Northern Girl

by Fadette Marie Marcelle Cripps

  But the group of vigilantes were so full of adrenalin by now that her words meant nothing to them. ‘Shut up, you dirty whore, and watch how your mother’s hair falls to the ground. It’ll be your turn next,’ a foul-smelling woman informed her with glee.

  Nicole trembled uncontrollably. She wondered at all these people, just standing here, staring, like those ghouls who’d watched the guillotines at work years before. Disgusted and sickened by their morbid curiosity, she barely noticed the pain of her bruised body and cracked ribs.

  ‘We are not collaborators,’ she tried again, ‘my mother runs a business!’ She was shouting, but her words seemed to come out in a whisper.

  ‘Business! Is that what you call it?’ a bent old woman with a mole on her cheek spat at Nicole, while the rest of the crowd cheered and clapped.

  Hopelessly, Nicole turned away, only to see the almost unrecognizable figure of her mother, her bruised head bleeding round the few remaining jagged tufts of hair, stumble towards her.

  ‘Nicole,’ Ginette’s voice trembled.

  ‘Maman … oh Maman!’ Nicole fell to her knees, and was promptly dragged upright and carried to a vacant chair.

  As the chair wobbled precariously on the uneven cobbles, her head fell back and she called out, ‘You have got this wrong. So wrong!’

  Madeleine reached out towards her. ‘Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her.’

  The savage holding Madeleine tightened his grip, and growled, ‘Hurt her? She’s lucky not to be executed.’

  Madeleine looked around helplessly, unable to believe her own countrymen could behave with such barbarity.

  When the woman with the shears approached Nicole, Madeleine tried to turn her head away, but the man with his arms round her had no intention of allowing her to miss the entertainment. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her head round to face the front. ‘You watch,’ he grunted.

  Madeleine’s knees were giving way as she sobbed, ‘She is innocent, we are all innocent!’ But no one listened. Her knees trembling like jelly, she turned sharply as she felt the pressure of a hand on her shoulder. She found herself looking into Ginette’s tear-filled eyes. Her expression of anguish and hopelessness told Madeleine there was no reasoning with these people.

  As she felt herself being lifted she heard Ginette call out, ‘No! She’s pregnant!’ It was the worst thing she could have said.

  ‘Pregnant, eh?’ One of the women grinned at her skinny little accomplice, whose shrew-like eyes darted from side to side. She shouted, ‘Do you hear that, everybody? This one is pregnant! A present left by one of the German bastards, no doubt!’

  ‘The Germans left long ago, how could she be pregnant by one of them, you idiot!’

  Ginette was immediately silenced with a forceful slap across the face. ‘Shut your mouth, bitch, or we might just decide to cut your tongue out as well.’

  Although Ginette reeled from the slap she did not put her hand to her burning face, but stood straight and lifted her head proudly, refusing to show any weakness.

  When Madeleine heard Ginette call out, something within her stirred into action; she knew that, no matter what, she must save her baby. She began to struggle fiercely with her captors, one of whom was pushing her into the chair, while another bound the rope around her. She kicked out hitting the man in front of her in the groin. Momentarily he doubled in pain, but when he straightened up he hit Madeleine so hard across the face that the chair she was bound to toppled over onto its side.

  ‘Aah, she’s got some grit, this one!’ called the woman holding the shears, waving them in the air. The onlookers cheered and called out excitedly, ‘Cut off her hair! Cut! Cut! Cut!’

  Meantime, Tom had the ominous feeling that something bad was about to happen, though he didn’t know what, and was running ahead when he was pulled to a skidding halt by Dominic, who grabbed his sleeve and breathlessly pointed up at a street sign.

  Tom read it and said, ‘Rue de la Mer. OK, let’s go!’ He turned abruptly, accidentally knocking a walking stick from the hand of an old man tottering along the footpath. ‘Oh, pardon, monsieur!’ Tom apologized, picking up the stick and handing it to the flustered old man.

  ‘Young people, always in such a hurry,’ the man complained, accepting his stick gratefully.

  Dominic, coming up behind Tom, asked the man, ‘I don’t suppose you know a girl named Nicole, who works in the boulangerie down the road? I understand she lives round here with her mother?’

  ‘Oh yes. I know Nicole, a nice little girl, but I’m not so sure about her mother—’ the old man said.

