Satine [ONGOING]

GABRIELLE (IX)

The crowd parted like the sea, torn apart by two waves going in opposite directions. One second they were all dancing, and then then the next they all stopped to stare at some mysterious thing ahead. The ridiculous amounts of alcohol in Gabrielle's system was still messing with her senses. The music had felt so loud it was penetrating her skull, and the silence that replaced it felt incredibly oppressive. All the flickering lights of candles flashed in uneven ways, disorienting her. She imagined herself in a crime novel or ghost story, in which the main tragic event had just occurred. She looked for Clémentine, confused and dazed, desperate for her firm hand to hold and her frame to lean against. Why had everything come to a halt? What could possibly catch everyone's interest in such a manner. She found Clementine eventually, just a few feet ahead, her back turned to her, facing the reason everyone had put their celebration on hold. Clémentine was looking at something, they were all staring at something. Gabrielle stumbled her way toward her friend, pushing past the crowd that was quickly shaping all around her. Suddenly she heard it: "Ernest!" The urgency in her mother's voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Ernest!" She was crying, sobbing even. Gabrielle's first horrifying thought was that something must have happened to her little brother Paul. He could have fallen and broken something or...well, she preferred not to think about it. There were too many possibilities, all worse than the next. "We need a doctor!" Finally, Gabrielle managed to grasp Clémentine's hand, she could barely stand straight on her own. Her mind was spinning in circles, tying knots around her cognitive senses. Her friend turned to her startled, face paling at the mere sight of Gabriele whilst her claw-like hand gripped onto her arm.
"Oh Gabrielle," She whispered, her eyes wide in horror, or shock, the young girl could not tell.
"What?" Gabrielle asked her, her heart starting to race. "What is it? What happened?" Clémentine could only pull her forward, letting her see what everyone was so keen on watching unfold. Gabrielle's eyes widened, her throat tightened. It simply could not be: by the lamb boxes, a few metres closer to the church entrance was her mother, her knees on the grass, clinging to the frail figure of a woman whose dress was stained crimson red in patches. She was shaking uncontrollably, crying, stuttering incoherent things that most tried to hear but could not decipher. Next to her was another woman, equally as dishevelled, with splashes of dark red and brown across the fabric of her shirt. The young girl could recognise her from miles away, her sister. Madame Pradier pushed past the crowd and almost caused Gabrielle to fall onto her back, luckily she steadied herself, trying her best to recover from the many shocks of this whole situation. Everyone kept watching as Madame Pradier wrapped both shaking souls in blankets sourced by some kind old man by the strawberry stand and as the commotion continued around Gabrielle, and people began to whisper, shout, talk, the young girl stood frozen. Satine. It was Satine, it could be no one else. Gabrielle's world started to spin. Was Satine injured? Who was the woman with her? How had she gotten here? Was it all just some dream? She felt as if she would collapse, her vision was blurring so she reached for the ground, and slowly sat down, her fingers coiling into the grass, trying to keep herself steady. The next thing she remembered was making her way back home, as a troop of villagers helped her mother and father with the tired, injured, feverish young women. Paul was right behind her, trying to talk to her, but she could not focus on anything, his words were like an incoherent echo. The shock and the alcohol had not mixed well together. The further away she got from the church, the darker everything seemed, but the chaos and noise was not left behind. She heard it all inside her head, preventing her from producing a single coherent thought. Until she stepped into her house, walked into the kitchen and met eyes with Satine, who had been carefully asked to lie down on the sofa. It was as if a veil had lifted, giving Gabrielle sudden clarity. Her blue eyes in the dim light of a few oil-lamps gave her an extreme sense of deja vu, though this time her eyes were empty, vacant, not sparkling with anticipation. As Gabrielle was lucid again she hoped that she could make herself useful, but couldn't figure out how. Madame Pradier pushed past her with a first aid kit, opening the box on the table before shutting the door behind Paul, who was hastily led upstairs by his father, they met eyes briefly as he disappeared up the stairs, pale faced and in shock. Her inner Great war nurse suddenly resurfacing.

