The Soldier's Wife by Margaret Leroy Read Free Book Online Page A

Frank?”
    â€œYes.” My voice is rather cheerful and brittle and high. “Well, I know his wife better, really. Angie le Brocq. I was up at Les Ruettes just a few days ago. They were going to take in my mother-in-law, if we had gone on the boat. . . . But then we didn’t go of course.” The words tumbling out of me. Somehow I can’t stop talking.
    The man looks at me in a worried way. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
    â€œLook, ma’am, you need to go home. You should go and get yourself some rest. Go home and make yourself a cup of sugary tea.”
    â€œBut I can’t just leave him here like this. . . .”
    â€œThere’s nothing you can do,” he says, and gives my arm a wary pat, as though I’m some skittery wild animal that he is trying to soothe.
    â€œI mean it, ma’am. You should just take yourself off home now,” he tells me.
    I RING ELM Tree Farm from the first public phone box I pass.
    Gwen answers.
    â€œOh Gwen. Thank God.”
    â€œI’m all right, Viv,” she tells me. “I got away in time. I’ve been sick with worry about you. . . .” Then, when I don’t say anything, “Viv—are you sure you’re all right?”
    I can’t answer her question; my mouth won’t seem to work properly.
    â€œGwen—I can’t talk now. I have to get back to the girls. But I’m not hurt—don’t worry.”
    I put down the phone.
    When I arrive back at Le Colombier, Blanche’s face is at the window. She sees me and runs to the door.
    â€œMum. What happened?”
    Her voice is shrill, her eyes are wide and afraid.
    â€œThey bombed the harbor,” I tell her.
    â€œWe heard the planes,” she says, in a little scared voice. “Mum. We thought you were dead.”
    Millie is clinging to Blanche’s hand. I can tell she’s been crying—the tracks of tears gleam on her cheeks.
    â€œI’m all right. I’m not hurt,” I say.
    I reach out to hug Millie. She pulls away, stares at my dress. All the color has gone from her face.
    â€œMum. You’ve got blood all over you,” says Blanche, in that small thin voice.
    I look down. I hadn’t realized. There’s a lot of blood on the front of my dress, where I cradled Frank as he died.
    â€œIt isn’t my blood,” I tell them. “I’m all right. Really.”
    They don’t say anything, but just stand there, staring at me.
    â€œLook—I’m going to have to leave you for a little longer,” I say. “I have to go to Angie’s.”
    I can see that Blanche understands at once. Her face darkens.
    I can’t go to see Angie with her husband’s blood on my clothes. I change, and put my dress to soak in a bath of cold water, swirling the water around to try to loosen the stain. I almost faint as I straighten up, the bathroom spinning around me. My body feels flimsy as eggshell, as though the slightest touch might shatter me. I can’t break the news to Angie feeling like this.
    I make myself drink some sugary tea, just as the fireman advised. Something has gone wrong with my throat, and it’s hard to swallow the drink, but afterward I feel a little stronger. The girls sit at the table with me, watching over me anxiously.
    â€œNow, will you two be all right?” I say. “I promise I won’t be long.”
    â€œWe’ll be fine, Mum,” says Blanche.
    â€œNo, we won’t. I won’t let you go,” says Millie.
    She comes to stand by my chair, wraps herself around me. I have to peel her fingers like bandages from my arms.
    I WALK UP the lane to Les Ruettes. My feet are heavy, as though I am wading through deep water. I knock at Angie’s door, and my dread is a bitter taste in my mouth. I would rather be anywhere else but here.
    She opens the door.
    â€œAngie.” My throat is thick. “Something’s happened. . . .”
    She stares at my face.