The widow couderc, p.11
The Widow Couderc, page 11
Jean was staring in astonishment at the small piece of dark meat, hardly more than skin and bone.
‘So that’ll be five francs.’
She said simply and firmly:
‘No, I only want four francs’ worth. Take a bit off it.’
She was holding the two two-franc coins in her hand. She paid, let her eyes slide over Jean, and went off towards the canal, her clogs clopping.
‘And for you, young man?’
‘A steak.’
‘For how many?’
‘Just for one.’
‘I expect you’d like a thick one?’
‘Yes, quite thick.’
He was in a hurry. He watched Félicie go away, unaware that the women in the queue were staring at him as if he were some kind of exotic beast.
‘Eight francs.’
That made an impression on him. Eight francs for his steak, and only four for the stew that they would be eating at Félicie’s, where there were four people, herself, her parents and old Couderc.
‘You’ve forgotten your change!’
‘Ah, yes, sorry.’
‘’S all right.’
As he did not dare run, he caught up with Félicie only when she was halfway home. A barge towed by a donkey was coming in the other direction and a very tiny girl, not much more than a toddler, was leading the donkey.
The tiller must have been tied, since no one could be seen on the bridge. The canal lay straight ahead, with just above it a band of sky between the two rows of trees. And there was no one at all about, apart from the little girl and the donkey.
‘Why did you run?’ asked Félicie without turning her head, as he slowed his pace to hers, his heavy breathing audible.
‘I didn’t run.’
He had nothing to say to her. He was desperately anxious to be near her but had never thought about saying this or that to her. As they walked, he gazed at her profile and noticed that she had very full lips, as if bee-stung, which made her look thoughtful or sulky. She also had very white skin, delicate, like all redheads, and tiny ears.
It did not trouble her to be gazed at like that. She walked at the same pace, and they had covered about two hundred metres in silence when she asked, as if coming to some conclusion in her thoughts:
‘What’s keeping you staying over at my aunt’s?’
He did not hesitate for a second. The promptness of his answer surprised him most of all, since he had never asked himself this question so clearly.
‘I think it’s the house.’
To which she said, after another silence:
‘I wonder what’s so wonderful about that house. Everyone wants it. My mother, my Aunt Amélie.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me? Oh, I don’t care.’
And as they approached the lock, she said:
‘Ah, there’s someone at my aunt’s place.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I can see the shadow of a car on the path. You’d better hurry.’
Yes, there was a car there, indeed. Jean did not recognize it and was worried. As he entered the kitchen, he bumped into a man drying his hands and recognized him. It was the doctor from Saint-Amand.
‘I didn’t know you were coming this morning,’ he said, to excuse himself.
‘I didn’t come here to see you.’
‘How is Tati?’
‘Not good.’
He must treat all his patients the same way. He seemed to take pleasure in giving bad news, and his eyes glinted behind his gold-rimmed spectacles.
‘She’s in bad shape?’
‘Yes, really bad shape. And in fact …’
He was stowing things in his bag.
‘I have to ask you whether you are intending to stay here.’
‘But … why?’
Didn’t this question, asked in a more scornful tone, rather echo Félicie’s?
‘None of my business, I suppose. But yes, it is in a way. Madame Couderc is likely to be confined to bed for a matter of weeks, and to need constant care. As far as I know, there’s no one else in the house except you, and she is on bad terms with her family. If you were to leave at any time, I would need to make arrangements and have her moved to hospital. So you had better tell me frankly. Are you intending to look after her for as long as necessary?’
‘Of course.’
‘It won’t be very pleasant.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘Very well.’
He sat down at the corner of the table to write a prescription.
‘Is it dangerous?’
‘She might not pull through. I’ll be back in two or three days.’
The doctor did not say goodbye to him and got back in his car. Jean hurried up the stairs and stopped for a moment to remove traces of emotion from his face.
‘Come in,’ Tati called. ‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing. He’s a man of few words.’
‘I’m going to be here a long time, isn’t that it?’
‘No, no, you’ll be up and about in a few days.’
‘Why are you lying? See, you’re quite capable of lying.’
‘No, I swear …’
‘Jean, don’t swear, or I won’t believe you. In the first place, he told me it could be weeks. And anyway, I can hear everything from the kitchen. Are you really going to stay?’
‘Yes, of course I am.’
‘You know, it won’t be any fun looking after me. I’m getting sores all over since yesterday. It’s the change of life, I think, you understand? My blood. Check the thermometer. He looked at it, but he didn’t tell me what my temperature was.’
‘Thirty-nine.’
‘Did you buy some meat?’
‘Yes, a steak.’
‘You didn’t meet anyone?’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t see Couderc? Or Félicie?’
He could sense that she didn’t believe him, and now the same questions came back in a different form:
‘I sometimes wonder what’s keeping you here.’
He did not dare reply as he had to Félicie: the house. He preferred to look at Tati with a smile, shifting from one foot to another.
‘Just now, when I heard the car stop, I thought it was your father. I was almost glad you weren’t here. Then I heard someone moving about in the kitchen and pouring water into the basin. I couldn’t go down, I waited here, my mouth was dry. What surprises me is that the old man still hasn’t managed to wander back over. I’m sure they’re watching him all day long. Have you checked the incubator?’
