‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘No. I’m having such a good time, I don’t want to miss a thing.’
‘Are you … are you thinking of leaving soon?’
‘Agnès needs to call the garage to see when her car will be ready. Could be this evening.’
‘I know we’ve only just met, but … it’s really nice having the two of you here.’
‘The feeling’s mutual, I think. An unexpected interlude, for all of us.’
‘It’s funny. Nothing happens for months and then it all comes in an avalanche!’
‘It’s like hunting. You spend more time lying in wait than you do shooting.’
‘In two hours, we’ll have known one another for twenty-four hours.’
‘Long enough to have shared memories: the tyre, the storm, your neighbours’ son’s passing, Agnès’s grand entrance this morning, a barbecue, your metamorphosis from widow in black to butterfly in blue. The colour really suits you.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?’
‘You didn’t ask.’
‘True. Come to think of it, I know nothing about you.’
‘That’s about all there is to know.’
Agnès appeared in the doorway. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a micro miniskirt and a men’s shirt with barely a button done up.
‘I’ve put the scales back, Éliette. I made a phone call as well; you’ll have to let me know what I owe you. It was about my car.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
‘It won’t be ready until Thursday. Nightmare!’
Éliette could barely contain a sigh of relief. Agnès came to sit on the ground between the other two. She was sniffling, like a red-haired poodle.
‘Do you have a cold?’
‘It doesn’t take much – a shower, a bit of a breeze and that’s it! So, Étienne. What shall we do?’
‘Éliette, would we be outstaying our welcome if …?’
‘Not at all. As I said, my children don’t arrive until Friday, so it’s no problem.’
‘Thank you, Éliette. But we’ll take care of the shopping and cooking. Agreed?’
‘Agreed. We can sort that out tomorrow. We’ve got everything we need for tonight. Oh, looks like we’ve got a visitor …’
The police van parked in front of the gate. Two gendarmes got out. They were red-faced, with rings of sweat under the arms of their shirts. Éliette went to greet them.
‘Bonjour, Messieurs.’
‘Bonjour, Madame Vélard … Monsieur, Mademoiselle.’
Étienne and Agnès barely nodded.
‘Have you come from the Jauberts’?’
‘Yes. What a tragedy. No matter how many times you see these things happen, it’s still a shock. And it makes you wonder what gets into these kids the minute they have a steering wheel in their hands. Twice we’d arrested Patrick! … Though it’s a bit different this time. Anyway, since we were just down the road and we know you like riding about in your little car on the back roads, we wondered if by any chance you might have come across anybody on foot who might have seemed a bit … strange?’
‘No. I went to Montélimar yesterday and then …’
As she replayed the previous day’s events, she instinctively turned to Étienne before going on.
‘… and then I came home again. I didn’t notice anything strange.’
‘Just asking on the off-chance. And Monsieur, Madame, you didn’t see anything either?’
‘We arrived on the train this morning.’
Étienne’s reply rolled straight off the tongue, as if he had learnt the line by heart. Éliette was somewhat taken aback.
‘Well then … We won’t keep you.’
‘Is it to do with the other car?’
‘Yes, Madame Vélard. We’ve identified the owner. His vehicle was stolen around midday yesterday from the car park at Montélimar station. The fuel tank was empty. The thief must have panicked. Stupid. Right, we’re off. Goodbye, Madame Vélard, Monsieur, Madame.’
Even after they had gone, a blue stain seemed to linger where they had stood. Étienne lay with his arm across his face and his head thrown back. Agnès was rolling pebbles through her fingers and Éliette was desperately trying to find the key to escape the heavy silence. The light was tinted copper and the house’s stonework was blushing pink. Agnès got up suddenly.
‘I’m going to do the washing up. I need to move.’
She disappeared, swallowed up in the shadows of the doorway.
‘Éliette, why didn’t you tell the gendarmes how we met?’
‘Because … because it’s beside the point! You had an argument with your girlfriend and she left you in the middle of nowhere, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And the reason you told them you’d arrived on the train this morning was to avoid having to go into details like that.’
‘Exactly. Why complicate things?’
‘In the past, I always had to be in control, to understand and check everything. I couldn’t feel at ease without answers and solutions. But since Charles died, I’ve tended to let things come and go as they please.’
‘Did you love your husband very much?’
‘Yes. The way we felt about one another was never in doubt. But … how can I put it? It’s as if that was another life. I think of it now as if it belonged to someone else. I’ve changed. I don’t know if the life I had with him would suit me nowadays.’
Éliette got to her feet and began pulling up a few weeds around a scrawny rose bush. Étienne watched her through half-closed eyes. She was like a ripe fruit whose sugar was turning to honey. Certain people, like certain plants, flowered several times in one season. Others would never bear a single fruit: no sooner had they blossomed than they were already wilting. Étienne thought of himself as akin to an avocado stone: you kept its bottom wet in a mustard jar and it sprouted one measly stem, busting its guts to produce a single flower as pathetic as a flag at half mast. So much must come down to the soil the plant was grown in, the amount of water and sun it got. Above all, it rested on the great gardener on high knowing what he was doing …
‘You’ve got green fingers then?’
