He’s locked you in. The doors are locked and you’re inside, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get out. Think!
She went into the sitting room and looked at the French windows that opened into the garden. But the garden was protected by a high wall with no gate to the road. She returned to the hall, which had a narrow window beside the front door. She could look out to the street but it was far too small for her to squeeze through. The only room with windows large enough was Father Thomas’s study.
Dare she go in there? Of course. She had to.
Annette pushed at the study door, praying it wouldn’t be locked. It was not. Father Thomas never dreamed that she would have the temerity to go into his room uninvited or in his absence.
The room had dual-aspect windows, one giving onto the street, the other opening to the back lane. Ignoring the front window, she crossed to the one on the side and peered out. It was a double casement, rising from a low sill almost to the ceiling. The window looked towards the blank wall of the building across the lane. As far as she could tell there was no one about to see her climb out, but that was a risk she’d have to take. She undid the catch and tried to pull the window open. It was old, heavy and stiff from lack of usage. Neither Father Lenoir nor Father Thomas had ever opened it, fearing contagion from the city air. Desperation gave her strength and Annette pulled with all her might. There was an ominous creaking until, with an unexpected release, the casements parted so suddenly that she staggered backwards. Her way out was before her. After one cautious look along the lane, mercifully empty, she picked up her bundle and slipped out. She did not turn into the main street but took to her heels, following the lane’s twisting way between high walls until it emerged into the tangle of streets far beyond the Clergy House.
Annette had no idea of where she was going, but she knew she had to be well away before Father Thomas got home again and perhaps sent a hue and cry after her. She and her baby had escaped, but from now on it would be up to her to keep them both alive.
*
Father Thomas had not had his mind on the Mass that morning. He, too, had lain awake for some time the previous night, considering his options, and his thoughts continued to roam even as he recited the prayers and distributed the wafers among his tiny congregation of elderly men and black-clad widows. He was faced with a dilemma. Obviously no whiff of scandal must attach to him, so the girl had to go, but if he got rid of Annette immediately, it would leave him in the difficult position of having no one to look after him. He had been too hasty, he realised, threatening to send her to St Luke’s straight away. He must pretend to have relented and keep Annette on while he found her replacement. Then, and with righteous indignation, he could ‘discover’ her situation and turn her out. Otherwise who would cook and clean for him? Wash his clothes? Starch his surplices? The answer came to him as he was giving communion to a grey-haired dame in her sixties, a woman who looked uncannily like his mother’s importunate cousin, Lena.
Of course, Cousin Lena! Cousin Lena was a woman of no means who battened on his parents for support and she might make him an admirable housekeeper. Surely she would be pleased to have home and board and would know it was dependent on doing what she was told and keeping her mouth shut. Another week with Annette in the house would do no harm; just one more week with Annette looking after him in all the ways he demanded while he contacted Cousin Lena, the answer to his problem.
When Mass was finally over, Father Thomas bid his parishioners farewell before he stepped out into the street and hurried back to the Clergy House. He would say to Annette that after much prayer he had decided to allow her to stay, without mentioning St Luke’s or her replacement.
When he reached the front door he unlocked it and went straight inside, not noticing immediately that the door to his private study was standing ajar.
He set his hat on the hatstand and called to Annette. When there was no reply he looked first into the dining room, where he found no sign of breakfast being laid, and then into the empty and silent kitchen.
‘Annette!’ he shouted up the stairs, but there was no answer. Where was the wretched girl? And more to the point, where was his breakfast? She couldn’t have gone to the market, as she wouldn’t have been able to leave the house. Sudden doubt came over him and he ran up the two flights of stairs to the attic bedroom. One glance told him she had gone. There was nothing in the room but the tumbled, malodorous bedsheets to show she had ever been there.
For a moment Father Thomas was at a loss. Annette had gone and it was clear that she was not coming back. Well, good riddance! But suppose the wretched girl tried to tell the world how he had used her! A shudder of fear ran through him before he pulled himself together. Of course she would do no such thing, she wouldn’t dare… and if she did, who would believe her?
