The Body In the Vestibule by Katherine Hall Page Page B

to understand. Martin and I are good parents. We are not wardens who insist Dominique stay by our side or even that she go to rallyes, where she might be with some nice children.”
    â€œRallyes! Those ancient elephants!” Michele exclaimed. “Cécile, think how bored you were when Tante Louise made you go, and besides, what seventeen-year-old girl wants to meet ‘nice children’? She wants to meet the opposite, then maybe later she will settle down and marry someone you wanted her to meet in the first place.”
    â€œWhat are these ‘rallyes’?” Faith asked, images of antique cars racing incongruously to mind.
    â€œThey are very correct little gatherings arranged by a particular sector of Lyonnais parents for more years than anyone remembers, so little Marie or little Louis will meet a suitable mate. In the winter, there are dances and in the warmer months, tennis or pool parties. I hesitate to say parties , because all this is sans alcohol and under the eyes of the parents. There used to be more of them, and of course nice boys like my Paul were always invited, but I’m happy to say we met normally—on the metro,” Ghislaine explained.
    â€œI know rallyes are old-fashioned,” Cécile said, “yet at least our parents knew where we were.”
    A few eyebrows went up, but no one said anything, although Faith could see Michèle’s mouth was twitching. It
was obvious that Cécile was very upset about her daughter’s behavior. Faith’s stomach gave another lurch. She’d been hoping for a daughter of her own. Yet it was true—she’d heard girls were tougher in their teens. Maybe there was a good convent school near Aleford.
    It was growing late and, a few at a time, the women slipped out of the kitchen into the garden to fetch a child or remind a husband of tomorrow’s busy schedule, until only Faith, Ghislaine, and Michèle were left.
    â€œDo you think Cécile is overreacting about her daughter, or is Dominique really difficult?” Faith asked Ghislaine.
    â€œI see the girl at Christmas and Easter, perhaps a Sunday here or there in between when her father has been feeling the need to flex some parental muscles and make her come, so it’s hard for me to say what she is like. She was always very bright and did well in school. If she messes up her bac , then there will be some cause for alarm. Actually, you saw her the other night. She was at Valentina’s gallery with Christophe d’Ambert and some other friends. She was wearing gold—what do you call them?—sneakers.”
    â€œBut she looked great in them, a very pretty girl.”
    â€œI agree; however, Cécile would prefer her in a long navy pleated skirt and flower-print blouse from Cacharel—a slightly different uniform. Now I would love Stéphanie to dress a little more like Dominique. My own daughter, and not interested in what she puts on her back. Pierre is the opposite—not only a certain marque but it has to be from the right shop.”
    â€œOh, boys are much worse than girls about these things,” Michele agreed. “Patrice is barely eight and if his Floriane Bermudas or shirt are from the warehouse and not some place in the Brotteaux, he is ashamed. Of course, I don’t pay any attention to him,” she added proudly.
    The clock in the hall struck and Faith looked about in surprise. She’d had no idea it was so late and realized, too, that her mind had moved far away from the dark preoccupations
of an hour or so ago. Now her main concern was to get the address of the Floriane outlet from Michele.
    Ben cried when they left and everyone tried to comfort him, which only made it worse, because they were so nice and that was why he didn’t want to leave in the first place. The lure of riding in the Deux Chevaux soon worked its magic, he cheered up, and they finally got him in the car. Such is the fickleness of