However, Gabrielle was not able to do that. By morning Mariette had lapsed into a coma and she died three days later. Gabrielle was almost inconsolable, and also filled with guilt. She knew she should be caring for her woebegone sister and her bereaved aunt, but she was wearied by all she had to do and those dependent on her for emotional support.
The funeral was well attended, and Gabrielle was gratified to see how well liked her mother was. She got more than one glowering look from her father, but she was well able to cope with that and she was just glad that he didn’t blurt out that it had been her wickedness and the shock to her mother’s system that had shortened her life.
When she said this to Bernadette the morning she was leaving, she took Gabrielle by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Listen to me, Gabrielle,’ she said. You are not responsible for what happened to your mother. Your father is not the only one to speak to the doctor and he told me that this had probably been festering for years and that this eruption could have happened any time. Your mother, my dear girl, was like a walking time bomb. Don’t let your father bully you or lay guilt upon you.’
‘Oh, Aunt Bernadette…’
‘Courage, my dear girl,’ she said, and she put her arms around Gabrielle. ‘If you want me, you know where I am.’
‘Thank you,’ Gabrielle said, but inwardly she sighed because she knew that she would miss her aunt and uncle greatly.
Gabrielle found that each day it seemed to get harder rather than easier to live without her mother, but her father gave her no time to grieve. He told her he had had enough of her lying around the house and she had to get back to the bakery and earn her keep. Gabrielle didn’t bother complaining: it would have done no good.
Bridgette had to come with her, strapped into the big pram with things to amuse her, but Pierre resented any time that she spent seeing to the child. She also undertook the bulk of the washing and cooking, and as the spring gave way to summer she felt very melancholy. The loss of her mother was like a big black hole in her life that seemed one long drudge, and all she saw ahead of her was more years of the same with nothing to look forward to.
Bridgette reached her first birthday and Gabrielle would have liked to mark it in some way. She risked her father’s displeasure by asking if he would bake the baby a small cake, but she got a curt refusal and as neither she or Yvette received wages there was nothing that they could do about it.
Though there were cards and presents from Paris, the girls could provide little in the way of celebration in the bakery.
‘It won’t always be like this,’ Yvette told her crestfallen sister.
‘How will it be different?’ Gabrielle asked. ‘For you it may, because you’ll probably marry, but I never shall.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do,’ Gabrielle said firmly. ‘Anyway, I could hardly leave Papa to fend for himself.’
‘There’s always Monsieur Legrand,’ Yvette said with an impish smile. ‘He can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.’
Yvette was right. The man was staring at her before and after Mass each Sunday in a way that was barely decent.
‘He is wasting his time,’ Gabrielle told her sister. ‘I gave my heart to Finn Sullivan. There’s nothing left for anyone else, and certainly not for Robert Legrand.’ She gave a slight shudder. ‘No, I could never marry a man like that.’
Six months after Mariette’s death, and a Sunday, Pierre faced his daughter over the dinner table and told her that Robert Legrand would be calling to see her that afternoon.
‘You remember that I spoke about it before? He has waited this long out of deference to your mother.’
Gabrielle stared at him. ‘But I told you then that
I don’t wish to have anything to do with Robert Legrand—or anyone else either.’
‘Just who do you think you are that you can dictate to me?’ Pierre asked. ‘You will do as I say while you are living under my roof, or you and the brat can leave and just as soon as you want.’
Gabrielle looked at her father’s malevolent eyes and felt a cold shiver run all through her. She had never received a penny piece from him and everything she and the baby owned had been paid for by her father, often reluctantly, though he would not let either her or Bridgette go to Mass badly dressed, for that would reflect on him. But however was she to provide for herself and her child without money?
Her thoughts flew to her aunt in Paris, but just a couple of weeks before, she had written to say that Raoul had been taken to hospital and was seriously ill with pneumonia and she was very concerned about him.
Pierre watched his daughter’s face and knew she was thinking of alternatives. He also knew that there were none, and she would come to realise that eventually, and so he went on, ‘As the day is a fine one, you may walk out with him.’
