Ferdinand sensed he would spend the night racking his brains, looking for the right words, honing his arguments. Marceline and Guy had confidence in him. But then they had seen his talents in that area for themselves.
They wished each other good night. Marceline and Ferdinand each went to their rooms while Guy put on his coat. Before going out he took some embers from the stove and put them in a bucket. Berthe followed, as she did every night. On entering the workshop they both shivered. The thermometer read just thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. He put the embers in the brazier and pulled it as close to the workbench as possible. Berthe curled up beside him on a pile of hessian sacks and Guy set to work. He had two bikes to fix before the end of the week. Several nights’ work. Just the pressure he needed.
Ferdinand lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, with little Chamalo purring in his ear. It didn’t help him to get to sleep. Right now he was thinking about tomorrow.
What could he say? What words would he use? And above all how was he going begin?
The poor man had a touch of stage fright.
37
Three plus Two
Ferdinand was surprised how quickly it all happened. After just a few sentences Simone stood up, grabbed Hortense by the sleeve and dragged her off to the bedroom. He heard them whispering there for less than a minute, then they came back, their eyes moist and shaking a little, and each gave him a hug. The nephew had come back the day before, after Ferdinand and the kids had left, and had completely terrorized them. What an awful night they’d had! First crying over the mysterious deaths of their two birds, found at the bottom of the cage, flat on their backs and with swollen bellies. And then planning the great, final departure, with the appropriate number of sleeping pills laid out on their bedside tables. Intent on leaving the house spotless, they had planned to spend the day doing a grand clean-up. So no one could ever accuse them of being slovenly when they were gone. Not on your life! At the end of the day they intended to write a short note for the benefit of anyone interested in knowing their reasons. And they chose the menu for dinner. Starters, main course, and dessert: pastries all around. Coffee éclairs, polonaises and Rum Babas. Screw cholesterol and diabetes! Today they would have anything they liked. Only then would they go to bed—at about eight-thirty, unless there was a good movie or interesting documentary on the TV. They would say bye-bye, and something like: with a bit of luck and if there’s a screw-up in the signal box, we might even meet again in Paradise, my love. A final giggle together and an hour later, if things went to plan, it would all be over. So when Ferdinand’s proposal came it was a bit like a lifesaver, or a light at the end of a tunnel. A reprieve, in any event. They said yes.
First he took them to the farm. It was pelting down when they arrived. But their perms remained intact because Marceline and Guy were waiting outside and escorted them to the house under their umbrellas. Once settled by the stove, Hortense fell asleep. She was feeling washed out by all these changes in routine, and the emotional roller coaster of the last few days. Her head drooped into her cup of coffee. Simone shrugged, telling them to take no notice: it often happened, but wouldn’t last long. And indeed, a quarter of an hour later, Hortense awoke with a start. After looking around, smiling and nodding her head with approval, she leaned over to Simone and observed in a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear, that she had to admit these young people were ever so charming and polite. Irritated, Simone raised her eyes to heaven and told her to stop talking such nonsense. Hortense muttered that it would be really great if one day Simone could admit she was capable of being wrong, for Christ’s sake! Some youngsters are OK, you know. It’s not that hard to understand.
It must have been twenty years or so since they had come to the farm to visit Ferdinand’s parents, but they didn’t recognize a thing.
After a tour of the house, they selected two small, adjacent rooms on the ground floor. For Hortense it was practical: she couldn’t manage the stairs any longer. Her knees were so painful, some days she couldn’t get out of her wheelchair. They decided to make their bedroom in one of the rooms and use the other as a little sitting room where they could withdraw, just in case. Ferdinand, Guy and Marceline thought they were right. It was more sensible.
Now they had to get on with the move.
The sisters went ahead with Ferdinand to prepare the bags and cardboard boxes. Guy attached the trailer to the tractor and Marceline sat beside him on the mudguard. She wasn’t used to it. The sound of the engine, the cold feel of the metal seats, the harsh jolting and the smell of diesel soon made her feel sick. They didn’t say a single word the whole trip. He was savoring those sensations that always took him back to the past; while she was concentrating on trying not to throw up.
