Le Temps des Cerises by Zillah Bethel Read Free Book Online

time with his eyes closed. Bidulph muttered that he didn’t want that bloody palaver all over again and the mood looked ugly again for a while until Alphonse said he’d go a round with the best of ’em; and then they all hoorayed English style and budged up a seat for him.
    Laurie watched his friend slip back into the game as if he’d never been away from it and smiled ruefully. Trust Alphonse to lift the mood of the men with a merest flick of his fingers, a glance, a smile. If he so much as sneezed the whole world came running out with ‘God bless you’s’ and handkerchiefs, hot gins and flu potions. It would have been sickening if he hadn’t been his friend and even now he felt a slight stab of envy as he saw the men falling over themselves for a word of praise or pat on the head. Alphonse sat, so it seemed, quite oblivious to it all, earnestly studying his cards; and Laurie shrugged off the feeling as completely unworthy. He got up and went over to straighten the tent for the new squad, busying himself with shaping the straw pallets, re-directing the rusty saucepan under the leak and packing up their kit bags with identical mess tin, drinking cup, leather cartridge supply bag and first-aid box. By this time he could hear the customary howls of derision that 7 th Company used to greet the new squad, the back slapping, friendly bickering, cries of ‘Merry Christmas, you poor suckers’ and Coupeau’s voice above the rest, bragging about the bet he’d laid with Joubet to muff ten women by Christmas Eve and even that would be a breeze. Laurie lengthened his rifle strap to fit more comfortably around his bulky greatcoat and packed the letter away carefully in a side pocket. He was just taking a last look round the tent when Alphonse poked his head through the flap.
    â€˜What are you doing hiding away in here?’ he demanded which Laurie knew was his friend’s way of thanking him for packing away. ‘You haven’t forgotten the meeting tonight have you?’
    â€˜Of course not!’ cried Laurie, unable to stop the note of pride creeping into his voice. ‘Eveline will be there.’
    â€˜Ah yes.’ Alphonse looked at Laurie’s face with interest. ‘The beautiful Eveline.’
    And, shouldering their kit bags, they crawled out of the tent side by side into the twilight.

Chapter six

    The meeting was in full swing by the time Eveline arrived, bare legged, drenched and unkempt, wishing she’d wrung that little urchin’s neck. She had to stop for a moment as she entered the church because the heat and hubbub hit her like a train after the cold air and pelting rain. She still found it strange to see the church at night, so different, so unrecognisable – no flowers or prayer books, no bent heads, pious eyes, no priests in flowing garments, no body or blood of Christ. Instead, an altar table piled high with dirty plates, sticky glasses and dead-necked wine bottles; the Marseillaise instead of the Magnificat ; and a congregation so different from the day it was scarcely believable. Hardened revolutionaries with zealous eyes and red kerchiefs; National Guardsmen roaring drunk and off duty; dilettantes seeking amusement; fat women and thin women both looking for food; refugees from the long cold winter nights and ragamuffins who sidled into the lonely back pews and fell asleep, only to be kicked out in the morning by an angry curate. The clubs were only granted access in the evenings and even that was grudgingly given; but Eveline reckoned that any priest would give his eye teeth and chalice away for a congregation this big, this enthusiastic…
    She scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Laurie and Alphonse with the other National Guardsmen in the choristers’ stalls; but they were not amongst them. The candlelight played over a multitude of faces, some animated, some thoughtful, some cheerful, some emaciated; and the