by Anne Bennett
Bridgette was pressed against the wall. There was nowhere else to go, Georges was between her and the door, and even in his drunken state she doubted that she’d get past him. What was she to do? Just wait for him to attack her?
She could feel her heart banging against her ribs almost painfully, and she suddenly thought maybe if she jumped on to the bed, taking Georges by surprise, she could perhaps reach the door. She made a leap and Georges lunged for her clumsily, clouting her head with such force she was knocked on to the bed, where she cracked her head on the bedpost and cried out in pain.
Before she had her wits about her Georges was on top of her. ‘We can do this the hard way or the easy way,’ he said as he straddled her. ‘Makes no odds to me.’
‘Georges, please…!’ Bridgette pleaded, now thoroughly frightened. She began to writhe and struggle to free herself. She stopped, though, when she saw the licentious way he was staring at her, a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.
‘That’s it,’ he said huskily. ‘You know what it is all about.’
‘No I do not,’ Bridgette said. ‘Nor do I want to. Let me go, Georges.’
‘I will,’ Georges said, ‘when I have tasted your wares.’ With that, he took hold of her nightdress by the collar and ripped it all down the front.
Bridgette shrieked as the cold air hit her bare skin, and then Georges was on top of her, his weight near knocking the breath from her body. She felt him fiddling with his buttons and she screamed for all she was worth.
‘Shut up, you stupid bitch,’ he cried and he clamped a hand across her mouth so tightly she felt her teeth rub against her lips.
She was looking straight into his black hate-filled eyes as he breathed stale alcoholic fumes all over her and spat out, ‘I’m going to take you tonight and there is nothing that you can do about it. And I will do the same again any night I feel like it.’
Bridgette knew he was enjoying seeing her so powerless. But then she felt the pressure of one of his fingers with her tongue because she had been in the middle of a scream, her mouth open, when he had clapped his hand over it. She bit down as hard as she could. Georges gave a roar and released her. She just glimpsed his finger dripping blood before his other fist slammed into her face and she pushed him off the bed as she screamed and screamed and screamed.
‘What in God’s name is going on?’
Bridgette’s eyes were mere slits, but she saw her father in the doorway and she could almost see the raging temper he was in. Behind him was her mother, a shawl wrapped over her nightdress. Gabrielle was angrier than Bridgette had ever seen her.
‘I shouldn’t think you need ask what has happened here tonight,’ she said, crossing to the bed and putting her arm around her weeping daughter. ‘Your despicable son has obviously tried to have his way with Bridgette and when she wouldn’t comply, he has beaten her senseless. Take him away, out of my sight, for I have a great desire to find the heaviest pot in the kitchen and hit him over the head with it. But this isn’t over, so don’t think it is. We will discuss this tomorrow.’
‘It was all Bridgette’s fault,’ Georges said, as his father led him from the room. ‘She asked me in and was all for it, and then she suddenly turned nasty.’
Gabrielle shut the door with a resounding slam and returned to Bridgette. ‘Did he violate you? You know what I mean by that?’
‘Yes, I know, Maman,’ Bridgette answered. ‘He didn’t, but he would have done. That was why I bit him.’
‘Has he ever done anything like this before?’
‘No, but he threatened to do it in the future any time he felt like it.’
‘He won’t ever do anything like this to you again,’ Gabrielle promised.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Trust me he won’t,’ Gabrielle said determinedly. ‘Now if the coast is clear, I will get a bowl of water to clean you up.’
The next day Bridgette was far too battered and bruised to go to work and Gabrielle went out early to explain what had happened. Had it been anyone else, she would never have told the truth, but Marie was a very good friend, and Gabrielle wanted her advice on how to keep her daughter safe.
Marie was furious that Georges should have so abused and hurt Bridgette in the way Gabrielle described—so angry that her voices penetrated through to the kitchen, where Xavier was having his breakfast, and he heard every word.