‘Yes, I’ve done everything. One of the rabbits has had babies and another one is making a nest.’
‘Félicie didn’t try to talk to you?’
Why did she keep forcing him to tell lies?
‘No, no, I’ve told you.’
‘Know what you’re going to do? Lying here, I’m on tenterhooks. René’s room is empty since he left. From his window, you can see the canal. There’s a bedstead there, just has to be put together. Think you can do that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And in the cupboard under the stairs, you’ll find a mattress and a bolster.’
‘You really want to change your bedroom?’
He knew that this would be in order to keep an eye on him and an eye on Félicie. The bedroom she was in now was the largest and best lit. And it also looked out on the farmyard and the garden, so that she could lie in bed and see the livestock.
‘Do it quickly. You can call me when it’s ready.’
She didn’t wait for him to tell her. She dragged herself along, barefoot, with a blanket wrapped around her. The room had been used to store fruit and there were shelves along all the walls.
‘Go and get a hammer and some pincers. You can take down the shelves. And fetch the bedside table from my room. Look!’
And she pointed, through the open window, at old Couderc, who was pacing timidly around his two cows.
‘He’ll make it over here in the end. Just let him in, without saying anything. Try to get him to come up, and I’ll see to it he won’t go back to Françoise. Off you go to get the hammer and pincers.’
She was perspiring with every effort, but did not remain quiet for an instant.
‘Félicie wasn’t buying meat?’
‘I think I may have seen her.’
‘But you said just now you hadn’t seen her.’
‘I wasn’t paying attention.’
He pulled down the planks. There were holes left in the wallpaper where the nails had been.
‘Push my bed nearer the window, so I can see their house. Well, at any rate, while I’m ill, they won’t be able to get up to anything. Ah, now, Couderc’s seen me.’
And the old man had indeed raised his head and was standing still alongside the cows.
‘You can go down, Jean. Time you had something to eat. All I’ll manage is some milk and some mashed vegetables.’
He thought about Félicie all day, and that was partly Tati’s fault, since he could feel that she was also thinking about her all the time. When he went to move the cows, he scarcely dared turn towards the brickyard, because Tati was watching from her window.
At first, Félicie did not realize that. With her baby in her arms, she had walked towards Jean and watched as he hammered in the stake. Perhaps she was about to speak to him when she looked up and saw her aunt at the window.
So with a shrug of her shoulders, she moved off. Did she imagine he was afraid of Tati?
‘What did I tell you? I knew she’d start hanging around you. She does the same to every man she sees.’
And he had to make an effort not to retort:
‘That’s not true, Tati. You’re saying that to put me off her. Even if it was true, it wouldn’t bother me.’
Tati had had him bring her a walking stick, which she kept at the side of the bed all day. When she needed something, she banged it on the floor. Or if he was outside, she called him with the shrill voice that mothers use to call their children.
‘Jean! Jean!’
And he was embarrassed, since Félicie could hear.
‘You know who’s just arrived on a bike, Jean? See, there’s a bike up against the house. It’s Amélie. She must have come to find out the news. She’ll be wondering what I’m going to do. Look! There she is at the door.’
The distance between the two houses, Tati’s large one and Françoise’s small one, was perhaps two hundred metres as the crow flies. Françoise was looking at Tati’s window. Tati was looking at Françoise.
‘I wonder if she’ll have the cheek to come over here.’
Amélie did come, wobbling a bit on the bicycle, which she was obviously not used to.
‘If only she could fall in the canal! Stay here, Jean. She’d be capable of taking advantage of me while I’m in bed, to …’
‘Are you there, Tati?’ came a voice from the kitchen.
‘As if she didn’t know I’m here!’
‘Can I come up?’
‘Oh, come up, you old bag,’ Tati muttered through her teeth.
‘So, what is this they tell me at Françoise’s? That you’re not well? That the doctor’s been twice? Something to do with your blood?’
Tati did not invite her to sit down and went on staring her sister-in-law straight in the eyes.
‘How will you manage all on your own to take care of yourself? They told me Papa has decided to live over at Françoise’s. It’s natural, isn’t it, for him to prefer living with one of his daughters.’
‘Jean, could you get me a glass of water.’
‘We’ve been wondering, Françoise and me, what to do. Don’t you think you’d be better off in a clinic than all alone in this big house where anyone could walk in when you’re in bed? I know you might not like it, but if I were you …’
‘I’m not all alone.’
‘Maybe not now, you’re not. But how do you know you won’t be any time soon? One fine day, you’ll be waiting there and the bird will have flown. And you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t take a few souvenirs …’
‘Jean?’
‘Yes.’
‘Get her out of here, can you?’
‘I’m going, I’m going. Well. You’ve been warned. If anything happens to you, you’ll know the reason why. And Papa asked me to fetch …’
‘He didn’t ask you for anything of the kind. Jean! Don’t let her into any of the bedrooms, don’t let her take anything …’
‘You’re surely not going to let our father go without a shirt?’
