As she hung up the phone, she felt a great weight lift off her. She had bought herself some time. It might only have been worth a few coins in a begging bowl, but at least it was something, like a cigarette and a glass of rum.
Étienne was sleeping, or pretending to sleep with an arm over his face and his legs crossed. While he was at her house, part of the furniture like an insect trapped in cut resin, anything was possible. But now, in the middle of this boundless freedom, she wasn’t so sure. She felt like a young bride on her wedding night. She hardly recognised this man who had shut himself away in a semblance of sleep. Through the wall, a fuzzy noise was coming from Agnès’s TV.
‘Étienne, are you asleep?’
‘No.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I’m happy here, now.’
‘Let’s leave, Étienne. We’ll go wherever you want, Morocco …’
‘I was inside for a year there, there’s no way I want to go back. Why are the pair of you so fixated on making me leave?’
‘It’s not the same with your daughter.’
‘Listen, Éliette. I abandoned my daughter when she was a year old. I owe her. I can’t have done all of this for nothing! I want to do something good for once in my life, for her. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have never had a chance in life. I want to give her that. And then, yes, we can do whatever you want. I like you a lot, Éliette, I really do.’
‘Well then, leave those filthy drugs with her and let’s be happy! You’ll not want for anything, you—’
The telephone rang. The inspector’s voice on the line was as disconcerting as his cross-eyed gaze, but he had only good news to impart: everything had been put back in its proper place at her home and the case would soon be closed. There was no doubt over what had happened: a moment of madness that had ended in tragedy, and which they would do their best to keep out of the local papers. A cleaning company would be sent in to sort everything out the next morning, and her phone line would be reconnected as soon as possible.
Speaking of which, had she by any chance thought of any reason why Monsieur Jaubert had cut the line? … No, never mind. Ah, one other thing: they had found a rope and a pair of blood-soaked trousers in the dustbin, ring any bells? … No. Not to worry, they could talk about all that when they came to sign their statements the next morning. A formality. With that, he wished her a good evening and advised her to try the Relais de l’Empereur’s excellent côte de boeuf.
Éliette could not decide whether to tell Étienne about the inspector’s discovery. It was silly of them not to have told the truth, but when they had discussed doing so before she went to the police station, Étienne had been categorically against it. They would have asked why Paul had singled him out, and he was anxious to avoid having the spotlight turned on him, given his past. How could they have been so stupid? He had reacted as if he was guilty of something, out of habit, no doubt. By doing his best to stay out of it, he had achieved the exact opposite. Tomorrow, the police would be bound to find this omission suspicious.
‘So?’
‘Everything’s fine.’
‘It doesn’t look fine.’
‘It is. But they found your trousers and the rope in the bin.’
‘Shit!’
‘We’ll have to tell the truth when we go tomorrow. Just tell them you were in shock. You haven’t done anything wrong – you saved me from being raped!’
‘You don’t know what they’re like. Anyone who’s done time is guilty in their eyes. I can see him coming at me with his wonky eye, asking “Why this?” and “Why that?” What if they find my fingerprints on the car? That fucker’s sniffed me out like a dog. I’ll get five years, at least!’
‘You’re behaving like a child. Trust me, for goodness’ sake! It can’t go on like this. You’re innocent. You saved me!’
‘I don’t want to go back there, Éliette. I can’t face it!’
‘Then you have to do as I say, darling. Enough of all this, enough of being scared!’
Étienne lit a cigarette. It tasted like dust.
‘But what about the briefcase? … And Agnès?’
‘I’ll talk to her. I’ll see to everything. You have a rest.’
‘No, I should tell her. But yes, I agree with everything else. Let’s do that.’
When Étienne had closed the door behind him, Éliette let her head fall back on the pillows, a faint smile on her lips. Cronus was devouring his children.