Choosing what to take was tricky and Hortense and Simone were too excited by all the commotion. They’d never had to move before. Not in the last seventy years, at any rate. Ferdinand offered to take several loads, but that didn’t calm them, quite the opposite. They went off for a huddle in a corner and when they came back they admitted they were really worried that during their absence the nephew would come back and set fire to their things. Once again Ferdinand tried to explain that no one had the right to enter their house without their permission, that he could be restrained, but the sisters wouldn’t listen. No, they were going to choose, and that was that. There were a few hours left, they were ready to take the big plunge and not take anything at all. They were grown-ups now, and grown-ups can choose! They would take the absolute minimum. He would be surprised.
“Minimum” wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind to describe what they finally decided to take. After so many years—and multiplied by two—there was bound to be a lot. Ferdinand, Guy and Marceline tried not to laugh. There was enough to fill four trailers, full to the brim. They gave priority to taking everything for the bedroom and sitting room, but by the time they came back for the second run the sisters had changed their minds and kept only a few odds and ends, a trunk of electrical goods and the wheelchair. Once these had all been loaded, Hortense, in raincoat and rubber boots, insisted they help her up on the trailer, in spite of Simone’s shouts and protestations. She wanted to make the journey sitting up there, in her wheelchair; to admire the view and watch the landscape unfold, just like when she was little in her parents’ cart. Simone got annoyed. But Hortense retorted that she wasn’t afraid of her. She could do what she liked. End of story.
Together the three of them hoisted her up. And Simone blocked her ears muttering: “Here we go again, she’s completely lost it!” as Hortense started to sing at the top of her voice:
“Aïm singué ine ze rêne, aïm singué ine ze rêne, ouate e biou tifoul fi léne, aïm api e gaine . . .”
This was a tribute to the film that she could never miss when it came on TV at Christmas. She had never really understood the story properly, nor what they were droning on about in their songs, but she liked it when people started singing and dancing in the rain, and looking happy. She thought it was wonderful. You never saw that in real life. Except with kids. And even then, not when their parents were around.
Guy started up the tractor.
And Hortense shouted: “Come on, Simone. Get in! We’re taking our custom elsewhere!”
For the rest of the journey they didn’t say a word. Sheltering in Ferdinand’s car, Simone was concentrating on trying not to cry, as she thought of everything she had left behind; while Hortense, on the trailer, beaten by the wind and rain, was relishing this little trip back to the past, ninety years earlier, as though it were only yesterday and she was just five years old.
38
Dreaming of Water
Ludo got up and tiptoed over to the bed where Little Lu was lying. He bent over and whispered:
“Why are you crying?”
“I want Maman.”
“She’s at work.”
“Yeah, but I want to see her.”
“Tell me why you’re crying.”
&
nbsp; “I’ve wet the bed.”
“Do you want to see her just to tell her that?”
“My pajamas are all wet.”
“There’s some more in the drawer. Put these on.”
“The sheets are all wet too.”
“Do you still need a piss?”
“No. Is piss a swear word, Ludo?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah.”
Little Lu was thrilled.
“You sure you don’t want to?”
“I’ve done it all in the bed.”
“It’s all right, you can come sleep in mine.”
They lay down together side by side. Little Lu was happy.
In the dark he smiled at the ceiling.
“Hey, Ludo, do you know why I couldn’t stop myself?”
“No.”
“Because in my dream I was in the sea and the water was warm and I didn’t need armbands because I could swim, with my head under water, and my eyes could see just like usual and I could swim like the big fishes and I was playing with them, they were really kind, it was like they were my best friends and then afterward I don’t know why, I think I drank too much water, and I peed in the water.”
“I know. Happens to me in the swimming pool sometimes.”
A pause.
“Ludo?”
