One Place

by Cara Shaw

  Maria sat back into the lounge and drew the blanket around her, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had the right address and by a miracle, Yvette’s building was still standing. Yvette sat down opposite her.

  “Tell me what has happened?” she said.

  Just then Julia returned with a large tin mug of steaming soup and a heel of bread. Maria took a long sip. The broth although thin, was nourishing and hot enough to satisfy her hunger. Maria told Yvette everything, about Robbie, her pregnancy and her reluctance to return home.

  Julia exchanged a look with Yvette, and then said, “You are welcome to stay here Maria, but…” she trailed off.

  “Am I imposing? asked Maria anxiously.

  “No of course not! You see, we have nothing. We have our food stamps, and Yvette and I take turns looking for wood. This was my husband’s building – he’s dead now. We salvaged everything and brought it into this apartment, it’s the only one that’s still habitable.”

  It dawned on Maria that Julia was implying that they could not support her, and that the two women only had enough for themselves.

  “Julia, Yvette, I have money – plenty of it! The Chief Surgeon gave me six months’ back pay. We can share it all – is there a black market here?”

  Julia sighed with relief, “That’s wonderful Maria, we have an extra couch you can sleep on, and we’ve just about run out of food.”

  As they spoke they heard a noise from behind one of the couches, and a little girl with bright red curly hair staggered out into the lounge room rubbing her eyes and yawning.

  Maria was enchanted. “Who is this?” she asked.

  Yvette smiled shyly, “This is my little girl, Jontie, she’s nearly two.”

  Jontie stuck her thumb in her mouth and smiled at the same time, and Maria knew that for now at least, she was safe.

  The next few weeks were bleak, the three women essentially camped together in the lounge room of the blown-out apartment building along with the little girl Jontie. With her bright red hair and freckled skin it was obvious to Maria that Yvette’s lover had not been French. Yvette had been with many men during that time in Ypres, and Maria suspected that not even she knew who the father was. It didn’t matter, they all adored her. Good as her word, Maria handed over all of her pay to the women, but held a little aside, explaining that she would need it to get her back to Italy when the time came. She was nearly seven months’ pregnant when she arrived at Lille, and her belly continued to grow steadily while they all struggled to get by. Maria went down to the ration office to collect her food stamps, and when they received their rations she was worried sick over the meagre potions. They spread their groceries out on the living room table and looked at the collection despondently.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Maria, “How are we supposed to live?”

  Their supplies each consisted of a pat of butter, a square of cheese, a tin of sardines, a quart of milk, a tiny bag of flour and some porridge – all to last the week.

  Julia shook her head, saying, “This is just meant to keep us going. We have to find the rest Maria.”

  The women took turns searching for as much wood as they could find and bartering on the black market so they could cook and keep warm. The privy out the back was a stinking hole in the ground, and the women had no choice but to use it. They tipped spades of soil in the hole every time to try and keep the smell down. The kitchen in the apartment was missing an entire wall but luckily, the tiny scullery to the side had survived. They kept their food in there and cooked over the fire in the grate. There was a water tap that still functioned at the back of the apartments, and they managed to wash regularly by boiling water and bathing from a small tin tub they kept in the hallway. There were three couches and they each slept on one, Jontie and Yvette cuddling up together under the many blankets they had been able to rescue from the other, abandoned apartments.

  The goods they were able to get from the black market were sketchy and sometimes hilarious. One time Yvette came back with a large turkey, feeling very proud of herself until Julia pointed out that they had no proper way to cook it. Yvette was crestfallen. Maria suggested they cut it into pieces and roast it a little at a time in a pot over the fire. This they did until the turkey finally began to putrefy and they had to bury the carcass in the courtyard. Another time Julia brought back a bag of fruit, which they couldn’t believe. They spent the week eating it with a cheese tart they had made and the sardines. Then they all had diarrhoea as their bodies were unused to the fibre and sugar in the apples and oranges they had been feasting on.

  Maria’s time grew close and her baby moved constantly, she almost felt as if it were fidgeting in the womb. Then one day it stopped and she went to find Yvette.

  “The baby’s stopped moving,” she said fearfully, “Do you think it has died?”

  “No, I think you will deliver soon. Try not to worry,” and she patted her arm.

  Yvette was right, Maria’s water broke that night and it was all over so quickly that afterwards Maria could barely remember the pain. She doubted that her body possessed the resources for a long labour, and that the baby was eager to reach the world. Maria gave birth to Roberto on March 15, 1919, and when the women placed the tiny, dark baby in her arms and all she could see was Robbie’s face. She imagined the joy he would be feeling if he had been there to hold his son.

  “His name is Roberto,” whispered Maria and she kissed the black hair on top of his head.

  The post-war era in Europe was poverty stricken and stark. The Great War was the first where technically advanced and highly destructive weaponry was used, and the level of devastation that shattered quiet towns or small and busy commercial cities was incalculable. Lille was no exception and its people tried to rally as much as they could to maintain the semblance of a decent life. Fields had been blasted to bits and the farmers absorbed into troops, so of course the primary need was for food. It was available, just hard to get and very expensive. Almost immediately after peace was declared people began small cottage gardens in bombed out lots, growing tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant and capsicum.

