The Girl in the Blue Beret - Bobbie Ann Mason [104]
“What happened next is unspeakable. I have gone over and over it my mind, and I never comprehend it. There were two things I held closely for the duration: the image of Monique and her doll, and the presence of my mother, holding me in the same way Monique held her doll.
“I clung to my mother like a baby, and she held me in her strong arms and sang lullabies.”
Bernard lifted his head toward her, but Annette went steadily on.
“Paris was liberated on August 25, although the war did not end for many months yet. I have seen the films. Oh! Such scenes! When the Allied tanks roared into Paris—led by Frenchmen!—there was jubilation, and de Gaulle strode down the Champs-Elysées like a man on stilts, wearing the military hat that always reminds me of a gâteau box. ‘La Marseillaise’ was sung everywhere. There was so much joy. The church bells rang again. The champagne came out of hiding.”
Annette folded her hands across her breasts and continued in a soft monotone.
“However, we were not there. Ten days before, the Germans—who were in retreat from Paris—sent off the last convoy to Germany. My mother and I were in one of those cattle cars, creeping out of Paris toward Germany as the sun was rising.”
46.
IT WAS DARK. ANNETTE WENT TO THE KITCHEN, TAKING WITH HER the plate of toast and the pâté. Bernard followed her, and in a little while she returned. She brought candles but did not light them. Marshall tried to speak. He did not know if, in telling her story, she was offering him a gift or transferring a burden. His ears and eyes and heart were not sharp enough to catch fully all that Annette was telling him. He could not grasp the depths of her story. He felt that his mind was cemented over. She replenished the wine, and the wine made him feel easier with her, drawn to her like someone reaching across an abyss.
When she touched the inside of her forearm, he tried to remember if she had worn long sleeves throughout their visits. It was ironic, he thought, that the Nazis had kept such meticulous records, branding their victims while knowing the numbers would disappear, flecks of ash floating through the air.
He took her hand and—boldly or tenderly, he did not know which—pushed her sleeve up, nearly to the elbow.
“No, there was not a number,” she said. “We wore a cloth patch with our numbers, on our clothing.”
Gently, he kissed the spot where he thought the Nazi mark would have been, and she enfolded his head with her arms.
She held him close to her breast, an endless embrace. There was no time, just this breathless communion. The courtyard was silent.
Eventually, slowly, he raised his head.
“And that was the price you paid for helping us—for helping me.” Marshall was near tears. “I can’t bear it.”
“It was the same—you aided us and we aided you,” she said, touching his face gently. “It is no matter. Whatever I did for you, I also did for myself, for my family, for France. We were crushed, Marshall. Defeated. You cannot know the shame. Whatever any of us did, we did for ourselves—so that we could have still a little self-respect. Just a little.”
“I didn’t know that any of this happened to you,” he said.
“I didn’t want you to know. I have told very few.”
“I was safe back home, and you were still going through the war.”
She rose and gathered the napkins and wine. “I must check the dinner,” she said. “And then I want to tell you the rest.”
He didn’t know if he had had too much wine or too little. Food would not have occurred to him. He opened the kitchen door for her, bringing his glass.
“Please stay here tonight,” she said with a smile. “There is a room upstairs that can be yours. It will be like the old times. You will be in hiding, and I will take care of you.”
47.
THEY MOVED INSIDE, WITH BERNARD, TO HER SITTING ROOM. Marshall noticed that the dog seemed to trust him now, enough to leave Annette’s side and go to his bed in