‘D’you mean Robert and Georges refuse to discuss it,’ he heard his mother ask Gabrielle incredulously, ‘just as if it never happened?’
Gabrielle shrugged. ‘More or less. All Robert said was that Georges was drunk and he had made a mistake. He also said that Bridgette had to take some of the blame, for if she hadn’t encouraged Georges and then played hard to get, she wouldn’t have ended up so battered and bruised. But I know Bridgette would not ask Georges into her room if he were the last man on earth.’
‘I know she wouldn’t as well,’ Marie said. ‘She makes her feelings for Georges Legrand abundantly clear and always has. Xavier has little time for him either.’
By now Xavier was seething with temper. He didn’t let on he had heard anything but slipped out of the door and made his way to work. He was determined that he would make Georges Legrand pay, both for what he had done to Bridgette and for what he had attempted to do. And all he needed was time to decide just how he was going to do that.
Later, when Gabrielle had left, Marie went in search of her son but found he had already gone out. She was glad that he hadn’t heard the exchange, and she had no intention of telling him the real reason Bridgette wasn’t at work that day because she didn’t know how he would react.
Bridgette languished in bed all day, glad to be there because she didn’t want to see Georges or her father, but she was unable to sleep as the time drew near for the men to come home. She felt as if every nerve ending was standing out in her body as she lay wide-eyed, alert to every noise.
She heard them both come in and listened to Georges’s stumbling progress up the stairs, encouraged by his father, and she assumed that he had had more to drink than usual.
The next day Gabrielle told Bridgette that she had to go down to the bakery to help until the boy Legrand had engaged should arrive.
‘Why?’ Bridgette asked. ‘What’s up with Georges?’
‘He was set upon by a crowd of ruffians,’ Gabrielle said, with a smile, ‘and beaten up quite badly. I couldn’t be more pleased, though I have to hide that from his father, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Bridgette said with an answering grin, and despite her aches and bruises went down quite cheerfully to the bakery to help her father.
She insisted on going to work after that, though. Gabrielle did her best with her face and Marie said she would keep her in the back for a few days till it healed a little. Lisette was agog with curiosity, but it was only later that day, as they walked out with Xavier after lunch, that Bridgette was able to tell her friend the real reason why she hadn’t been at work the previous day.
Lisette was appalled. Then they fell to discussing what gang of ruffians had done the world a favour and assaulted Georges Legrand, and suddenly Xavier laughed.
‘There was no gang of ruffians,’ he said. ‘I attacked him.’
‘You did?’ Bridgette said in horror.
‘Yes. For all I hate him with a passion, I hit him with nothing but my fists and have skinned knuckles to prove it. Look.’
Xavier spread his hands and Bridgette looked at the broken and bruised skin. ‘You should have them seen to,’ she said.
‘Oh, no,’ Xavier assured her. ‘They’ll be all right in a day or two.’
‘Good job that Maman didn’t catch sight of them,’ Lisette said with a giggle. ‘Oh, there would have been all sorts of questions then, and she would have got to the bottom of it in the end.’
‘I was in no danger,’ Xavier said. ‘Like most bullies, Georges Legrand was a coward when it came down to it. To tell you the truth I have wanted to punch that m
an for some time. He is crafty and a sneak, and has been that way since we were at school together. It’s a wonder no one has done it before. But the final straw for me was when he abused you, Bridgette.’
‘How did you know?’ Bridgette asked. ‘Did your mother tell you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Xavier said, and explained how he had overheard.
‘I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw you,’ Lisette said, ‘and I think what Georges tried to do to you was dreadful.’
‘You don’t think less of me because of what happened, do you?’ Bridgette asked Xavier and Lisette worriedly.
‘Why would we do that?’ Lisette replied.
‘You might feel that I was somehow to blame.’
‘How could you even think that?’ Xavier asked. ‘We have known you since you were a little girl. The whole family knows the kind of girl you are.’
Bridgette gave a sigh of relief. Then she said, ‘You won’t get into trouble for hitting Georges like this, will you?’
