‘But at what cost!’ Nicole had exclaimed. ‘Some of them died, and others caught terrible infections and could never have babies again.’
‘Yes, well, those are the risks of abortion. Everyone knows that. Look, Nicole, no one is forcing Madeleine, and I don’t know anyone else who’ll do it. They’ve all vanished into the woodwork since vigilantes started cleaning our streets of “collaborators”. Those lunatics think the only girls who had abortions were the ones who slept with Germans. Anyway, if Madeleine decides to do it, I suggest you go with her.’ She’d handed Nicole the address, and with a quick peck on each cheek, left.
Madeleine broke the silence. ‘When?’ she asked listlessly.
‘Three o’clock,’ Nicole answered.
‘What day?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow!’ Madeleine exclaimed in horror.
‘Look, I will come with you. And if you don’t like it we will leave. OK?’
Madeleine looked down at the uneaten portion of gateau that Nicole had placed in front of her, and pushed the plate away. ‘Sorry, Nicole, I can’t eat now.’
‘Me neither,’ said Nicole, putting her fork down.
Suddenly feeling queasy, Madeleine jumped up from her chair and, clutching her stomach, ran for the toilet. A second longer and she wouldn’t have made it in time.
Nicole, following closely behind, rushed to Madeleine’s side and held her hair back while she retched. When Madeleine finally lifted her swollen, tear-soaked face, Nicole felt her heart would break. To stop herself crying too, she made a big deal of rummaging around in the sleeve of her cardigan, and eventually pulled out a crumpled handkerchief that Madeleine accepted gratefully, before blowing her nose.
She made such a loud noise that under normal circumstances they would have been in fits of giggles about it. Madeleine, aware of this, smiled through her tears. Nicole smiled back and held her close. ‘It will be all right, Madeleine. You’ll see,’ she said.
Squeezing Nicole’s hand in response, Madeleine said, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you so much for taking me into your home.’
‘About Maman—’ Nicole suddenly felt the need to explain.
‘I like your maman. There’s no need to explain anything,’ Madeleine said.
‘Well, now that I can speak freely about our life, I just want you to know that although Maman does … that … she is not without principles.’
‘I know,’ Madeleine said gently, still wiping away her tears.
‘Please,’ Nicole implored, gripping Madeleine’s arm, ‘I really want you to listen to this.’
‘Of course I will.’ Madeleine ran the tap so she could wash her face.
‘Come through when you’re ready,’ Nicole told her, ‘and I’ll tell you.’
Madeleine nodded, then splashed water over her face while Nicole made her way back into the café, walking past the three old biddies, who were sitting there curiously, waiting to see what happened next. One of them whispered, ‘Another little whore in trouble!’
‘Is there anything else you need before you leave?’ Nicole said, staring hard at them and opening the door of the boulangerie. They tutted and muttered as they got up from their seats and walked out.
With a shrug of her shoulders Nicole sat down and glanced at Céline, her assistant, who had just appeared behind the counter. Nicole smiled at her, appreciating the way she’d arrived so promptly to take over. Céline nodded back, then began wiping down the glass display case containing bread and sandwiches.
As Madeleine emerged from the toilets, Céline glanced over and asked, ‘Would you like another coffee?’
Madeleine smiled and shook her head.
Nicole asked, ‘Are you feeling better?’
Madeleine nodded briefly and said, ‘What did you want to tell me?’
‘Well,’ Nicole began, ‘as you know, the occupation seemed to last for ever.’
Madeleine didn’t need to answer. It was obvious from her expression that she and her family had suffered in the occupation, too.