“Mm?”
“You asleep?”
“Mm almost.”
“You know, Auntie Gaby, she was in the dream too. She was swimming with me and we were both playing with the big fishes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And did she talk to you?”
“A bit.”
“What did she say?”
“I dunno.”
“Try to remember.”
“It was in my dream. I’m trying, but I can’t remember.”
Ludo turned over abruptly, buried his head under the covers, and muttered, “That’s nonsense!”
His heart in a thousand pieces.
39
Hortense’s Tired Old Heart
Hortense had been bedridden since their arrival at the farm. The cold went to her chest and she had difficulty breathing. Gérard had called in the day before, and said that if there was no improvement in the next forty-eight hours she would need to be admitted to the hospital. In the meantime he prescribed a course of treatment, with injections morning and evening. They would have to get the nurse to come out or manage themselves. It wasn’t rocket science. Before leaving, he wanted to be clear: even if there was an improvement, they shouldn’t have any illusions, it would only be temporary. Hortense’s heart was old and tired.
What with nursing Hortense, the new house and all these upheavals, Simone was like a cat on a hot tin roof. That morning Guy offered to give the first injection. Simone warned him that Hortense might very well send him packing. When it came to pain she was a real wimp, she couldn’t stand needles. And of course things didn’t go well. Hortense began by crying, then she wanted to do a deal, and very soon started to insult him. When finally he approached her with the syringe, she tried to hit him. He inserted the needle as best he could, as best as he knew how. She called for Simone to help, begged her not to leave her alone with this cowardly monster, who was trying to bump her off. A few minutes later the hematoma caused by the injection had spread to her whole leg. Simone went berserk, calling Guy a psychopath.
In a sulk, he decided to leave the others to sort out the two women and instead concentrate on working out a schedule. He carefully cross-ruled a sheet of paper, with columns for the times when Hortense had her medication and temperature taken. And he decided to call it Organigran, not a very pretty title but it was his little revenge and it made him chuckle. Meanwhile Ferdinand was making tea and coffee for breakfast, wondering if they had messed up when they decided to bring these two old women here. It was a huge responsibility; he hadn’t foreseen all the health problems. He was kicking himself.
The atmosphere was tense. They pondered the problem as they sipped their tea and coffee. The two cats and the dog realized that now was not the right time to beg for scraps from breakfast. They lay quietly by the stove. The two cats watched the rain falling through the windows, while Berthe yawned and flopped down on the tiled floor, before falling into a light sleep. She dreamed it was summer and she was walking outside. The weather was hot. Suddenly she saw something moving in the distance, over in the long grass, she started to run, and panting, let out a groan.
Mo-je was irritated by all this. He decided to take a walk around the attic and on his way out jumped on the dog’s back, sticking his claws into her. Chamalo followed suit.
Guy, Marceline and Ferdinand all raised their heads simultaneously. They had an idea. The same perhaps? But they each decided not to mention it to the others for the time being. Instead they preferred to set aside the day for reflection, think about things carefully, weigh up the pros and cons, and explore the arguments first. There was no rush: there had been enough disasters already.
About eleven o’clock Marceline came back from the garden, looking for the two men to explain her plan, but they were nowhere to be found. She changed the water for the beans, put them on to boil with a pinch of baking soda (to prevent gas) and went to knock on the Lumière sisters’ door. Simone was delighted to see her. She whispered that Hortense had finally gone to sleep and took advantage of this visit to rush off to the bathroom. She liked to take her time in the smallest room, listening to the radio, and doing the crossword; it was her break for the day. After a quarter of an hour, as she had still not returned, Marceline tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door open in case Hortense awoke, and went back to the kitchen. She glanced at the Organigran schedule pinned to the door: Guy had put her down for the four to six shift. This didn’t suit her, so she swapped with Ferdinand.