‘I doubt it,’ Xavier shrugged.
‘Did he recognise you?’
‘Of course. But if he complains, he also has to admit that it was one man alone that attacked him, and then he will have to say why, which I told him before I laid a hand on him. He’d hardly want that spread around the town, would he?’
‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’
‘But I think I had better tell Maman and Papa anyway.’
‘Why?’
‘Look, Bridgette’, Xavier said. ‘At the moment Georges is frightened and he will leave you alone, but how long d’you think that will last?’
‘He might never touch me again after what you did to him,’ Bridgette answered confidently.
Xavier shook his head. ‘You forget, I know this man. He’ll wait until the furore dies down and then probably, with his wits affected by far too much wine, he will attack you again. You are unprotected in that house and he knows that.’
Bridgette gave a shiver. ‘I suppose I could ask for a bolt to be fitted on my door,’ she said tentatively. ‘What else can I do?’
‘I have been thinking about that. You could always move into our house.’
Bridgette stared at him. ‘Xavier, I can’t just go moving into other people’s houses.’
‘Yes you can,’ Xavier insisted. ‘You could share a bedroom with Lisette. You wouldn’t mind that, would you, Lis?’
Lisette clapped her hands with delight. ‘Mind? I would love it. It would be like having a sister.’
Bridgette shook her head. ‘Papa would never allow it.’
‘I bet your mother will,’ Xavier said. ‘She can threaten to expose Georges if your father plays up.’
‘She would never do that,’ Bridgette said. ‘And my father will know that.’
‘Well, he won’t be so sure of me,’ Xavier said. ‘He wasn’t there when I beat Georges but Georges is sure to have told him. Would he take the risk that I might tell everyone of my beating up Georges Legrand if he makes a fuss about you coming to live with us?’
‘No, I don’t think he would,’ Bridgette said. ‘He would hate to be snubbed or ridiculed, and if people were incensed enough it could affect the business, though I know my mother will be the one who bears the brunt of his ill humour.’
‘Bridgette, your mother would want you to be safe, wouldn’t she?’ Lisette said.
Of course she would—Bridgette knew that—and only if she put some distance between her and Georges would she feel safe. She sighed.
‘All right, tell your mother and see what she says,’ she told Xavier.
Marie and Maurice agreed straightaway, and Gabrielle could see the sense of it too, though she knew she would miss her daughter sorely. When she tried to tell Legrand what was proposed, however, he was flabbergasted and said that he would never allow Bridgette to leave the bakery.
He roared and he bellowed about it, and when Gabrielle tried to change his mind, he lashed out at her. In the end, Xavier and his father went to talk to him and Xavier threatened to tell everyone of Georges’s behaviour if he refused to let Bridgette move into the Laurents’ house.
As Bridgette prophesied, her father didn’t want rumours spread about him, and though he still blustered and grumbled they all knew that was just for show and the battle had been won. Bridgette moved into the Laurents’ without delay.
Marie insisted that Bridgette keep in regular contact with her mother. She knew Gabrielle was tortured by the thought that, to ensure Bridgette’s happiness and safety, they had to live apart. Gabrielle said none of this when her daughter came to visit, but just cherished the time that they had together. The afternoons, while the men slept, were usually quiet at the shop, and Gabrielle would make coffee and put a cake by for each of them, and Bridgette looked forward to these occasions as much as her mother did.
FOURTEEN
For years Bridgette had liked and admired Lisette and wished Xavier had been her brother, but by the time she had passed her seventeenth birthday, she was very glad he wasn’t, for just the sight of him caused her heart to beat faster, her hands to become clammy and her mouth to feel dry.
Many times she and Lisette had talked of falling in love, like all young girls longed to do, and how they would know when it happened. That was the topic of conversation one late November day in 1933.
‘I mean, it must be a very odd thing,’ Lisette said, lying full stretch on her bed. ‘It’s what most of the songs are about, and poems and many stories, and yet…how does a person know?’
