The Child Left Behind

by Anne Bennett

  Bridgette felt herself relax and Audrey, seeing this, said, ‘I can’t tell you how happy Jim and I are that you are joining this family, and Dolly too is delighted.’

  Bridgette knew that Dolly was pleased for when they’d met she had thrown her arms around Bridgette and told her that she had always wanted a sister. Finn, of course, was the light of all their lives.

  The fact that she was surrounded by people who loved her filled Bridgette with confidence, but she knew that she had to return to St-Omer with her James by her side, or that terrible business might always remain a blot on her new life.

  The family weren’t that sure that it was a good idea for her to return to France, especially when they heard the truth of what had happened after her flight to Paris.

  ‘Why don’t you forget all about going back to France?’ Aggie said coaxingly. ‘You have got away and you’re free, and can make a new life for yourself here and never think of them again.’

  ‘Aunt Aggie,’ Bridgette said, ‘you were once terrorised by a man named Finch, who Uncle Joe dealt with.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If that hadn’t happened, if the man still lived, would you be as happy and contented as you are today, or would you always feel that there was unfinished business?’

  ‘I don’t think I really need to answer that,’ Aggie said. ‘And I understand what you are saying.’

  ‘I have good friends in St-Omer that I may want to visit,’ Bridgette said. She raised her head and said firmly, ‘And I will not have people whispering about me behind my back and so I need to confront them. It is the only way.’

  ‘All I can say to that,’ said Aggie, ‘is that you are a braver person than I am, and your father would have been proud of you.’

  THIRTY

  Bridgette and James sailed for France the following week, leaving the plans for the wedding in the capable hands of James’s mother aided, abetted by Isobel, Aggie and Molly. Bridgette had written to her aunt and uncle in Paris and they stopped off there for a few days.

  Raoul and his fiancée, Monique, were living there too, and James greeted them all in French, but hestiantly as his skill had got rusty through lack of use. They were impressed anyway and shook him warmly by the hand. Bridgette was hugged and kissed by them all, and they positively drooled over Finn. Henri and Yvette were astounded at how much he had changed in a few months.

  Bridgette had told them little details in the letter she had sent, and while Yvette and Henri had never seen James and knew nothing about him, Raoul and Monique wanted to hear everything from the beginning. Bridgette told them all about her Resistance work, culminating in hiding James in the first place, and then thinking that he was killed as he tried to rejoin the advancing British Forces.

  Yvette came in there. ‘We arrived in the town to see my desperately ill sister the day that Bridgette had seen the dead body of the Resistance worker, Charles, whom she knew, who was guiding James through the forest. The man with him told her though they hadn’t found James’s body, the Germans had probably killed him too.’

  ‘I thought my heart had broken,’ Bridgette said.

  ‘I can imagine,’ Monique said, and was further astounded when Bridgette recounted what had happened when she left her home for Paris.

  ‘They thought I was a collaborator, no worse, some plaything of the German officers.’ Her lip curled in disgust.

  James, who was pleasantly surprised how much he was able to understand, said in French, ‘We’re going back now to tell them they were wrong.’

  Raoul and Monique could plainly see that that was what they had to do, but Henri and Yvette were worried for Bridgette.

  ‘I must do this,’ Bridgette said firmly. ‘It’s unfinished business. I was unable to say a word in my defence before this, or explain what I was really doing, but now, should they doubt one word of what I say, I will have James as proof.’

  Again, James spoke in French. ‘You mustn’t worry. I will protect Bridgette. No one will ever hurt her in that way again.’

  Later, as Yvette and Bridgette made coffee in the kitchen, Yvette said, ‘We missed you so much when you left, but I see you were right to go.’

  ‘If I hadn’t I might never have met up with James again,’ Bridgette said. ‘Isn’t that an awful thought? I was so convinced he was dead, I would never have gone looking for him.’

  ‘It’s wonderful that you got together,’ Yvette said. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased, and Henri feels the same. It is obvious that you love him and he is totally besotted by both you and the boy.’

