by Carl Leckey
After a good night’s sleep and an excellent breakfast I find odd jobs to do around the farm from fixing a broken door to cleaning a leaf blocked gutter.
Great Aunt Edith keeps me supplied with a constant stream of very strong coffee and wonderful cakes she produces in her kitchen. I have just completed chopping a heap of wood when I notice the old couple standing hand in hand by Pompey Lill. I go over to them.
With a combination of gesture and my poor French I invite them aboard. They choose to sit immediately behind the driver’s seat their wrinkled faces split by wide grins. I gesture for them to remain in their seats while I top up the cooling system, replenish the petrol tank, crank up the engine and climb into the drivers cab. I put the vehicle in gear accompanied by the applause of the two passengers.
Off we go for a tour of the surrounding area on a lovely spring like day. The roar of the engine as I drive through the village attracts many sightseers. The old man taps me on the shoulder indicating I should stop by a seat outside the cemetery. Three old men are seated on the bench. The old man invites them aboard. I move on a little further another tap on the shoulder. I stop an old Lady climbs aboard at his invitation.
This practise continues until every seat but one is occupied. Our next stop is at large building in the centre of the village. The old man indicates I should remain here while he enters the building. Five minutes later he reappears with a short plump man sporting a brightly coloured sash across one shoulder stretching across his ample stomach. They board the vehicle the old man introduces the new comer. “Permettez-moi de vous presenter a Monsieur Le Mayor.” We shake hands I indicate a seat. The old man returns to his. He taps me on the shoulder gives me another gesture and orders. “En avant” indicating the tour is to begin. I have to smile he is definitely in charge of the outing.
As no one gives me a clue where they wish to go I choose the route. The passengers enjoy every minute. Whoops of joy and excitement greet every person we pass. After about an hour I return to the village and stop in front of the church when a Priest waves to us and the old man orders “Arrestez vous sil vous plais?” The passengers climb out of the vehicle individually thanking me for the adventure and they enter the church.
The Mayor is last to leave he gives me another brisk hand shake then makes a formal speech. “Je vous suis tres reconnaissant. Je vous remercie de votre hospitalite. Au revoir Monsieur.” I am quite proud I was able to follow his little speech. I believe I am being thanked for my hospitality.
Their departure leaves me in a kind of limbo. I can’t leave the old people here so far from their homes I decide to remain I have really nothing else to do. I turn off the engine climb down and go for a wander around the village. As I roam about something strikes me. Where are all the young people? There is a school attached to the church only a handful of kids are playing in the yard, but there is no sign of any teenagers, young men or young females. I pass a bar cum café where four old men are seated at a table in front of the building under a veranda playing cards, the smell permeating from inside reminds me I have not eaten for hours and pangs of hunger rumble in my stomach.
Inside I look around and note what the locals are eating and enjoying.
It looks good I order a similar meal by again using gestures, this is becoming embarrassing, but it works. A hearty bowl of soup and a large chunk of bread followed by a couple of glasses of wine leave me well satisfied. I settle my bill take note that a corner of the bar is occupied as a post office and continue to stroll around the village Everywhere I go it is elderly people carrying out the everyday tasks with no sign of youths. It is all very odd, I head back to the church wondering if Louise’s relatives are ready to return home to their farm. There is still no sign of them either nearby or in the charabanc. I have a look around the graveyard identify the grave of Denise’s Grandfather then peep in through the open church door. It is quite dark and smoky inside with the smell of incense lingering. Before my eyes get used to the gloom.
I hear a noise behind me, on turning around I discover Louise approaching. She greets me warmly after expressing surprise I am at the church. I explain about the tour and the disappearance of her Aunt and Uncle. She smiles “Come Adam, let us sit for a while, they must be having their weekly meeting inside.” We return to the bench where I picked up the three elderly men previously. When we have settled down I ask Louise. “I have noticed there are no youngsters around the village where are they?” She shakes her head and replies sadly. “Le Geurre. Boys as young as twelve were taken into the army. They were not supposed to be in the fighting, just for back up you understand? They were caught in a bombardment during a big German advance. A tragedy massive, twenty five of the village children died on that day along with many of their Fathers and elder Brothers. There were only two survivors that returned to the village. One is now an imbecile and will never recover I’m afraid, he lives with his grandparents. The other is a cousin of mine he is only a boy of sixteen. He went away as a trainee Ostler and Farrier now he is the only man in charge of the Marquis horses. Promotion comes quick when there is no one else available yes?” “Good God I thought I had heard everything but to lose all the kids at once and the men is beyond belief.” I sit quietly absorbing what she has told me finding it difficult to take in what had happened here. The village is such a peaceful picturesque place and the war had not really got close to it. I had been to the chateau on many occasions during the war and had never heard the catastrophe mentioned. “Louise, that accounts for the men folk but where are the girls?” “Adam I am ashamed to reveal this, they are in the chateau. It was either there or the convent.” She adds hurriedly. “But why do the parents agree to the girls working for the Marquis if conditions are so strict I don’t understand?” “Adam we are not talking about parents we are talking about widows who are totally dependent on the Marquis. He owns their houses, the land they work, the school, he has a share of all businesses he controls almost everything around here.
