Confidant (9781101603628)
Page 20
I watched the water recede below. It was magnificent, immense and magnificent. I felt so alone. How would I manage? The pilot was talking through my headphones, pointing out the sights: the Nuisement church, last remnant of the timber-frame churches . . . I knew the story, thanks.
‘Look at the light!’ The pilot pointed to the sky with its fiery sunset colours. The aeroplane was gaining in altitude. I let the headphones slide onto my shoulders; I didn’t want to listen to him anymore. I held the notebook tight. My baby was moving a lot, I ran my hand over my belly to reassure it. The aeroplane kept climbing, the words were dancing, coming together, and slowly everything was becoming clear. Look at the light.
I was born from a father
who went to war
leaving behind him
a little pistol for my pocket
if I was a boy
and two women whom he loved
each one in his own way
two women
who didn’t yet know
that I would exist
only he knew
I exist because of love
I exist because of hate
I was born from a father who went to war
Paul said
‘So be it!
If to be a husband worthy of the name
you think I have to sleep with that girl
then I shall do it . . .
but only once, you understand?’
Paul knew what he had to do
on the date they’d agreed on, he came home early from the office
in the drawing room wasting no time
‘let’s go!’
no time to look at Elisabeth
no room for procrastination
he didn’t turn round
never doubting for a moment that Annie would follow
he went first into the room without walls
no time for chivalry here
in front of him
between the easels and the strong smell of paint
a bed
he looks away, blinking rapidly
he goes over to the heavy curtain opposite him
pulls it aside and opens the window behind it
to let in some air
he plants himself there
the way he always plants himself
in front of the fireplace in the drawing room
something he liked to do, to stand there
it’s in his nature, Paul’s nature
suddenly the white muslin, the double curtain
slips through the window and flutters gently
caught at the top
Paul’s eyes staring
and he is speaking
but he is aggressive
he is beside himself, with this situation
this girl above all
who put this idea into Elisabeth’s head
I don’t know what you are expecting
but nothing will happen between us
we will stay here a few minutes
and then I will go out
you will wait before you follow me
enough time to tidy yourself up
a leaden silence fell in the room
the only lightness from the curtain
fluttering before Paul’s eyes
after a few minutes had gone by
Paul headed to the door to leave
before he turned round, spiteful
uttering a few threats
to prevent Annie from telling Elisabeth everything
Paul closed the door behind him
and went back into the drawing room
to stand by the fireplace
his spot, summer and winter alike
Elisabeth looked at him
the way you look at a traitor who is loyal to his habits
without ever thinking for a moment
that if he was loyal to any habit
it was to her
it was the ninth of April
the andirons were empty
the sun was warm outside
on the ninth of May, Paul, who was counting the days,
announced to Elizabeth that Annie was not pregnant
he thought he could leave it there, not have to add anything
he was not expecting questions
‘how do you know?’
Paul was troubled for a moment
seeing himself again in the room without walls
standing by the curtain as it fluttered, fluttered
fluttered
‘If Annie was not pregnant
she would wedge the curtain of the room
in the window
that way, in the evening, as I came down the drive
I would see the curtain hanging outside
and then I would know and could tell you
we decided together
after we . . . well, you know . . .
once we had finished’
Paul was lying
he had just made up the code
the complicity
to explain how he knew
that Annie was not pregnant
if she had not been so upset by the news
Elisabeth would have noticed that morning
that Paul was not standing in front of the fireplace
the way he normally did
but that he was standing by the window
Elisabeth would have understood that
from that spot, not his usual spot
Paul was watching out for Annie as she came up the drive
to stop her in the hall
and tell her about the curtain
so she would not betray them
‘I told Elisabeth you aren’t pregnant
I told her about the curtain
that you had wedged it in the window
to let me know’
Paul might have grabbed Annie by the arm to hold her back
miming so that she would understand
but Annie freed herself
waiting in the hall no longer
than any other morning
always his despicable familiarity with her
his nasty arrogance
Annie could not stand this man
but she already knew that Elisabeth would not give up
she knew his wife better than he did
so, speaking with the greatest composure
‘I agree
I agree to go on trying
until we manage it’
to contradict that boor
let them meet again
put that bully in his place
she’d act familiar with him too
Paul was aghast at her effrontery
his eyes blinking rapidly
he went out
if Paul knew that Annie was not pregnant
it was not because of some curtain
it was simply that nothing had happened
that first time between them
in the room without walls
but love and clear-sightedness never go together
and Elisabeth always believed the opposite
thanks to what gesture?