*
The section of McDonald’s drinking straw and the razor blade lay across one another on the still powdery surface of the pocket mirror. Agnès ran her finger over it and rubbed the remnants into her gums. There was almost nothing left of what she had taken with her to the coast. The local anaesthetic did not produce the desired effect. It would have had to reach her heart for that, a heart as crumpled as Éliette’s neck.
She grabbed the remote and cut off the dull stream of local news.
‘What the fuck am I even doing here?’
Without admitting it to herself, she had spent almost the past two hours listening out for noises from the adjoining room. She had heard murmuring, then a phone ringing, and then nothing. It was the silence that was driving her mad. They were fucking, she was sure they were fucking. At that age, you didn’t cry out or moan; you did it on the quiet, so Death didn’t hear you.
‘Idiot! I’m such a fucking idiot!’
Agnès had never been able to lay into anyone but herself. It was handy always to have your victim within arm’s reach. She must have got this from her father. Him, in there! … The years had kept them apart, and now a miserable wall of brick and plaster stood between them. The old slag had won, with her wrinkles, her stupid little car, her horrible house and a future built on bus passes. It was quite funny when you thought about it. The pair of them could snuff it under a heap of cross-stitched cushions for all she cared! Let him suffocate while he pounded away at her ancient, hairless pussy.
She, on the other hand, had her whole life ahead of her, though it hardly looked like a happily ever after! She would fetch the damned case and get as far away from her shitty past as she possibly could. Her mother had died of an overdose when she was thirteen, and these days her father could barely keep his head above water. So let him die, let him suffer! Life had cheated her from the word go, made her think she’d be left with only the crumbs. Oh, no! She was going to gorge on it, and feed her leftovers to everyone at her feet. Bastard! Piece of shit! Father, why have you forsaken me? …
She spat out the nail of her right index finger at the same time as her ‘yes’ in reply to the tentative knocks at her door. Étienne’s face looked like a mop that had not been wrung out properly.
‘All right?’
‘Better than you, by the looks of it.’
‘We’re going down for dinner.’
‘I’m not hungry. Unless they have snails. I can’t eat anything but snails.’
‘Agnès … We’ve got a bit of a problem with the police. They found … Anyway, the point is, it’s nothing to do with you. Tomorrow Éliette’s going to give you some money and—’
‘And I’ll get married and have lots of children. Are you taking the piss? What about the briefcase?’
‘We’d do best to forget about it. We can build new lives for ourselves.’
‘Sure, crummy little lives, while two kilos of perfectly good coke sits under the compost heap … Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?’
‘I swear I’ll help you! We need to put an end to all this.’
‘You’re not exactly a walking advert for sex with the elderly. It’s made you soft in the head. So you’re trying to ditch me again?’
‘Agnès …!’
‘She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, the old slapper! You’ve fucked around long enough, and now you want to leave me out in the cold! Well, you can’t! Think about what you’re going to get from her. A wheelchair and a little handjob at Chr
istmas. You deserve better, Daddy dear, and so do I! I’ll take your fucking case and cart it around with me wherever I go, cross borders with it, no problem. I’ll take it to China if I have to! I won’t let you leave me twice, you old bastard. We’re joined together, you and me. Joined!’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘We keep a low profile. You play along and keep your mouth shut. Later on, I’ll go and get the case. We meet at the station. You buy two tickets to Rome – I know people there; the addresses are in my bag. Éliette will go back to being Éliette, and we … we’ll carry on being what we are. You can’t turn me down. You can’t do anything except love me.’
‘Do me a line.’
In a glass globe, everything is back to front. The snow always falls the right way.
‘What? You haven’t got snails?’
‘No, Mademoiselle.’
‘Even tinned ones?’
‘Certainly not! Everything’s freshly made here.’
‘Fine, I’ll have an ice cream then.’
‘For your starter?’
‘An ice cream, I don’t care what flavour but with Chantilly cream – and lots of it!’
‘Very good, Mademoiselle.’
