Suite Francaise

Chapter 1 -

           

PARIS, JUNE THE 3rd 1940

BUSSY, CENTRAL FRANCE

It began with a storm in June. In the days before, German bombs had fallen on the outskirts of Paris for the first time. Terrified, people were fleeing the city any way they could.

People had to dress their children by torchlight. Mothers lifted small, warm, heavy bodies into their arms: 'Come on, don't be afraid, don't cry.' An air raid. All the lights were out, but beneath the clear, golden June sky, every house, every street was visible. As for the Seine, the river seemed to absorb even the faintest glimmers of light and reflect them back a hundred times brighter, like some multifaceted mirror. Badly blacked-out windows, glistening rooftops, the metal hinges of doors all shone in the water. There were a few red lights that stayed on longer than the others, no one knew why, and the Seine drew them in, capturing them and bouncing them playfully on its waves. From above, it could be seen flowing along, as white as a river of milk. It guided the enemy planes, some people thought. Others said that couldn't be so. In truth, no one really knew anything. '

But deep in the countryside the war still felt far away and I remained pre-occupied with the one I was already fighting, much closer to home.

"Are you not dressed yet?" Madame snapped to me as she walked into my room; just waking up. "We'll be late."

"Do you really think we should go out today?" I asked her as she cleaned away some bits in the room.

"Why ever not?" She gasped; appalled I had even suggested the idea.

My mother-in-law, Madame Angellier, refused to accept the prospect of defeat, even as the first refugees from Paris started to arrive. Three years before, I'd married her precious son at my father's insistence and moved to Bussy. With Gaston away fighting, she felt I should learn how to run his properties. So every month we visited our tenants, on a Sunday, because Madame knew the farmers would be home.

"Don't make any noise." She demanded as she looked to herself in the small rear-view mirror. "That way you see how they really live."

She liked to catch them out.

We both got out of the car; Madame pushing the car door gently, so it would not make a noise.

I hated every minute of it. Slamming the door, Madame glared at me as we began to walk to the front door of the tenants.

!Have you heard anything from your son?" Madame Joseph asked as Celine, their daughter, gave me the rent money; showing off her silk stockings at the same time – something that was very rare and expensive at this time of year.

"No." Madame Angellier sighed as she straightened her hat. "Not for over a week. And you?"

"No nothing from either of our boys." She looked down sadly, as I counted the money slowly. "People say Paris is going to fall."

"People say a lot of things." Madame snapped back to her, making the mourning woman more upset and concerned. Madame was so harsh with her words; she did not seem to care how others would react to them.

As I counted the money, I placed it in a small pile beside me; piling up. Madame looked to me as I counted it, watching the sum of money add up. I was afraid that there would not enough; that my mother in law would add it onto the amount they owe us – which seemed to be getting higher and higher.

"Amelia?" Madame Angellier asked as I placed the last note onto the pile. I closed my eyes. It was not enough.

"Madame, it's a big farm and it's been difficult without my brothers." Celine, the daughter defended them as she stepped forward.

"We'll put what they owe us down to next month." She ignored the plea of the woman and turned to me; instructing me to do as she said. "If I make any exceptions, then Gaston wouldn't have a home of his own to return to, and then what would he have been fighting for?"

Madame Angellier stood up and looked to me; writing down in her booklet the money owed by the family. As I looked away, I saw Celine glaring at me as I looked to her with a soft expression. Wanting nothing more than to disappear from this house; moving far away.

"Come along, Amelia" She ordered as she put her small book away; picking up her fur jacket. "Good morning."

I stood up and smiled slightly to the family, a pitiful smile to show my compassion – which I dearly hope they felt, as it was all genuine. Walking out of the run down house, I got into the car and awaited the moans and complaints from my mother in law.

"They don't want to pay the rent, but they don't think twice about buying silk stockings for that daughter of theirs." She gasps in disgust as we drove along to the next resident. "Did you see? I know it seems harsh, but if you show them any weakness, they'll bleed you dry."

Through her nonsense, I stared out the window; not wanting to listen to her moans any longer. I wanted to completely shut them out for I did not like to gossip – especially about those who could not do anything about their situation. As I concentrated in the surrounding fields, I saw a car whizzing around the corner at fast speed. Luggage tied to the top of the car as they whizzed down the road.

"When Gaston comes home, he'll see he has a wife who knows what it is to be a land-"Madame continued as the car came closer to us. My heart stopped, for I feared a crash would happen if we continued down this road.

"Stop! Stop the car!" I shout aloud as Madame immediately stopped the care. The car whizzed by, beeping their horn at us as we flew back into our seats, due to the force pushing us back. I breathed out harshly. "We should turn back."

"No." She snapped to me, staring the engine again and putting the car into gear. "We've got potatoes to buy and four more rents to collect. Mad man."

We continued to drive off; in the same direction the car had gone in. My mother in law had seemed to lose her sense of compassion since Gaston left – her only son. He was everything to her and I think she hated me because she felt I took him away from her. That was not the case. My father was ill, I had come back from England; the music school I was in; my father was dying and he wanted to see me married before he passed away. That was when he thought it was a good idea for me to marry Gaston.

Gaston and I were great friends to begin with, but something was not right. It did not feel right. I could not put my finger to it; I seemed to blame it on the fact it was not my choice – it was my fathers – but I feared it was much more than that.

(If you would like to see what the character look like, please comment and i shall do so!)