Coastliners - A Novel Part 22

Apparently she had trusted to the Saint for contraception. "Besides," she said, "I thought it couldn't happen the first time." It had only happened once, I gathered. He'd made her feel as if it were her fault. Before, there had been nothing but kisses, secret rides on his motorbike, a feeling of delicious rebellion.

"He was so nice at first," she said wistfully. "Everyone else a.s.sumed I was going to marry Xavier and be just a fisherman's wife, and get fat, and wear a scarf around my head like my mother." She wiped at her eyes with the corner of the napkin. "Everything's ruined now. I said we could run away, to Paris maybe. We could get a flat together. I could get a job. And he just-" She pushed back her hair listlessly. "He just laughed."

She had told her parents straightaway, on the advice of Pere Alban. Surprisingly it had been quiet, fussy Charlotte who had raged the most; Omer La Patate had simply sat down at his table like a man in shock. Xavier would have to be told, Charlotte had said; there had been a contract that could now no longer be honored. Mercedes sobbed quietly and hopelessly as she told me about it. "I don't want to go to the mainland. But I'll have to now. No one will want me here, after what's happened."

"Omer could talk to Joel's father," I suggested.

She shook her head. "I don't want Joel. I never did." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "And I'm not going back home," she said tearfully. "They'll make me see Xavier if I go back. And I'd rather die die."

In the distance came the sound of the ferry's whistle. Brismand 1 Brismand 1 was leaving. was leaving.

"Well, you're here until tomorrow, at least," I said crisply. "Let's try and find you somewhere to stay."

6.

I found Toinette Prossage in her garden, hoeing bulbs of wild garlic out of the sandy soil. She nodded to me in a friendly fashion as she straightened up, her face shaded not by the quichenotte quichenotte this morning, but by a wide straw hat tied at the side of her head with a red ribbon. On the turf roof of her cottage, a goat was cropping gra.s.s. this morning, but by a wide straw hat tied at the side of her head with a red ribbon. On the turf roof of her cottage, a goat was cropping gra.s.s.

"So, what do you want?"

"Do I need an ulterior motive?" I brought out the big bag of pastries I had bought in La Houssiniere and held it out to her. "I thought you might like some pain au chocolat pain au chocolat."

Toinette took the bag and inspected the contents greedily. "You're a good girl," she declared. "It's a bribe, of course. Go on, you've got my attention. At least for as long as it takes me to finish this."

I grinned as she started on the first pain au chocolat pain au chocolat, and as she ate I told her about Mercedes. "I thought you might be able to look after her here for a while," I said. "Till the dust settles."

Toinette considered a cinammon-sugar roll. Her black eyes shone keenly under the brim of her hat. "Such a tiresome girl, my granddaughter," she said, with a sigh. "I knew she'd be trouble from the day she was born. I'm too old for all that now. These cakes are very nice, though," she added, biting into the roll with gusto.

"You can have them all," I told her.

"Heh."

"Omer wouldn't have told you about Mercedes," I ventured.

"Because of the money, heh?"

"Maybe." Toinette lives frugally, but there are rumors of hidden wealth. The old woman does nothing to confirm or deny these, but her silence is generally taken as a kind of admission. Omer loves his mother dearly, but is secretly dismayed at her longevity. Toinette is aware of this, and plans to live forever. She cackled gleefuly. "Thinks I'll disinherit him if there's a scandal, heh? Poor Omer. There's more of me in that girl than there is of anyone else, I'll tell you. I was the bane of my parents."

"You've not changed much, then."

"Heh!" She inspected the paper bag again. "Nut bread. I always liked nut bread. Good thing I've got all my teeth, heh? It's better with honey, though. Or a little goat's cheese."

"I'll bring some over."

Toinette looked at me for a moment with cynical amus.e.m.e.nt. "Bring the girl over here with you, while you're at it. I expect she'll wear me to a splinter. At my age I need all the rest I can get. The young don't understand that. All they think about is their own affairs."

I wasn't fooled by this pretense at frailty. Within ten minutes of her arrival I imagined that Mercedes would be put to work cleaning, cooking, and tidying the house. It would probably do her good.

Toinette read my thoughts. "I'll soon take her mind off things," she announced imperiously. "And if that boy comes sniffing round-heh!" She made an airy gesture with the nut loaf, looking like the world's oldest fairy G.o.dmother. "I'll give him what for. I'll show him what a Salannaise is made of."

I left Mercedes with her grandmother. It was past one o'clock, and the sun was at its hottest. Les Salants was deserted in its gla.s.sy glare: shutters closed, only the tiniest sliver of shadow at the foot of the whitewashed walls. I would have liked to lie down quietly in the shade of a parasol, perhaps with a long drink, but the boys would be home-at least until the games arcade opened again-and after Brismand's visit, I did not trust myself near my father. So instead I turned toward the dunes. It would be cooler above La Goulue, and at this time of day, free of tourists. The tide was high; the sea brilliantly clear. The wind would clear my head.