Bridgette shrugged, thinking of her own situation, for Xavier surely saw her just as his sister’s friend. ‘And what if you are madly in love with someone and he doesn’t even know that you exist?’ she asked.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Lisette. ‘Unrequited love. Wouldn’t that be the most dreadful thing? I hope that doesn’t happen to either of us.’
The phrase ‘unrequited love’ ran round and round in Bridgette’s head all morning and as she sat down opposite Xavier for lunch that day her heart was thumping so hard against her ribs, she felt sure that everyone could hear it.
She suddenly felt very miserable and the meal tasted like sawdust in her mouth. And then she reached for the salt cellar at the same time as Xavier, and as their fingers met, a tingle ran all through Bridgette’s arm and her startled eyes met those of Xavier. She felt her limbs had suddenly turned to jelly and her throbbing heart leaped with joy, and yet not a word had been exchanged between them.
Bridgette was surprised that the wondrous thing between her and Xavier had not been noticed by anyone else and that ordinary life was going on around them.
Someone else had seen the spark between the young couple, and that was Marie. When the meal was over she waved away Bridgette’s offer of assistance to wash up.
‘Why don’t you and Xavier take a walk out?’ she suggested to Bridgette. ‘You don’t get many dry, fine days like this in November. Make the most of it. Lisette will give me a hand.’
Lisette was about to protest, for they had always walked out together, until she saw the wink her mother gave her, and then she followed her gaze and saw Bridgette and Xavier gazing at one another as if they were the only people on earth. She felt a sudden pang of loss for she knew that soon someone else would be closer to Xavier than she was, but she was ashamed of herself almost at once, for how could she begrudge such happiness to the two people she loved best in all the world?
Outside in that chill November day, Xavier was holding Bridgette close. He could hardly believe that he had her in his arms, the girl he had thought loved him only in a fraternal way, as Lisette did.
Almost in wonderment he told her, ‘I never dreamed…I mean, I never knew that you felt like this.’
‘Loving you like this sort of grew on me,’ Bridgette explained. ‘I didn’t know you felt the same. I thought you saw me as Lisette’s friend.’
‘Oh, I felt much more than that for you,’ Xavier answered. ‘My heart has ached for you for some months now, bu
t I was afraid to speak. You are so young.’
‘Oh, Xavier, I am old enough to know my own heart,’ Bridgette murmured, snuggling closer.
‘Darling, just to hear you whisper my name sends tremors down my spine. I love you from the very core of my being. My heart and soul belong to you.’
‘I love you the same way,’ Bridgette said. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘It is.’ Xavier swung Bridgette round to face him. ‘But this is better.’
Bridgette watched his face coming towards her and she clasped him tight, and when their lips met she closed her eyes with a groan of desire she barely understood. She knew that Xavier was kissing her in the street in open view of anyone passing, but she didn’t care. It was her very first kiss, and just about the sweetest thing she had ever experienced.
When Xavier released Bridgette eventually she said to him, ‘Shall we go back to the house and tell them?’
Xavier laughed. ‘I don’t think that it will come as any sort of surprise.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, Maman is very aware of it. I saw it in her eyes. Why d’you think she wangled for us to come out alone today?’
‘I did wonder at that,’ Bridgette admitted.
‘Come on,’ said Xavier. ‘Let’s go and tell her that she is right, as usual.’ And they ran hand in hand along the street.
‘I suppose I should go and see Robert Legrand and ask his permission to marry his daughter,’ Xavier said morosely to his mother that same evening. ‘I don’t relish that, I can tell you. I mean, he cannot stop us walking out together because Bridgette lives here, but he can stop our marriage. I may as well tell you, Maman, that while the man never thought much of me, he hates me now because of what I did to his son that time. I guessed that Georges would have admitted to him what really happened that night. If looks could kill I would have died on the floor of the cathedral many a time already, for the way he looks at me sometimes is positively venomous.’