“What?” he said, “what’s happened?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just wanted you to come home.”
“Has my mother been reading the cards again?” he asked as we went into the house. “You mustn’t believe what she says. She makes it all up, you know.”
“I know.”
He opened the dresser door and took out a bottle of brandy and put it on the kitchen table. “Get some glasses,” he said, “we’ll have a drink. It will calm your nerves.”
We talked about the co-op and Étienne’s plans to buy more vines and about Lisette’s school, in fact, we talked like a married couple who had been together for years and would continue for many more years. It was strange and it was wonderful. That uncertain girl who had come for a three week visit had gone and an adult sat in her place.
Eventually we spoke about Mathilde. “Grandmère has a newspaper cutting which shows Mathilde having her head shaved,” I said. “It’s a horrible picture.”
“Yes.” Étienne swirled the brandy in his glass. “It was horrible although I wasn’t there at the time. I’d rejoined the army and was fighting with my battalion.” He was quiet for a moment. “Four women were paraded like that in this area but only Mathilde in our village. After that she was shunned and the whole family too for a while. Robert Brissac put an end to that. He supported me, spoke up for me. He will remain my friend for the rest of my life.”
“Was she a collaborator like Jeanne Brissac said?”
He shrugged. “She slept with German soldiers, certainly and Robert was convinced that she had given information that led to his arrest. She didn’t give me away, though and I came to the farm a couple times when the German was here.”
I shook my head. “I’d have left, gone away, changed my name, if I’d done such a shameful thing. I wonder why Mathilde didn’t.”
Étienne put the cork in the brandy bottle and stood up. “I don’t know. She was bold, ruthless and maybe a little mad. Perhaps she wanted to prove that she didn’t care; thumb her nose at the villagers who had always hated her. Whatever it was, my life was wrecked and I think she enjoyed that. I’m a Catholic; not a very good one it’s true but…well, divorce was not an option and as my wife, she had every right to stay here.”
“You’re free now,” I smiled.
He took me in his arms. “No, I’m not,” he chuckled, his lips nuzzling my neck. “You must know that I’m trapped in your spell, my enchantress. I don’t want freedom from you. Ever.”
Chapter 24
I felt strange the next morning. Not ill but apprehensive as though I knew something was going to happen. Something I wouldn’t like. Nonsense, I told myself in my mother’s voice, it’s simply that Grandmère’s cards have wormed themselves into your head. You’re letting your imagination run away with you. And I resolved there and then never to let her read them to me again.
“I think I’ll hear from M. Castres today,” I said to Grandmère when I came back from walking Lisette to school.
“Do you?” she asked. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel that it’s about time. Goodness, it’s weeks since I last heard from him. Surely he’ll have some information about my parents by now.”
She came and sat at the kitchen table opposite me. “Do you want to hear, Eleanor?”
I was quiet, thinking about it. I knew I should be concerned about Mother and Dada and to a certain extent, I was. I didn’t want them to be ill and hospitalised but if they were better I would have to go home and that was impossible to imagine. My life was here now. Here with Étienne, Grandmère and Lisette. The house on the top of a hill in the Pennines was somewhere I used to live and I didn’t want to return to it.
I shook my head. “You know I don’t want to leave. It would break my heart.”
She should have said something comforting then but she didn’t and merely got up and returned to the range where a rabbit stew was already simmering.
My mood persisted and after lunch I went up the kitchen stairs to my room. My duvet was hanging over the window sill and before putting it back onto the bed I held it to my face. I could smell Étienne on the cover. I thought of the nights we’d spent on the iron bed, the passion, the laughter and the fulfilled desire. Oh God, how I loved him and how could I possibly leave this house. I was part of it now.
I stripped off my navy shorts and Aertex shirt and opening the cedar wardrobe took out my sweet pea dress. Slipping it over my head and letting it fall over my body I immediately felt better. This dress gave me confidence; in it I was no longer that silly, uncertain girl who’d come on a school exchange. I was a woman now. More experienced than any of my school friends and far wiser in matters they had never even dreamed about.