There were very few people in the hotel dining room, but those who overheard Agnès’s order held their forks in mid-air. Éliette and Étienne hid behind their menus.
‘What? I can order an ice cream if I want, can’t I?’
‘Don’t you think you might be overdoing it a bit?’
‘No, I don’t, Daddykins. All I want is an ice cream and to get out of this hole as soon as possible. Don’t you want that too, Éliette?’
‘You read my mind. And you didn’t even need to ask your mirror on the wall.’
‘Oh but I did ask. Mirror, mirror … Mirrors covered in snow … Whatever. The pair of you can do what you like, but I’m getting out of here, OK? I’m moving on. Éliette, if you’ll take me back to fetch the case, I’ll disappear. How does that sound?’
‘What about your statement to the police tomorrow?’
‘You can write me a sick note.’
Under the table, Éliette’s hands were strangling her napkin. Étienne seemed unusually interested in the ceiling mouldings.
‘Fine. Let’s go straight away.’
‘Great! I’ll go and get my bag. Bye bye, Daddykins, and don’t worry, I’m kosher. As soon as the deal’s done, you’ll be getting your hands on your pension.’
The two women rose, as did the eyebrows of their fellow diners. When the waiter brought over a sorbet dripping with Chantilly and two vegetable terrines, there was no one left at the table.
‘What’s this factory?’
The Aixam’s headlights swept over the towers of Cruas nuclear power station.
‘A nuclear plant.’
‘Why have they painted a naked kid playing with water on it?’
‘Probably to make us all think the atom is perfectly safe.’
‘It’s dumb. Kids aren’t afraid of atoms; they’re all over the place.’
‘What are they afraid of then? The big, bad wolf?’
‘No. Their parents.’
The road slithered snake-like through the countryside. All they could see was blue or black, as if these were the only two colours left on earth. The journey seemed to go on for ever, the little car making painfully slow progress. Agnès never stopped crossing and uncrossing her legs, nervously drumming her fingers on the dashboard.
At last the house appeared at the end of the track. It looked like an abandoned dog. Éliette barely recognised it. In the space of a few hours, the haven of peace she had pampered like a pet all her life had become ‘the murder house’ that people would drive past quickly, crossing themselves, before it became derelict because nobody wanted to buy it. Despite the reassuringly thick walls, misfortune had found its way in and laid its cursed eggs. She could not live here any more. For a split second, Éliette had a vision, blurred by the tears welling in her eyes, of Charles with his chest bared, mixing cement, and then of Sylvie and Marc spraying one another with the hose, and it all disappeared for ever when she cut the headlights.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing. I’ve just turned a page, that’s all. Be quick. Go and find your filthy stuff and I’ll drop you at the station. I never want to see you again.’
‘No danger of that!’
Agnès got out of the car and disappeared into the porch. Éliette had lost her home, her memories, but she had gained Étienne. When he had returned to their room earlier, having seen reason, her heart had leapt in her chest. She was sure it would work out fine with the police. It was the memory of his prison days that had made him lose his head. He had stopped Paul from assaulting her. They would understand. It was all just an unfortunate combination of circumstances. Of course nothing would ever be the same again, but there were still so many pages of life to get through. Charles would have given her his blessing. As for Agnès’s departure, taking the briefcase with her, she couldn’t have wished for more. Oh, she didn’t despise the poor girl, but truth be told she didn’t give a damn what became of her. Sometimes, only selfishness can save you, even the good Lord knows that, He who condemns suicide.
Agnès reappeared, briefcase in hand.
‘You haven’t got a cloth, have you? This thing stinks! You country people are unbelievable. You want to grow flowers so you let a pile of crap sit rotting right under your windows!’
‘That’s exactly why the flowers smell good. Here’s a cloth.’
Agnès rubbed it over the case, cursing filthy nature for being full of dead creatures, poison mushrooms, stinging nettles and insects that bite.
‘Hey! Look at that! … A dead crow!’
