The Child Left Behind (14 page)

She remembered too his letters enthusing about the girl Gabrielle, who he had claimed was the love of his life. She had wondered if Gabrielle’s love for Finn was just as ardent and if she had been as distressed as he had when his regiment had been deployed. She thought it hard on her that she might never know what had happened to him. She wouldn’t have minded writing to her, but all she knew was that her name was Gabrielle and she lived in France and so she had to accept that there was nothing she could do about it.

Everyone was saddened by the news of Finn’s death and the commemorative Mass for him was well
attended, but life had to go on. Nuala returned to work and the farm still had to be tended, although Tom and Joe shouldered most of the work, for Thomas John had seemed to have aged twenty years.

‘There is a pain in my heart every time I think of Finn,’ he said to Biddy as they sat together one evening. ‘It’s like I’ve strained it in some way.’

It was so odd for Thomas John to speak of his feelings this way that Biddy just stared at him.

‘I loved him, you see,’ Thomas John said. ‘Better than the other two, and I was so afraid of showing that favouritism that I was even harder on him. I think of every bad thing I have said to him—and over the years there has been a fine collection of them—and now they come back to haunt me.’

‘Don’t do this, Thomas John,’ Biddy said. ‘You are a grand father, none better. Finn was always a happy child and he died doing something he had chosen to do.’

Thomas John sighed. ‘Aye, I have to accept that I know, though I doubt any of the boys really knew what they were going into. The whole thing, all those deaths, and they are still dying daily. It’s almost obscene.’

It was early August before Christy was declared to be out of danger and then he enquired about Father Clifford, surprised that he hadn’t been to see him.

‘I’m not sure what happened to him,’ said the young nurse whom he asked, ‘but I’ll try and find out for you.’

Two days later, Christy found out that Father Clifford had been killed in the shell attack. He was sorry about that because the priest had been a fine man and a brave one. He knew that the likelihood was that Father Clifford had been killed before he could write the letter to Finn’s parents about Gabrielle because he had been receiving regular correspondence from his mother in which she had gone on about the tragedy of Finn’s death, even told him about going to a Memorial Mass in his memory, but had never mentioned news of any sort of marriage between Finn and a French beauty.

Christy didn’t know what to do. He could hardly write and ask his mother. That would set the cat
amongst the pigeons right and proper. In the end he decided to do nothing until he was home again and then he would be able to see the setup for himself. However, it was halfway through August before arrangements were made to get him to the coast and ship him home.

The people of St-Omer were well aware the Battle of the Somme was still raging. They heard the boom of the guns and they read reports of the fighting in the French newspapers, and scrutinised the photographs as they were coming to terms with the horrifying list of casualties.

Finn had just been one of two thousand from the Ulster battalions killed on that first day. It was they who launched the first assault and so lost a great many men. A Captain William Spender, who witnessed the carnage of that first day, wrote in his report

The Ulster men have lost half the men who attacked and in doing so have sacrificed themselves for the Empire, which has treated them none too well. The much-derided Ulster Volunteer Force has won a name which equals any in history. Their devotion, which no doubt has helped the advance elsewhere, deserves the gratitude of the British Empire. It is due to the memory of these brave fellows that their beloved Province should be fairly treated.

Many of the surviving Ulster battalions returned to the old camp at St-Omer to rest and recuperate. News of this was given to Gabrielle by Yvette because Gabrielle couldn’t leave the bakery.

‘Shall I try to find out if Finn is one of them?’ Yvette asked her sister.

‘No,’ Gabrielle said. ‘If Papa found out he would be angry with you. Anyway,’ she said assuredly, ‘if Finn is camped here, he’ll get word to me somehow, or even come and see me, and Papa could do nothing about it, because Finn is my husband.’

Finn did not come, but then neither did any telegram.

‘Are you worried Finn might be injured or something?’ Yvette asked Gabrielle about a week later.

‘No,’ Gabrielle said confidently. ‘Nothing can have happened to him or I would have heard of it.’

‘Are you sure?’ Yvette insisted.

‘Ah, yes. I am quite, quite sure,’ Gabrielle said. ‘Finn explained it all to me. Once we married I became his next of kin, and that means I would be informed by the Military if anything had happened to him.’

Yvette looked at her sister dubiously. She wasn’t at all sure that she was right. With the carnage and mayhem that she had read about in the paper, it was not inconceivable that a body might lie unidentified for some time.

She didn’t say this, though. She reckoned that Gabrielle was going through a hard enough time
without her adding to it, because their father had never forgiven her. Yvette, though, couldn’t help feeling excited about the coming baby. She was eager to hold her niece or nephew and was delighted that Gabrielle had already asked her to be godmother.

