told me that it was how Legrand wanted it when she married him, and her father was all for it too. I suppose she just went along with it and is still doing what Legrand wants for an easier life. He never adopted Bridgette—she did tell me that—and so it is Gabrielle that you have to see in this instance. The big fellow might roar and bellow all he likes but he has no legal power over her.’

  Xavier gave a brief nod. ‘I will leave work early tomorrow and see Gabrielle in the shop before it closes. She should give her permission before we spread the news abroad.’

  Gabrielle was surprised to see Xavier in the shop, but when he told her of his love for her daughter, which Bridgette returned, she thought for a moment that her heart had stopped beating, because those were words she never expected to hear. She knew of Bridgette’s love for him only because she had seen it in her glowing face and sparkling eyes every time she spoke his name.

  Gabrielle had prayed that the daughter she loved with all her being would have a much better life than she had had, and part of that better life was to love and be loved by a young man such as Xavier Laurent. It was no matter to her that Bridgette was young. She herself had loved Finn as deeply as if she had been a woman ten years older. It was what was in the heart that mattered.

  She caught Xavier’s hands in hers and told him how happy he had made her. She gladly gave her permission for him to marry her daughter, although secretly she knew that she would suffer for it when Legrand got to hear.

  He soon did, of course. The beautiful diamond ring that Xavier bought Bridgette was soon noticed and commented on by customers in the shop, and Bridgette was only too happy to tell anyone who wanted to know about her wonderful Xavier. The news of the engagement flew around the town. That first Sunday after Mass, the priest went out of his way to congratulate the young couple. Then Bridgette was hugged and kissed by men and women alike, and Xavier had his hand pumped up and down many times. She was soon surrounded by girls admiring the ring, and oohing and aahing over the whole romance of it.

  Xavier was on the steps talking to the priest, and as the crowd around Bridgette thinned she almost felt her father’s malevolent eyes boring into her. She turned slowly.

  He and Georges were side by side, and his smile was disdainful as he said. ‘I believe congratulations are in order, though it would have been nice for my permission to be asked. That is the normal order of things, or don’t good manners apply here?’

  Xavier had been expecting a confrontation of some sort and when he saw Legrand approach Bridgette, he broke off his conversation with the priest and walked quickly down the steps to stand at her side. It was he who answered.

  ‘There is nothing wrong with my manners, Legrand, and permission to marry Bridgette was asked and given. If you have a problem with that, then it is yours alone, and if you want to discuss it I would be agreeable to meet with you to do that, but this is neither the time nor the place.’

  How proud Bridgette was of her young husband-to-be who had spoken to her hated father so assertively. She could see that he didn’t know how to answer. A few passing had stopped to listen, and even the priest paused on the steps. In the end Legrand turned away.

  ‘Come away now, Xavier,’ Maurice said to his son.

  Bridgette said, ‘Oh, please wait, just two minutes?’

  She ignored her father and Georges, and went to her mother. Gabrielle had already seen the ring and shed tears of joy over it. She’d said she had never seen such a fine thing in the whole of her life. She had been so happy for her daughter and still was happy, but Bridgette saw the bruising on her mother’s face and her darkened eyes, and knew that she had paid the price, and dearly, for giving her permission for the two young people to marry.

  With a sigh she put her arms around her as gently as she could. ‘I’ll be up in the week,’ she whispered into her ear as she held her close.

  As she released her Gabrielle squeezed her hands tight before turning away with tears in her eyes.

  All the way home, Bridgette burned with rage. She barely waited until she was inside before bursting out, ‘Did any of you see what that maniac did to my mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marie said. ‘There is nothing to be done about it because, as far as your mother is concerned, when a person marries it is for better or worse. She is prepared to put up with the worse as long as she can content herself that you will have the better.’

  ‘As you will, my darling,’ Xavier said, catching hold of Bridgette and swinging her into his arms. ‘I have never raised my hand to a woman yet, and never would, and I will love you with all my heart until the breath leaves my body.’

  ‘Well,’ said Maurice with a throaty chuckle, ‘I would say that a man can’t say fairer than that.’

  Bridgette knew Maurice was right. She knew how lucky she was and she longed to be married to Xavier so that she could show him just how much she loved him. She wished she could make things right for her mother but knew that she couldn’t, and the only thing she could do was let her share in her happiness.

  The wedding was set for 14 April 1934. Bridgette wanted the days to speed by because it seemed like each day she l
oved Xavier more, and her longing for him sometimes overwhelmed her. Through the winter they were allocated the parlour to do their courting, and Bridgette appreciated the consideration of Maurice and Marie Laurent in allowing them to use that lovely room. It was cosy cuddled together on the sofa with the fire warming them and the lamps lending everything a rosy hue.

  Over time, their kisses grew more ardent and demanding, and when Xavier teased Bridgette’s mouth open for the first time she groaned at the delicious feelings stealing all through her body. Christmas passed and the year turned, and their lovemaking grew more impassioned and sensual. By early February, Bridgette was surprised at the places on her body she was allowing Xavier to touch and explore and caress, and that she was relishing it as much as he was.

  In late March, Gabrielle had a talk with Bridgette about what would probably happen on the wedding night. She drew on her experience of the one time she slept with Finn, the night that Bridgette was conceived and she explained the feelings of desire that were almost uncontrollable. She also told her of the gentle and considerate husband who would wait until she was ready.

  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 imag
e 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.’