Gabrielle knew there was no way to change her father’s mind once he decided something. He didn’t listen to any arguments. The only alternative that she could see was to agree to go out with Legrand, which would appease her father, and she would explain to her suitor that she could never love
another man after Finn. Surely he would see her point of view. No man liked to be thought of as second-best, and so she nodded her head and said, ‘Very well then.’
Yvette was surprised by Gabrielle’s decision until she told her what her father had threatened. Then she understood her sister’s dilemma and readily agreed to look after Bridgette. Gabrielle waited for Legrand with her stomach knotted in apprehension and yet when he did arrive she was pleasantly surprised both by his smart appearance and his manner. She stopped only to kiss the baby in Yvette’s arms before stepping out into the street beside Robert. She didn’t object when he took her arm, though she was aware of the curious glances the two had from many of the townspeople.
‘Did you not see the people looking at us as we passed?’ Gabrielle asked as they reached the canal.
Legrand had been well aware of them, but he said, ‘What about them?’
‘It’s just that they assume, don’t they?’ Gabrielle said. ‘They’ll have us married off by the time we return.’
‘You could do worse,’ Legrand said.
Gabrielle was taken aback. ‘Robert, I—’
‘That can’t have come as a total surprise,’ Legrand said. ‘I had mentioned it to your father before, when your mother became ill that time.’
Gabrielle thought she had to put Robert right about the impossibility of her marrying him or
anyone, but while she was still forming the words he spoke again.
‘I am most incredibly fond of you, Gabrielle and you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.’
Gabrielle, not used to such praise, coloured. ‘Please, Robert…’
‘What? Surely you have been told this before. Didn’t your husband tell you how beautiful you are?’
‘Yes, he did. And that’s it, you see. I still love Finn. I gave him all of my heart. There is none left for anyone else, not in that way.’
‘There is a lot of nonsense spoken about love,’ Legrand said dismissively. ‘We just need to get to know each other better. And with or without love, I want to marry you.’
‘No. I’ve told you.’
‘That’s a real pity because your father is all for it.’
‘It really is nothing to do with him,’ Gabrielle said heatedly. ‘He can’t force me to marry anyone.’
Legrand told Gabrielle’s father what she had said about her first husband as they sat in the bar the following Saturday evening. Pierre could hardly believe his ears.
‘You mean the stupid girl still fancies herself in love with that dead and useless soldier who married her only because he had been forced to?’ he asked incredulously.
‘That’s what she said,’ Legrand said resignedly.
Rage burned within Pierre and he said between clenched teeth, ‘Leave her to me. When you come tomorrow she will be a changed girl, believe me. Let’s have another drink, for we’ve other things to discuss.’
Later that night, Gabrielle heard her father come home, but she was in bed and preparing to settle down for the night. She heard him stumbling around the kitchen and was glad that it was Saturday and there were no ovens to light in the morning.
She was surprised, though, to hear him call to her to get up. He had never done such a thing before, but she knew better than to defy him, especially when he had been drinking. She slipped out of bed, and checked that Yvette and the baby were fast asleep, before pulling her robe around her.
Her father, she saw, was very drunk and angry, though for the life of her she couldn’t think what she had done to annoy him. He left her little time to wonder, though, for he launched into her straightaway.
‘I have been drinking with Legrand tonight—’ he said—‘Robert Legrand, who you went walking out with last week—and he was telling me a strange tale.’
Gabrielle was silent. She guessed what was coming.
With a sneer her father went on, ‘Are you not interested in hearing it? No matter, I will relate it
to you anyway. It appears that this man asked the father’s permission to walk out with his daughter and the father agreed, and then he finds that the daughter tells him that her heart belongs to a man who never did her a moment’s good in her life. You fancy yourself in love with a ghost, while Legrand is offering you marriage.’