I could not help looking in at the blockhaus blockhaus on my way. It was deserted as before. But La Goulue was not entirely deserted. A single figure stood by the water, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. on my way. It was deserted as before. But La Goulue was not entirely deserted. A single figure stood by the water, a cigarette clamped between his teeth.

He ignored my greeting, and when I came to stand beside him he turned his face away, though not quickly enough to hide his reddened eyes. The news about Mercedes had traveled fast.

"I wish they were dead," said Damien in a low voice. "I wish the sea would just come in and swallow the whole island. Wash everything clean again. No people at all." He picked up a stone from between his feet and pegged it as hard as he could at the oncoming waves.

"It may feel like that now-" I began, but he interrupted me.

"They should never have built that reef. They should have left the sea to it. They thought they were being so clever. Making money. Laughing at the Houssins. All of them too wrapped up in thinking about money to see what was going on right under their noses." He kicked at the sand with the toe of his boot. "Lacroix would never have looked at her twice if it hadn't been for all this, would he? He'd have been gone by the end of the summer. There wouldn't have been anything to keep him here. But he thought he could make money money out of us." I put my hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. "He pretended to be my friend. Both of them did. Using me to send messages. Spying for them in the village. I thought if I could do something for her-then maybe she-" out of us." I put my hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. "He pretended to be my friend. Both of them did. Using me to send messages. Spying for them in the village. I thought if I could do something for her-then maybe she-"

"Damien. It isn't your fault. You weren't to know."

"But it is is-" Damien broke off suddenly and picked up another stone. "Oh, what do you know, heh? You're not even a proper Salannaise. You'll do all right, whatever happens. Your sister's a Brismand, isn't she?"

"I don't see what-"

"Just leave me alone, okay? It isn't your concern."

"Yes it is." I took his arm. "Damien, I thought we were friends."

"That's what I thought about Joel," said Damien sullenly. "Rouget tried to warn me. I should have listened to him, heh?" He picked up another stone and threw it at the oncoming surf. "I tried to tell myself it was my father's fault. I mean, that business with the lobsters and everything. Taking up with the Bastonnets. After everything they'd done to our family. Pretending things were all right again, just because of a good catch or two."

"And then there was Mercedes," I said gently.

Damien nodded.

"The motorcycle gang," I said. "Was that you? Did you tell them about the money? To hit back at the Bastonnets? Because you were jealous of Xavier?"

Damien nodded miserably. "Xavier wasn't supposed to get hurt, though. I thought he'd just hand over the cash. But after what happened, Joel said I might as well throw in with his gang; I had nothing left to lose."

No wonder he'd looked so unhappy. "And you've kept this to yourself all this time? You didn't tell anyone?"

"Rouget. You can tell him stuff, sometimes."

"What did he say?"

"He told me to come clean with my dad and the Bastonnets. Said things would just get worse if I didn't. I said he was crazy; my dad would have kicked the c.r.a.p out of me if I'd told him the half of what I'd done."

I smiled. "I think maybe he was right, you know."

Damien shrugged listlessly. "Maybe. It's too late now."

I left him on the beach and returned the way I came. When I looked back, the lone figure was kicking sand into the sea with a furious energy, as if by so doing he might force all of the beach back onto La Jetee, where it belonged.

7.

When I got home, Adrienne was there with Marin and the boys, just finishing lunch. They looked up as I came in. GrosJean did not; instead he kept his head lowered over his plate, finishing his salad with slow, methodical movements.

I made coffee, feeling like an intruder. There was silence as I drank it, as if my presence had killed the conversation. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? My sister and her family, GrosJean and his boys, and myself, the outsider, the unwanted guest whom no one quite dared eject? I could feel my sister watching me, her blue island eyes narrowed. From time to time, one of the boys whispered something too low for me to make out.

"Uncle Claude said he'd spoken to you," said Marin at last.

"I'm glad he did," I said. "Or were you planning to tell me in your own time?"

Adrienne glanced at GrosJean. "It's up to Papa to decide what he does with his own land."

"We'd discussed it before," said Marin. "GrosJean knew he couldn't afford to develop the property. He thought it would make more sense to let us do that."

"Us?"

"Claude and I. We've been discussing a joint venture."

I looked at my father, seemingly absorbed in mopping oil from the bottom of the salad bowl. "Did you know about this, Father?"

Silence. GrosJean gave no sign of even having heard.

"You're just upsetting him, Mado," murmured Adrienne.

"What about me?" My voice was rising. "Didn't anyone think to consult me? Or was that what Brismand meant when he said he wanted me on his side? Is that what he wanted? To make sure I turned a blind eye when you signed away the land for nothing?"