Éliette jumped at the sight of the bird Paul had nailed to the door.
‘Leave that! Let’s go.’
The lights on the dashboard made it feel like they were inside an aquarium. They could have been at the bottom of a lake, were it not for the Aixam’s throaty cough.
‘Agnès?’
‘Yes.’
‘If you love your father, I think it would be best if you didn’t see him again for a little while.’
‘If I love my father? … And what if he loved me?’
‘Of course he loves you, the same way any father loves his child …’
‘The same way? Or … some other way?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Oh, poor Éliette! We’ve moved on from the days of steam engines. Know what we were doing when he came to my room earlier? … He was fucking me, and we were going for it like you’ve never gone for it in your life!’
‘Agnès!’
‘And not for the first time either! … Two months it’s been going on. Well, that’s shut you up, hasn’t it, love? It’s not our fault, you know; we didn’t find out we were father and daughter till it was too late. Life’s a bitch like that, isn’t it? But at the end of the day, if we love each other, who’s to judge us? Don’t worry – we’re not planning on having kids together.’
‘You’re lying. You’re just saying it because …’
‘Because it’s true, just like the fact he’s waiting for me at the station so we can fuck off together, somewhere, anywhere, who gives a shit.’
‘I don’t believe you!’
‘You don’t want to believe it, but it’s the truth! ’Cos I’ve got something you ain’t. So you’ve got your house and your little car, and you smile away like a happy little garden gnome, but I make him hard. HARD!’
The entire night sky burst out laughing in Éliette’s face; the universe had creased up, the trees were in stitches, the river beneath them giggling between the rocks, and for good reason! Watching from his cloud, Charles himself was doubled up with laughter, slapping his thighs as the little car kept dead ahead while the road bent round.
‘For Christ’s sake, what the fuck are you doing?’
Just in time, Agnès grabbed the steering whee
l and slammed her foot on the brake. The Aixam swerved, grazed one tree and came to a standstill against the trunk of another. The night sky had fallen silent. A red-faced moon tried to hide its shame behind the clouds.
‘Jesus! You could have killed us! Éliette …?’
She was slumped over the steering wheel, her shoulders shaking. Agnès rubbed her elbow.
‘Can’t even kill yourself properly in this stupid fucking car.’
She got out. The ground swayed beneath her feet and she fell onto the grass. Never before had the silence seemed so full, an amalgam of thousands of tiny sounds: a falling leaf, a crawling insect, a passing breeze, a breaking bud, the water bubbling away below … It amounted to almost nothing, with darkness all around, but she was alive. Then came the sound of the car door slamming and the sight of Éliette, as she opened her eyes; Éliette lifting a rock above her head, a rock as big as the moon.
Montélimar station, unlike that of Perpignan, is less the beating heart of the city and more its back end. In a shady corner of the concourse, Étienne was beginning to regret not having sided with Éliette. A tramp with a mangy dog and a nasty stench had just squeezed ten francs and a cigarette out of him. The effect of the two lines of coke he had done in Agnès’s bedroom had given way to a frightening sense of disarray. Inside his head was an incredibly complex maze which he weaved through frantically like a lab rat. The state he was in was not wholly down to what he had taken. Having spent three-quarters of his life high, until prison brought him down again, Étienne knew exactly what to expect from a hit. No, more worrying than drugs was the unbelievable addiction to life that paradoxically kept pushing him to get into deeper and deeper shit. His record was hard to top. He had become a kind of world champion of failure, a haggard wayfarer of the road of relationships. Éliette? … Agnès? … Queen of hearts? … Queen of clubs? … Though he knew it was stupid to dither at life’s crossroads since the road taken must always be the right one, the others having become mere figments of the imagination, still he could not make up his mind. Escaping, anywhere, but on his own, seemed the wisest option. So what if some called that cowardice. No one but him was in his shoes …
Too Close to the Edge Page 9