Gabrielle felt as if there were a tight band around her chest, restricting her breathing, so afraid was she of the irascible look in her father’s eyes. ‘I can’t help it,’ she cried desperately. ‘It’s how I feel. I thought it best to be honest. I can’t marry Robert Legrand, really I can’t.’
‘Now you listen to me,’ Pierre growled. ‘Tomorrow you will either welcome Robert as a woman welcomes the man she is going to marry, or you will pack your bags and be gone from here. Do I make myself clear?’
Gabrielle gasped in shock. She saw her father meant every word and she was unable to keep the repugnance out of her face and her voice as she said through gritted teeth, ‘Abundantly so.’
She was unprepared for the two punches her father levelled at her face, which knocked her to the ground. ‘You are in no position to be clever with me,’ he said. ‘You brought shame on the whole family and in doing so hastened your own mother’s death, and don’t you forget it. Now get to your bed and think on my words.’
Gabrielle got to her feet gingerly and, trying to stanch the blood streaming from her nose with a
handkerchief she had found in the pocket of her robe, she made for the stairs and the relative safety of her room. Once there, she was too agitated to rest, and crossing to the window she let the tears fall from her eyes.
‘Gabrielle, what’s the matter?’ Yvette whispered from the bed.
‘Nothing. Go to sleep.’
In answer, Yvette got out of bed and, with her robe around her, went to her sister. ‘How can I sleep when it is obvious that you are unhappy? What is it, Gabrielle?’ she said, putting her arms around her.
Gabrielle sighed, glad of the concealing darkness that hid her face from Yvette as she said through her tears, ‘Papa has given me an ultimatum. It is as if I am standing on the edge of a bridge and I can either cross it to Legrand on the other side, or turn back and begin packing up my possessions and those of Bridgette. If I take that course I may just as well jump into the canal and let the water submerge the two of us.’
Yvette gave a gasp. ‘Don’t even say words like that.’
‘It will soon be winter,’ Gabrielle said. ‘How long do you think that I would survive on the streets, and how could I condemn Bridgette to that?’
‘Papa wouldn’t really throw you out, though, surely?’ Yvette said.
‘I don’t know,’ Gabrielle told her sister. ‘At the
moment he seems to hate me and still blames me for Maman’s death.’
Yvette was silent because she knew that their father’s animosity towards Gabrielle had become even more entrenched since their mother had died. He did blame Gabrielle and probably always would.
‘In a way he has a point,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I might not have caused Maman’s illness, but I certainly think I helped worsen it. Maybe this is my penance.’
‘Gabrielle, Maman had suffered for years—you know that,’ Yvette replied firmly. ‘This is just something Papa has put in your head.’
Gabrielle shrugged. ‘I can’t get over the feeling that I am somewhat responsible, but anyway, I can’t risk defying Papa, especially now Aunt Bernadette has let out the house in Paris and taken Uncle Raoul to spend the winter in the South of France. I can’t even turn to her.’
‘But how well do you really know this Legrand, Gabrielle?’
‘You don’t really know any man fully until you marry him,’ Gabrielle said. ‘It’s all a bit of a lottery. Anyway, none of this matters. For better or worse my future lies with Legrand, and I must accept it.’
Yvette was flabbergasted the next morning to see the state of Gabrielle’s face and though she did what she could to repair it before Mass, she couldn’t work miracles. Gabrielle had many odd looks from the townsfolk, and when Legrand came
to speak to them all after Mass, he noticed straightaway that something very unfortunate had happened to Gabrielle’s nose and her eyes were definitely darkened too.
He was delighted by the change in Gabrielle, though, who greeted him quite pleasantly and even agreed to take his arm. He didn’t know whether he fully approved of Pierre’s methods to make Gabrielle see sense, and yet he knew from his late wife how irksome and annoying women could be at times. Sometimes they needed firm handling, and he guessed that Gabrielle had a stubborn streak in her at times that he too might have to curb once they were married.