I found Étienne in the grape barn. He was opening drawers in the old desk and tipping their contents into a wooden box. “Ah!” He gave a whoop of delight and turning to see me, brandished a handful of labels in the air. “Look, my darling. These were my father’s,” and he pressed one of the labels into my hand. It was hard to see in the gloom of the barn and I held it up to the shaft of light which came through the small window. The label had a black and white drawing of the farm with the name, Riverain above it. “This will be the label I’ll use on my wine. Next year I’ll have hundreds of these printed.”
“It looks very elegant,” I said, studying the drawing. “I like it.”
“Good,” he said and then looked closely at me. “You are beautiful in that dress. Are we going out somewhere?”
“No,” I smiled. “I just felt like wearing it.”
“To tempt me?”
I nodded and grinning, waited while he let the labels flutter to the ground and took me in his arms. As kisses rained down on my face I pushed the label I was holding into my pocket and raised my arms so that they circled his shoulders. I needed him, more so it seemed today than ever and as we lay on the dusty floor of the barn I closed my eyes and let myself be carried away again into that enchanted land.
“Christ,” he said when we lay back, panting and smiling idiotically. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“I know,” I breathed. “I feel the same.”
He rolled onto his side and put his hand on my cheek. “I’ll love you, Eleanor, until the end of my life. Believe me on this. You are the other half of me.”
“Oh, God.” I felt like crying and clutched him close to my body. Life without him was impossible to imagine.
After a while he sat up. “Come on, you temptress,” he laughed. “I’ve got work to do. We’ll revisit this later.
I stretched out, my arms above my head and stared at the rafters and the little birds flying around. I wondered if they migrated in the winter to Africa and was about to ask Étienne about them when I heard, in the distance, my name being called.
“My God,” I said, sitting up. “Who’s that?”
Étienne went to the door and looked out. More voices were calling and amongst them I could pick out Grandmère’s and it sounded strange and almost desperate. I was suddenly scared. It was if I’d been waiting for this all day.
“There are cars in the yard, and people walking about. Oh, mon Dieu, Eleanor.” Étienne looked back at me and I could see real fear in his eyes. “They have come for us.”
“Who is it? Who has come.” I was now at the door beside him, looking down through the vineyard. With a sinking heart, I saw the police car and even from this distance recognised the portly frame of M. Hubert who was flanked by two uniformed policemen. There were two other cars beside the police car and two men in city suits whom I didn’t recognise. Grandmère was standing beside them.
“Do we have to go down?” I asked and my voice was panicky. I knew the spell was breaking.
“Yes,” he said, taking my hand. “I’m afraid we must. “He bent his head and gave me a last kiss. “Remember, my love, I will never stop loving you. You are my heart.”
We walked hand in hand down the hill through the rows of vines, brus
hing past heavy bunches of ripe grapes so that the intense, sweet perfume invaded my senses and gave me comfort. I didn’t notice that my dress was dusty from the barn floor or that my hair, freed from its pony tail ribbon was flowing freely across my shoulders but thinking back, Étienne and I must have been a shocking sight to the watchers below. No-one seeing us that afternoon could have been in any doubt of what we’d been doing in the barn.
In the yard, Grandmère put a protective arm about my waist while we watched the uniformed policemen taking Étienne by the arms and, obeying a nod from his superior, Albert Charpentier put Étienne’s wrists in handcuffs.
M. Hubert was gleeful. “Étienne Martin; you will go before the prosecutor tomorrow morning when I will present my reasons for arresting you for the murder of Mathilde Martin.”
“Oh God,” I moaned, my eyes fixed on Étienne’s. He was standing, almost casually, smiling reassuringly at me. Panic was rising in my chest and I felt that any moment I would shout, or faint or show my terror to the group of men who were watching us.
“Be brave, my dear,” Grandmère whispered. “This is not the end.”