‘Let’s just say I try.’
‘Unlike me; I’ve managed to kill fake flowers before.’
‘That’s quite a feat!’
‘I know. I’m quite proud of myself.’
Through the open kitchen window they could hear Agnès singing Gainsbourg: ‘Inceste de citron, papa, papa …’
Agnès’s sniffle did not appear to have cleared up, but strangely it had given her a burst of boundless energy. She had done the cooking and laid the table; now she was like a moth fluttering around the flickering light of the candles. All that was left of the daylight was a trace of purple at the bottom of the sky, with the rolling mountains starkly outlined against it. As at lunchtime, the conversation covered all kinds of topics, but everyone made a conscious effort to avoid talking about themselves. Hiding behind tales of other people’s adventures was like swanning about at a masked ball. They had already polished off two bottles of rosé and Étienne was opening a third when a headlight swept like a brushstroke over the line of poplars at the entrance to the drive.
‘That must be Serge and his friend. I rang earlier to see how they were. I told them to pop in for a drink, depending on how things were at home.’
The two young men appeared, their pale clothes almost phosphorescent against the dark mouth of the garden gate. Éliette did the introductions. Agnès made yet another excuse to slip inside the house, this time in order to fetch glasses. Éliette noticed that these comings and goings seemed to be getting on Étienne’s nerves. Serge’s face was drawn; Zep never took his eyes off him.
‘So, how is everything?’
‘Not great. Things are OK with Maman, but Papa’s not speaking to me. My uncle and aunt came down from Aubenas this afternoon. They’re staying a few days. I took the oppor
tunity to get on with some of the formalities, going to the undertakers’ and so on. Any excuse to get out of the house. The funeral’s on Friday.’
‘OK. I’ll go and see them tomorrow. Try not to blame your father. He’s having a hard time. It might not look like it, but he’s more fragile than your mother.’
‘I don’t blame him. It just hurts, that’s all. You saw how he was this morning when I tried to help him …’
‘He was drunk.’
‘It’s almost worse when he’s sober. It’s as if he thinks I’m the one who killed Patrick. I’m hurting too, even though Patrick and I didn’t get on. I saw him two months ago in Grenoble; he wanted me to sign something. We had a row. You don’t know at the time you’re never going to see someone again; it’s only afterwards …’
Serge had tears in his eyes. Zep placed a hand on his shoulder. Étienne stood up, uncomfortable, made his excuses and went into the house.
Agnès was sitting on the bed tidying away her little kit: mirror, straw, razor blade.
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough tonight?’
‘This is the last one! You’re so fucking tight! God, it’s good though. What’s your problem?’
‘Nothing. I’m sick of hearing about that accident.’
‘Chill out. Nothing’s gonna happen. And anyway, Éliette has the hots for you, big time. I wouldn’t mind having her as a stepmother. By the way, where am I sleeping tonight?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care.’
‘Thanks very much! OK, I’ll stop pissing around. I think I’ve got an idea, a client.’
‘Who’s that then?’
‘A guy who works in the movies. I’ve sold to him before; there’s never been a problem.’
‘Nothing to do with Théo?’
‘No, different network. Only thing is, if we want to get rid of the whole lot at once, we can’t be too greedy.’
‘And where is this guy?’
‘Down on the Côte d’Azur at the moment, I think. I’d have to make a phone call.’
‘I don’t know … We don’t want to rush things.’
‘Rush things?! Do you have any idea of the shit you’ve got us into in the last twenty-four hours? D’you really think we have a choice? We’re not on our holidays at Auntie Éliette’s, dearest Daddykins. We’ve got two days at most before we need to get the hell out of here, as far away as we can get, because let me tell you, Théo’s not going to let two kilos of good coke go without a fight, especially not to you. Don’t forget you already pinched his woman – that would be me!’
‘He didn’t give a shit about you. That’s why he gave the job to me!’
‘How stupid are you? Do you really think you’d have got it if I hadn’t made him give it to you?’
‘You promised me you wouldn’t see him again!’
‘Oh, calm down … You didn’t have two coins to rub together … Anyway, don’t worry, nothing happened. So what do you think?’
Agnès was right. They had to make a move, try something. There was no use pretending, and yet …
The sound of Éliette’s voice calling from the garden made him jump. He leant out of the window.
‘Étienne, when you come down, would you mind bringing the telescope with you? It’s in my room, next to the wardrobe.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘There’s a magnificent sky tonight and Zep’s a bit of an astronomer!’
‘Righty-ho. On my way.’
How dumb the stars looked, as dull as the streetlights lining the motorway. Agnès was lying on her back, knees bent, thighs bared, smoking a cigarette. The white triangle of her knickers was curved like a scallop shell.
‘Well?’
‘OK. But be careful.’
Agnès joined the other four in the garden a quarter of an hour later. They were drinking wine and staring up at the stars. Zep was pointing up at the sky, reeling off clever-sounding names that his accent made sound even more exotic. They took turns pressing their eye to the telescope and exclaiming, ‘What a view!’ All except Étienne, who passed on his go, preferring to keep a suitable distance between himself and the stars looking down on him in scorn.
