He emerged from the bedroom exhausted. Guy watched him come into the kitchen and slowly got up, convinced there was bad news coming. But Ferdinand said nothing. He took a bottle of wine from the cupboard, poured himself a glass, drank it in one and collapsed on his chair. The dog went over and rubbed herself against his legs. He stroked her affectionately. Guy sat down again.
Ferdinand started asking questions.
Of course Guy didn’t have all the answers, he only knew one or two things Gaby had told him. So he was able to say that . . .
Yes, Marceline had a heavy burden to bear, but he didn’t feel he had the right to speak on her behalf.
Yes, she probably didn’t have any family. In any case, she certainly didn’t have any here.
The animals had definitely helped her to keep going. It was a good idea to threaten to get rid of them; she was bound to react to that.
No, that was enough for now. He wouldn’t say any more.
33
Thyme Tisane
She tried to run, but something stopped her, shackled her legs, she shouted for them to let her go, not hold her back, otherwise it would be too late, she wouldn’t be able to join them, that couldn’t happen, she couldn’t stay any longer, it was impossible, she cried, she begged, she kicked, but she felt her strength going, she could barely move now, she had no strength left, nothing, not even her voice, it was surely the end. Suddenly she felt calm, her body no longer suffering, it seemed light as a feather, around her the mist lifted, a bit further away she glimpsed her daughters on the other bank gesturing to her, they seemed serene, she smiled at them, finally she was going to join them . . .
“Marceline . . . Marceline . . .”
Guy’s voice, gently calling her. She didn’t move. He kept trying.
“Wake up, Marceline. Time for your tisane.”
She opened her eyes. He helped her up, propped her against the pillows.
“I had a really strange dream.”
“You’re telling me! It was like you were running and struggling against something, but in the end you must have got where you wanted, because you seemed happy and calm. A crazy sort of dream.”
He handed her the bowl of thyme tisane.
“Drink it before it gets cold.”
She did as she was told.
“Olenka and Danuta—are those your daughters’ names?”
She nodded.
“You called out their names just now while you were asleep.”
“Yes, I remember.”
Her temperature fell and Marceline was finally able to get up. Her legs felt all wobbly; she had been in bed for four days. Ferdinand and Guy helped her to the window. She could see Cornelius. He had managed to get out of his stall all on his own and was walking around the yard. Hearing the tapping on the windowpanes, he turned his head and came over at a gentle trot.
34
Guy’s Decision
Guy eventually decided to put himself in the room that had belonged to Lionel, Ferdinand’s older son. He had left thirty years before, at the age of seventeen. There was no chance of him coming back and wanting it now. A strange customer, Lionel. From time to time he would call with news. Generally at about four in the morning. Down there in Australia it was eight at night but he would forget about the time difference. Or maybe he didn’t give a damn. That was probably it; he was a bit like that. Even as a child he didn’t have friends: he liked to tear the wings off flies, make his mother cry and convince his little brother he was a vampire. And then he had gone off, thousands of miles away, so he would see no one and have no ties. He must have found what he was looking for. No wife, no partner, no child. Living all on his own, in the middle of nowhere. And he’d found the work to go with it. Maintaining the dingo fence—the longest such fence in the world. More than 3,000 miles. It helps to stop the wild dogs (or dingoes) from attacking the sheep. But it’s not very effective, apparently. At least that’s what Lionel said and he should know. Given all the time he’s spent repairing it.
In order to fetch Guy’s furniture they attached the trailer to the tractor and got out a tarpaulin in case it rained. Guy did the driving and Ferdinand sat up beside him on the mudguard. The sound of the engine, the cold feel of the metal seats, the harsh jolting, the smell of diesel, it took them back a few years. During the journey they didn’t say a single word. They were too busy relishing those sensations once more.
The move was soon over. Guy only really wanted to take the lemon tree and some tools from his workshop. But Ferdinand insisted, so he decided to take the bed and bedside table, Gaby’s dressing table and a chest of drawers in which to store his things. The rest he left behind.
When they arrived at the village square he turned off the engine and told Ferdinand he’d buy him a drink. In the restaurant the bell tinkled and Roland put his head around the kitchen door. He was really surprised to see them. He shouted upstairs:
“Mireille! Come quick, Uncle Guy and P’p—my father are here!”
She ran down the stairs.
The four of them sat down and had a glass of white wine together. Mireille was so happy. She immediately noticed Guy’s cheerful expression. In no time at all he had put some weight back on. Clearly the farm air and life in the ménage à trois were doing him a power of good. It was then that Roland realized no one had thought to tell him about all these changes. Annoyed, he got up, trying to hide the pain in the left side of his ribcage; it was psychosomatic, Doctor Lubin had told him, no reason to panic. He pleaded kitchen duties and left the three of them there, talking. That was handy; there was something Guy wanted to discuss with Mireille. It was nearly the end of school, so Ferdinand offered to go and fetch the kids. She agreed—that was a first—and he rushed out.
Meanwhile Guy explained to Mireille that he wanted to leave his house to her.
