Open Writing

They were in for a hot uncomfortable journey to Brouages where they were to work. The train was dirty and crowded, packed with National Servicemen going back off leave; tired and dishevelled conscripts sleeping huddled in their great coats or sprawled in the corridor. Some stood at the window watching the empty miles back to camp roll by.

But Ann and John were in their own world. Snuggled close, he felt her warm body against his, smelt the freshness of her hair, and saw the delicate blue of her eyelids as she dozed on his shoulder. Her cheeks were high with colour at the excitement of their holiday and he let his eyes drink their fill of the tilt of her nose and the soft sweep of her chin and jaw. Further down her breasts rose and fell in the deep rhythm of sleep.

They stopped off in Paris where they had some hours to kill and walked round the city before catching their connection to Marennes. Rebecca had had relatives in Paris before the war and they took a cab to Fontenay-sous-Bois, to the old Jewish quarter where they'd lived. At the junction of two roads was a huge memorial, a grim block of granite recording the names of those taken by the Nazis to their death-camps. On it were the names of Rebecca's aunts and uncles and their children. Miriam stood before it saying nothing and looking pale. Only later did they find out she had lost her entire family at Auswitzch.

They toured other parts of the city before catching the train south. The journey was hot and the countryside burned brown, except for the golden splashes of cornfields or long green corridors of pine. The fields were hedgeless, stretching like prairies after the patchwork of England. Village after village they passed red-tiled and crumbling, plasterwork patched over the centuries. Oxen lumbered down tracks dragging wagons that could have come from a Breugel painting.

When they arrived at Marennes they joined the rest of the students and were given a civic reception by the mayor and then the marquis, who wined and dined them at his chateau. Afterwards a coach took them to Brouage, a village snuggling inside the walls of an old fort.

The girls were quartered in cottages near the powder arsenals of the seventeenth century fort, built by Cardinal Richelieu as a base to attack the Huguenot Protestants holed up in La Rochelle. The men were housed in the gunpowder vaults, but the group dined communally in the great Halle aux Vivres that once quartered Richelieu's troops. The day after they arrived they begun stripping the walls of foliage and restoring the old buildings. When the afternoon became too hot they stopped working and dozed, sleeping off the mealtime wine. It was France at its best.

One day John got badly sunburnt, foolishly working in the open without his shirt. His back became one huge blister and he had to lay off work some days till the skin healed. The doctor gave him some antibiotic cream and Ann applied it each day, easing it into his tortured skin. By the end of the week new skin had grown, but her nursing had other effects.

One evening when the rest had gone to the local bistro, she began rubbing his back with cream and gently massaging it. Easing the muscles round his neck and shoulders. All the time she told him how much she loved him, till suddenly he turned on his mattress, drawing her on top. She didn't resist only holding him closer and whispering her love for him.
He kissed her face and neck passionately, searching for her lips. Like himself she wore only a light singlet and shorts, so he felt her hot thighs pressed hard against his. Then she lifted herself gently up and down to rouse him more, seeking his mouth hungrily, running her fingers along his cheek and jawline. The evening was thick with heat and their bodies stuck where the flesh met.

She began quivering as he ran his hand feverishly inside her singlet searching for her breasts. Then she snapped open her shorts and kicked them free with her pants. She was his and he hers. They lay locked in each other's arms a while, then fell apart relaxed gazing into each other's eyes, till she stood up saying they ought to join the others.

He took her hand and led her outside just as a peal of thunder broke and lightning flashed across the night sky. Scarcely had they made a dash for the bistro than it started pouring, the rain pocking the dry dust at their feet. Soon the gutters were swimming and they were soaked by the time they reached the inn. They entered laughing as they joined the others, delighting in their new-found nearness and holding each other close.