As spring blossomed outside of the canteen, it seemed to blossom on the inside as well. Even Miss Farleigh seemed less austere as supplies for the canteen began to arrive. She and I were in the storeroom unpacking two boxes of cups which meant that we would actually have enough to serve a large group all at once. No more running around frantically gathering them up to be washed for immediate for use again. Smiles wreathed her face as she unpacked not only the cups, but new dishrags, and heavy white china plates. And there were more crates waiting for the Red Cross at the Romorantin depot.
“Major Brandt needs to go to the depot, Valerie, and has agreed to give you a ride,” she said stopping her unpacking long enough to talk to me. “A Red Cross worker must sign for the crates, and you are due some time off. I want to get them as soon as possible.”
“There is a lot of work to do in the dining room, Miss Farleigh. Today we sand the tables. I don’t think I can afford the time off.”
“Someone else can handle that.”
“Perhaps Margaret could go. I also planned to wash the curtains and -----“
“Valerie,” Miss Farleigh frowned.
I sighed. “Yes, Miss Farleigh. When do I leave?”
“This afternoon. Be in front of the canteen at one.” Miss Farleigh had finished speaking but made no move either to go or dismiss me. She looked at me a moment, and then finally with her usual directness said, “I haven’t missed the fact that a ---uh---friendship is developing between you and Lieutenant Carter.”
I am sure I looked as stunned as I felt. “I’m not…..” My throat was suddenly dry, and my voice cracked. I tried again. “I’m not particularly interested in anyone. I just want to do my job. That is absolutely all.” My hands went involuntarily to my burning cheeks.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. That is all you are supposed to be doing while you are here.” She smiled over at me as if we shared some special secret. “But some day you will be getting out of service and so will Lieutenant Carter. I have talked with him. He is a fine young man with a background similar to yours. Good marriages are built from similar levels.”
I had heard this all my life. And now it was coming out of the mouth of this woman from whom I never thought I would hear this old refrain. It was the reason I had been so hedged about growing up. I was only to meet those that were suitable, and their suitability was to be determined by others. Never mind that my parents were eminently suitable, and their marriage was a failure as far as I was concerned. And Aunt Elizabeth who admitted to me she had married for escape rather than companionship. And now Miss Fairleigh who I had thought was an example of an unmarried woman making her way in the world. And she too was pushing a fellow female into marriage as if pushing her up into a state that she could never attain. And then was Rosie who was engaged in a frantic search for a man who would be her only escape from the life she had struggled to leave.
Chicago rose to mind -- the city of my childhood, a turbulent, roaring city filled far more with the unsuitable than the suitable. That knowledge had been the one lasting result from the outing with my grandfather to his steel mill. The thousands upon thousands of people living lives so beyond my experience. I had not been asked, nor had I asked, to make another visit to his business. We both had been disappointed in different ways by our outing, and neither one of us wanted a repeat.
But I had thought long and hard about the people I had seen, the foreign neighborhoods through which we had passed, signs and languages beyond my comprehension. And the men working in that inferno lit by the piercing light from the molten metal. What of their families? I could not imagine what their lives were like, but I knew that they were nothing like mine.
I had tried to tell Trixie about my visit to the mill and the people and neighborhoods I had seen, but she had had no interest. I was in full spate when she interrupted me. “Why do you care about those people or that mill of Grandpapa’s? In the first place those are people we are never going to know, ever, and in the second Grandpapa may take you for a visit and give you lunch but he is never going to let you really be involved in his work. And why would you want to be anyway? It is not what girls do.”
It was then that I made a fatal decision that would have untold ramifications. I felt the gulf that had been slowly growing between us deepen and become unbridgeable. There was no point in sharing my thoughts with my sister anymore. She simply was not interested. Gone were the days we could play with our dolls or stage a performance in the playroom. I was alone looking across at Trixie who was on the other side of a wide social sea. Because she loved dances and parties and boys and clothes, I thought she was determined to follow in the footsteps that Mamma had laid out for her. She walked so surely through that world, while I struggled to keep my footing. I thought she was at home and content in it. In the self-absorption of a drowning swimmer, I could not see that she might also be struggling to keep afloat as well. We still shared the same pink and green room, but we were now two strangers living together rather than the two sisters with only one year between us. I could not see, until it was too late, that we were both fighting the same battle to be free of that house on Ellis Avenue. But because our weapons were so different, I did not see that I had a fellow warrior right next to me.
Now, I looked directly at Miss Farleigh. For once I was going to make myself clear on this subject. “But what about character? Your birth is just an accident. It’s what you do afterwards that counts.”
She remained as unperturbed as my mother had been. “Background and breeding give one a start that can never be made up. Look at yourself--- the job you have been willing to do here.”
“But you don’t understand. I have done that in spite of the way I was raised, not because of it. I was raised to be… to be…” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. I wanted this woman more than any other to understand. “I was raised to be useless, just useless. I want to be strong and useful like you, Miss Farleigh.”