As soon as Gabrielle’s marriage to Robert Legrand was agreed, he began bringing his son, Georges, with him to the house at the weekends. Gabrielle thought the child was completely undisciplined and when she said this to Robert he explained that his late wife’s parents had indulged him and he didn’t want to be the one to be reprimanding him all the time.
This attitude was also adopted by Gabrielle’s father. His eyes softened when he first caught sight of the little boy, and she knew Robert had given him what both she and her mother had failed to do: the son or grandson he had craved. As far as Pierre was concerned, Georges Legrand could do no wrong.
The child was allowed to be as noisy and as rude as he wanted. What he really enjoyed, though, was being spiteful and downright nasty to Bridgette, but Pierre had never taken to the baby girl, and Gabrielle knew that Robert merely tolerated her. Only Gabrielle and Yvette minded Bridgette being treated
this way, but as no notice was taken of their protestations, Georges soon realised that they held no power in that house.
Gabrielle became quite agitated as the day of the wedding drew closer. She had thought that she would be moving out of the bakery, away from her father, and she was astounded when she learned that wasn’t going to happen.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Robert is moving here,’ Pierre told her. ‘I will teach him all he needs to know in the bakery, and he will help me. I’m not getting any younger.’
Gabrielle’s heart sank. That really was the last thing she had thought would happen.
As far as Pierre was concerned, 26 January 1918 was Gabrielle’s first proper wedding. If it wasn’t for Bridgette, he could pretend that that was really so, and he supposed that was why the child irritated him.
Never mind, he thought as he took hold of Gabrielle’s arm in the church porch, there would soon be a houseful of children, with plenty of sons.
The organ began to play, the congregation rose to their feet, and Pierre and Gabrielle began the slow walk down the aisle, Yvette following behind. Pierre delivered Gabrielle into Legrand’s keeping and they stepped forward under the carrel. It was believed that taking wedding vows under that silken canopy before Nuptial Mass was protection against bad luck in the marriage.
The reception back at the bakery was exceptional, as might be expected. The table groaned with food and the centrepiece was the wedding cake, a magnificent croquembouche: a glazed pyramid of cream-filled pastry puffs.
Gabrielle had expected bad behaviour from Georges but she burned with embarrassment as he grabbed food from the table the women had spent hours arranging, spilling or knocking things over in the process. Then he ran around like a dervish, smearing women’s dresses and the men’s suits with the food he clutched in his hands, knocking glasses from people’s hands without a word of apology, and pushing Bridgette over whenever he had the opportunity.
As the night wore on he was still running madly around, insulting any person who said anything to him and kicking out at both Gabrielle and Yvette. Gabrielle knew he was over-tired but her father had said that Georges should go to bed when he wanted, though Bridgette had been tucked up only slightly later than normal. Robert and Pierre seemed amused rather than embarrassed by Georges’s outrageous behaviour.
‘They’re drunk,’ Gabrielle said to her sister, who was rubbing her shin where Georges had kicked her again ‘What do you expect?’
‘I expect Legrand to act as a father to his own son,’ Yvette said in a hissed whisper.
‘How could he tonight?’ Gabrielle whispered back. ‘Look at the state of the pair of them.’
Really she hoped that Robert would drink so much that he would pass out and she would be spared his attentions—for that night, at least. Every time she thought of his hands upon her she felt sick. But she could hardly share that hope with her young sister.
But by the time the guests had left and Gabrielle and Yvette had begun to tidy up, Legrand was still on his feet, still drinking, and the over-tired and belligerent Georges sat on his shoulders.
When Gabrielle returned to the room to collect more dishes he said, ‘Leave that now. It’s time for bed.’
Gabrielle felt her stomach give a lurch and she glanced at Georges.
Robert said, ‘Leave Georges to me. You just get into bed and wait for me. Don’t worry about a nightdress. That will only get in the way. I want you naked.’
Gabrielle’s face flamed with embarrassment. She looked from her father, beaming approval, to Yvette, who was obviously uncomfortable. Georges was also listening, and though the sexual connotations were lost on him, he understood nakedness and giggled at the thought of Gabrielle having no clothes on. She would have remonstrated with her new husband but one look at his licentious, drunken face told her that she would be wasting her time. So without a word, she turned away and went upstairs.
