That’s all for now. I hope you’ll soon come in one of my dreams.
Ludovic—Your great-nephew who still loves you.
On returning to the farm Ludo went up to wake Little Lu. They made some bread and jam and two large bowls of hot chocolate, and then went to see Hortense. They offered to play her at cards again. She chose Russian Bank. They each won two games, which really annoyed her. So after that they let her cheat. Her smile returned and Simone gave them some sweets.
Later they went out mushrooming with Ferdinand. They had to put on fluorescent jackets over their coats in case they met any people out shooting. It was compulsory, there were a lot of them around at that time of year, and it might be dangerous. They talked and sang very loudly as they walked through the woods to avoid being mistaken for pheasants or wild boar. In spite of the noise they made, they still saw a roe deer and two rabbits. But they didn’t find a single mushroom. Ferdinand moaned that someone must have got there before them and found his special spot for mushrooms. They returned empty-handed.
That afternoon it was bucketing down, so they watched a film. Generally Ferdinand borrowed DVDs from his friends or from the library, but he had bought this one and thought it was beautiful. It was called Oceans and of course it had whales and dolphins in it. While he was watching Little Lu suddenly remembered that last night he’d had that dream again: the one where he swam with Gaby and the big fishes. He recognized them in the film; it was definitely them. Ludo was annoyed and called him pathetic. Because really everyone knew that dolphins weren’t big fish, but mammals like humans. Ferdinand stalled, he wasn’t so sure . . .
After that they went to see Marceline in her room. They opened the cello case and drew the bow across the strings, but only managed to produce a scratching sound. They asked her to play and sat on her bed to listen. From the first notes they sat open-mouthed. It was sweet on the ears, it made the skin on your stomach tingle, and it tickled you down to your toes. Once the piece was finished, they begged for another. Marceline said she was tired. Her fingers were too stiff. To be able to play she would have to practice every day, it was such a long time now since she had stopped. Little Lu asked her why, but she didn’t have time to reply—at that very moment Cornelius banged against the windowpane. The children rushed to let him in, and made a huge fuss over him.
He nodded his head to show he was happy.
48
The Separation
It had been a great weekend. So of course when the Lulus returned home on the Sunday evening, it was down to earth with a bump. Mireille was waiting outside on the steps; she had something important to tell them. Seeing her face they immediately understood it was all over between her and Roland: finished, end of. They had decided to separate. As a result she and the two boys were going to move. Pronto. Right now. She had already begun to pack the car; they must help her to load the rest. This news, while not completely unexpected, caught them a little off guard even so. And Guy, who had brought them back, was also taken by surprise. They stood there gawking in front of her, until Little Lu started to wail. She took him in her arms to console him and they both began crying together. Meanwhile Guy loaded the bags into the car and Ludo went off to see his father in the kitchen. He found Roland sitting on the floor in a corner. It was really upsetting to see him like that, abandoned like an old sack of potatoes. He went over, held out his hand to help him up, but given his weight he couldn’t make him budge an inch and ended up falling on top of him. That made them both laugh. They stayed like that in each other’s arms until they could laugh no more. And a bit longer.
Mireille had some negotiating to do.
Uncle Guy and Auntie Gaby’s old house wasn’t far from there, just a few streets away. They wouldn’t have to change school or lose their friends; they could see their father every day if they wanted. They could even go and sleep at his house, in their own room, which would stay just the same. In short, this whole business wouldn’t alter their lives much. Reassured, they went to choose some toys before getting back in the car. And standing on the steps, Roland waved them all goodbye.
49
Feeling Maudlin after a Few Drinks
Mireille and the children were now living in Guy’s house and it was going well. Ludo and Little Lu had quickly found their bearings. There were even some things that were better than before, like being able to walk to school and back on their own. It was closer than the restaurant; there were only two roads to cross. Mireille gave in. She also agreed to let them go and buy bread from the bakery, as it gave them such pleasure. She never suspected that each time they bought loads of sweets. Otherwise, obviously, she would have said no. They paid for them with the pocket money they received from Roland. She didn’t know about that either: it was a secret between them. In any case Roland and Mireille no longer talked to one other. They still worked together. They had no choice about that. She didn’t know how to do anything else and he was incapable of running the restaurant on his own. But Mireille said that the arrangement wouldn’t last for long, it was getting her down. She dreamed of finding something else in a completely different field. She didn’t know what yet. There were very few openings in the area. So while she waited she swallowed her pride and worked in the restaurant.
On those evenings when she knew she would finish late she took the children with her and let them sleep over there. Not too often—she hated coming back and finding herself alone in that house. It depressed her. She liked a drink and that wasn’t good with the antidepressants. After several glasses she often went and stood in front of the large mirror in the hall, the one where she could see herself full length. Then she would cry, telling herself she was a real failure. She was already twenty-eight, she had two children and soon she would be divorced. It was all over. She would never find anyone ever again; her love life was finished. She was too old, too stupid and worst of all her stomach was all flabby and her breasts had started to sag. It was scary. What man would want to go out with her now?
