Название: The Child Left Behind
Автор: Anne Bennett
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007353170
isbn:
‘My parents know nothing about us as yet,’ he said.
‘Wouldn’t they approve either?’
‘As I said, my mother really is one on her own,’ Finn said. ‘And in all honesty, she finds it hard to approve of anything. As I said, I have told Nuala all about you and my brothers too know a little, but if you wrote to them at the cottage my mother would not be above steaming open the letters.’
‘My father would do that too,’ Gabrielle said.
‘I would have to think very carefully about a letter to my parents telling them about us,’ Finn said. ‘And I think the first approach must come from me, but I will ask the priest.’ Lowering his voice still further as they approached the bakery yard, he went on, ‘Father Clifford was assigned to our battalion as soon as we passed out last spring in Belfast. He is fairly young and one of the worldliest priests I have ever met. I am sure if anything happens to me, he will get word to you, but maybe you will still be in Paris.’
‘I doubt that,’ Gabrielle said. ‘My father says I can stay one month, but no longer, and you haven’t had orders to go anywhere yet, have you?’
‘Not yet.’ Finn whispered as he put his finger to his lips. ‘Now, not another sound. We’re getting too close.’
They crept along holding hands, and once in the yard underneath the tree, Finn drew Gabrielle into his arms.
She felt tears start in her eyes. She knew this was goodbye. She wasn’t sure that she could exist without Finn, but she knew the forces pulling them apart were stronger than they were. As she kissed Finn with such intensity it seemed to come from the very essence of her being, and she couldn’t help the little moans that escaped from her mouth. Then, very gently, Finn lifted her into the tree.
Her aunt Bernadette didn’t sleep very well or deeply, and at that moment she was lying in her bed wide awake and imagining the treats in store for her niece. As for her just saying a month, she would stay as long as Bernadette wanted. There was nothing Pierre could do about it. He could hardly leave his precious bakery and come to fetch her.
Telling herself that she would never sleep with all these thoughts running around in her head, she tried to clear her mind and relax, and that was when she heard the sound in the yard below. She listened intently. There were no further sounds, and Bernadette told herself she had imagined it. She knew if she got out of bed to look she would be thoroughly wakened. She closed her eyes, but a few minutes later she heard rustling coming from outside. She lit the lamp beside the bed and saw that it was past two in the morning.
She waited a few more minutes to ascertain that she wasn’t imagining it and then, thoroughly alarmed because she thought someone might be trying to break into the room where the girls were sleeping, she got out of bed. She wondered for a moment if she should try rousing Raoul, but he could be difficult to wake, and anyway, she wanted to satisfy herself first that there was something worth shouting about.
However, Gabrielle was now adept at climbing the tree, and by the time her aunt got to the window the girl was not only in her room but almost undressed.
Bernadette returned to her bed, smiling to herself. She had became really citified if she allowed a rustling tree to worry her, she thought, and was glad she hadn’t woken Raoul and she cuddled against him and went fast asleep.
Gabrielle was also trying to sleep as she knew that they had an early start in the morning, but all she was aware of was the ache in her heart that grew bigger and bigger. Whether she was in Paris or St-Omer she knew she would miss Finn every waking minute. In fact she was missing him already, and as the tears started in her eyes she muffled her face in the pillow.
The following day, as he walked with Christy in to work, Finn felt it hard to lift his mood and yet he knew he must. It might be months, even years, before he would see Gabrielle again and he had to deal with that just as she had to do.
Christy cast a glance at his morose face and, risking a rebuff, he said to him, ‘What’s up, mate? You look as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.’
Finn sighed. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘At least nothing that anyone can do anything about. Last night I bid my girlfriend goodbye, that’s all.’
‘Well, I suppose it was as well,’ Christy said. ‘To delay only puts off the inevitable.’
‘I know,’ Finn agreed. ‘Anyway, she was going to relatives in Paris for a while, so it seemed the right time. It would suit me now though if we started moving out. It would be something positive to do.’
‘Can’t be too long now,’ Christy said. ‘I overheard yesterday that we are part of the New Army held back for something special.’
‘Well, I for one can’t wait,’ Finn said.
However, day after day passed on with no further orders, and by the time Gabrielle had been gone over a week there was still no sign of the company moving on. Meanwhile, thoughts of her filled Finn’s mind by day and disturbed his sleep at night. He didn’t think it was possible to miss anyone as much as he missed Gabrielle, and without her he was often so sunk in melancholy that he didn’t hear if someone spoke to him.
This had caused Captain Hamilton to yell at him a few times, and in the end he had said, ‘I don’t know what ails you, Finn Sullivan, but I will give you a word of advice. Snap out of it. Before long you will be on the battlefield and then you’ll need to focus your mind on the enemy and keep your wits about you or you will be blown to kingdom come, or else end your life on the tip of a German bayonet. Do I make myself clear?’
He did, of course, and yet still Finn found it hard to lift his despondency.
‘Can’t you write to her or something?’ Christy said, one morning as he and Finn set out for Headquarters, and then slapped his head as he added, ‘Oh, that’s stupid of me. How can you write to a French girl? It’s hardly likely she could read English.’
‘She can read and speak as good English as you and me, though with a really lovely accent,’ Finn told Christy. ‘But writing to her has never been an option’
‘Why not?’
‘It just isn’t.’
‘Why?’ Christy said. ‘And who is she, for God’s sake?’
There was no need to keep her name a secret any more and so Finn shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose it matters now. Her name is Gabrielle Jobert.’
Christy stopped dead on the road. He looked at Finn incredulously as he said, ‘You are joking? Tell me that you are joking?’
‘It’s no joke,’ Finn said. ‘It’s the truth.’
‘I bet her father doesn’t know that you were seeing his daughter,’ Christy said, ‘and that’s why you can’t write to her.’
‘That’s it exactly,’ Finn said, as the two men strode on again.
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