It didn’t hold many memories for him because the real ones, the ones that mattered, the ones of her between the ages of four to eighteen, were back there on the farm. It was already ten years since they had left. So there it was, he wasn’t that attached to the house, she could do what she wanted with it. Sell it or rent it, as she pleased. But Mireille wasn’t pleased. She gave him a piece of her mind. She thought he was moving too fast, he should think about things before giving it up. And above all take time to see how it worked, living together under the same roof. It had been barely ten days. It was impossible to anticipate all the problems there might be with Ferdinand and Marceline. They might end up getting on his nerves, and then what would he do if he no longer had anywhere to go? He must be reasonable. There were times when she too felt like giving up. Nine years she’d been married to Roland. But she didn’t want to make a rash decision and then regret it afterward. Wanting to separate from husbands or friends, in the end it was a bit the same. In both cases you risked being left high and dry. He needed to think seriously about it before going down that road.
Guy remained silent.
After a while he handed her the keys. She hesitated and he put them down on the table. He was quite certain he wanted to give that house to her. It wasn’t much, but it would be hers and no one else’s. Also Gaby would have wanted that. It had been their joint plan. He didn’t need to say a single word. Mireille understood and nodded. Only then did he speak about his own plans. He told her he couldn’t carry on living on his own. Two weeks had been enough. He needed to have people around him, share experiences, feel useful. Otherwise he would lose his appetite and the will to live. So that was it, he’d made up his mind. He was going to stay with his friends. The farm was big: he could be independent and have space to himself when he needed it. He had set himself up with a workshop in part of the barn and at night when he had insomnia he did his DIY there. It suited him very well. Also having several grandparents together in one house wouldn’t be so bad for the children. And . . .
Mireille took the house keys, bent down to give him a kiss and whispered in his ear:
“Thank you, Uncle.”
35
Sweets, Chewing Gum and LANGUES DE CHAT Cookies
When Little Lu and Ludo saw Ferdinand waiting behind the school railings, they hurled themselves at him, and flung their arms around his neck. Then they demanded something to eat. He didn’t argue and they did a rapid detour via the bakery. With Mireille they normally went straight home; this time they wanted to take maximum advantage. They chose everything that she forbade: pains au chocolat, chewing gum and sweets. During the journey home they managed to wolf these down and ask all sorts of questions, without, needless to say, leaving room for any answers. They wanted to know if little Chamalo had grown and if he still chased mice, and when could they go to Ferdinand’s house? Soon it would be Christmas vacation, did he know what presents they were getting, and that their parents were going to get divorced soon? There was a pause and Ludo felt he should add something, so he took the gum from his mouth to explain. With the satisfied smile of someone who knows something that other people don’t, he said it wasn’t definite, of course, but there was a good chance of it happening since Mireille and Roland were now arguing every day. Having finished the sentence he put the enormous lump of gum back in his mouth and started chewing pensively once more and Ferdinand just said: Oh, right.
A little further on he pointed out the Lumière sisters’ old shop, and the house where they lived. Of course Little Lu wanted to know why they were called that and also why they didn’t stop and say hello, as they knew them and they were cousins, weren’t they? Ferdinand raised his eyes skywards, a bit exasperated by all these questions. Without further explanation he went to the house and knocked. No reply. Pressing his ear to the door he heard whispering inside. To reassure the two old ladies he called out his name. Simone appeared, then turned back inside and said: It’s all right, Hortense. You can put the gun away, it’s Ferdinand and the kids, they’ve come around to say hello.
They went in and the two old ladies both went into raptures over the children: they were so good-looking and how had they grown, gosh how time flew! It was only a fortnight since they’d last seen them after Gaby’s funeral, but neither of them could remember that. Then Hortense invited them to follow her to the cupboard, her eyes shining in greedy anticipation as she took out a large cookie tin, while in a low voice Ferdinand scolded Simone about the shotgun. The children were no longer hungry, but Hortense insisted they tried several different cookies. Go on, don’t be shy, have as many as you like. They won’t keep. The boys politely each took two. Ludo bit into his langue de chat, but immediately spat it out again as it was off. He nudged his brother in the ribs, to warn him. But Little Lu didn’t understand and cried, ow! and then tried to hit him back. Ludo ducked and managed to whisper that the cookies were all rotted and Little Lu soon calmed down. Hortense went back to chat with the others, so the boys took advantage. They went over to the bird cage and discreetly got rid of the old cookies by slipping them through the bars.
On their way back to the restaurant they saw Guy, sitting with his back to them, talking to their mother. They hung back. The last time they had gone to his house, they had been really scared. He was the spitting image of the undertaker in Lucky Luke. And he really stank. Since Gaby had died he didn’t seem to want to wash. Perhaps not even his feet! Mireille had explained that was quite normal; sometimes it happened that people let themselves go when they were unhappy. After a while it would pass. But now he seemed his usual self. Neat, clean-shaven, content. They ended up throwing themselves at him and smothering him with kisses. Mireille smiled and looked at the time. Five o’clock. It was a three minute journey from school to the restaurant. They had been half an hour. Ferdinand said he was sorry it had taken them so long; they had stopped to say hello to the Lumière sisters. He also pointed out to Guy that they should be leaving soon. It wasn’t a good idea to drive the tractor at night.