  ‘I know,’ Bridgette said. ‘He is so pleased to be a father, though he regrets missing some of Finn’s babyhood.’

  ‘He has years to make up for that.’

  ‘He intends to make the most of them,’ Bridgette said. ‘But this does mean, of course, that we will be living in Birmingham, in England.’

  ‘I know that, my dear,’ Yvette said. ‘I accepted that a long time ago. Now you have James, and Finn has his father, and that’s as it should be.’

  ‘And you will come to my wedding?’

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ Yvette said. ‘We will all be there. You just try to keep us away. And then you will return here in the late autumn for Raoul and Monique’s wedding.’

  ‘We will of course,’ Bridgette said. ‘Monique was saying that they intend to start a family immediately.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Yvette with a smile on her face. ‘She said the same to me.’

  ‘That will keep you busy then.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Yvette said. ‘Busy and happy. It is by far the best way to be.’

  Three days later, on a Saturday, Bridgette, James and Finn were on the train bound for St-Omer. The only people who knew they would be arriving were the Laurents. Bridgette said she wanted to arrive as unobtrusively as possible and so asked them not to meet her at the station and that they would make their own way to the house. So there was little notice taken of the young couple and child that alighted from the train. Bridgette saw no one she recognised.

  Once clear of the station, though, with James pushing Finn in the pushchair, their feet automatically turned towards Rue Allen, where the bakery had once stood. Marie had been right: it was now just a blackened shell.

  The dank smell of the charred embers still hung in the air and as Bridgette stood looking at it with James’s arm around her, tears ran from her eyes.

  ‘It’s silly, I suppose, to cry,’ she said. ‘I mean, I can tell myself that it’s just a building and there were many buildings destroyed in the war, but this was directed at me and me alone, and that is the thing that’s so upsetting. Can you imagine the violence, the blood lust, that was running through the people who did this? They destroyed my home because they hadn’t got hold of me to abuse and harass. What I find really upsetting is that it wouldn’t have been mindless thugs that did it,’ she told James as they turned away and began walking towards the Laurents’ shop. ‘These were people I had known all my life. I thought this was a nice friendly town, and never could I have visualised anyone doing anything like that. Somehow this has coloured my whole attitude to most of the people here.’

  She wasn’t including the Laurents in that assessment, of course, and a few minutes later they saw Marie, who must have been watching out for them, running towards them with her arms outstretched. She enveloped them both in a bear hug and then unstrapped Finn and lifted him in her arms, saying as she did so, ‘Aren’t you a little beauty?’ In answer, Finn kicked his legs and chuckled.

  ‘Oh, he’s gorgeous,’ Marie said, holding him in her arms as they made their way to the shop. ‘And a heartbreaker with those dark eyes.’

  ‘That’s what Isobel said as well,’ Bridgette said. ‘But James has those dark eyes too, and the only time he broke my heart was when I thought he was dead.’

  ‘I remember,’ Marie said. ‘And I am glad that things have worked out well for you in the end. It’s just wonderful. I shed tears when you wrote and told us the news, and
so did Lisette.’

  ‘When is her baby due?’

  ‘September. And Leonie is that excited. I said to Lisette we’ll be lucky if either of us gets a look in.’

  ‘I wonder what Leonie will think of Finn.’

  ‘She’ll adore him. And Jean-Paul too,’ Marie said confidently. ‘They are so excited about you coming back to see us all. It’s good that you stopped off in Paris too. How is everyone?’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ Bridgette said. ‘Aunt Yvette has a wedding to prepare and Raoul’s fiancée, Monique, is a lovely girl that she gets on so well with.’ She looked at Marie and said impishly, ‘When the children arrive what a doting grandmother she will make.’

  ‘Ah, well, a little bit of spoiling from a grandmother does them no harm in the long run,’ Marie said rather smugly.