It was when he went back downstairs that he saw that the door to his study was open. For a moment he froze. Surely the girl had not ventured in there? He pushed it wide and stepped inside. The room was empty, but the windows to the lane stood wide open. Had the wretched girl stolen money from his desk before she climbed out of the window? Father Thomas pulled open a drawer of his desk and saw to his relief that his small leather purse was lying where it always did, hidden beneath his Bible. The girl might have gone, but at least his money had not gone with her.
Comforted by this thought, he went back into the hall, picked up his hat and set out for a rare visit to his parents. There was no point in writing to them now about Cousin Lena—he needed her at once, so he would have to go and fetch her. As he took the omnibus across the city, he considered what he would tell them. He decided to explain that the housekeeper he’d inherited from Father Lenoir, a flighty young girl far too inexperienced for the job, had run off and left him in the lurch. Did they think Cousin Lena could come and look after him until he was able to find a more permanent housekeeper? He was certain his parents would be delighted to be rid of Lena, and once she was installed he was sure there’d be no question of having to replace her for years to come. She would be a fixture.
Chapter 4
Agathe had not repeated her visit to the Clergy House. Once, she had met Annette in the market and treated her to a cup of coffee in a street café. Annette had been pale and withdrawn, unlike the girl Agathe had lived with for so long. She still refused to admit that there was anything wrong, but Agathe still didn’t believe her. When she had suggested that she might visit the Clergy House again, Annette had begged her not to.
‘I don’t think Father Thomas would like it if he saw you there,’ she said.
And he’d take it out on you! thought Agathe.
She had not seen Annette for several weeks, which, she decided, was strange. Surely she must come to the market to buy provisions for the house, as she herself did. Was Annette avoiding her? As the days passed Agathe became increasingly worried about her, and though Annette had asked her to stay away, she finally decided that she must return to the Clergy House. She would wait until she was sure Father Thomas was saying Mass in the church and there was no chance of meeting him and then call at the house.
Two days later Agathe made her way back to St Jacques church and watched as Father Thomas went in. Once the door had closed on the congregation, she walked briskly across the square and rang the Clergy House bell. She heard movement inside and was already smiling as the door opened. Her smile froze as she was greeted by an elderly woman, spherical in shape, her head perched on the end of a short neck, her face the colour of pastry, from which protruded two bulbous eyes that regarded her suspiciously.
‘Who’re you?’ she demanded by way of greeting. ‘Father Thomas isn’t here. He’s in the church.’
Agathe overcame her surprise at this reception and said, ‘It isn’t Father Thomas I’ve come to see, but his housekeeper, Annette. May I come in?’
‘I’m Father Thomas’s housekeeper,’ said the woman, standing firmly in the doorway. ‘And there’s no one called Annette here.’
�
��She’s gone? When did she leave? Where did she go?’
‘If you mean the flighty bit who was looking after the father before I came, I don’t know and I don’t care. She was no better than she should be! Simply disappeared, she did, leaving poor Father Thomas in the lurch. If I hadn’t come to help out, what sort of state would the poor man have been left in, I’d like to know? No one to look after him.’
Agathe looked at her for a moment and then said quietly, ‘In that case, madame, I won’t take up any more of your time.’ She turned away, only to find a pudgy hand grabbing at her arm.
‘Who shall I tell the father came to see him?’
Turning back, Agathe removed the hand from her sleeve and looked into the two piggy eyes. ‘Just one of his parishioners,’ she lied. ‘I’ll call again to see him.’
That evening, when she had cleared away the supper things and Fleur was doing her household accounts, she went to her room and considered what she had learned. Annette clearly wasn’t at the Clergy House any more, but why had she left? Agreed, the work was hard and she had always been sure that Father Thomas would be an exacting man to work for, but at least Annette had had board and lodging.
I knew there was something wrong, Agathe thought, but what could it have been that was so awful that Annette ran away?