He went into the kitchen to say goodbye to Roland.
“We’re off . . .”
“OK.”
“Are you OK?”
“Yep, I’m all right.”
“And the restaurant?”
“It’s fine.”
“And the kids?”
“No problem.”
“And Mireille?”
“She’s fine.”
“Oh good.”
He hesitated.
“It’d be nice if you all came over and had lunch one day.”
“Yeah, why not?”
“How about Sunday?”
“Check with Mireille.”
“OK then . . . see you soon?”
“Yeah, see you soon, P’pa.”
Roland bit his lip.
“It doesn’t matter, son. I don’t really mind what you call me.”
36
The Lumière Sisters in a Blue Funk
Ferdinand wiped the table with a sponge before laying it. Then he went to fetch some wine from the cellar. Marceline put more wood in the stove and swept up the bits of bark that had fallen on the floor, while Guy prepared supper. It was his turn. He had decided to cook spaghetti, his great specialty. It was also Ferdinand’s, so there was rivalry in the air. Inevitably they asked Marceline to decide between them. But she didn’t like the fact it was becoming more and more like a competition, so she refused.
Perhaps it was because there were three of them, they each separately concluded.
In the meantime, Guy’s spaghetti with garlic and dried mushrooms was sheer perfection. Ferdinand would have his work cut out.
At the end of the meal they put on their coats, scarves and hats and went outside to say good night to Cornelius. Then they sat on the bench by the wall, the one with the little awning above. It was supposed to protect against showers, but didn’t work too well. That night all was peaceful; it wasn’t raining. The two old men sipped their coffee and smoked their pipes, while Marceline had a tisane. Her stomach was still feeling a bit delicate from the flu. After a while Ferdinand decided to tell them about his visit to the Lumière sisters. At first he talked calmly, but then became more and more worked up. He described their fear of opening the door, the shotgun brought down from the attic and Simone’s shiftiness when he questioned her. Why the shotgun? What were they planning to do with it? Who or what were they afraid of? It was surely only natural to ask these things?
Marceline and Guy both nodded.
And then, he continued, Simone had suddenly decided to reveal all. She had explained that Hortense’s nephew wanted the house, so he could sell it. He was possibly within his rights—she had left it to him in her will—but normally he would have to wait for the two of them to die. That was what had been agreed and decided with the lawyer. But now he was in a hurry. He claimed to have signed the papers for Hortense to be sectioned because of her memory problems. He had used the word Alzheimer’s, to put the fear of God into them. And of course it would be just a matter of days before they came for her, so Simone was going to have to shift her ass and find somewhere to crash if she didn’t want to end up on the street! That’s what the little bastard had told them, in so many words.
The problem was they had believed everything the nephew had said. And it was impossible to make them change their minds.
After a long pause Ferdinand added that the sisters would rather die than be separated from each other. There was no doubt about it. And Guy agreed.
As Marceline barely knew the Lumière sisters, they explained for her benefit that they weren’t really sisters at all. They only shared the same name because Hortense had married Simone’s brother: she had met him at the beginning of the war, they had fallen madly in love and managed to convince the village mayor to marry them a few days later. Unfortunately, the day after the wedding, when poor Octave had returned to his regiment, he stepped on a landmine. His parents died of a broken heart and Hortense was left alone with her sister-in-law, Simone, who was then just fifteen or sixteen years old. She herself was barely twenty-three. So that was that, they had remained inseparable ever since. They opened an electrical shop,
which they called Lumière Sisters’ Electrical Goods. With a name like theirs, it had to be. They specialized in bedside and night-lights as well as supplying the usual standard cables, sockets, sheathing, and switches. Simone designed the products and Hortense made them. The ones Gaby liked best were the merry-go-rounds that turned in the heat from a lightbulb. Very romantic, they were. She would visit their house sometimes, just to watch them going around. The sisters had closed their shop the previous year.
The two women had lived together for nearly seventy years. “Soon it’ll be their platinum anniversary,” Marceline said, mightily impressed.
The rain started to fall, so they ran inside. Ferdinand put some logs in the stove, Guy washed up the cups in the sink, while Marceline left some dried beans to soak for the following day. Then they tried to think how they would manage if there were five of them. As they went around the house they told themselves there was still plenty of room. Really, there was not a problem.
They paused at the foot of the stairs. They needed to talk some more. Would the sisters be difficult to convince? They were older and less flexible than Guy or Marceline. Hortense was ninety-five and Simone eighty-eight? Old enough to be their mothers. Now that was a thought . . . They must be very attached to their own house, given how long they’d lived there. It would be difficult for them. Be that as it may, they couldn’t leave them in that perilous situation, it would amount to an offense under the law. Yes, it was true. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
And Then Came Paulette Page 8