Le Temps des Cerises Read Free Page A

At least he hoped they sat in blissful ignorance. Sometimes he underplayed or over dramatised the situation a little, depending on his mood or what he thought might best amuse, generally writing behind a persona and keeping the full colour of emotion, whole complexity of truth for his poems and dreams. And if he ever did write straight from the heart, more often than not he crumpled up the page and left it unsent. Today he felt he’d been a little too honest and he finished up the sentence with a mildly facetious ‘ one of your baked eggs, Maman ’ then sat back to rack his brains a little more and listen half-heartedly to the rest of the men who were drinking gin and playing pontoon.
    â€˜I’ve never seen so much make-up on a man,’ Old Joubet was saying, picking his teeth and staring at his hand in disbelief. He always stared at his cards in disbelief – whether to bluff his opponents or because he really couldn’t comprehend the blows Fate kept dealing him was hard to tell. ‘He was wearing so much make-up at the Battle of Sedan he looked like a fucking cocodette 2 . What the hell’s wrong with him anyway?’
    â€˜Kidney stones!’
    â€˜Syphilis!’
    â€˜His days are numbered in that area. The only thing that pops out nowadays is his tongue. His servant takes sugar tongs along when they go to the opera to stick the Emperor’s tongue back in if he’s been drooling too long at the ladies!’ Little Coupeau, a dyer from Montmartre, was known for his salacious take on the world and everyone laughed including Laurie.
    â€˜No wonder his missus went round like a thunderclap.’
    â€˜That’s why she kept sending him back to the front, hoping desperately he’d get himself killed!’
    â€˜He bloody nearly did,’ Old Joubet resumed, still staring. ‘God knows how the enemy missed him – you could see his fucking cheeks a mile off! Twenty-one,’ he added, putting down an ace and king in spectacular fashion and collecting up his chips, still with a look of disbelief.
    Everybody sighed and the gin bottle was passed round; somebody muttered something about foul play and was immediately shouted down by Bidulph, a good friend of Joubet’s. Then the talk turned to the evening’s entertainment – they were looking forward to the few nights off – some were going to the meeting at St Nicolas, others to Mabille’s for the women. The name of a particular dancer cropped up in conversation and two young men at the end of the table almost came to blows over it; would have done so, in Laurie’s opinion, if Tessier hadn’t stepped in.
    â€˜Oh Tessier,’ one of them drawled angrily, ‘keep your club foot out of it, will you.’
    There was a strained silence at that – all eyes on Tessier as he limped back painfully to his seat; and then someone shouted out ‘on with the game’ and he smiled good-naturedly because they all loved to watch him shuffle, his hands flew so gracefully over the cards. He put on an extra show this time with feints, slidebacks and sleight of hand stunts; and Old Joubet told him he should take a stall at the Gingerbread Fair while Coupeau said that the Queen of Diamonds coming out of his ear was the biggest thrill he’d had in years! Tessier got quite carried away and the whole thing might have got a little tedious if someone hadn’t shouted out ‘on with the game, on with the game’; but at least he was back to his old self again and sufficiently put to rights to call out to Laurie a moment later in a blustering tone: ‘Hey Laurel leaves – how’s it going? Tell your ma if she wants to know what her boy gets up to, to look up Léon Tessier, bookkeeper,12 Rue du Faubourg… he’ll put her in the picture!’
    Laurie smiled. ‘Thanks very much, Léon! I’ll be sure to do just that!’ He was fond of Léon – beneath the