M. Hubert turned to me with a sneer on his face. “Young lady,” he snarled. “You have been rescued. The lawyers have had their way and although I’m certain that you know more than you’re telling me, I’ve been forced to let you go.” He jerked his head towards Étienne who was standing beside the black Citroen police car. “But I’ve got the murderer. War hero or no. It’ll be the guillotine for him.”
“You can’t do that,” I shouted. “It’s not true. You have no proof.”
He laughed. “I’ve got proof and motive. What I’ve seen here this afternoon is motive enough. The two of you in that barn? Huh,” he sniggered. “It’s so obvious. He wanted rid of his wife so he could have you.” He turned to the two strangers and spoke to them angrily. “She was in it with him. I’m positive. It’s against every tenet of the law allowing her to leave.”
One of the men stepped forward and pushing past M. Hubert stood before me. He was tall and thin with a distinguished face topped by a luxuriant mass of grey hair. He wore a blue bow tie and an expensive looking beige linen suit. “Miss Gill,” he said and bending, took my hand and raised it to his lips. “I am Jacob Castres, the English consul. I am also a lawyer and as the police department can find nothing definite to connect you to this terrible occurrence, then I’ve insisted that you are free to return to England.” He looked over his shoulder to the other man. “This gentleman will accompany you.”
I turned to the other man. Bile was rising in my throat and I knew that the blood had drained from my face.
“Eleanor?” The man approached. “I hardly recognised you. What, in God’s name has happened to you?” He had an oddly familiar voice
For a moment the tears stinging in my eyes blurred his face but then they cleared and I could see him. I could see the man dressed in a tweed suit, too hot for this time of the year, in this place, and the golf club tie.
“Mr Franklin?” I rocked on my heels and Grandmère steadied me. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Please,” he hesitated. “You’re speaking French. I don’t understand.”
“What d’you want? Why have you come here? Go away!” I was gabbling, frantic and desperate for everything to return to normal. I must have been still speaking in French for he lifted his arms, gesturing that he didn’t comprehend.
“I’ve come to take you home, Eleanor,” he said slowly. “Do you understand me?”
Now I was speechless.
There was movement beside the police car and I looked past Mr Franklin to Étienne. Albert Charpentier was holding the door open for Étienne to get in.
“Wait!” It was Grandmère’s imperious voice.
“Madame?” said Albert, uncertainly, one eye on M. Hubert.
Grandmère took her arm away from me and walked over to Étienne. She lifted her head and with her hands on his arms she kissed him on both cheeks. “Don’t worry, my son,” she said and smiled gently at him. “It will not happen. Trust me.”
“I do, maman.”
Then he raised his eyes to me. “Remember what I said,” he murmured and I yearned to take him in my arms but he knew what I was thinking and gave a small shake of his head. Tears were now flowing freely down my face and I could feel my knees buckling.
“Come on,” M. Hubert growled. “Enough of this.”
Suddenly there was a rush of small footsteps from behind the cars. It was Lisette. In my own distress, I’d forgotten her and she had walked home from school by herself and into this scene of despair. “Papa,” she screamed. “Papa.” And she rushed over and wrapped her arms around his knees.
“Shush, shush, little one,” Étienne crooned. “It will be alright.” And he looked at me to take her.
She wouldn’t be held, though. Slipping out of my arms she rushed over to M. Hubert and beat her little fists against his fat belly. “Bad man, bad man!” she cried. “You mustn’t take my papa away. I won’t let you.”
M. Hubert’s face already dark with fury flushed dangerously. “I’ll arrest this child, if you don’t get her off me,” he shouted and as Grandmère and I rushed forward to take her, he turned his head to me.
“It’s you who has caused all this trouble,” he snarled. “And I’ll make sure that you’ll never be allowed back in this country.”
It was Grandmère who held Lisette and shushed her wailing as the police car drew away. I, stunned at M. Hubert’s terrible pronouncement, could only stand with my hand over my mouth, waiting for a last look at Étienne as the police car turned out of the yard
“What can we do?” I cried, turning desperately to Grandmère.