Gabrielle was glad that Yvette was there too because she was the only one who had a kind word for her. Mariette, mindful of her husband’s temper, virtually ignored her, and her father treated her much as she imagined he would a stray dog. He expected Gabrielle to rise when he did in the morning, and then he kept her hard at work all day long. There was no chance for her to rest at all, no allowance made for her pregnant state.

In the beginning, she had thought that working with him in the bakery, she might be able to win her father round about Finn and maybe even to look forward to the birth of his grandchild.

‘And how can I take any joy or pride in any grandchild you are carrying?’ he had thundered when she had mentioned the baby. ‘It will be little more than a bastard and a constant reminder of the shame you have brought upon this house.’

His eyes seemed filled with hate as he regarded her and she ardently wished for some sort of communication from Finn to reassure her that this wasn’t going to be her life for always, that soon her father’s feelings would have no bearing on their life together.

She was over eight months pregnant when she collapsed in the bakery at the end of August. Mariette looked at her child in a crumpled heap on the floor, her hair plastered to her head, her face wet with perspiration and lined with fatigue, and she felt ashamed of herself.

‘She needs her bed,’ she said to her husband. ‘And we should send for the doctor.’

Pierre pursed his lips. They hadn’t sought the services of a doctor about Gabrielle. Pierre had claimed that she was young and healthy, and when the time came she’d make do with the old woman who did as a midwife in St-Omer. Mariette knew, though, that really he hadn’t informed the doctor because he wanted to keep Gabrielle’s pregnancy a secret as long as possible.

She seldom argued with her husband, mindful of the overpowering rages he could fly into if she tried to oppose him in any way. This time, though, concern for her daughter had to transcend her caution and she said impatiently, ‘You must help me take her to her bed and go for the doctor immediately. This is no time to think of yourself. She could easily lose the child. Would you have that on your conscience?’

In Pierre’s opinion, Gabrielle losing the child would be the best outcome all round, but not if he had any sort of hand in it, for that would be a mortal sin. So he gave Mariette a nod and said, ‘Make the bed ready. I will carry Gabrielle on my own.’

Dr Marc Gilbert was a fairly young man to be
in charge of the town’s health and he had heard the rumours of the pregnancy of the baker’s daughter, but he did wonder if rumours were all they were because there had been no news about a marriage, and he knew the Joberts to be a respectable family. The father, it was well known, was a force to be reckoned with, especially when it concerned his daughters.

He was surprised therefore to find Pierre Jobert at his door, who explained not only about his daughter’s pregnancy, but also about her collapse in the bakery. When later he looked down on the unconscious form of Gabrielle with her face as white as the sheets she lay upon, he noted the swell of her stomach as he examined her gently. ‘When is the child due?’ he asked.

Mariette answered, ‘Almost four weeks yet. Towards the end of September.’

The doctor turned to Pierre. ‘What was a girl so advanced in pregnancy doing in the bakery?’

‘She was working,’ Pierre said shortly. ‘Her sister, Yvette, is too young and I cannot cope alone.’

‘How you manage your affairs, Monsieur Jobert, is up to you,’ Dr Gilbert said angrily. ‘But this young girl had no place in that bakery when she is so heavily pregnant.’

‘She is my daughter and I will treat her as I see fit,’ Pierre blustered. ‘You have no right to talk to me like this.’

‘I have every right,’ the doctor said. ‘Gabrielle is now my patient.’

‘See to her then,’ he almost snarled, red-faced with temper, as he crossed the room and yanked the door open. ‘I at least have work to do.’ He slammed the door so hard that it juddered on its hinges.

The figure on the bed didn’t move, though, and the doctor, noting the ring on Gabrielle’s finger, looked quizzically at Mariette.

‘I didn’t know Gabrielle was married,’ he said.

‘You may as well know it all doctor,’ Mariette sighed. ‘Though I should hate the news spread abroad.’

‘A doctor is used to keeping secrets.’

‘Of course,’ Mariette said. ‘But you see, Doctor, Gabrielle was married at the British Army camp by the Catholic priest and she had to be married, because we found out that she was expecting a baby.’ She looked the doctor full in the face. ‘Now I imagine that that has shocked you to the core.’

‘Very little shocks me now,’ the doctor said. ‘So her husband is a soldier?’

Mariette nodded. ‘He is an Irishmen but in the British Army.’

‘That explains your husband’s attitude a little,’ the doctor said. ‘You must remember that these things happen, and especially so in wartime, I believe, and at least you say that she married the man.’