  ‘Could you show us where they live?’ Dominic interrupted.

  ‘It’s the first one in the first block after the rubble. Top floor.’ Too unsteady to turn around, the old man pointed his stick over his shoulder.

  ‘Thank you,’ they called back, as they ran in that direction.

  Arriving at the block of houses, their eyes were drawn straight to the door, which was standing wide open. They glanced at each other without speaking, ran up the porch steps and entered. After taking the inner stairs two at a time they were faced with a shut door. Tom knocked gently, and when there was no answer Dominic thumped with his fist.

  ‘It isn’t locked,’ said Tom, pressing the handle and finding that it yielded.

  Tentatively they walked in. There was no sound, until Dominic suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh, mon Dieu!’

  ‘What? What is it? asked Tom, startled.

  Dominic pointed to a divan. ‘That is Madeleine’s valise, I would recognize it anywhere.’

  ‘Well, where the hell is she?’ Tom exploded. ‘And why was the front door wide open?’ he demanded, as if Dominic would have the answer.

  ‘Hello, is anyone there?’

  ‘Hello!’ someone answered from downstairs.

  Tom stayed at the top while Dominic ran downstairs to be greeted at the bottom by a man whose body seemed to fill the open doorway. ‘There will be no business here today,’ he said in a bullying tone Dominic disliked.

  ‘What do you mean, no business?’

  ‘The three women have been taken away.’

  ‘What three women?’ Dominic asked impatiently.

  ‘The two women who run this place, of course, and another young one I hadn’t seen before.’

  Dominic quickly translated this to Tom, before asking where they’d been taken and why.

  ‘Why?’ the man said. ‘Because they collaborated with the Germans, of course. They’re being punished in the square with others who escaped the first time. About time, too. It’s taken long enough.’

  As big as the man was, Dominic grabbed him with both hands and pinned him against the wall. ‘You mean to tell me that people are still being publicly shamed? The war finished months ago, for God’s sake!’

  ‘It’s not my fault that they’ve only just rounded up the last load of whores!’

  Tightening his grip, Dominic almost growled, ‘Where’s the square?’

  ‘Just down the road.’ The man pointed a trembling finger.

  Dominic loosened his grip and thrust the man to one side. ‘Tom! Hurry!’ he urged.

  Madeleine lay on her side, still strapped to the chair, screaming to be set free. She thrashed and flailed from side to side, in a paroxysm of fear. The roar of the crowd seemed to fade as she struggled, and for a single instant she felt strangely at one with the earth. She relaxed, and fell face down, and the smell of the damp dirt wedged between the cobbles reached her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, revelling in its pungency.

  But then the roar of the crowd came back, and she was aware, again, of the monsters standing round her and jerking her chair upright again. They were laughing, a terrible, sinister sound. It was so loud it felt as if someone had suddenly turned up the volume on a wireless somewhere. The noise, along with the blurred sight of Ginette and Nicole, in their bloodstained clothes, clinging to each other in anguish, was the last thing that she was aware of.

  Nicole held a b
utton tightly. She’d picked it up from the cobbles, where it had fallen from Madeleine’s dress. She looked over at Madeleine and saw she had collapsed. Her lips had gone so pale they looked blue.

  ‘Oh, Maman!’ she cried into her mother’s ear. ‘If this doesn’t make Madeleine lose the baby, then nothing will.’ And, unable to control her sobbing, she added in a whisper, ‘That’s if she’s still alive!’

  Ginette clutched her sobbing daughter and looked around in disbelief. Surely the gendarmes weren’t pretending this wasn’t happening? There wasn’t a single one to be seen!

  Tom and Dominic skidded into the square and were rendered speechless by what they saw.

  At first it was difficult to take in exactly what was going on, and then Dominic nudged Tom’s arm and pointed. Tom immediately focused on the spot in the middle where a group of dishevelled people were trying to lift an overturned chair. There was an unconscious woman roped into it, her unsupported head flopping backwards at each jerking movement of the chair.

  Tom sucked in a huge gasp of air and roared like a wild animal. The veins on his neck swelled. Anger making him fearless and invincible, he hurled himself at the crowd. The look on his face was so terrifying that people scrambled out of his way. He shouldered through, knocking people down, punching them to the ground, kicking them aside. Even the group who’d been trying to lift Madeleine’s chair turned to flee at the sight of this lunatic, screaming a war cry and barrelling towards them.