‘No better than she should be,’ that unpleasant woman had said. Surely Annette hadn’t got herself into that sort of trouble, had she? Was that why she’d run away… or had Father Thomas thrown her out? That was more likely.
‘Oh, why didn’t the silly girl confide in me?’ Agathe sighed. ‘I might have been able to do something.’
Where could she have gone? Had she gone for help to St Luke’s? She thought that most unlikely, but where else could she go?
Agathe considered returning to the Clergy House and asking Father Thomas herself, but eventually decided against it; he would tell her no more than she’d learned already from his new housekeeper. Perhaps she should go to St Luke’s and ask after her there.
In the morning, on her way to the market, she paused outside St Luke’s orphanage. It was a forbidding building, its entrance a pair of heavy wooden double doors set in the high encircling stone wall. Surely Annette would not have returned here, the place where she had spent her miserable childhood. But if she were desperate?
Agathe drew a deep breath and walked up to the front door and rang the brass bell that hung there. A grille in the door opened and a face peered out.
‘Yes? Who is it?’
‘Madame Sauze, to see Reverend Mother.’ Agathe spoke with an authority she did not feel, but with which the portress was familiar. She opened the door at once.
‘I am Sister Gabrielle,’ said the nun. ‘Is Mother expecting you?’
‘No,’ admitted Agathe, ‘but I do need to speak to her.’
‘Mother is in chapel,’ said Sister Gabrielle. ‘If you want to see her, you’ll have to wait.’
‘In that case, perhaps you can help me,’ Agathe said, forcing a smile to her face. ‘I wonder if you remember a girl who used to live here? Annette?’
Colour flooded the nun’s face and she scowled. She certainly remembered Annette, and her expression made Agathe remember too. Sister Gabrielle! It was Sister Gabrielle whom Annette had tripped up when her friend Hélène was trying to escape from the convent all those years ago.
Sister Gabrielle continued to scowl. ‘I remember her,’ she said. ‘An evil child! What about her?’
‘I am looking for her,’ replied Agathe. ‘I wondered if she was here.’
‘No,’ replied the nun firmly, ‘she is not. And were she to come here she would not be admitted.’
‘I see.’ Agathe forbore to add, ‘How very Christian of you.’ Instead she said, ‘That’s most helpful, Sister. If you are quite sure, I needn’t trouble Reverend Mother.’
‘I am quite sure, madame,’ replied Sister Gabrielle, and then as her curiosity got the better of her, she asked, ‘Why do you want her anyway? What’s she done now?’
Madame Sauze did not answer her questions; she simply said, ‘Thank you for your help, Sister.’
Agathe stepped out into the street again and the door was slammed shut behind her. Well, she thought, I have my answer without having to see Reverend Mother. And for that she was very grateful, even though she was no nearer to finding Annette.
When she reached the market she searched the busying crowds for a sight of her, but she saw no sign of the girl she was looking for. She would have to look for her every day until she found her.
Annette had seen her, however. Crouched in a doorway where she had passed the previous night, she watched Agathe move from stall to stall making her purchases. For a moment she was tempted to call out to her, but she stifled the urge. How could she ask Madame Sauze for help? Now that it was clear that she was with child? She shrank back into the doorway as her erstwhile friend passed by, so close that had she reached out she could have touched her.
Moments later the owner of the house came back and with a bellow hauled her to her feet and ejected her from his doorway. She screamed as he flung her onto the stone pavement.
‘And don’t let me find you here again, whore,’ he cried as he tossed her bundle after her. Annette scrambled to her feet and made a grab for the bag, which contained everything she owned in the world. The man gave her another violent push and she crashed back to the ground, making her cry out again with pain and shout, ‘Leave me alone, I ain’t doing no harm!’
It was the voice! Agathe spun round and saw a man standing over a beggar on the ground. You could see violence like this to those on the street any day of the week, but it was the voice that had caught her attention. She stared at the woman, who was trying to stagger to her feet, and gasped as she realised who it was.
‘Annette!’ she cried, and rushed across the road towards her. ‘Annette!’
