summer.
A fortnight later, Arnaud carried Lucie into the surgery because by then she had got so weak and frail she could barely walk alone.
The doctor was appalled. He stood up very quickly from behind his desk and his face was white as the wall.
‘She’s done this to herself,’ Arnaud whispered in the doctor’s ear. ‘She got some news she didn’t like and this was how she responded. Her sister in Paris has a son. She didn’t know.’
‘When did she last eat?’ asked the doctor, bending down beside his patient at once to check the pulse.
Lucie’s mouth was dry and cracked at the corners. When she opened her mouth, the cuts opened and bled.
‘My husband has a son,’ she said. ‘He’s coming here in the summer to stay with us.’
‘Of course it’s not my son,’ he hissed at his wife while the doctor stood as if to intervene. ‘You’re talking nonsense , Lucie. If you had something in your stomach…’
Arnaud picked up the pills from the chemist and he sat with Lucie in the car while she swilled them back. Then he drove his family back to the chateau and for a few days things were back to normal. Every Friday the doctor came to the chateau to see Lucie and he would adjust the medication as was required.
Lucie took her pills and she got a lot of rest. She kept Baseema close to her, day and night. Soon things began to feel better. It was June. It was possible that it might even be fun to have a little boy about the chateau. Someone else for Lucie to mother as perfectly as she did Baseema, another reason to get the chateau shipshape as soon as she possibly could.
Lucie had Baseema. Marie had Paul. Fair’s fair, said Lucie to herself as she hung up the bed sheets on the line in the garden. Fair’s fair, she sang to herself as she went back into the cool of her house and busied herself, humming , and made the lunch.
It wasn’t the nicest thing she had done, telling Arnaud about the doctor’s Friday advances but she was so convinced of his affair with Marie and it guaranteed her the physical freedom she needed from him while ensuring he remained in the study.
She made a room for Marie beside the study; the children would sleep on the first floor with her. Lucie told Dr Clareon when he came the next Friday to check her medication that her husband now knew all about what he had done to his patient in his little chair and that all that would have to stop and would never happen again. Dr Clareon looked disappointed and he breathed heavily when he checked her pulse and her blood pressure, but otherwise she was left alone.
Which meant that Lucie had almost everything she needed. She had her home and she had her child. She began to put on weight. From now on her husband and the amorous doctor would leave her alone. She would never be tampered with again.
July arrived with a heatwave. Marie and Paul were due to come on the day of the burning plane ceremony.
All was in perfect order. Lucie was looking forward to the village gathering up on the heath and she sang to herself in the kitchen as she bent over the sideboard pounding aubergines to a pulp. She spread these on the pastry bases. Then she sliced potatoes into flakes, which she lay in a dish she had rubbed with garlic. Then she poured milk and cream over them.
At eleven, Veronique from the house closest to the chateau came with a basket of seventeen eggs for the crème caramel. Veronique was shaped like a goose; long and stiffly necked, with a wide saggy behind. But Lucie had picked Veronique because she was more intelligent, it seemed, than most of the women in the village. She was a solid, loyal-looking person. And her husband was the most successful of the local winemakers, which gave her social standing and influence. With Marie and Paul on the way down from Paris with Arnaud, it was important for Lucie to put on a display to show her guests when they arrived how little she minded them being there, how happy she was in general, how
A fortnight later, Arnaud carried Lucie into the surgery because by then she had got so weak and frail she could barely walk alone.
The doctor was appalled. He stood up very quickly from behind his desk and his face was white as the wall.
‘She’s done this to herself,’ Arnaud whispered in the doctor’s ear. ‘She got some news she didn’t like and this was how she responded. Her sister in Paris has a son. She didn’t know.’
‘When did she last eat?’ asked the doctor, bending down beside his patient at once to check the pulse.
Lucie’s mouth was dry and cracked at the corners. When she opened her mouth, the cuts opened and bled.
‘My husband has a son,’ she said. ‘He’s coming here in the summer to stay with us.’
‘Of course it’s not my son,’ he hissed at his wife while the doctor stood as if to intervene. ‘You’re talking nonsense , Lucie. If you had something in your stomach…’
Arnaud picked up the pills from the chemist and he sat with Lucie in the car while she swilled them back. Then he drove his family back to the chateau and for a few days things were back to normal. Every Friday the doctor came to the chateau to see Lucie and he would adjust the medication as was required.
Lucie took her pills and she got a lot of rest. She kept Baseema close to her, day and night. Soon things began to feel better. It was June. It was possible that it might even be fun to have a little boy about the chateau. Someone else for Lucie to mother as perfectly as she did Baseema, another reason to get the chateau shipshape as soon as she possibly could.
Lucie had Baseema. Marie had Paul. Fair’s fair, said Lucie to herself as she hung up the bed sheets on the line in the garden. Fair’s fair, she sang to herself as she went back into the cool of her house and busied herself, humming , and made the lunch.
It wasn’t the nicest thing she had done, telling Arnaud about the doctor’s Friday advances but she was so convinced of his affair with Marie and it guaranteed her the physical freedom she needed from him while ensuring he remained in the study.
She made a room for Marie beside the study; the children would sleep on the first floor with her. Lucie told Dr Clareon when he came the next Friday to check her medication that her husband now knew all about what he had done to his patient in his little chair and that all that would have to stop and would never happen again. Dr Clareon looked disappointed and he breathed heavily when he checked her pulse and her blood pressure, but otherwise she was left alone.
Which meant that Lucie had almost everything she needed. She had her home and she had her child. She began to put on weight. From now on her husband and the amorous doctor would leave her alone. She would never be tampered with again.
July arrived with a heatwave. Marie and Paul were due to come on the day of the burning plane ceremony.
All was in perfect order. Lucie was looking forward to the village gathering up on the heath and she sang to herself in the kitchen as she bent over the sideboard pounding aubergines to a pulp. She spread these on the pastry bases. Then she sliced potatoes into flakes, which she lay in a dish she had rubbed with garlic. Then she poured milk and cream over them.
At eleven, Veronique from the house closest to the chateau came with a basket of seventeen eggs for the crème caramel. Veronique was shaped like a goose; long and stiffly necked, with a wide saggy behind. But Lucie had picked Veronique because she was more intelligent, it seemed, than most of the women in the village. She was a solid, loyal-looking person. And her husband was the most successful of the local winemakers, which gave her social standing and influence. With Marie and Paul on the way down from Paris with Arnaud, it was important for Lucie to put on a display to show her guests when they arrived how little she minded them being there, how happy she was in general, how
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