Read Online And Then Came Paulette by Barbara Constantine, Justin Phipps - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Constantine, Justin Phipps
Tags: Fiction / Literary
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it worse, she knew what it was. But then, just like that, nothing. She no longer wanted to move, didn’twant a thing. Just to stay where she was and watch the birds. And that’s what she did. But after a while she told herself that when Simone came back from having done a number two, she would not be pleased. She needed to pull herself together, collect her thoughts. So she quickly closed her eyes and retraced her steps in her head, like a top sportsman before a race. Ten past nine: wash up. Open the cupboard under the sink, and get out the two bowls, take the flannels and the ladle, get hot water from the large pan on the stove, without spilling any, fill Simone’s bowl, the red one, and then hers, the blue one, pick up the flannel, rub it with soap, start with the face and the neck, then under the arms, and between the legs.
But it didn’t do the trick. She started to panic.
At that moment Simone came out of the bathroom and noticed something was wrong. Gently she went up to Hortense, took her by the hand and talked to her almost in a whisper. Just like she’d have done with a sleepwalker.
“Don’t worry, Hortense. Look at me. See, I’m not angry. Anyway, what difference does it make if we’ve washed up? No one will notice. It’ll be a secret between the two of us. You’ll see: we’re going to have a good time. When people come up and kiss us, we mustn’t look at each other, do you understand? Otherwise I won’t be able to stop laughing. And so what! If you stink a bit, you just have to put on a bit more cologne than usual, that’s all.”
Hortense chuckled.
They got dressed and splashed on some perfume, emitting little cries. Then they sat down on their chairs opposite the front door, and took out their needles and balls of wool.
It was now eleven o’clock. They had been knitting for more than an hour, while they waited for someone to come fetch them.
Hortense dozed off. She couldn’t remember much about where they were supposed to be going that day, but she trusted Simone. Her brain was not full of holes. She didn’t need to take notes; she remembered everything. Hortense would be lost if they weren’t together. Completely lost.
23
Later, at Guy’s House
Roland took care of the buffet. He didn’t want anything too elaborate, but he did want it to be comforting. It was cold, real autumnal weather. So he went for a big vegetable soup and put some pasta letters in the children’s. He thought they might like that. Then he made some meat pies and little potato cakes. They were nice and filling. Also practical, you could eat them with your fingers. And there’d be less washing up.
He reheated the mulled wine. It was going down well, hardly any left.
Everyone’s cheeks were flushed, they were bright-eyed and talking loudly. But it wasn’t just the wine. The majority of those present were old and not quite all there. That didn’t help.
In the corner Mireille was chatting with Marceline.
It was the first time they had exchanged more than a few words. But things were different now. Marceline and Gaby had been friends, so that was definitely a bond between them. Mireille thanked Marceline for having played the cello for her auntie. It had been very pleasant and soothing. She hadn’t known before that she was a musician. Howcould she? She’d always seen her with her cart and donkey, selling fruits and vegetables at the market. Marceline explained that if she had played the other day, it was because Gaby had asked her, she couldn’t say no. But she hadn’t done so for a long time. Not for years, in fact. Mireille didn’t dare ask why; must be something serious. It could wait for another time or until they knew each other better. In the meantime she said that she would love it if Ludovic and Lucien, her two Lulus, could learn an instrument. She really needed to do something about that.
Ferdinand, Raymond and Marcel accompanied Guy into the garden. The four of them sat on the bench, staring
But it didn’t do the trick. She started to panic.
At that moment Simone came out of the bathroom and noticed something was wrong. Gently she went up to Hortense, took her by the hand and talked to her almost in a whisper. Just like she’d have done with a sleepwalker.
“Don’t worry, Hortense. Look at me. See, I’m not angry. Anyway, what difference does it make if we’ve washed up? No one will notice. It’ll be a secret between the two of us. You’ll see: we’re going to have a good time. When people come up and kiss us, we mustn’t look at each other, do you understand? Otherwise I won’t be able to stop laughing. And so what! If you stink a bit, you just have to put on a bit more cologne than usual, that’s all.”
Hortense chuckled.
They got dressed and splashed on some perfume, emitting little cries. Then they sat down on their chairs opposite the front door, and took out their needles and balls of wool.
It was now eleven o’clock. They had been knitting for more than an hour, while they waited for someone to come fetch them.
Hortense dozed off. She couldn’t remember much about where they were supposed to be going that day, but she trusted Simone. Her brain was not full of holes. She didn’t need to take notes; she remembered everything. Hortense would be lost if they weren’t together. Completely lost.
23
Later, at Guy’s House
Roland took care of the buffet. He didn’t want anything too elaborate, but he did want it to be comforting. It was cold, real autumnal weather. So he went for a big vegetable soup and put some pasta letters in the children’s. He thought they might like that. Then he made some meat pies and little potato cakes. They were nice and filling. Also practical, you could eat them with your fingers. And there’d be less washing up.
He reheated the mulled wine. It was going down well, hardly any left.
Everyone’s cheeks were flushed, they were bright-eyed and talking loudly. But it wasn’t just the wine. The majority of those present were old and not quite all there. That didn’t help.
In the corner Mireille was chatting with Marceline.
It was the first time they had exchanged more than a few words. But things were different now. Marceline and Gaby had been friends, so that was definitely a bond between them. Mireille thanked Marceline for having played the cello for her auntie. It had been very pleasant and soothing. She hadn’t known before that she was a musician. Howcould she? She’d always seen her with her cart and donkey, selling fruits and vegetables at the market. Marceline explained that if she had played the other day, it was because Gaby had asked her, she couldn’t say no. But she hadn’t done so for a long time. Not for years, in fact. Mireille didn’t dare ask why; must be something serious. It could wait for another time or until they knew each other better. In the meantime she said that she would love it if Ludovic and Lucien, her two Lulus, could learn an instrument. She really needed to do something about that.
Ferdinand, Raymond and Marcel accompanied Guy into the garden. The four of them sat on the bench, staring
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