Now it was her turn to flush. “You are a very impulsive girl. You must be careful where you place your admiration. My life is not what …..” Her sentence unfinished, she turned on her heels and left the storeroom, her brisk walk echoing on the rough floorboards.
I was left with my mind in a whirl. That Miss Farleigh would think Bazz would suit me, just because our backgrounds were similar. Of course, I had known we had been raised in similar ways from comments dropped about servants, or trips to Europe before the war, or attending the opera. Had that in the end been his initial fascination for me? That he was a boy I could have seen at a dance at home, one of the ones that never would have danced with me? And now he was pursuing me. But if I was honest with myself, I had to admit that there was not a lot of competition here in the bleak fields of France, and that Bazz seemed more interested in the conquest than the individual. He had certainly moved quickly from Rosie to me.
Then in spite of myself I thought of Matthew, large, awkward, out of place amongst the silver and china of our dining room. Yet, that night in the yellow brick house, the candlelight had illuminated his natural gentlemanliness, his courage and strength, putting in shadow my merely decorous family. Perhaps that is why he had remained a dream for so long in spite of what he had become.
At one o’clock I was on the steps on the canteen, feeling the sunshine and breathing the fresh air. For the first time since the day I had arrived at Issoudun, I was dressed in my grey uniform. It filled me with the same sense of satisfaction it had when I first put it on. It was a badge of service. Without the snugly pinned coif, my head felt light and free under the overseas cap. The car approached, and I ran quickly down the steps and jumped into the front seat. I would not make Mathew get out and open the door as Rosie had. This was not a carriage going to a ball.
We were quiet as the car gained speed and then he looked over at me. “Do we speak? You can’t very well avoid me in the car.”
“Avoid you? I’m just doing my job.”
“And your job doesn’t include serving the staff table anymore?”
“I thought Margaret needed the experience.” I stared steadily out of the windshield. There was a long silence.
“Hey cousin.” Matthew’s voice was very low. I could hardly hear him over the thrum of the engine. “I think our aunt with the nose ring would want us to be friends.”
I tried not the smile. “I’m not the one ------“
He held up a hand. “I know. I know. It’s just that I was so surprised to see you.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “When you opened that door…”
“I wasn’t exactly expecting you either.”
“But I was coming to a job I knew was going to be rough. It was no secret that there were --- are guys here just waiting to give me trouble. And I told you things in Paris, things I’ve never told anyone. I never really thought I’d see you again. And there you were.”
“But I hadn’t said anything. I never even mentioned I knew you.”
“So I’ve figured out. I’ve tried to talk to you. That day I went to Bourges…”
“But, Miss Farleigh said that was an impersonal invitation.”
“No, it was actually a plan to get around General Farleigh. It failed miserably.”
“But on your last trip to Bourges --- when you went with Rosie…” I stopped in confusion.
“Yes, Valerie?” His voice sounded kind and patient.
“Well, when you went with Rosie she told you that, she said…”
Now stop right there. I should tell you that I don’t put very much trust in what that girl had to say. You shouldn’t either you know. Don’t worry about it.”
I felt suddenly still. Matthew’s voice was so calm. All confusion seemed to flow out of me. I was at peace riding in an American truck in the middle of wartime France thousands of miles from where I should have felt most comfortable. I looked out the window. The road ahead of us was narrow and white and straight, taking us away between green fields to a distant horizon. It was a beautiful day, blue and gold, with the sweet breath of growing things all around us.
When had I last felt this happy? I reached back to another blue and gold day. The family was at the lake for the summer as usual. Mamma, Papa, Grandmamma and Grandpapa had all gone off for the day together. James and Arthur had gone to visit friends on the other side of the lake, and Nanny was making her summer visit to friends. Trixie and I were on our own under the casual eye of one of Grandmamma’s maids. Before us lay a day, glorious with possibilities.
I knew exactly what we should do. We would row over to the island and explore. The island was a tiny bit of land riotous with undergrowth that was just off the point of the dock. To a nin- ye-r old it was redolent with adventure. I had just finished the first of many readings of Treasure Island and was anxious to meet pirates and discover treasure. Trixie was eager to go as well, and I sent her down to the kitchen to beg a picnic lunch from the cook. If I went it would somehow degenerate into an argument over my rights to have the lunch, and we would never get it. Trixie would just smile, and it would be hers. I set off to the dock to check on the rowboat. We had not been told we could not use it, so I knew if I asked we would not be allowed. ‘What are you thinking of now Valerie? Such a child.’ No one was at the dock, and I was able to drag the boat down the shore a ways, and hide it behind a tree. Our adventure had only begun, and already my dress was wet around the edges and my shoes muddy. It would be worth it, however. Trixie soon joined me with a lunch that almost burst the seams of an old picnic basket. We carefully put it in the bottom of the boat. Trixie climbed in first and then I followed, pushing us away from the shore with one of the oars. We were off. I had become a good rower under James critical eye, and in no time our boat was scraping the sand on the shore of the island. What followed was a wonderful day. Slipping off our petticoats, we felt wild and free as we explored the island, climbed trees, waded in the ice-cold lake and ate our lunch lying in a warm sunny cove. Our minds worked as one, each of us always seeming to know what the other had in mind. As we put the basket back in the boat, the late afternoon sun dancing over the water, Trixie said, “I wish it could always be like this.”