  Bridgette smiled. ‘Well, you should know, Marie.’ And the two women’s eyes locked and they laughed together.

  Lisette, Edmund and the children came around later, and it was lovely to see everyone again. The children had grown out of all recognition and, as Marie prophesied, were enchanted with Finn—even Jean-Paul, who was a big boy now and in double figures. Bridgette was so pleased to see Edmund again, who was so glad to be back with Lisette and his family after so many years apart.

  However, throughout that evening, always in the back of Bridgette’s mind was the confrontation with Madame Pretin that she was determined to have before Mass the following morning. When she told Marie and Lisette her intention she expected Marie to try to talk her out of it.

  But she said, ‘I don’t blame you in the slightest. That woman has had things her own way for long enough, and the accusations she levelled at you, Bridgette, were downright malicious. I’ll make sure that I am there to back you up.’

  ‘And so will I,’ Lisette declared stoutly.

  And so the next morning the party set out for the short walk to Notre Dame, James as usual pushing Finn in his pushchair, Bridgette by his side, and behind them Marie and Maurice.

  Madame Pretin was on the steps, as Bridgette knew she would be, surrounded by the usual crones. She had her back to Bridgette, but Bridgette saw that one of her friends has spotted her and had alerted the old woman. Madame Pretin was surprised because she hadn’t heard that Bridgette was even in the town, but by the time she had turned, her face had assumed its usual sour expression and her eyes glittered with spitefulness. Bridgette held her gaze, only dimly aware that Lisette, Edmund and the children had come out of a side road and were grouped around her.

  She didn’t stop until only about a metre separated the two woman. James with the child stayed further back as Madame Pretin spat out, ‘I’m surprised that you have the effrontery to show your face here.’

  ‘You’re surprised, are you?’ Bridgette said. ‘Why is that exactly?’

  ‘You know,’ Madame Pretin spat out. ‘We don’t want your sort here. Thought we showed you that plainly enough.’

  There was a murmur of agreement from the other women at this.

  Bridgette said, ‘You mean when you burned the bakery to the ground? But you see, the bakery wasn’t mine and never would have become mine. My grandfather cut my mother and me out of the will and gifted it to Legrand and then his son, Georges. Now they are no more and I don’t think they need a bakery of any sort where they are now. It’s probably quite hot enough.’

  ‘It’s how we deal with traitors, and any others who were too friendly with the Germans,’ said one of the other women.

  ‘But surely you must be certain of your facts?’

  ‘Everyone knew about Legrand and his lily-livered son.’

  ‘And you lived with them,’ Madame Pretin almost snarled. ‘Eating the best of food while the rest of us starved.’

  ‘I had no jurisdiction over Legrand,’ Bridgette said. ‘None whatsoever. He wasn’t even my father. My real father was a soldier in the British Army and he was killed at the Somme in 1916 before I was born.’

  Bridgette saw that many were surprised at that, but she wasn’t finished. ‘I lived back at the bakery because I needed to nurse my mother. She was very sick, and you know that and were so scared of catching her disease you never came near her and then expected to lament her passing at my expense the day we laid her to rest.’

  ‘It’s how it’s done,’ another women said. ‘You have no manners.’

  Bridgette laughed. ‘I have no manners,’ she repeated sarcastically. ‘I’m sure that it is very mannerly to drag women out into the street to abuse and humiliate them on the merest say-so of another, and if I had not left for Paris that would have happened to me.’

  ‘We know the sort of woman you were,’ Madame Pretin said. ‘Even early on in the Occupation you were seen fraternising with the Germans.’

  Bridgette sighed. ‘In 1940 my husband, Xavier, was killed on the beach at Dunkirk. When word reached me, it caused me to go into labour and my premature baby was stillborn. I wanted to pay the Germans back for taking away my husband and my child and so I joined the Resistance.’