She was very nervous at the prospect of sharing
a bed with Legrand, and felt self-conscious as she slipped between the sheets. She had never gone to bed naked before and she trembled from head to foot as she waited for her new husband. Her nervousness increased as she listened to his measured tread on the stairs. She heard him first go along the passage to Georges’s room and then she was filled with apprehension as she watched the door knob turn and he was there, his broad frame almost filling the space.
‘You looked lovely today,’ he said, crossing the room, almost tearing off his clothes as he spoke. ‘And I can’t wait to love you properly.’
He snuffed out the lamp and threw back the covers. A blast of cold air hit Gabrielle’s naked body and she gave a sudden shiver as he slid in beside her.
‘And,’ he said huskily, ‘I am ready for you. See?’ He grabbed her hand and pressed it down on his hard penis.
Gabrielle felt sick, but this she told herself was real marriage. She longed to pull her hand away but she allowed Legrand to hold it there and even moved it up and down as he instructed while he groaned with pleasure. Suddenly he rolled on top of Gabrielle, crushing her down on the bed and began mauling her breasts with his big rough hands, then sucking them with such intensity she wriggled in discomfort and bit her lip lest any cry of pain escaped to annoy him.
He continued to suck at her breasts, but she felt
his hand on his penis, and when he entered her she felt as if he was ripping her in two and she cried out in pain.
Legrand slapped a hand across her mouth. ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch,’ he cried. ‘You knew what it was all about.’
‘It wasn’t like this,’ Gabrielle wanted to say, but with his hand over her mouth she was hardly able to breathe, never mind say anything. As Legrand thrust himself inside her again and again she tried to ride the pain.
After what seemed an eternity, it was over. He he took his hand from her mouth and rolled on his side. Gabrielle lay rigid in the bed, her nerve ends tingling and every part of her aching, but she was loath to move and disturb him in case he was still aroused enough to attack her again.
Then in the quiet room, where the ticking clock was the only noise, she heard Legrand’s even breathing and occasional snore and she knew that it was safe to move. She curled into a ball in an effort to ease her battered body and throbbing breasts as far from him as she could get. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she muffled her sobs in the pillow.
Next morning, Gabrielle got a grip on herself. She knew if that was the way Legrand was, she had to learn to put up with it, as she knew many other women did.
She heaved herself out of bed. It was Sunday and there was a lot to do, though only breakfast
to make for the children, for she imagined everyone else would be taking Communion. She had Bridgette dressed and sitting eating her breakfast in no time, but Georges was a different matter.
He was tired that morning and even worse tempered than usual. He didn’t want to get up and when Gabrielle coaxed him to do so, he said he was too tired to get dressed but determinedly refused all help and dawdled over his breakfast. Robert and Pierre, both nursing hangovers, were no help at all and Gabrielle felt she really needed the peace of Mass that morning.
In church she let the familiar Latin words wash over her and prayed for God to give her the strength and wisdom to cope with her husband and his difficult son.
Legrand declared that though he had no intention of adopting Bridgette legally, he was providing for her and as such she was to be known by his name and to call him Papa, as Georges did. Knowing that her marriage to Finn might not have been legal, Gabrielle was agreeable to this. It would be better for the child anyway, she reasoned, because in all probability there would soon be a houseful of children and it would be easier if everyone was known by the same name.
The war that had claimed so many lives rumbled to a close in November of that year. The town was in carnival mood and Gabrielle and Yvette took both children out into the streets so that they
could drink in the atmosphere. Gabrielle could well understand the joy and relief of the carousing people, even if the peace had come far too late for her and Finn.
It had been an immense war, with much loss of life. But it was the war to end all wars, people said. Now everyone could get on with their lives in peace, and Gabrielle looked forward to the future.