‘Throw her out, Jean. She’s making me tired … Take my stick, don’t be afraid.’
‘Goodbye, you old …’
‘Goodbye, yes.’
And they watched as Amélie rode back along the towpath to Françoise’s house.
‘What did I tell you, Jean? They’re trying every trick in the book to get me out of this house. If I was to leave, just for an hour, they’d be in here when I got back and they’d lock me out. What are you staring at?’
‘Nothing.’
She looked out as well and saw Félicie standing on the doorstep of the other house. She realized that, a moment before, the girl’s eyes and Jean’s had met across the space.
‘Swear to me that there’s nothing going on between you two.’
‘I swear.’
‘Swear to me that you don’t love her.’
‘I don’t love her.’
Nevertheless, by nightfall, he was certain of the opposite. He could think of nothing else. Sometimes it was childish. Like a little boy looking for excuses to avoid school, he planned ways of meeting her without being seen by Tati.
It was while he was feeding the rabbits that he discovered the window in the wall of the barn that faced the canal. It wasn’t actually a window, since it had no glass. Just a hole in the wall with two metal bars. To reach it, he had to climb up on something, so he put two rabbit-hutches one on top of the other and checked that they were solid enough to take his weight.
That way, he was directly underneath Tati, and a little to the left. She could be watching the canal but would not be able to see him.
He stayed there about an hour at dusk. It was cool and Félicie was again wearing her red shawl, but in the blue of the evening its red colour glowed more richly than in the morning.
She was strolling about, perhaps on purpose to meet him. She did not have the baby with her. She knew that her aunt was at her window but did not yet know where Jean was.
So he stretched one hand out between the bars and waved, without thinking for a moment that this was ridiculous. She saw his hand. He was certain of that, since she came to a halt. He sensed that she was smiling, with a little smile both amused and pleased.
Then, almost immediately, she turned and went back home, slowly, swinging her hips, not forgetting to pick up a blade of grass and chew it.
‘Thank you, Jean. I don’t disgust you too much, do I? A woman like this, not a pretty sight, is it … Don’t you think it’s strange your father hasn’t been here yet?’
‘He won’t come.’
‘Oh, I think he will.’
Poor Tati! The house was becoming her fortress. The bedroom with the window ever open on to the canal was her lookout tower. Morning to night, she was on the quivive, listening out for any sounds, giving a jump if she heard a car on the main road, wondering if it was going to turn off and appear coming through the hazel bushes; then, when she didn’t know where Jean was for a moment, she listened to the silence in anguish, in case it was going to last uninterrupted.
‘Where were you?’
‘I was hoeing the potatoes. I saw the lock-keeper putting some stuff on to his this morning.’
‘Yes, you should spray them. Can do you that? Somebody arrived at Françoise’s just now. Somebody I don’t know. And Couderc, he almost crossed the bridge. Of course, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. Françoise came and fetched him just in time. Have you seen Félicie?’
‘No.’
‘She must have wandered over this way because she crossed the lock. Trouble is, I can’t lean out of the window. You weren’t talking to someone a quarter of an hour back?’
‘No.’
That was the truth. He had not spoken to anyone. But Félicie had been walking along the path, not on the other side of the water where Tati would be able to see her, but on the path right in front of the house. And Jean had been behind the barred window. He had held up both hands, showing eight fingers. Had she understood? He had also made energetic signs pointing to the gate on the left of the house, from which he had taken the chain and padlock.
Unfortunately, at eight that evening, Tati, who seemed mysteriously to have got wind of it, had called on him to change her dressings. He did not even know whether Félicie had come anywhere near the gate. And if she had, what had she thought?
He was living with her day and night. He carried her image, the thought of her, through the house, in the farmyard, the kitchen garden, the cowshed, near the chickens and the incubator. It was the curve of her full lip that haunted him and the way she flexed her body when she had the child in her arms.
‘What are you doing now, Jean?’
‘Nothing … Seeing to the rabbits.’
He spent a lot of time with the rabbits, in order to peep through the hole in the wall, and that day, and again the next, he showed eight fingers with an insistence that must have appeared comical.
Had she understood? Perhaps she couldn’t care less about him? Perhaps, when she went home, she would tell her mother:
‘He’s been making signs to me again. I think he’s crazy.’
And Tati, every time he climbed up to her bedroom, peered at his face, seeming to want to discover a clue there. What kind of clue could she find in his eyes?
‘I thought that on Saturday you could go to market for me, but I’d be afraid to be all alone in the house. I’ll get Clémence to come over, you know who she is, by the road, the little house with the blue fence. If her sister-in-law is better, she can take the eggs and butter for me.’
She was testing to see if he would react to that, and look disappointed or cross, because that would mean he had fixed a meeting with Félicie in town.
But the meeting happened at a time she had not predicted and in conditions that Jean had not imagined either. When he waved eight fingers from the window he had no idea what would happen if Félicie did come round at eight o’clock. He simply knew that it was the sweetest moment of the day, an almost melancholy sweetness, when the canal provided a background and the red shawl stood out richly against the blue and violet of the dusk.