‘Anyway,’ Nicole continued, ‘at first everyone said they’d spit in the Germans’ faces. But when it came down to it, very few did. Anyone who defied them was taken away and tortured or killed, and soon almost everyone else was ready to do whatever they said, just to survive. But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.’ She smiled. ‘Unfortunately the Germans were convinced that the French were immoral and decadent. Even officers thought they could do what they liked, especially with women. And, as you know, food, heating and clothing were in short supply. We were eating all kinds of rubbish, and it wasn’t long before ordinary decent women – usually housewives and mothers whose husbands were away fighting or locked up as prisoners of war – were prostituting themselves just to eat. Well … not all of them did it to survive. Some actually liked the Germans, and they were treated well. They had plenty to eat, and beautiful clothes, and went to the cinema, and nightclubs and dances. Needless to say, there were many pregnancies, which in turn led to countless abortionists setting up in business. Some of these had no experience at all, and just saw it as a way of making money out of others’ misfortune. And of course, sexual diseases were rife. In fact, one of the few good things the Germans did was to introduce compulsory medical check-ups. But Maman and her girls had always done that anyway …’
Nicole suddenly stopped talking, causing Madeleine to ask, ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes … yes,’ she said, as if shaking off an unpleasant memory.
‘Even girls my age formed liaisons with the Germans,’ she continued, then added wryly. ‘They preferred younger women, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know that,’ said Madeleine quietly.
‘Oh, Madeleine, you have your secrets, too! You must tell me.’
‘I will, but not today.’ She squeezed Nicole’s hand and implored, ‘Please go on.’
‘The reason I’m telling you all this is because never once in all those difficult times did Maman resort to fraternizing with the Germans, and I am so proud of her for that. But they kept coming to our door, and when Maman refused to let them in … well, one day they dragged her outside and beat her.’
‘Mon Dieu!’ Madeleine whispered, horrified.
Nicole continued, ‘I nursed her with the help of the girls who worked for her at the time. It took a long time for her to recover, and once she was well enough … well, that was when the girls left. They were far too afraid to stay after that, and who could blame them?’
Madeleine sat there, stunned, feeling huge admiration for Ginette. Then she leaned towards Nicole. ‘I’m so honoured you felt able to tell me all this.’
‘One good thing now, is that I think that I’ve convinced Maman not to do that work any more. She has managed to save quite a bit from her earnings, and I’m quite capable of earning enough to support us. I only took a job here at the boulangerie to be close to her. I’ll probably leave soon and look for something better,’ she added this last in a whisper, so Céline couldn’t hear.
‘Maybe it’s all turned out for the best, then?’ Madeleine said.
‘I hope so. But right now we have more pressing things to think about. Are you going to keep that appointment?’
‘Yes.’
Nicole was astonished. ‘Really?’
‘I’m going to see Madame Cutto first, and then I’ll make my decision,’ Madeleine said, speaking very fast, as if afraid she’d change her mind. Surprised to see the uncertainty on Nicole’s face she added, ‘It can’t do any harm just to meet her … can it?’
Without answering the question, Nicole said, ‘I’ll be with you, anyway.’
Madeleine glanced at her gratefully.
Boulogne, France
Tuesday, 4 December 1945
Madame Cutto lived in a dilapidated end-of-terrace house near the docks. The whole area had been heavily bombed, and they had to scramble over rubble to get to her front door.
The door was answered by a thin, sm
all-boned woman, her hair pulled tightly back from a sharp face. She wore a plain black dress that looked faintly greasy. She studied them both thoughtfully before leading them through a narrow hallway, and across a well-worn linoleum floor to a back room. It felt unusually cold in there, even though it was a mild and sunny day outside. The room smelled odd, of damp and mustiness covering something disagreeable and faintly feral. But then it was very dirty. Flies buzzed round it, the net curtains were brown and torn, and there were unwashed dishes in a sink at the back. A wooden box stood next to a dusty table, and the only redeeming feature of the place, as far as Nicole was concerned, were the framed photographs nailed to the walls. They showed groups of very solemn, formally dressed people, and Nicole assumed that they must be Madame Cutto’s family, and felt reassured. It made the woman seem less chilly, and more human.
‘So this is the girl who needs my help?’ Madame Cutto asked. She smiled slightly, showing small, grey teeth.
Concerned that Madeleine still hadn’t said anything, Nicole glanced at her. She was standing with her arms by her sides, gazing at the box.
‘Yes,’ Nicole said.
