The Child Left Behind. Anne Bennett
the war is over, though,’ Finn said, and a frown creased his forehead.
‘Why ever not?’ Gabrielle asked.
‘Well, you are young and—’
‘Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’ she demanded. ‘I know what it is to love someone and that someone is you. I will wait for you as long as it takes. All I ask is that you come back to me safe and sound and I will go to the ends of the earth with you if you ask me to.’
‘What of your father?’
‘He can plot and plan all he likes, but he cannot make me marry anyone if I refuse, and I promise you with all my heart that I will only ever marry for love, and my love is you, my darling, Finn.’
Finn kissed Gabrielle that day when they parted, but though it was on the lips it was a chaste kiss. His desire for Gabrielle was mounting daily but he knew that he had to proceed carefully. She was pure and innocent, and totally without any sexual experience. He was convinced of her love for him, though, and that was all that mattered. As long as he was stationed in St-Omer, he would let nothing come between them.
Finn had reckoned without the weather. The next day was the first of November and it arrived with torrential rain that fell in sheets day after day, driven by bone-chilling, gusty winds. Eventually, the camp field resembled a quagmire, the air they breathed seemed moisture-laden, the beds were damp and all the men found it hard to sleep deeply, however tired they were. Everyone was in low spirits, worn down by the constant grey skies, the steadfast drip, drip, drip of the relentless rain and the raging wind that hurled itself at anyone who stepped out of the minimal shelter of the drenched and billowing tents.
Those like Finn and Christy, who worked in the Headquarters all day, were considered the lucky ones. Never was Finn so glad of his greatcoat, though it was usually sodden each morning by the time he got to the Headquarters, and he would leave it steaming before the fire he made up for Captain Hamilton.
The first Sunday of November passed and then the second. Finn was desperate to see Gabrielle again though he didn’t know how it was to be achieved. It was torturous now when he went into the bakery, or caught sight of her at Mass.
The third Sunday loomed with no solution, and he knew that as the winter really took hold, the weather would probably get considerably worse before it got any better. It might be weeks before he could see Gabrielle. In fact he could be marched away before he got the chance at all. He knew he would go clean mad if that happened
Christy knew what was eating him and coming upon him one evening in the mess tent, staring miserably at a mug of tea, he said, ‘You’re mad if you have developed more than a mere fondness for Gabrielle. You’re a soldier, for Christ’s sake.’
‘I know that,’ Finn spat out. ‘I know it’s not sensible, but it just happened. And now with this bloody weather I don’t know if I will ever see her again. We need somewhere where we can be alone.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ Christy said sarcastically. ‘Ten a penny, places like that are around here.’
Finn’s eyes blazed. ‘Bugger off, Christy!’ he yelled, leaping to his feet.
‘Now where are you going?’
‘For a walk,’ Finn snapped. ‘On my own.’
‘It’s dark, man.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not afraid of it,’ Finn said, pushing off Christy’s restraining arms, and he set off into the night.
It was like pitch, for the rain had eased to a drizzle that ensured there was no moon to light his way. Sounds from the camp trailed after him, growing fainter as he turned away from that and plunged into the darkness.
His eyes did adjust slightly, but not enough to stop him slipping in the mud underfoot. He heard the ground sucking at his boots as he slurped and slopped his way through thick and glutinous slurry, or slid into quagmires where he nearly lost his boot on more than one occasion. He went doggedly on, however, knowing that he needed no company that night and especially not people trying to cheer him up.
In the end, though, he was thoroughly chilled, wet through and more miserable than he had ever felt in his life before, and he decided to go back. And then, in front of him, rising out of the darkness he saw a building. He didn’t recognise it, but he decided to investigate and he made his way over cautiously.
It was built in a hollow, which he didn’t see in the dark night and he nearly went head over heels as he approached. He didn’t know whether the place was occupied or not. It could well be, and the people in bed. He lit one of the matches he kept in the inside pocket of his tunic and by its light could see the building was very dilapidated. But that signified nothing, he thought as the match burned down to his fingers and he dropped it. He crept around the sides until he came to the front door.
There was no sign of life at all, no irate farmer appeared to challenge him and no dog erupted barking from the barns. He risked another match and in its light he saw the single-storey building had a sort of battered, neglected look about it. The door was slightly open and hanging on one set of hinges, and Finn knew the place was deserted.
Another match showed him that the odd dark shapes in front of the house were trees, and past those he saw there was a wooden bridge over the canal, which ran by the side of the house. He wanted to jump for joy because he had found the perfect place for him to bring Gabrielle.
He turned and made for the camp as quickly as he could. He would say nothing to her until he had looked inside the house and he intended to do that as soon as possible.
That night Finn hardly slept and he was up hours before the bugle call. Everyone else slumbered on as he struggled into his damp clothes. This time he took a torch, for it was still dark.
He went quicker with the torch playing before him, but still the house was a fair way from the camp.
He pushed aside the ill-fitting door, stepped inside. He was not surprised to see the whole place was dust-laden and festooned with cobwebs, nor was he surprised to hear rats scuttling away. The air smelled musty and sour, but there was no sign of the roof leaking. He crossed to the fireplace. There were ashes in the grate and even kerosene in the lamp on the mantelshelf above it.
All right, he thought, so it isn’t a palace; it is in fact a very Spartan house, but it has four walls, a roof, and a grate where I could light a fire.
There was plenty of wood around that he could use. He would clean the place up before he let Gabrielle see it and light a fire to warm the place. He began making plans in his head. He was sure that he could wedge the door shut, and the one window, though filthy dirty, was unbroken. He would bring blankets from his own bed to cover the battered sofa and they would be totally alone for the first time.
His limbs shook at that thought and he told himself that he was no marauding beast and that just because they would be alone there was no reason to forget himself and take advantage of his beloved Gabrielle. Just to hold her in his arms properly would be enough. A thrill of excitement ran through him and he was whistling as he returned to the camp.
Gabrielle too had been trying to think of a way that she could meet Finn secretly, but her mind drew a blank, particularly while the weather remained so foul. She knew too that even if the rain eased off, winter was setting in and if she suggested going for a walk in the freezing cold, or with snow underfoot, even her mother might be suspicious for her need to be outdoors.
It wasn’t fair to drag Yvette out with her either. She couldn’t see any way around the problem and she began to dread seeing Finn come into the shop, or glimpse him at Mass, because to see him and not be able to communicate with him in any way was terribly hard for her.
The day after Finn had checked out the farmhouse Captain Hamilton sent him to the baker’s shop again. Gabrielle was alone because her mother