There are however a few exceptions. My Aunt and Uncle and a few more of my relatives are in theory independent of his influence. But when they attempt to sell their produce he controls the local markets. It is his intention to buy all the farms in this area and bring them under his control. My relatives have been a thorn in his and his ancestor’s side for years. But fortunately my family have ancient rights and he cannot purchase any of our land without the approval of the whole family.” But why not sell out to him move away and purchase land that he has no influence over?” I inquire. “Ha! My family enjoy being a thorn in his side it makes what seems a poor life enjoyable Believe it or not we welcomed the war in some ways. You might think that a very strange thing to say?” I must have looked shocked when she informs me of this. “Let me explain. When the Marquis deserted us it gave the people in this village the freedom they have not enjoyed for centuries. You know many of us worked for your military? We were able to sell our produce directly to your army and the hospital without his control, and without having to give him a share.” I reply. “Hmm I can see that but why not take the produce further afield, even out of the district if need be when the war ended? I know there is always a market for good fresh food, in Le Havre for example. There are many ships calling there they have to be supplied. Then there is England, they are crying out for food, with a bit of organisation it could be arranged. Like France the British lost so many of their farmers during the war and as a result of the flu epidemic.” She replies. “It is not that easy Adam, the Marquise also controls the means of getting the produce to other markets.” An inkling of an idea forms in my mind I share it with Louise. “Ah then I believe I have arrived at an opportune moment with a solution to the problem. You see my dear Louise I have interests in a transport company. Let us put our minds to getting my Denise out of his clutches then we will concentrate on solving the problems of your family and maybe all of the villagers.” The old folk pour out of the church and disperse to their houses in various parts of the village. The next peop
le to emerge out of the church are Louise relatives and the Priest a white haired hunched figure with a careworn face. Louise introduces me to Father Peter who fortunately speaks English albeit with an Irish twang, we retire to his house. We take our seats around a table. A middle aged nun enters the room he orders coffee and pastries. Louise after seeking my permission outlines our problems. During her explanation the old couple also contribute on occasions when questioned by the Priest. I cannot follow the rapid exchange of words but know they are talking about me. Louise apologises for conducting the meeting in French it is for the benefit of the old folks, she advises me to be patient. The nun reappears carrying a loaded tray and distributes the cups and plates without speaking.
She then stands behind the Priest as if waiting for orders. The Priest addresses me directly in English. “Are you of the Catholic faith my son?” How should I answer his question taking into account my abhorrence of all organised religion? I hesitate before replying. I have a feeling the reply I give to his question will be crucial in him rendering his assistance in rescuing Denise. I decide the best course to take is complete honesty. “You will have to help me out on this one Louise I am afraid it is long and complicated?” She agrees without hesitation. I begin to explain the complicated background to my upbringing. “Father Peter. I was brought up until I was eight years old in a Catholic orphanage. It was not a happy experience. I am reluctant to say this, but the nuns were very cruel and the Priest was no better.” If the nun understands what I am saying she shows no emotion.
Father Peter takes my criticism of the religious order that ran the orphanage without comment. I continue. “When I was eight I was adopted by a childless couple I believe they were Methodists but they never imposed their religion on me. I joined the army when I was sixteen unfortunately the only person of a religious nature I came across in my army service was a horrible person. He was in my opinion a disgrace to his profession. When I was demobbed I went back to visit my adopted parents prior to returning to France with the intention of marrying Denise. Unfortunately they both had died as a result of the flu epidemic. I did however find out some interesting details of my real parents. My Mother is French although she was brought up in England for most of her life. I know she is still a practising Roman Catholic. My Father I think he was Anglican I am not sure about this. I am sorry that my life is so complicated.”
I add with a shrug. “Unfortunately I had no part in its planning.” The Priest smiles when Louise translates my last remark for the benefit of the Nun. He says something Louise again translates. “My son, are you baptised?” I reply “I presume I was in baptised in the orphanage Father?” I smile and add. “I was too young to remember.”
He responds positively. “Then my son it is certain you are a Catholic and I can help you. Today is Saturday Denise will be here for the eight o’clock mass in the morning she usually arrives early for confession. You will be here about seven in the morning we will arrange for you to talk to her. We shall have to be careful the Marquise will certainly know there is a stranger in the village. Unfortunately he has his spies amongst us. I stress we must be very discreet. In the meanwhile I shall arrange for the banns to be read at a church out of the district by a colleague of mine. This should take three weeks, I am sorry it can’t be accomplished any sooner. I will need all your details and I will have to devise a plan to get Denise out of the chateau at the appropriate time.
He pushes a piece of paper and a pencil across the table I enter my details. He says something in rapid French addressing Louise. The old folk stand up and leave the room the nun remains behind his chair. Thinking we are finished I stand up ready to leave also. Father Peter waves me back into the seat. When they have left he says. “You have evidently lost your faith my son, yet I notice you wear a religious symbol around your neck, tell me why?” I touch the St Christopher given to me by the army veteran when I first came to France “Father it’s a long story I have explained about my time in the orphanage any love of religion was beaten out of me. You can’t imagine the abuse we suffered in their hands with no one to turn to for help. You have to understand Father we were small children in the hands of I can only describe as fiends. The sad thing about it was we thought the treatment they meted out to us was normal.