"Gabrielle." Her mother said, causing the girl to jolt. "Gabrielle, can you nip upstairs and find a few blankets and pop the kettle on?" The girl obeyed, running up the stairs with her heart in her throat, unable to get the image of her sister's blood-stained dress out of her mind. She rushed into the dining room with all of the blankets she could collect from upstairs. Madame Pradier gave her a grateful smile. The kettle whistled before she poured a few cups, taking care to leave some water inside the metal frame, in case they needed anything other than tea. She balanced the two cups carefully as she tiptoed into the room. It appeared to her that the atmosphere was easing, clearly the blood on both of the women's attire was not their own, and though their feet were red with blisters and infected wounds, Madame Pradier said none of their injuries were impossible to fix, other than those that were not physical. Darkness slowly settled outside, Gabrielle helped light a few candles, and they burnt bright with a light crack, playing into the now lighter atmosphere. Gabrielle sat down across the table where Satine and the mystery woman had been sat on a chair each, as far away from the two visitors as possible, feeling uneasy at the idea of talking to them. What was there to say? She didn't notice the baby until then. Her eyes widened, sitting in her sister's lap, was an infant with sparkling blue eyes who despite the situation was smiling, gazing at the people around the table, though her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes shone with fever..

"Maman," She started in a whisper, not daring to break the peaceful silence that had taken hold of the house. "Maman, who is the baby?" Their eyes met briefly, Marie-Lise bit her lip.
"I think," She hesitated, looking over at the ghost of her daughter across the table. "I think she's your niece." Gabrielle turned to look at them in shock. Now that she said it, some similarities between the two became apparent to her, the eyes especially were of an identical shade. She felt the urge to ask her sister questions, desperate to understand how she had made it here, if she had been in Paris this whole time, who her friend that had yet to say a single word was, but the silence was so peaceful, she could not bring herself to break it. She watched her mother whisper something to her father, who had remained arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe ever since coming back down the stairs. She looked to Madame Pradier, who was just picking the baby out of Satine's lap when Paul rushed into the room.
"Paul, go back upstairs right now." His mother told him firmly, turning the young boy back around and leading him toward the door, but the young boy broke loose of her grip and ran up to Satine whose eyes slowly locked on him.
"Hi!" He said excitedly, bubbling with energy, holding his teddy bear up to his face. "Are you okay?"
Marie-lise sighed. She wouldn't deny him seeing his sister.

A tear trickled down Satine's cheek and she nodded slowly. Paul smiled widely. "They were saying that you're my sister, are you?"
"I am." She said in a low whisper, hesitating to reach his hands out to his face. Paul turned his eyes toward Satine's friend.
"And who are you?" He asked, the mystery woman's dark eyes suddenly looked up at him, Gabrielle noticed her skin paling slightly, as if she was nervous, terrified even. "Florence." She told him quickly, barely articulating her name properly. The adults around gathered into a small corner, whispering things to each other, no doubt debating on how they would take care of these two—three broken souls. Gabrielle felt strangely out of place and powerless. Judging by the look of the two women, there was almost no understanding what they had been through and though she was curious about it,, she didn't dare to ask.

"I think we'll go to bed." Satine said, breaking the silence with surprising decisiveness. Marie-Lise nodded, giving her forehead a kiss, a quick yet tender one, one she had been holding for a while in hopes of giving it to her..
"There is space in the blue guest room, I'll take the baby for you, chérie."

"Her name's Madeleine." Satine said, a plain statement lacking any emotion. Gabrielle watched her mother take her gently, and her face contorted into a light smile, abruptly interrupted when she met eyes with her husband across the room. Without a word, Gabrielle began to lead the two wounded, tired women up the stairs. They followed without question, exhausted and empty looking. Their aimless demeanour sent shivers down Gabrielle's spine.

"Here," She opened the guest room door slowly. Satine waited before entering, observing Gabrielle for a moment. They appeared to breathe slowly in unison, at equal loss for words. Gabrielle closed her eyes, trying to stop tears from falling as she felt her sister's gentle hand cupping her cheek. She placed her hand over hers, and as quickly as this tender moment happened, it slipped away. Satine let her go, and disappeared into the room, leaving Gabrielle in a deserted hallway alone with her questions, fear and tears.