Madame Cutto nodded. She picked up the box and set it on the table. Then she swilled out one of the dishes in the sink and slowly filled it with water from the tap. Then she shook powder into it from a grimy packet.
‘And it is eight, nine weeks?’ she said, her back turned to them.
‘That’s right,’ Nicole said, since Madeleine didn’t answer.
‘And you have two hundred francs for me, yes?’ Madame Cutto turned round. She set the bowl carefully on the table and rolled up her sleeves.
Nicole noticed that Madeleine was still staring at the box. When Madame Cutto had put it on the table the lid had moved, and something had flopped out of one corner: a length of red rubber tubing, with a bulbous, grimy contraption on the end. Before Nicole could answer Madame Cutto, Madeleine had bolted from the room and down the hallway. She was halfway down the street before Nicole caught up with her.
‘I can’t, I can’t bear it,’ Madeleine burst out, her hands curled into fists. ‘She was going to do it there and then Nicole!’
‘OK! It’s OK! No one is forcing you.’ Gently she took Madeleine’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’
They walked in silence, and had nearly reached the flat when they were approached by two very large, dishevelled-looking women. One of them spat repeatedly on the pavement in front of Nicole, and the other looked her up and down in disdain and yelled the vilest obscenities Madeleine had ever heard.
When they’d gone Madeleine, trembling, asked Nicole, ‘What was all that about?’
‘Oh, ignore it,’ Nicole answered, seemingly unconcerned. ‘You have too many worries of your own to think about right now.’
Ginette opened the door of the apartment for them. ‘Maman, what are you doing home so early?’ Nicole asked.
‘Is it done? The appointment, I mean,’ Ginette asked.
‘No, Madam Cutto was preparing to do it straight away!’ Nicole answered.
Madeleine rushed to explain. ‘I’m so sorry, Ginette, I just didn’t realize—’
Ginette gripped Madeleine’s arm. ‘No need to explain, I understand, but you must make a decision about this baby soon!’
Unexpectedly, Madeleine said, ‘I will get it done. I will have the abortion …’ She swallowed. ‘Tomorrow, if possible.’
‘Tomorrow!’ Nicole exclaimed. ‘But we’ve only just got back from there!’
‘I know … I know!’ Madeleine looked at Ginette. ‘That’s if you can arrange it again for me, please?’
Ginette looked into Madeleine’s eyes, and the hopelessness she saw there brought a lump to her throat. ‘Well, I’ll try … but if you back out again you won’t get another chance. Madame Cutto doesn’t like being messed around. Do you understand?’
‘I understand. It was just such a shock, meeting her, and seeing that room … and that box! But I know I have to do it. I know I do.’
‘Are you sure?’ Nicole asked, before adding tentatively, ‘Maybe you should wait a little longer before making up your mind.’
Fighting the panic inside her, Madeleine answered, ‘I’m sure. I’m going to do it. I can be brave when I need to be.’ Her voice trembled as she said this, and she looked round at them defiantly.
Chapter 22
Boulogne, France
Wednesday, 5 December 1945
Dominic peered in through the window of the boulangerie for the umpteenth time, while Tom, drawing heavily on his cigarette, rattled and banged on the door.
A voice across the street called out, ‘It’s closed.’
They turned around to see an old woman sitting on her doorstep.
‘Oh, excuse me, do you know where a girl called Nicole, who works there, lives?’ Dominic asked hopefully.
‘Oh, that one!’ The old woman spat. ‘Well, the boulangerie is closed now.’
‘Yes, we know it is closed. That’s why we want to know how to find her.’ Dominic forced himself to be patient.
‘There’s no need to shout! I’m not deaf!’ the old woman retorted.
Tom dropped his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with his foot, before walking over and crouching in front of the old woman, saying very slowly, in English, ‘Please, this is very important … do you know her address?’
‘Ah! An Engleesh man,’ she said with a glint in her eye. ‘I like ze Engleesh man.’ She grinned. Then, glancing disapprovingly at Dominic, who had annoyed her by his brusqueness, she asked, ‘Why do you want her? Is she in trouble? That one’s always in trouble!’