  Dominic followed close behind, and got there just as Tom crouched over Madeleine. She was on the ground, still tied to the chair, completely motionless. One of the onlookers tried to help pick up the chair, but Tom punched him on the jaw, sending him reeling back. He turned and faced the crowd, his hands curled into fists, his teeth bared.

  ‘Don’t touch her,’ he snarled. And even though he spoke in English, the rabble backed away, understanding completely what he meant. There was such fury on his face, and in his tensed muscles, that they flinched. He glared round at their faces and shook his fist at them, before turning back to the chair and lifting it with Dominic’s help.

  ‘She’s breathing,’ Tom said quietly, loosening the ropes.

  Madeleine half-opened her eyes. She thought she could see Tom’s face leaning over her, and assumed she was hallucinating. She shut them again. Whatever happened to her now didn’t matter. Let them do it. They could cut off her hair … and then leave her to die …

  Tom picked her up in his arms, and turned to get out of the square, his heart still thumping furiously, knowing he’d never forget this moment. As he began walking through the dispersing crowd, Dominic by his side, he noticed two pitiful-looking women, bald and bleeding, clinging together and watching him intently. He gave them a curious glance and the younger one came up to him, her eyes dark against a dead-white face, and asked quietly, in English, ‘Are you Tom?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered.

  ‘Then follow me,’ she said, her tone so reasonable that he complied. Behind him, Dominic put his arm tenderly around the older woman, overwhelmed by pity at her plight, and together they walked out of the square.

  There was a tap, tap, tap, on the side of Madeleine’s face.

  ‘Maddie!’ another light tap. ‘Maddie!’

  Madeleine’s eyes opened reluctantly – and there he was again! Tom! Tom’s smiling face, with its deep dimples! Why did he keep appearing like this? She closed her eyes again, and another voice spoke. Why wouldn’t they just let her sleep?

  ‘Madeleine! Madeleine!’ the voice said. It sounded so familiar, so dear.

  She murmured disbelievingly, ‘Dominic? Is that you, Dominic?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me, little sister.’ Dominic held her cold hand in both of his.

  She squinted up at him. ‘Mon Dieu,’ she squinted again. ‘It is you …! Oh, Dominic, I’ve had such a horrific nightmare!’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he consoled. ‘But you are here now and everything will be fine.’

  ‘And Tom was in it! Why would Tom be in it, Dominic?’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s because he is here … with me,’ Dominic replied carefully, unsure what her reaction would be.

  ‘What! He is here? Right here?’ She tried to lift her head.

  ‘Shh, shh, Madeleine. Stay calm,’ Dominic told her. ‘Yes, he is here.’ He turned to look at Tom and beckoned him forward.

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘Yes, it is me, Maddie,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Oh, mon Dieu, Tom, why are you here? And where am I?’ she said, trying to look around her, totally forgetting that she needed to speak in English to Tom.

  Tom put his hand tenderly on her brow. ‘Oh, Maddie, Maddie, I’m so sorry, pet. So sorry for everything!’

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked more lucidly, now that it was beginning to dawn on her that this might not be a dream after all.

  ‘You’re in Nicole’s home,’ Dominic said.

  At this she raised herself from the divan. And, seized by sudden fear, she tried to call out, but her voice was nothing more than a croak. ‘Nicole! She is in danger!’

  ‘We arrived too late, Maddie,’ Tom said gently. ‘Nicole and her maman were already injured when we arrived at the market square. They sheared off their hair.’

  As Dominic translated, it all came back to her: the horror of seeing Nicole and Ginette in such a dreadful state. She lay back down again, and closed her eyes, whispering over and over, ‘Non! Oh non!’

  Nicole rushed to her side. ‘Don’t fret, Madeleine! We’re OK. Look,’ she said, pointing to the scarf on her head. ‘Very chic, don’t you think?’ Then, seeing Ginette standing in the open kitchen doorway, Nicole beckoned her over. ‘See, we match!’ Nicole said lightly, pointing to her mother’s head. They both wore turquoise silk scarves, knotted at the back, turban style.