That was the reason she didn’t like being alone at home in the evening after work. For fear of hitting the bottle and finding herself in front of that mirror. She felt maudlin after a few glasses of wine. But it was just the same with any other form of alcohol she tried. They all had exactly the same effect.
50
Oldies Unite!
The Lumière sisters had decided to put their house up for sale. Simone was sick and tired of having to go around there every week to check everything: see if the shutters had been forced; or if any small creatures had found their way in to make nests in the cupboard or under the sink; pick up the mail; and read her nephew’s threatening letters. She was a nervous wreck. Might as well get it over with once and for all. And besides they felt so at home on the farm now. It was pointless keeping the house, what with the cost of the upkeep. Simone would let the mailman know that from now on everything should be delivered to the farm. Not forgetting the satirical newspaper, Le Canard Enchaîné, every Wednesday, they’d been getting that for God knows how long.
It was Muriel who told them about the real estate agent. She made a point of saying he wasn’t the best or the brightest: he’d found nothing for her. But evidently he was more interested in sales than rented property. In less than three days he’d already arranged several viewings. He said that one couple seemed particularly interested, they had paid several visits. They fell in love with the old electrical shop. It was exactly the sort of place they were looking for to turn into an artist’s studio. The two sisters just had to wait and see if an offer was made. They felt impatient, particularly Simone. As for Hortense, she wasn’t so bothered. For her it was already ancient history.
So, this was the state of play:
Mireille and the children were living in Guy’s house.
Marceline’s place was a long way from being repaired.
The Lumière Sisters had put theirs up for sale.
It was time to take a proper look at things and do the farm accounts. Guy, o
f course, landed that job. As for the others, making schedules and drawing tables wasn’t really their thing. But it was his pet hobby. He prepared a new file of receipts and expenses, which he named Oldies Unite! He enjoyed thinking up names. He liked the suggestion of solidarity in this one. Reminded him of Poland, Marceline’s country. Nice one.
In an attempt to be as fair as possible he suggested each of them should put half their monthly pension in the piggy bank. According to his calculations that would be enough to cover the entire running costs of the house, and a lot less than each of them had spent while they were living on their own. They were surprised but thought it was great. For Ferdinand, Guy, Simone and Hortense, it was straightforward. But in Marceline’s case he adopted a different approach, since she didn’t receive a pension or any kind of benefit. It was very simple and in the end came down to the same thing, since her contribution amounted to half of what she produced in kind: fruit, vegetables, flowers, eggs, honey, jam, walnut oil . . . The other half she sold at the market.
Just accounting for the water, electricity and phone bills, together with the TV license and decoder, local taxes and insurance, there was a nice little balance. Before they had each paid separately for those things, now it was just the one household. A single phone bill, TV license, and home insurance policy. There were significant savings to be had. They would be able to put money aside, perhaps buy a . . . Well, it was all so recent, they hadn’t had time to think what they would do with all the cash. It was exciting.
51
Muriel’s Point of View
Muriel was now settled in the other wing of the house. Every morning and evening she went to see Hortense, washed her, tended her and gave her the injections. When it wasn’t raining she helped her into her wheelchair and took her outside for some fresh air. And when other people needed help, she was always willing. Ferdinand hurt his hand cutting some wood and she insisted on changing his dressing every day. He promised he would let her take the stitches out when the time came. She was delighted. What she really needed now was to practice taking blood. She tended to rush things and be a bit rough; she wanted to improve that. Her objective was to become superprofessional, with a gentle manner. Not like those witches who came to empty her mother’s abdomen. They didn’t care how she suffered when they inserted a large needle to remove her ascites. And if she complained they told her she was to blame for her cirrhosis and she should have thought about it before going on the booze. Muriel wanted to be effective and gentle—she was sure it was possible. As for taking blood, Guy suggested practicing on his veins: it wouldn’t bother him, he didn’t have a phobia of needles and he wasn’t oversensitive.
From a practical point of view, it was great here. The accommodation too. There was plenty of room: she didn’t have to fold up the bed to get dressed in the morning; or do the dishes in the washbasin immediately after eating if she wanted to go pee. She was very happy, and had only one regret: there was no Internet. It was a pain when she needed to do searches for her college assignments, email her girlfriends, chat online or play stupid games. She missed it. Otherwise everything was fine. The oldies were quite cool. But this living together thing wasn’t straightforward, with all those different characters . . .
Take Hortense, for example. She was funny, but all the same you did get tired of her foul temper. Those mood swings and memory lapses, you had to take the rough with the smooth. And the old girl could be so sensitive! Nursing her was a complicated business. Unless you got her to sing. That was the weird thing, as soon as she started singing there was no more hassle, she could remember all the words and music, and she’d calm down and become charming and gentle. Impressive. If it carried on like that, Muriel would have to do a second period of training at the old people’s home where her great grandmother lived, to expand her repertoire of songs. Otherwise it was going to be hell here.