The girl turned and stared at the woman coming to her aid. ‘Madame…? Oh, madame!’ Tears sprang from her eyes and she collapsed onto the ground once more.
Agathe knelt at her side and reached for her hands. ‘Annette, come along, child, get up.’ With the tears still coursing down her cheeks, Annette struggled to her feet, clutching her precious bundle.
‘People like you deserve what you get,’ growled the man as he watched the two women move away, one limping and leaning on the arm of the other, into the shelter of a side street away from curious eyes. Once they were a safe distance from the still-grumbling owner of the doorway, Agathe paused and turned Annette to look at her.
‘Annette,’ she exclaimed, ‘what on earth has happened to you?’ She was horrified to see the state of the girl. In grubby clothes, her pale face streaked with dirt, her hair straggling and unkempt, she had clearly been on the streets for a while and she was clearly pregnant. ‘Come along, let’s get you away from here.’ She led the way to a nearby food stall and bought coffee for them both. Then they sat on a low stone wall to drink it. Annette gulped hers down at once, almost choking as the hot liquid hit her throat.
‘Are you hungry?’ asked Agathe. Annette nodded and Agathe went back to the stall and bought some bread, cold bacon and a wedge of cheese. Returning to the wall, she handed the food to Annette, who devoured it, stuffing it into her mouth as if it might be snatched away.
‘When did you last eat?’ demanded Agathe.
‘The day before yesterday,’ replied Annette, licking her fingers individually to be sure she had not missed a scrap.
Agathe stared at her in dismay. ‘Annette, what on earth has happened? How do you come to be…’ She gestured with her hand. ‘…as you are? You wouldn’t tell me before, but you must do so now.’
Haltingly, the girl began to tell her what, since she, Madame Sauze, had left the Clergy House, She had been suffering at the hands of Father Thomas. ‘And now I’m expecting his child he’s thrown me out!’
‘Thrown you out?’ echoed Agathe fiercely. ‘Yes, well, I suppose he would.’
‘Well, no, not exactly,’ admitted Annette. ‘He refused to accept that it’s his child. He insists I’ve been with other men and one of them is the father. He called it devil’s spawn and threatened to make me go back to St Luke’s.’ She shuddered at the memory and added, ‘I’d rather die first, so I ran away.’
‘So you’ve been living on the streets?’
Annette nodded. ‘Rather that than let a child of mine be brought up by those witches at St Luke’s.’
‘And have you been with any other men?’ asked Agathe, as always getting straight to the heart of the matter.
‘No, of course not,’ snapped Annette, adding miserably, ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘I had to ask you,’ answered Agathe quietly, ‘but I do believe you – that the child is his.’
Annette nodded again. ‘Yes, poor little bastard.’
‘Annette! Don’t use such language.’
‘Well,’ Annette said philosophically, ‘that’s what it is, isn’t it?’
‘But you can’t simply live on the streets,’ said Agathe. ‘What will you do when your time comes?’
‘Die, probably,’ replied Annette. ‘Both of us. And Father Thomas will say it’s God’s punishment for my sin.’
‘Enough of that,’ Agathe chided her, trying to suppress her fury at what the priest had been doing. ‘Just let me think what we can do for the best.’
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ said Annette, ‘but thank you for believing me.’
‘When is the baby due?’ asked Agathe.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Annette. ‘I don’t know how long. But I’m getting fatter, so it must be soon.’
Agathe sighed. What could she do? She had her room in Fleur’s apartment, but it was tiny, and she could just imagine what Fleur would say if she brought home a girl from the streets, six or seven months pregnant. She and her sister had been rubbing along reasonably well over the past few months, but Agathe was still adamant that the arrangement was temporary. She was determined to find another position and move out by the end of the summer. In the meantime she didn’t want to upset the status quo. Could she persuade Fleur to give the child houseroom, promising it would not be for long, just while they worked out a plan and decided what to do? Possibly, but unlikely. And what could they do? Where would Annette be safe? Where could she go to have her baby if it wasn’t somewhere like St Luke’s?
The French Wife Page 3