  Ginette fidgeted nervously. Madeleine was shocked to see such a proud, confident woman looking so crushed. Ginette said haltingly, ‘It all happened because of me, Madeleine. I am so sorry, so very sorry.’

  Madeleine took her hand. ‘It’s OK, Ginette, I know, and Nicole knows, that you never did any favours for those German bastards. And those idiots, those monsters out there …’ She pointed towards the door. ‘They haven’t any idea what special people you both are, and what you risked to avoid doing the very thing you were unjustly accused of. I hope they all rot in hell!’

  ‘Hey, calm down, little sister.’ Dominic sat next to her.

  ‘Nicole and Ginette must see a doctor!’ Madeleine wasn’t ready to quieten down just yet. ‘They must have their bruises attended to and—’

  ‘We have seen a doctor, Madeleine,’ Nicole interrupted, ‘and so have you, although you don’t remember it.’ Madeleine was about to answer when Nicole continued, ‘Anyway, we will talk about all that later. Right now I think you need some time alone with Tom.’ She and Ginette retreated to the kitchen, with Dominic following close behind.

  Tom sat on the edge of the divan and turned her head to face him, then said gently, ‘I know how hard things have been for you, Maddie. And I know I was bad. I was so mean to you. I should have written, and I didn’t. Can you forgive me?’

  She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

  He went on, ‘I know you’ll likely say no, and I don’t blame you if you do, because I’ve no right to ask this … but …’ He paused, and swallowed.

  Madeleine was looking at him closely, as if lip-reading. There was a tiny wrinkle of concentration on her forehead. He was pretty sure she’d understood everything he’d said so far. He spoke more slowly, just in case she hadn’t. ‘I love you so much, Maddie. So much. Could you … Would you think of … coming back with me? Back to England … as my wife?’

  Maybe it was too soon to ask her this, because she seemed to have some difficulty in responding. But when she did, he was so astonished, so relieved that he felt his heart would burst.

  ‘Yes, Tom, I will.’

  ‘Aw, lass.’ His arms were around her now. ‘
We’ll make it work. I think I’ve learned my lesson.’ He bent forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘We’ll be a family … a proper family! You’ll see.’

  She placed her hand on her stomach, before asking, ‘The baby?’

  ‘Yes, we still have our baby,’ Tom smiled.

  ‘But will I fit? In England?’ she asked, suddenly afraid of what her answer had meant.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, lass, I’ll be with you … all the way. I love you, and that’s all we need. All we’ll ever need.’

  Chapter 23

  Evenwood, England

  Thursday, 6 December 1945

  ‘’Eee’s done what!’ This wasn’t a question, but a statement. Jessie stood, hands on hips, aghast and disbelieving, in the middle of Hannah’s living room.

  Before Hannah could answer, Jessie spat out her next words. ‘And just when did ’ee go, may I ask?’

  ‘A few days back.’ Hannah was deliberately being vague.

  ‘And didn’t anybody see fit ter let me know, like?’

  ‘It was all done in such a hurry, lass. There was no time.’ Hannah bent the truth a little, to save Jessie’s feelings.

  Jessie paced around, saying nothing for a moment.

  Hannah added, truthfully this time, ‘Ah haven’t been able ter believe it meself, yet!’

  ‘And why, might I ask, ’as ’ee gone ter France?’

  ‘Look, yer’ll ’ave ter talk ter ’im yerself when ’ee gets back, lass. It’s not up ter me ter talk ter yer about it,’ Hannah said awkwardly.

  ‘It’s some lass, isn’t it.’

  Again this wasn’t a question. Jessie stared at Hannah, until Hannah, ashamed, conceded, ‘Aye, it’s a lass.’

  Jessie jumped up. ‘Well, no wonder ’ee’s been such an arse’ole with me, then!’

  ‘Now, now, Jessie. There’s no need fer that kind of language.’

  ‘Well, that’s nowt ter what ’ee’ll get from me when ’ee gets back!’ Jessie stood in front of the fire now, one hand resting on the mantelpiece, and when her laugh rang out Hannah visibly jumped. ‘’Eee’s got ’er pregnant!’ Jessie said, nodding her head in absolute certainty now, as she started to pace the floor again. ‘That’s it!’ she repeated. ‘’Ees got ’er pregnant.’