Mariette nodded. ‘Yes, she did, but Pierre is still having a very hard job coming to terms with it. You needn’t worry, though, Doctor,’ she went on,
‘I am as much to blame for not sticking up for Gabrielle more. I am just so used to doing things my husband’s way, but this time I have let my daughter down. Things for Gabrielle will change for the better from now on.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ the doctor said, getting to his feet. ‘I think she is wakening. She should be all right now. I would let her stay in bed for a day or two and I’ll look in then and check that all is well. If you want me before that you know where I am.’

Gabrielle opened her eyes slowly as if they were very heavy and looked from the doctor to her mother, her face showing her confusion. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

Mariette smiled at her. ‘Let me see the doctor out,’ she said. ‘And I will explain everything.’

Mariette apologised to Gabrielle for not supporting her more, but Gabrielle didn’t blame her. She knew that it was a brave person who would stand against her father. Now, however, with her doctor’s words ringing in her ears, Mariette felt quite strong, and the first thing she did that day was something Gabrielle thought she’d never do, and that was to ask about the Irishman that she had fallen in love with.

Mariette watched her daughter’s face light up as she told her about the farm Finn’s family had, and the nearest town a place called Buncrana, which sounded not all that different to St-Omer. She knew from Gabrielle’s voice and the look in
her eyes that she truly loved this Finn Sullivan. She suddenly understood how two people in love could forget themselves when they knew they were soon to be parted and maybe for years. Every minute would have to count.

‘Maman,’ Gabrielle said suddenly, ‘I know what I did was terrible for you all, and I am very sorry about that. I had no wish to shame you, but Finn and I loved each other so much that we forgot ourselves just the once and I would love it if you could forgive me for that one slip?’

Mariette kissed her. ‘I do, my dear,’ she said. ‘Now you lie down and rest yourself, and I will go and tell Yvette you are all right. You gave us all a fright, you know, and she will be longing to come up and see you for herself.’

‘Let her, Maman.’

‘You won’t be too tired?’

‘No, not for Yvette,’ Gabrielle said. ‘Let her come up.’

She listened to her mother going down the stairs and felt even her toes curl up with happiness. The only thing that would make it complete would be a letter from Finn.

Two days later, Mariette took the post in from the postman and extracted a letter addressed to Gabrielle. She knew it wasn’t from Finn because she knew his writing. She knew more or less everything else about him too, because Gabrielle had told her, delighted that she was able to confide in
her mother. She hoped that the doctor would see the improvement in her because she was expecting him to call in that morning.

As she took the letter upstairs, she noted that it had been sent from Ireland, where Finn’s family lived. Maybe they had written to Gabrielle at long last. She had thought it odd that they hadn’t written before this and welcomed her to their family. She had blamed the war and thought maybe Finn hadn’t had the chance to get word to them. No matter, it was here now.

‘It’s from your husband’s people, I think,’ Mariette said to her daughter as she passed the letter over. Gabrielle took it from her eagerly and tore open the envelope, anxious to hear what it said. However, it wasn’t from Finn’s family, but from Christy Byrne, Finn’s best friend. He told Gabrielle that Finn was dead, that he had died on the first day of the battle, 1 July, the same battle in which Christy himself had lost his left leg and he had been too ill to write sooner. ‘He said that I was to tell you that he died still loving you with all his heart and soul,’ Christy finished.

There was more, but Gabrielle threw the letter from her with a shriek. Tears spilled from her and ran down her cheeks.

‘What is it?’ Mariette cried, but Gabrielle could only look at her and shake her head helplessly.

She seemed incapable of speech, unable to say that she would never see her beloved Finn again, never hear his lilting voice, his infectious laugh,
and never feel his arms encircling her, his lips on hers. She felt like a shell of a person, as if there was nothing inside her but a dark hole filled with grief and heartbreak, with an agonising band of pain encircling her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself and howled like a wounded animal might. Mariette was alarmed and almost in tears herself seeing her daughter’s distress. She tried to put her arms around her, but Gabrielle fought her off.

The primeval sounds permeated down to the shop and the bakery, and Pierre and Yvette came pounding up the stairs.

‘What is it?’ Pierre cried.

‘How do I know?’ Mariette said. ‘She won’t let me near her. But whatever it is, it’s bad. Fetch the doctor, Pierre, and quickly,’

Gabrielle was unaware of any of this. It was as if she were enveloped in a cloak of sadness and sorrow deeper than she had ever felt before, where no one could reach her and where her tears and her gulping sobs were blocking her throat and threatening to choke her.

She wasn’t aware that Dr Gilbert came, for she could neither see nor hear him. In the end, he had no option but to administer a draught to sedate her. When eventually she was quiet and those anguished eyes closed, he took the letter from the floor.