And Then Came Paulette Read Free Page A

say that once the last suitcase wasin the car—a last kiss for the little ones and the door shut—a huge chasm had opened up under his feet, a black hole, deeper than a well. And that turmoil had never left him since. From then on it would become part of his life. He understood that.
    But there was little chance he would ever talk about it. It wasn’t his style to bare all in front of anyone.

4
Ferdinand Is Bored—but Not for Long
    After lunch he put the laundry out to dry. Then he wandered off toward the barn. As he passed the tractor, he couldn’t resist jumping in and starting up the engine to see if still worked. Then he went into the workshop. On the workbench he saw the plaque for Alfred: half engraved, it had sat there unfinished for weeks. With a twinge he cast an eye over the tools and mechanically started to sort some old nails. He didn’t feel like doing anything, so, not to worry, he went off in the car instead. He slowed as he came to the path leading to Marceline’s house, thought about stopping by to ask how she was, but in the end decided to drop by later, perhaps at the end of the day. He went as far as the village. After parking a fair distance from the Place du Marché he took a stick out of the trunk and walked up the main road with an exaggerated limp. He didn’t meet a soul. That was a bit of a disappointment. Arriving at the café in the square, he ordered a glass ofwhite wine and settled himself at a table outside. He’d made a habit of this for two months now.
    The clock on the town hall showed it was three-thirty. Just an hour to kill before the end of school: the one time he could see his grandchildren, the Lulus. Ludovic, eight, and Lucien, six. He’d give them each a kiss, before Mireille arrived to whisk them away to their new home, using homework as her excuse. All said in a slightly apologetic tone to make it seem more plausible.
    Just thinking about it brought a lump to his throat.
    He took a sip of wine to make it go away. Then he looked around, but there was nothing to see. He shivered.
    In the sky a ray of sunlight was trying to slip between two gray clouds. He closed his eyes and stretched to make the most of the warmth. But it didn’t last. There was a sharp tapping on the pavement. Tac, tac, tac. A young woman in a suit and high heels was coming toward him. Unusual around here. He calculated there were seven seconds to go before she reached the terrace . . . six, five . . . he pushed out his stick . . . four, three . . . coming past his chair . . . two, one. Bingo! The girl jumped in the air, twisted her ankle and cried “Ow!” She was about to give a piece of her mind to the bastard who had purposely tripped her up, when her eyes settled on Ferdinand. He managed to assume an expression that was so timid, so perfectly contrite, it made her smile. But she soon recovered herself; on reaching the square, she scowled and shot him a dark look, pointing her finger threateningly. Playing the innocent wasn’t going to work with her: she knew all the tricks that old people played. Grandparents, she’d had four of them. And she’d done her fourth-year work experience in an old people’s home, so . . . Just at that moment he bowed his head. Muriel was pleased to see he knew what she was really thinking. With a feeling of satisfaction she started to adjust her clothing. She carefully smoothed her skirt, giving special attention to her behind (becauseto have your skirt creased over your butt is so not a good look), she banged her bag several times against her calves to dust it down, tidied up her hair, and without another glance at Ferdinand, set off on her way, suddenly worried she might be late for her meeting (with the guy from the estate agents, about renting a room, but what could she tell him, she had no deposit, or any of that stuff, oh—my—God).
    Ferdinand was happy. He had managed to make a pretty girl smile. That sort of thing didn’t happen every day.