“When we grow up it will be. You and I will go live by ourselves, and it will be like this all the time.”
“Do you really think so Val?” Her beautiful little face turned toward mine. I swelled with power, omnipotence. The year between nine and eight became an eternity.
“Yes, I will make it happen. Just wait Trixie. I will make it happen.”
Bu,t of course, I had not. Not at all.
I drew my thoughts back into the truck and looked over at Matthew. He was relaxed although sitting straight with his eyes on the narrow road.
“Do you know how many people ha --- dislike you?”
“I know people hate me, but not how many or who. Is it unanimous?”
“Oh, no. the monitors….”
“The monitors are, for the most part, outstanding men. Their opinion is important.”
“They---they admire you.”
“Thanks so much.” There was a slight edge to his voice.
“Don’t you care?”
“Very much.” He drove for a moment in silence, still without turning. “No one on God’s green earth, except perhaps a sadist, enjoys enforcing discipline. Everyone, including the disciplined enjoys the results. No one loves a disciplinarian, but he can be respected and even admired if he is wise and lucky. I used up a lot of my luck on two other jobs --- in the States and at St. Maixant. Maybe my quota has run out. Maybe all I’ve got left is the will to do the job. I’m going to do it no matter what my popularity rating. And then maybe the powers that be will let me off of this horrible conveyor belt of undisciplined rabble that seems to be my fate.”
We were entering Romorantin. Ambulances, Army trucks, the carts of French peasants crowded the narrow streets. “The supply depot is on the other side of town. We have to drive through the American camp,” said Matthew.
This was part of the 41st Division which was a resupply division for the fighting that was going on to the north. The men stationed here were on their way to the trenches that were to the north of us. They were newly arrived, and looked fresh, clean, and with clear faces as yet unaware of the dangers and hardships that would soon be facing them.
Ahead I caught sight of rows and rows of tent tops and the long narrow roofs of barracks. In the traffic, the truck slowed to a crawl. I looked out the window as Matthew cursed quietly under his breath. “I forgot. I should not have brought you this way.” His face was blank and his lips tightened.
We were well into the main street, the camp on either side of us, neat and military, row on row of tents, barracks, with mess halls interspersed at regular intervals. Between us and the camp on either side of the street were rows of gaily dressed girls sitting in the gutters. They were crying out like peddlers in French and pidgin English at the soldiers who passed by. At first, I looked to see what they might be selling before it dawned on me that they were selling the only commodity they absolutely owned. I was first repulsed as I looked at their painted faces and gaudy clothes. They looked grotesque. Then I was filled with a surging pity. Was this the only option left open to them? To sit in a gutter and sell their bodies to foreign soldiers?
“Why --- why must they sit--- down in the gutter?” The cry was ripped from me.
“We are in a foreign country. The United States Army had jurisdiction only over the land occupied by the camp. The streets, the gutters are still French.”
“But, the French could make them stop.”
“They don’t want to, and the women don’t want them to. This way our money goes into French pockets. Val, this has been the way of war for as long as man has fought against man. I am so used to it I just forgot….I should have brought you the other way.” He stopped abruptly as he pulled the truck into the supply depot.
We did our errands, loading in the supplies so looked forward to by Miss Farleigh and left town by another route. The cab of the truck was heavy with our silence, Matthew leaving me alone to my thoughts for which I was grateful. He kept his eyes on the road and the truck at top speed.
The coldness that gripped me was not so much the fact of those women. I had read enough history to know that women had followed armies offering their services since there had been armies. It was just that I had never come face to face with that fact. The brightly colored clothes and assured demeanor of the women as they called out to passing soldiers, had not hidden the hardness of their faces or their desperation. One of them had caught my eye as I had looked out the window, and she had put both her hands on her hips and looked defiantly back at me. I had been the first one to look away.
But it still might have been all right if those women had remained in a French gutter, but the knowledge of them seemed to ooze over all the people in my life. What had Trixie been doing but trying to use her beauty to get away from a life she did not want. And what about Mamma, alone in the big bedroom, telling me to stay single and retain my self-respect? Were all women who turned to men to complete their lives merely sitting in their own gutters, even if they were silk-lined? Were these the only options open to a female? Well, at least for the moment I had found another one, and I would die before I became some man’s chattel no matter how elegant that choice was made to look.
I was suddenly aware that the truck had been stopped for some time, and Matthew was at my door holding it open for me. As I got out of the cab, he leaned it towards me and said so quietly that I almost did not hear him, “That’s not all there is to it Val.”
In sudden overwhelming defiance I thought, You can say that, but everything in my life has shown that really was what it was all about. But not for me --- not for me! And with resolute steps I marched into the canteen to start preparations for dinner.