“Nothing, right now. I’ll go and see Robert Brissac tomorrow. He’ll know what he must do. Now, take Lisette inside. Give her a drink of water and wipe her face,” she looked at me. “And you do the same. This is a time to be brave, Eleanor.” She looked at the two men who were standing awkwardly, watching us and speaking haltingly to each other. “I will take these gentlemen into the house.”
Jacob Castres and Mr Franklin were sitting at the dining room table with cups of coffee before them when I walked in to join them. Grandmère was in her usual place, being a careful hostess but the conversation was muted and hesitant.
“How is the child?” she asked when I walked into the room.
“Better,” I said. “She’s stopped crying now. She’s in her room.”
I’d sat with Lisette on my knee in the kitchen waiting for the sobs which wracked her little body to subside.
“Where has the bad man taken my Papa?” she cried.
“He’s taken him to the police station in town,” I said. “He’ll be home soon. It’s just for more questions.”
“But why did they put those things on his arms?”
“I don’t know,” I choked and we rocked together and held each other tight for comfort. After a while she raised her tear stained face and said, “who are the other men?”
“They’ve come to see me.”
“No,” she howled. “They’re going to take you away too.”
How could I answer ‘no’ when I knew she was right. This was going to be my last day at Riverain and now dry eyed, I gazed around this much loved kitchen storing every detail into my memory.
When Lisette had quietened I gave her a kiss and asked if she wanted something to eat.
“Bread, please. And confiture. Then I must go upstairs to tell the doll’s house people about Papa. They like to know things.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said and got her a plate of bread and jam and waited until she’d gone upstairs. I walked up the back stairs to my lovely white room and sat heavily on the bed. The late afternoon sun was streaming in and brilliant shafts of light shone onto the cedar wardrobe and the iron scrollwork at the end of my bed. Everything gleamed, everything spoke of the love I’d shared and my discovery of life. This was another room I had to store in
my memory.
But that bright sun would fade the furniture and make the room hot and mindful of Grandmère’s instructions, I got up and closed the shutters so that only thin fingers of light came in. It was enough though for me to wash my face and change into my school frock and white summer socks. My hair was brushed back into its schoolgirl pony tail and I was ready.
“Miss Gill.” Jacob Castres spoke first. “This must have been very alarming for you…this dreadful event. We would have removed you immediately, if we’d been able but the police here, particularly M. Hubert, were most insistent that you stay. Thankfully, your friend here,” he nodded to Mr Franklin, “was able to contact lawyers at your Foreign Office who negotiated with the officials in France. Despite what M. Hubert says, it is obvious that you have nothing to answer for and I must offer you our most profound apologies.”
“Thank you,” I said. I could barely bring myself to look up. These two men had brought about my departure from this enchanted place. I almost hated them.
“If we leave within the hour, we can get the night boat,” Mr Franklin interjected. He sounded confused and not a little angry. Maybe he’d thought of himself as a knight in shining armour coming to rescue a damsel in distress. I was a damsel in distress but not in the way he’d expected. Had the sight of me tousled and dusty, walking hand and hand with my lover through the vines shocked him? I knew it had.
“My parents,” I said, looking up at him. “Can you tell me about them?”
“English please, Eleanor.” He sounded weary.
“Yes, sorry.” I repeated the question and the English words sounded strange and wrong as though I was speaking a foreign language.
“My parents? They are better?”
His face was puzzled when he looked at me and I realised that I was getting the grammar and inflections wrong. “Mr Franklin,” I started again. “Is my mother getting better and have you news about my father?”
He paused before answering. “I’ve seen your mother, Eleanor. I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs Gill is very seriously ill. She caught her leg on some barbed wire and made a deep wound which got terribly infected. The septicaemia was extensive, invading much of her body. Now, I believe, she has kidney damage and it is irrecoverable.”
When I Was Young Page 27