And Simone, who played the leader, simply because she was the younger one and still in great shape. She was so annoying. But, at the same time, everything she did was for Hortense. She meant well, you couldn’t hold it against her. She was so afraid of losing her, the poor thing. And when that day came, no doubt about it, she would lie down and die, there and then, there would be no stopping her. It’s like that when you spend so many years attached to someone. You no longer have a life of your own. Muriel found it pathetic. At any rate she didn’t need to worry about that happening to her. No chance: she was ultraindependent.
And then there was Guy: so clever, the savior of dead bicycles, dreaming up his pointless schedules. He seemed to cultivate his insomnia like a garden, with little patches of gardenias—which he insisted on calling camellias (another elderly foible)—and flowerbeds that he sowed with gladioli-Gaby, a little dash of Mireille-la-merveille and large clumps of Lulus in an explosion of color . . . Well, to be honest, he was a nice guy. Irritating though, with his little crazes. But Muriel loved the bike he had given her. Such an unusual bike, you could be dead certain no one would think of stealing it. Even if she forgot to put the lock on.
And Ferdinand, of course. The guy with the big mouth who thought he was being discreet. Quite convinced he’d managed to conceal the deep wound he felt inside. No but really, it was too funny. He acted as though he had nothing to live for—the wise old man, who’d given up everything—but shit, he was only seventy! The man couldn’t see what was staring him in the face. Muriel thought that if he wasn’t so thick he would open his eyes and see that his life wasn’t over yet. He would see . . .
Marceline. The youngest of the five, the one you could talk to completely freely, who didn’t need things spelled out and liked having a laugh. Except that, strangely, beneath that calm exterior she concealed something more painful than the others. She had become part of the scenery, in spite of her slight accent, her donkey cart and so on. But it didn’t stop Muriel wanting to ask what had made her come here; bury herself away in the middle of nowhere? There was something that didn’t quite fit. Except for the fact that she was completely bonkers, just like the rest of them. All that stuff with the donkey, asking if he was happy to lug you around, it was totally insane . . .
The Christmas vacation was coming at just the right time for Muriel. At last she could get up late, take a nap in the afternoon. She had some sleep to catch up on. The rest of the time she looked after Hortense, studied her notes, and helped with the cooking. No time to get bored. Also, Mireille had offered her some work at the restaurant: three drinks and a lunch party. She had already made up her mind to treat herself to some new outfits when she got the cash. She was eating regular meals now, she had put on several pounds and none of her pants fit any longer.
52
Shelling Nuts
Barely five in the evening, but already it was dark. Ludo kept step with Cornelius, one hand resting on his neck, the other on Berthe’s back. He felt quite safe between the two of them. His imagination could run free. He was alone, his parents had been taken prisoner by the enemy, but he’d managed to escape with his donkey, Cornelius, and his dog, Berthe—that was why they’d been walking for hours, it was better at night because they couldn’t see you, but you had to watch out and not make a noise, cough, sneeze, bark or fart, all that was difficult for a donkey, but Cornelius was no ordinary donkey, he understood everything, so he tried really hard to stop farting, because he knew it was dangerous, it might wake up the baddies, which would be terrible, they would get their guns and shoot to kill, they were so cruel . . . Now they were really tired, you could see the dog’s tongue hanging down to the ground, maybe she would die of thirst if it went on like that, if they wanted to save her they had to find water, but there were no taps, because of the war, they were all cut off, it wasn’t a problem, he would find a river, but first they had to rest, it was really tiring walking for hours . . . Ah, there was an empty barn, they could hide in it and sleep on the straw, but before they lay down they were going to eat, their tummies were starting to rumble they were so hungry, but it was great they had
loads of stuff, three large sacks of nuts in the cart, they’d stolen them from a lady’s house, she had died of cold, her roof was broken the poor thing, when they got to her house, it was too late, they hadn’t been able to save her . . .
Cornelius stopped at the barn door and Marceline fetched the three large sacks of walnuts from the cart. She unharnessed the donkey and patted his neck, whispering in his ear: Thank you for all your work. Good night, Cornelius dear. He nodded his head and turned to Ludo, jostling him a bit as he rubbed against him. He prodded Berthe with his muzzle and then went to his stall to lie down.
Around the kitchen table Hortense and the Lulus cracked the walnuts with a hammer, while Ferdinand, Guy, Marceline and Muriel sorted them. It was very important not to leave any husks behind. When they had finished, Marceline would take all the nuts to the mill. She hoped to get about two and a half gallons of oil. Ludo calculated that for one quart of oil they needed four pounds of shelled nuts, or about thirteen pounds of unshelled nuts. Knowing that in one evening they could manage . . . Oh crap, at this rate they’d be doing it till Christmas!
As they cracked the shells they played the Yes or No game. The children asked the questions. Of course when it came to Hortense’s turn, she always lost. They found that hilarious. But she started to get annoyed. Simone rolled her eyes, busying herself with her pile of walnuts. She really wanted them to switch games before things turned nasty.
And Then Came Paulette Page 12