‘I prefer the bit in between, the darkness. The part you can’t see.’
They all stopped talking after that. They let space seep inside them; the sky was reflected on earth. Serge and Zep had their arms round each other’s necks; Agnès was lying on the grass, arms outstretched, Éliette on one of the loungers with her hands behind her head; and Étienne sat perched on the bench, chin in his hands, elbows on his knees. There was no movement, only a twinkling like an aura around each of them. They had become a kind of constellation, in a scenario brought about by what we call chance, for want of a better word. It lasted for a split second, or an hour … Serge and Zep whispered a few words in each other’s ears and stood up.
‘Éliette, it’s getting late. We should head back up there.’
‘Up there? Oh, yes! Come back whenever you want.’
‘Thanks, Éliette. It’s so nice to be able to … just be ourselves. Good night. Good night, Étienne. Lovely to meet you. Good night, Agnès.’
The three left behind watched the other two dissolving into the night, the same way they had come. Agnès stretched her limbs.
‘Mmm! It’s so pretty. You can see angels all over the place tonight … Éliette, where am I sleeping?’
‘Wherever you want, love. The room next to your father’s.’
‘It’s love, now, is it?’
‘Oh, sorry, I …’
‘It’s fine. Love is all around. Good night!’
*
Neither Éliette nor Étienne knew how to take their leave. Perhaps they did not wish to. They both watched the light come on at Agnès’s window. Earlier, Zep had explained to them how stars were dying and being born all the time. The sky was sparkling. The light bulb in the bedroom went out, but its image stayed imprinted on their retinas for a long time afterwards. All his life, Étienne had been in bars at closing time, among the last ones standing at the end of the party. He liked being around people who refused to accept it was over, who fought a losing battle against the inevitable.
‘Éliette, how about a game of “Say what you’re thinking”?’
‘How does it work?’
‘You don’t think about it. You just say the first thing that comes into your head.’
‘OK. Do we take it in turns?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right then. Say what you’re thinking.’
‘I’m thinking it’s too soon for everything.’
‘I’m thinking we ought to get several lives.’
‘I’m thinking my death will serve no purpose and that’s a missed opportunity on God’s part.’
‘I’m thinking I don’t want to make up my mind whether I’m too hot or too cold.’
‘I’m thinking my family has a lot of dirty linen to air and it’s getting out of hand.’
‘I’m not thinking about my family, but I’ve got a big pile of dirty linen too.’
‘I’m thinking that if I hadn’t had a daughter, I wouldn’t necessarily have had a dog.’
‘I’m thinking we don’t have to do anything, but everything is important.’
‘I’m thinking no one is ever happy and that’s our only source of satisfaction.’
‘I’m thinking everyone else is better than me.’
‘I’m thinking we shouldn’t want to please everyone.’
‘I’m thinking everyone else lies except me, and it’s not a nice thought.’
‘I’m thinking of all the times a lie has helped me to tell an unexpected truth.’
‘I’m thinking of a quote of De Gaulle’s: “I’ve spent a lot of time pretending, and usually it has worked.”’
‘I’m thinking we should have been warned the world was ending.’
‘I’m thinking I’m dreading the sun rising in a few hours.’
‘I’m thinking tomorrow is not a
nother day.’
‘I’m thinking by going too far you get back to where you started.’
Their fingers had become entwined; it wasn’t a game any more.
Éliette had not taken in a word of the news, despite the fact the radio was droning in her ear. They could have told her the world had ended and still she would have carried on sipping her tea, staring into space, lost in thought. A fly was keeping her company, buzzing from one jar of jam to another, totally absorbed in its essential function: eating and washing its sticky feet in the tiny pool of tea beside the teapot. Éliette felt in perfect harmony with the fly. The minimalism of its existence suited her down to the ground. To aspire to more than eating jam and washing one’s feet in tea seemed unnecessary. It had pretty eyes as well, this fly, and wings for which Éliette would have gladly swapped her feet. Agnès wafted into the kitchen wearing only her large men’s shirt. She mumbled a hello as she sailed past without a glance in Éliette’s direction. She sat down and poured herself a tea with such delicacy that she chipped the cup.
‘Morning, Agnès. Sleep all right?’
‘No. It’s too quiet here; it keeps me awake. What about you two?’
‘I slept very well. As for Étienne, you’ll have to ask him yourself. I think he slept on the sofa in the living room. I heard snoring.’
‘Oh!’
With her mass of wild red hair and big black eye she looked like a clown who had messed up his act.
‘Shall I do you some toast?’
‘Er …. OK.’
‘It’s always like this the first few nights when city people come to stay. The silence gets to them. But they get used to it.’
‘You need time for that.’
‘For what?’
‘To get used to it. I’ve never had time to get used to anything. Just as well – I don’t like habits. Why did he sleep in the lounge?’
‘I don’t know. He was still in the garden when I went up to bed. He was asleep on one of the loungers.’
‘Pissed?’
‘No, just tired, I think. Here’s your toast.’
‘Thanks. He’s always tired. Some people have dogs for companions; he’s got his tiredness. I’m heading off today; I’ll be back tomorrow night.’
Too Close to the Edge Page 5