what word?
what silence?
did Paul and Annie feel their desire
they alone know
the moment they began to love
the moment Paul’s lie finally became the truth
and the white muslin curtain, their code
&nb
sp; their complicity
when she spied on those lovers
with their unfruitful coupling
Elisabeth never acknowledged their low-spoken words
her rage that she could not grasp them
hid the most important thing from her
their murmuring, alone
troubled and suspicious
why did they need to speak so low?
they were alone, supposedly
Elisabeth should have understood
that invisible proof
of meetings she did not suspect
the habit of whispering
that the lovers had kept from their other trysts
trysts on other days of the week
because the Saturdays were not enough
trysts when they were not alone
when Elisabeth too was at L’Escalier
when in the evening as he came down the drive
the curtain in the room without walls was caught in the window
and fluttered lightly
in the outside air
it was a sign that tonight
the mistress would wait for her lover
look at the light
‘Louis pedalled furiously
the lake was only a few hundred metres away
as he went by L’Escalier
he slowed down, instinctively
looking for Annie’s bicycle somewhere
leaning against a wall
but there was no sign of life
only the curtain in one room
fluttering
caught in the French doors
like a ghost’
nothing but the curtain in a room
fluttering
caught in the French doors
a sign that the mistress was waiting for her lover
Annie was not dead
rock-paper-scissors
WATER
Annie’s body never surfaced
Annie was not dead
but Jacques told Elisabeth
that they had found her body
village rumours are impenetrable
one never knows who causes the truth to be distorted
Elisabeth should have guessed
Jacques, busy setting a few traps
for hares, perhaps, or chopping wood
saw Annie approach the lake
throw her bicycle to the ground
fill her pockets with stones
and lower herself in the water
at the most dangerous spot
he ran faster
than his dead leg would allow
he jumped into the muddy water
he couldn’t see her anymore
finally after long minutes had passed
he felt Annie’s body in his hands
heavy with stones
he took her out
and carried her to L’Escalier
Annie was raving
she said it again and again
so Jacques did what she asked
despite the cold
open the window
open the window
open the window
and the curtain began to flutter as in the time of love
where the mistress waited for her lover
who did not know to come
Annie was not dead
and Elisabeth found out, one day
at the foot of the steps to my apartment
she turned pale
that figure in the courtyard
she would have recognised her anywhere
when she came up she squeezed my arm, hard
it was no longer as small as in the puppet show days
unsinkable like her mother
Elisabeth was right
there was no point changing gardens
Annie would never have let her daughter out of sight
she had given up her role as mother
she would claim that of grandmother
the baby’s birth would blow everything sky high
Elisabeth knew this
she no longer had the strength to fight
disappear and make room
that was all she had left
Annie had never let her daughter out of sight
from behind the pane
she waved goodbye
as the curtain fluttered closed
I thought
of how once the last survivor of a family is dead
there is no one left to receive letters of condolence
Annie had never let her daughter out of sight
from behind the window of her loge
she said goodbye
my mother didn’t die
she would give me back my sweater that night
look at the light
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would never have existed without my love, without my child. Without my love, who watched me work in silence and then, when the time came, became an exceptional reader. Without my child, who came into my life when I needed him.
This book would never have existed without my parents, who always gave me their full support, all the more remarkable given the fact that the profession of writer is not exactly a profession in their eyes.
Without my brother, for a very special conversation on the terrace.
Without my friends who, year after year, never stopped asking, ‘How are you getting on with your novel?’
Without Barnabé who, one evening, asked me to tell him the story.
Without Vanille, always so considerate.
Without Ludy, without Elsie, who have enabled me to work with my mind at rest.
My thanks to Laurent Theis, François George and Bruno Gaudichon for being such gifted history teachers.
My thanks also to Olivier Orban and Isabelle Laffont for welcoming me into their publishing houses. And thank you to Muriel Beyer for her advice.
This book would never have existed without Charlotte Liebert-Hellman my French publisher, who had the faith and the wisdom, before anyone else, to set off with me down this road.
But above all, I would like to thank Pamela Dorman for taking The Confidant under her wing so it could go on this amazing adventure. Thanks to Alison Anderson and Penny Hueston for such elegant translation work. And last but not least, my utmost gratitude to Julie Miesionczek who has followed, with so much intelligence and sensibility, these transformations of my text into another language. A language I love.