Ferdinand called before midday to say there was no point in waiting: he and Guy had met some friends at the café, they were going to have lunch together. That was fine. Simone was already sitting with a plate in front of her; she was ravenously hungry. Between mouthfuls she told Marceline that Hortense would like them to have coffee in her room, as she had something important to say. Marceline asked if she knew what it was about. Simone replied a bit abruptly that she would find out all in good time. She hated talking with her mouth full. It was dangerous, the food could go down the wrong way and she might choke. That would be the final straw.
Hortense paused between words to catch her breath. It was painful. To make it easier Simone finished the sentences for her, adding her own running commentary. She’s trying to say that it’s very kind of you to have given us both a roof here. Not everyone would have done such a thing, that’s for sure. Also . . . she didn’t have any illusions about her health, but if things got worse she wanted to be sure they would help Simone take the decision to send . . . the last words were drowned out by a terrible fit of coughing and this time Simone didn’t help her to finish. In any case they had understood: she would prefer to end her days in the hospital. With tears in her eyes, Simone kissed her on the forehead.
“Yes, yes, Hortense dear. We’ll do as you say. But now you must rest. It’s not your time yet. I’d know if it was, come on.”
At two o’clock Marceline took her turn on duty.
Simone could go and get some rest. Or, if she preferred, spend some time in the bathroom doing the crossword.
40
Muriel Is Tired
The teacher came back in, frowning and looking suspicious. The students carried on working as if nothing had happened. Muriel pursed her lips and hunched her shoulders. It was the third time that week she’d forgotten to switch off her cell phone during lessons. If the teacher found out it was her phone beeping again, she was quite capable of chucking her out. Her grades hadn’t been that great either, so she’d have had it. Hopefully the idiot who sent the message wouldn’t be stupid enough to text her back to check if she’d got it.
She waited for the lunch break to take a
look. It was a text from Mireille, her boss at the restaurant. She was offering her some work the following day, Saturday, from two until late. RSVP urgent. It was bound to be a two a.m. job like last time, Muriel told herself. Pity, she was tired. No special reason, it was just that right now she wanted to sleep all the time. Even during lessons it was like that. So she had planned to make the most of this weekend—the last before she vacated her room—by doing nothing at all. Stay in bed, chill, listen to music, and catch up on sleep. Mess around and no way touch her college books. But she needed the cash and she had to look for a new place to live, if she wasn’t going to end up on the street. Fucking hell. Just one week till the Christmas vacation. If she didn’t find anything she’d be in deep shit. She texted her reply: “ok 4 2moro thnx muriel.” Then she went down to the real estate agents. It had just turned twelve-thirty, there was a notice on the door: “Your agent is currently out on a visit. Please return after 2 p.m.” She imagined him sitting at home having lunch with his wife, watching the news on TV. The thought really pissed her off, so she went back to college. As she passed the bakery she slowed to savor the smell of fresh bread, but didn’t stop. Not worth checking again to see if there were any coins at the bottom of her bag or inside the lining: she had looked the day before and found nothing.
When she woke a bit later she was lying on a bed in the college health center; with no idea how she had landed up there. And then it all came back. She saw Louise’s head bending over her, asking anxiously whether she was all right. Muriel, you OK? Oh my God, you’re really pale, you poor thing. Madame, come quickly, Muriel . . . and wham! A black hole. No sound or picture. The nurse brought her a glass of sugar water, helped her up so she could drink, it did her good. Then she took her blood pressure again—eight over five, it was slowly going up—and asked her some questions. Had she ever fainted? Never. Had she any particular worries at the moment? Nothing special. Was she pregnant? Course not! Was she eating regularly? Muriel ignored the question and tried to get up. But stars started to dance before her eyes, so immediately she lay back down. The nurse sighed. She walked around her desk, rummaged in a drawer, took out a granola bar, that she had been keeping especially in case she felt hungry in the middle of the afternoon, and reluctantly handed it over. Muriel swallowed it almost whole and thanked her with a big smile. She felt much better and was able to race off to her class.
And Then Came Paulette Page 9