Dominic tried Tom’s tactic, and crouched down beside her, explaining as calmly as he could, ‘No, Nicole isn’t, but I think that my sister may be with her, and she is in trouble. Please, if you know where she lives,’ he begged, ‘tell us.’
‘Your sister, you say.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Well, you need to get her away from there as quickly as possible, before anything worse happens to her.’
‘The name of the road, please?’ There was a faint edge to Dominic’s tone now, which made it clear that he wouldn’t take much more of being messed around.
‘Rue de la Mer,’ the old woman said suddenly, pointing to her right.
‘Merci,’ said Tom, gratefully squeezing her hand.
Dominic impatiently dragged him away. ‘Come on, Tom!’
As they broke into a run the old woman’s shrill voice shouted from behind them, ‘Ask any man who lives round there, and he’ll show you where the house is!’
* * *
After a restless night, Madeleine, unable to eat, and feeling a desperate need for fresh air, went for a long walk.
Ginette had been to see Madame Cutto the night before, and after a lot of argument, succeeded in bribing her with a few extra francs to give Madeleine another chance. She was to be there at four o’clock sharp.
The day had dragged, and yet already it was time to go.
Once more Madeleine and Nicole were setting off for the docks, but this time, at Madeleine’s request, Ginette was going to go with them. At the bottom of the stairs they stopped, took a deep breath, and held hands before Ginette opened the front door.
The scene that greeted them outside was so horrendous that Ginette fell over in panic while trying to push the two girls back in. The seething angry mob had toppled Nicole over in the doorway, making it impossible to shut the door. Madeleine was trying to pull her friend free, when an enormous ruddy-faced woman, who Madeleine recognized as the one who’d spat at her and Nicole the previous day, pushed the door, holding it open against the wall.
Madeleine tried to push her huge hand off the door. But the woman just laughed raucously and put her foot on Nicole – who was now lying with her head inside the doorway and her feet hanging over the top step. Seconds later a pair of rough hands gripped Nicole by the feet, and, to Madeleine’s horror, she was dragged down the stone steps, by which time Ginette had already b
een bound with rope and was being pushed and pulled down the road by two bald, toothless men.
Gasping with terror, Madeleine struggled to get away from the fat woman, who had seized her in a bear hug. Then a hand hit her painfully hard across the mouth. She recoiled, stunned, and two men seized the opportunity to bundle her out of the house and down the steps. She pounded with her fists against the rock-hard chest of one of them, his vile grin revealing his decaying teeth. She screamed, then, and struggled even more desperately, her body debilitated, she fell to the ground. As she was dragged down the street she wondered why this was happening. Surely it was just a nightmare? Or maybe she was delirious … yes, that must be it! She would wake up and find herself back at home with Maman and Papa, any minute now. This comforting thought allowed her to endure the indignity as she was buffeted along different streets, half-carried, half-dragged by the nightmarish crowd.
She was only vaguely aware of Ginette and Nicole in the press of people in front of her. Curses and cheers rose from the crowd. The odours of sweat, cigarettes, alcohol, and fried food rose from the people pushing her. She put her hand to her face; it felt wet and slimy. Someone growled, ‘Dirty whore!’ She heard them clearly, just as another gob of spit landed on her face.
Eventually the crowd came to a standstill and she realized Nicole was next to her. Why was Nicole shaking her? ‘Madeleine! Madeleine! Wake up!’ Her screeching gave Madeleine a headache. She looked round and everything came into sharp focus. She realized she was in the market square and Ginette was being strapped to a chair while someone stood over her, waving a pair of shears. There were other women she didn’t recognize on other chairs. Why was that?
‘Madeleine! Tell them! For God’s sake, tell them who you are!’ Nicole was yelling.
But all that Madeleine wanted at this moment was for Nicole to be quiet.
Nicole, seeing the hopelessness of trying to get through to Madeleine, now pleaded with her captors, ‘We are not collaborators, and we never fraternized with the Nazis. My mother was beaten because of it. Surely you heard about that! And this is my friend, Madeleine Pelletier. She came to visit us two days ago. She lives in Marck …’
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