  Chicken coops were cobbled together using refuse from fallen dwellings, and people raised newly-hatched chicks in their bedroom drawers and later rehoused them in the coops. Food and specialty goods were smuggled into the town through the black market to avoid it being impounded by the government. It was mostly sourced from Croatia or valley farms in Italy, unaffected by the war. The women banded together to care for each other and the children. Yvette donated the three nappies she had used for Jontie, and Maria washed them out over and over again, barely allowing them to dry before pinning them back onto poor Roberto’s chafed bottom. She breastfed him constantly, but she was thin and so was he, and she knew it wouldn’t be very long before her milk ceased to flow.

  Julia and Yvette took to disappearing for hours at a time, usually returning with wood or small parcels of food. When Maria protested that this was unfair and that she too should be contributing, they assigned her the task of collecting the weekly rations with their food stamps combined, and caring for Jontie and Roberto while they were away from the apartment. They were often successful and at times returned with warm stockings, coats or new underwear. After a month or so, Maria decided to take Roberto and Jontie with her to the rations office to collect their allowance. It was mid-May and the weather had turned, blue sky was visible above and the sun was warm on her skin.

  She smiled as she walked through the streets which were gradually being cleared of rubble and mess, and feeling more positive about her future she began to make plans. She could return to Italy now, Roberto had grown and she could begin her search for Robbie. She was sure she could get work nursing in a village or labouring at a farm to support them both. She didn’t really want to think about dealing with her parents when she noticed Yvette and a man exiting a side door of the local bistro. The man handed her a
few francs and walked away. She must be waiting for a food delivery to hand over thought Maria and she paused to watch. Yvette stood there for a while until a different man approached her. They talked briefly and then they retreated. Maria was puzzled, what was Yvette doing? The side door opened again, and this time Maria saw Julia emerge with a soldier. He too handed her some money and then she did the same as Yvette; waiting in the lane until another man came along and spoke to her, and then she took him inside. Understanding dawned on Maria, the women were prostituting themselves! She felt sick with disgust; this is where the warm clothes and extra food was coming from – how could they do this? To Jontie! Shaking with anger she took the children back to the apartment.

  When the women returned later on, each with goods and a long warm skirt for Maria and woolly hat for the little girl, she could barely look at them. They were laughing as they prepared the evening meal, and the small group ate their dinner on the couches in front of the coal grate.

  “What is the matter Maria?” inquired Yvette, looking at her with concern.

  Julia was already dozing and sat close to the warm fire while Jontie snuggled up to her.

  “I have a tummy upset,” lied Maria. “That’s why I didn’t collect the rations today. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t look her in the eye.

  Yvette smiled sympathetically and brought her a cup of water, saying that tomorrow she would feel better. Maria spent a restless night trying to work out what to do. Should she confront the women? Tell them she had seen what they were doing and it was wrong – immoral even. But then, what would her argument be? That they were worth more than selling themselves? That there were other things they could do to survive? She was sorely conflicted. She and Roberto were also living off their earnings; the money she had given them when she first arrived had run out very swiftly. The reality was that people in Lille were doing anything to survive – some were living in wardrobes or behind stone walls they had fashioned together from rubble. Others collected acorns and roasted them over fires in the street to sell as hot snacks. People guarded their makeshift chicken coops zealously, relying desperately on the small eggs their chickens laid to give them a substantial meal. Only the other day a woman had struck a man on the head with an iron bar after he attempted to steal her eggs.

  They had also heard that in Germany people were dying of starvation. The punishing sanctions placed on the government by outside countries had succeeded in crippling the nation’s economy, and farming was dismal after the ravages of war and the loss of strong men. Who was she to judge the actions of these women who were simply trying to find enough to eat? She fell asleep, worried and upset.

  The next day when they were washing and eating a small breakfast Maria said, “It’s time I left. I must return to Avellino, Roberto is big enough to travel now.”

  Julia looked at her with barely hidden relief, “We knew this day would come. Who knows what the future will bring?”

  Maria knew at once that the Julia and Yvette had been waiting for her to leave, and she suddenly felt terrible for judging them so harshly.

  “Thank you for looking after me,” she said; and she was truly grateful.

  “You needed help Maria,” said Yvette kindly. “In times like these we need to be there for each other.”

  They helped her to pack a small bag. In it was a change of clothes for Roberto and herself and fresh underwear. She had her passport and nurse’s qualifications, Roberto’s nappies, a small smoked sausage, half a bread stick and an apple. Maria took the money she had held back for her fare to Italy and divided it in half. She held it out to Yvette, who hesitated, “But Maria…” she began.

  It was Julia who reached over to take it, her mouth set in a hard line.

  “Thank you, Maria. We are grateful,“ and she pocketed the coins.