The person who could have helped us the Priest, he was one of the worst abusers. I am not talking about beatings only, do you understand?” I pause for a moment as the memories of that horrible time come flooding back bringing me to near tears. I find it is still too painful for me to talk about it. I’m referring to what happened to some of the other kids in his hands.” He nods sympathetically. “I am aware these things occur and I am mortally ashamed. I have not witnessed them myself believe me but I have heard.” It is as he said this that I notice the nuns face. I swear I detect a tear in her eye before she hurriedly turns away. Oddly I feel the need to get things off my chest he seems to have the power to make me want to. This is the first opportunity I have had to reveal my thoughts to a religious person I feel I can trust. I continue. “Then there was the war. It is not that I don’t believe there is some kind of Deity responsible for the creation but how did a loving God permit the war? What about the abuse and exploitation of children? Then there is the disease, the poverty? The virtual enslavement of the poor by the rich all over the world, here in this very place for example?” After the outburst I sit quietly there is nothing more to add. “My son don’t you think sometimes I have my doubts? When all the boys and men of the village were killed I suffered greatly I have to admit my faith wavered but without faith in the almighty what have we. Most of the evils things that occur are created by man.” He pauses as if considering his next words then continued in a wavering voice he more or less repeats his previous statement. “But in the end I have to keep faith, without it what have we? I believe you will come to understand in your own time. You will have no pressure from me. You are a fortunate man in some ways. Louise tells me you were an ambulance driver in the war?” “Yes I was, not at first but later on I drove the ambulances.” “Then you met the Angels?” “Met the Angels Father, how do you mean? I don’t understand I wasn’t at Mons.”
My mind goes immediately to the alleged sighting of Angels at the battle of Mons. He smiles. “No, the reason I said you have met the Angels is because the Angels in my opinion were the Doctors, nurses, stretcher bearers, ambulance drivers. Maybe it is too deep for you to contemplate but whenever there is an example of evil there will always be an act of good to counter it. We shall have to discuss things in greater detail again when we have more time. All I ask from you at present is please make Denise happy and give her the good life she deserves.” He stands up indicating the meeting is over we shake hands when I leave his house I find myself liking this man this Priest, many of his ideas are controversial from many of the Priests and vicars I have encountered. So much the better, my Mother would class him similar to me, a free thinker If only? I ask myself. My spirits are lifted as we drive back to the farm. In the evening as I am cleaning Pompey Lill people began arriving.
They travel mostly by horse drawn carriages, some walking. They are all carrying basins and covered plates. This continues until they number about twenty. On arrival they all disappear into the house. I recognise some of them as the passengers I transported on the tour earlier in the day. Finally Father Peter arrives accompanied by another Priest. It is explained later that this is the Priest that will read the banns for us at his parish church about five kilometres away. Louise greets them at the door then calls me over to the house. She explains the presence of all the people at the farm. “This gathering is in your honour. These are all members of our family soon to be your family. Tonight gives them the opportunity to meet you and we will celebrate your arrival. My only regret is my sisters are not here with us.” I quickly wash and brush up change into my best clothes and I am introduced to the many folk gathered together in my honour. What a night it turns out to be. The wine flows freely I am not able to keep up
with the names but we all get on fine. A banquet of excellent food is laid out on tables in the best room. After the meal a squeeze box and an accordion are produced the furniture is cleared away and the festivities commenced with the two Priests often leading the dancing. The party breaks up about eleven o’clock and I collapsed into bed soon after completely exhausted and very drunk. It seems I was only in bed minutes when there is a knock on the bedroom door Louise calls. “Come on Adam rise and shine its five thirty already, we have to be on our way soon.” Everyone is up and about when I get down stairs. A wash and shave followed by breakfast then its change into my best clothes yet again and all four of us troop out to Pompey Lill. We travel in style picking up relatives on the way this must have been arranged last night although I have no recollection of agreeing to it. Never mind it is worth it to see the delighted faces on the old folk as we pick them up.
When we arrive, as the passengers disembark, Louise reveals the arrangements for the meeting with Denise. I am to secrete myself behind the confessional on arrival Denise is to be directed into the box. This is the first time I have willingly entered a church in my life and I feel very apprehensive but keep the reason for doing so in focus. I enter the church in semi darkness Louise escorts me to the confessional where I am to hide then she leaves me alone with my thoughts. The hiding place behind the box is cramped and full of dust and cobwebs I have to restrain the desire to sneeze when I hear footsteps approaching. A person enters the box I hear the curtain being drawn, is it Denise? I control the urge to whisper her name. The back of the box consists of a fret worked grill presumably to allow the circulation of air. The unmistakable aroma of her scent drifts through. “Denise?” I whisper unable to contain myself any longer. She responds “Adam.” The only contact possible is the sound of her voice and the touch of her fingertip on the confessional grill.