Marin gave me a meaningful look. "Maybe we could discuss this some other-"

"Was it for the boys, is that it?" Anger fluttered inside me like a bird in a cage. "Is that what you bribed him with? GrosJean and P't.i.tJean, back from the dead?" I glanced at my father, but he had gone away inside himself, staring placidly into s.p.a.ce, as if none of us were there.

Adrienne looked at me reproachfully. "Oh Mado. You've seen him with the boys. They're therapy for him. They've done him so much good already."

"And the land was no use," said Marin. "We all thought it would make more sense to concentrate on the house, to make it into a proper family summer home, for all of us to enjoy."

"Think of what it would mean to Franck and Loic," said Adrienne. "A lovely holiday home by the seaside-"

"And a sound investment," added Marin, "for when-you know."

"An inheritance," explained Adrienne. "For the children."

"But it isn't a holiday home," I protested, feeling a little sick.

My sister leaned toward me, her face shining. "We hope it will be, Mado," she said. "The fact is, we've asked Papa to come home with us in September. We want him to live with us all year round."

I left as I had come, with my case and my art folder, but this time I did not make for the village. Instead I took the other path, the one that led to the blockhaus blockhaus above La Goulue. above La Goulue.

Flynn still wasn't there. I let myself into the house and lay down on the old cot, feeling suddenly very isolated, very far from home. At that moment I would have given almost anything to be back in the Paris flat with the bra.s.serie outside and the noise from the Boulevard Saint-Michel drifting up on the hot gray air. Perhaps Flynn had been right, I thought. Perhaps it was time to think of moving on.

I could see quite clearly now how my father had been manipulated. But he had made his choice; I would not stop him. If he wanted to live with Adrienne, he could. The house in Les Salants would become a holiday home. I would be welcome to stay whenever I liked, of course, and Adrienne would feign surprise when I stayed away. She and Marin would spend every holiday there. Maybe they would rent it out-of-season. I had a sudden image of myself and Adrienne as children, quarreling over some toy, breaking its limbs between us, its stuffing shedding unheeded as we fought each other for possession. No, I told myself. I didn't need the house.

I put my art folder against the wall and my case under the packing-crate bed, then went out again onto the dune. By now the sun had mellowed a little, and the tide was going out. Far across the bay, a single sail wavered against the sun's reflection, far away beyond the protective ring of La Jetee. I could not make out its shape with any accuracy, or imagine who could be sailing so far out at this time. I began to make my way down toward La Goulue, occasionally glancing at the distant sail. Birds yarked at me as they wheeled. It was difficult in the troubling light to identify it correctly, no one from the village in any case. No Salannais would be so ham-handed with his steering, tacking feebly, losing the wind, finally ending up adrift, sail loose and flapping, as the current bore the craft away.

As I came closer to the side of the cliff I saw Aristide watching from his usual place. Lolo was sitting next to him with a cooler of fruit for sale and a pair of binoculars around his neck.

"Who is that, anyway? He'll end up on La Jetee at this rate."

The old man nodded. Disapproval lined his face. Not for the careless sailor-in the islands you have to learn to look after yourself, and to ask for help is a shameful thing-but for the good boat left adrift. People come and go. Property endures.

"You don't think it's someone from La Houssiniere?"

"Neh. Even an Houssin knows not to go out that far. Some tourist, perhaps, with more money than sense. Or something adrift. You can't be sure at this distance."

I looked down onto the crowded beach. Gabi and Laet.i.tia were there. Laet.i.tia was sitting on one of the old pilings at the side of the cliff.

"D'you want a melon slice?" suggested Lolo, looking enviously down at Laet.i.tia. "I've only got two left."

"Okay." I smiled at him. "I'll take them both."

"Zen!"

The melon was sweet and good against my dry throat. Away from Adrienne, I found my appet.i.te had returned, and I ate slowly, sitting in the shade of the winding cliff-side path. I thought the unidentified sail looked a little closer now, though that was probably a trick of the light.

"I'm sure I know that boat," said Lolo, squinting through his binoculars. "I've been keeping an eye on it for ages."

"Let me see," I said, taking a few steps toward him. Lolo handed over the binoculars and I looked through them at the distant sail.

It was typically red, quadrangular, and bore no visible markings. The boat itself-long and slim, little more in fact than a skiff-was low in the water, as if it had been flooded. My heart gave a sudden lurch.

"D'you recognize it?" urged Lolo.

I nodded. "I think so. It looks like Flynn's boat."

"Are you sure? We could ask Aristide. He knows all the boats. He'll be able to tell for sure."

The old man looked through the binoculars in silence for a few moments. "It's him, heh," he declared at last. "Far out, and drifting, but I'd lay money on it."