  Jontie began to sniffle and cuddled Maria’s legs, which set off Roberto who also cried, and they passed through the landing and out onto the street. Maria walked away without looking back, and she knew that she would never return to Lille again. Then she wished with all her heart that Yvette and her aunt would soon be able to find a decent way to live.

  That day Maria walked to the Lille town hall with Roberto tucked on her hip. This was where everyone gathered when they needed anything at all. She wasn’t able to get a train from Lille train station as the tracks had been taken up for war use, and the sleepers beneath had long been thieved for burning. She needed to find someone who could get her to Paris, where she was sure she could get a train to Rome. When she reached the building it was clear that she was not the only one with plans to leave Lille. Whole families walked around holding signs stating their destination and the amount they were willing to pay marked next to it. Others had pinned jewellery to their jackets and coats, more than willing to bargain for a ride out of the city. The street in front of the town hall thronged with buggies and carts, with very few trucks and vehicles to be seen. Several shrewd hawkers had set up makeshift stalls to sell food and footwear at exorbitant prices. She sat down on the town hall steps and held Roberto tightly, and kept her bag very close. She was aware that it wasn’t wise to trust anyone in a place where the smell of desperation emanated from the crowd like stale cheese. She waited for hours, breastfeeding Roberto when he fussed, and keeping out an eagle eye for any opportunity that would get her away from Lille.

  She must have closed her eyes for a moment, because she heard a low voice next to her say, “You had your baby I see?” and she opened them to find the French driver who had brought her to Lille months ago standing in front of her.

  She smiled tiredly at him, “Yes, he is quite well as you can see.”

  The driver’s eyes softened a little and he patted the baby on the cheek.

  “Tres bon,” he said.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  The man indicated the truck behind him, “Looking for customers. I’m taking people to Paris but the price I am charging is very high,” he scanned the crowd, looking for likely prospects with plenty of money.

  “I don’t think you’ll find any shortage around here,” replied Maria. “How much are you charging?”

  The driver looked at her with a gleam in his eye and said, “Five hundred francs each!”

  Maria laughed in disbelief. “That’s extortion!”

  He grinned wickedly at her, “I know but as they say ‘This is war’,” and she repeated it with him.

  “I need to get to Paris too,” she said.

  The man nodded, he had already correctly assumed that she had nothing like the money he was asking for.

  “If I find a cheap ride I’ll let you know,” and he wandered away.

  Maria continued to wait, and asked as many people as she could for passage to Paris. She only had sixty francs, and the best price she could negotiate was forty-five, in a horse and cart with two other families. That would only leave her with fifteen francs for a train ticket from Paris to Rome and food for them both, and it was simply not enough. She was about to give up and go inside the town hall for a bowl of soup and request a palette for the night when the French driver from earlier pulled up in front of the steps. He was screaming abuse at the passenger who was in the front cab with him, and he reached over and flung the door open, pushing the man out with a heavy fist.

  “Get out of my truck! You don’t fucking like it, go and find someone else to shit on you pig!”

  He booted the fellow out and flung his money out after him.

  Maria looked at him in shock, the driver saw her sitting on the stone step and waved her over.

  “Get in! That prick’s not going anywhere!”

  “But I don’t have the money…” began Maria half-heartedly.

  “I don’t care! No one tells me my truck stinks of shit – even if it does!” he shouted.

  Maria grabbed her bag and the driver held onto her arm as she climbed in with Robbi
e pressed closely to her side. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and she heard alarmed cries coming from the people sitting in the rear as they lurched forward – paying customers she guessed. The driver was muttering and swearing as he drove, and Maria realised he was drunk. She cuddled Roberto under her coat and slid down the seat and as she fell asleep, hoped they would still be alive in the morning.

  She felt a tug on her shoulder and she roused to find that the driver was pulling on her coat to wake her up.

  “I think your baby needs feeding,” he said.

  She squinted into the morning light and saw that Roberto was crying dejectedly, so she took out her breast and eased it into his mouth. He settled almost immediately and began sucking eagerly, Maria relaxed and rested her head against the seat.

  “What happened?” the driver said gruffly, trying to avoid looking at her breast.

  “You mean last night?” she questioned.

  “Yes,” he replied, “I don’t remember clearly…”

  “You had a fight with one of your customers, threw him out and then told me to get in. I already told you, I have no money.”

  “Merde,” he grunted.

  Just then there was a pounding on the side of the truck and the driver pulled off the road. Everyone got out to urinate and complain, then they all sat down in the dewy grass to share their food and stretch out. Each person had a different story to tell, although Maria noticed that the driver kept well away from them all, and took a canteen of water from the back of the truck to wash his face and hands. There was a young couple, eager to reach Paris and start a new life; a woman that Maria suspected was a prostitute, her clothes were gaudy and she wore far too much make up. There were two other men who explained that they wanted to begin a business in Paris making kitchenware, and they sat together discussing their plans. At the driver’s signal, they all got back in.

  “Why did you not stay and talk with us?” asked Maria.