  She saw the incredulous faces around her and she said, ‘What you saw as fraternisation I saw as trying to ensure safe passage across the city. Skilfully hidden in my beret there might be messages, maps or diagrams that I had to deliver. I could not risk being stopped and searched too thoroughly, so yes I used to flirt. I was advised to. Later, I also set fire to fuel dumps, cut telephone lines and laid charges on bridges, roads and railway lines.’

  Some of the women looked decidedly uncomfortable now, Bridgette noticed, and some on their way to church had stopped to watch the exchange. Even those already in the church had come out as far as the doorway.

  Madame Pretin, seeing this, snapped out, ‘You still haven’t explained why your house wasn’t searched when everyone else’s was.’

  ‘Oh,’ Bridgette said. ‘I must explain that, mustn’t I? Well, here goes then. I gave up working with the Resistance when I went back to live at the bakery for I wouldn’t put Maman at risk, but I was approached one day by a man I knew in the Resistance who asked me to hide a secret agent.’

  She reached her hand back and James took hold of it, gripped it tight and came to stand beside her.

  In his halting French he said, ‘My name is James Carmichael and I was a secret agent dropped in France.’

  ‘James’s escape route back to Britain broke down,’ Bridgette said. ‘And the Germans knew a secret agent was in the area but they didn’t know where. I was asked to hide him because it was thought that with Legrand and Georges so well in with the German officers, and with Maman so sick, James would be safer there than anywhere.

  ‘Obviously, Legrand and Georges knew nothing about it. And there was no guarantee that the Germans wouldn’t search the bakery,’ Bridgette said. ‘We just had to take the risk. And they did come into the house, and were just yards from the bedroom housing James when they were ordered out again. In the end James was with us from April to July, and we found that we loved one another. Our son, Finn, is the fruit of that love and as we have just found each other again after the war, we are not yet married. That is the only sin I committed. I am no traitor to France.’

  The priest had been drawn to the church doorway as well to see what had so interested his flock, and as Bridgette’s tale drew to a close he descended the steps and said, ‘Well, I would not condemn you, Bridgette Laurent. Indeed,’ he extended his hand, ‘I am honoured to shake your hand and that of your intended. France owes you both a debt.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said a voice from the crowd, and this was echoed by another. When applause began, Madame Pretin and her friends, red-faced with embarrassment, took themselves off.

  Bridgette was amazed by the response, but as she looked around at the people she was aware that some averted their eyes or moved their feet nervously, and she knew Henri had been right: Madame Pretin would not do the dirty work herself; she would incite others to do it instead. And these people lauding her now, but unable to meet her gaze, were the likely prot
agonists that had searched for her and then set fire to her home.

  They were the sort of people who would sway with the wind, join whichever side was the most popular. And despite Madame Pretin’s very probable provocation and encouragement Bridgette thought that the whole atrocious act was less her fault than theirs.

  It was the normal St-Omer townsfolk who had made the decision to hunt others down and administer their own brand of punishment, even though many must have known how wrong it was. Firing the bakery was the last straw, as far as Bridgette was concerned. She knew that there were quite a few neighbours she had thought she had known that she could never trust again.

  The priest had turned away and was going back into the church and the crowd had begun to follow him.

  ‘Are you coming?’ Marie asked.

  Bridgette shook her head. ‘I am in no mood for Mass,’ she said. ‘Not here, anyway. Today the responses would choke me.’

  ‘What are you in the mood for?’ James asked when Marie had gone.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Bridgette said, then suddenly cried, ‘Yes I do. I have done what I came here to do.’ She had a sudden vision of her family in Birmingham. ‘I am certain now that I no longer belong here and I want to go home as soon as possible.’

  ‘We will,’ James said soothingly. ‘I will see to that first thing tomorrow.’ He put his arms around her and said, ‘And soon we will be man and wife. Hold that thought because then our future together will begin. I can hardly wait to love you properly and be a real father to our son. We will have a honeymoon too. Europe is in such a mess it will have to be somewhere near home, I think. Have you anywhere you would particularly like to go?’