There was just one fly in the ointment. Despite Legrand’s desire for a son, the first Christmas of their marriage passed with no sign, and then the second. He became impatient and short-tempered with Gabrielle. She understood his frustration and even shared it because she too longed for a child; it would be some consolation for her in a marriage that she knew was less than ideal.
Legrand had begun to drink far more than was good for him, and so did Pierre. Where once he had frequented the bars only on a Saturday evening, now they went out together most evenings and were always well oiled or worse when they returned.
Regardless of his drunken state, Legrand often demanded sex. Many times Gabrielle was woken with his weight on top of her, fumbling at her nightdress, and more than once, befuddled by the fastenings, he had ripped the nightdress down the front.
Eventually, despite her embarrassment, Gabrielle went to see the doctor. Dr Fournier had been good with her mother, but he had aged somewhat since
then and become quite feeble-looking. She wouldn’t have minded seeing the doctor half so much if it had been Dr Gilbert, whom she had liked, but he had been killed when his field hospital had been shelled just six months after he joined up.
But Dr Fournier listened to all she said, and examined her sensitively, and told her that as far as he could tell, she was perfectly healthy and there was no reason why she couldn’t conceive; that it was often a waiting game.
Gabrielle returned home and told her husband this, but he continued to taunt her about her barren state, which upset and angered her.
She knew that it wasn’t a child Legrand wanted but a son. If she were to give birth to another daughter, he would ignore her, as he did Bridgette.
As time had passed, though, while Legrand redoubled his efforts to beget a second son Pierre put all his energies into the one male child he had. He indulged Georges atrociously, even more than his father did, and Georges soon learned that the man he called Grandpapa would give him anything he wanted and allow him to do what he liked. Knowing this, he behaved like a little prince in the home, where he did as he pleased. Any discipline that Gabrielle and sometimes Yvette tried to exert over Georges was never supported by either of the men and so Georges took no notice.
Pierre Jobert died in the October 1921 when Bridgette was just passed her fifth birthday. There
was no warning to his death. He got up from the table one day after his lunchtime meal saying he didn’t feel very well, and he was dead before he fell into the armchair he was making for.
When Gabrielle told Bridgette of the death of her grandfather she seemed remarkably unconcerned, and Gabrielle couldn’t blame her. The little girl often bore the brunt of his bad temper. She was frightened of Georges too, who thought nothing of pinching, kicking or scratching her, or pushing her over. He was also fond of taking whatever she happened to be playing with, if he took a fancy to it, and Pierre had seemed even to encourage him. Bridgette had learned not to make a fuss, because that only made things worse.
So when Gabrielle told her young daughter that her grandfather had died and gone to live with Jesus, she was glad. She didn’t tell her mother but, as far as she was concerned, Jesus was welcome to him.
Gabrielle learned the real cruelty of her father after the funeral when she found that he had disinherited not only her but Bridgette and Yvette too. He had left everything to Legrand, and to Georges on his death, unless Gabrielle were to have a son, in which case the inheritance would be split between them.
The ownership of the bakery changed Legrand, but not for the better. Gabrielle wasn’t surprised when Yvette elected to go back to Paris with her aunt and uncle after the will had been read. She
was, however, totally unprepared for what Legrand told her after they had gone, which was that he had no wish for them to return and that they were no longer welcome in ‘his’ bakery.
‘Robert, please, you cannot do this,’ Gabrielle said. ‘They come at least once a year. This is my family that you are banishing.’
‘And you are my wife.’
‘And as such do I have no say in any of this?’
‘No,’ Legrand said. ‘Before God and half of the town you made a promise to obey me, and this is how I want things. You will be too busy to miss them for, as you cannot give me the sons I crave, you must earn your keep in another way. I have engaged a boy but he will not start until eight and so I want you up at five to help me. When he takes your place you will have plenty of time to see to Georges and Bridgette, make a bite for me and still be in the shop for nine o’clock.’
Gabrielle knew that she would, because there was nothing else that she could do. The future she had once looked forward to unnerved her totally.