The
children spent that afternoon playing outside. The whirling
colours of their clothes as they ran, their shouts and their laughter,
brightened the large courtyard which was closed in by the old stone
buildings. Today their mothers had called them in early. It was much
too cold outside. Now, inside, in the warmth, in front of a big bowl of
hot chocolate, they watched T.V. or played card games on the floor.
Soon, in the kitchen, they would warm their hands over the stove and
feel the hot steam of the soup on their faces. They’d be able
to draw
themselves on the misted windows.
There was only one child left in the courtyard, a little girl, eight or
nine years old. She was leaning against the trunk of a tree. From time
to time she hopped from one foot to the other to keep herself warm. Her
slight body was wrapped up in a tartan coat. It was navy blue and
criss- crossed with fine red and yellow lines. A few blonde curls crept
out from under her woolen cap. The big sky blue pom-pom bounced
frantically up and down to the unforeseeable movements of her head. A
big hole in her woolen stockings revealed a bit of grazed knee that had
already dried into a crust. Didier was Mister Wolf and he’d
been
chasing her. She was running very fast, trying to reach the oak tree
which was Home, the same one she was standing under now.
She’d stumbled
over a root which had swollen up the icy ground. She was caught of
course, but it didn’t count. The cries from the four corners
of the
courtyard died down when the others saw that something had happened.
They all gathered around her and Didier. Didier was helping her get up.
‘Come on, Valérie, don’t cry!’
But Valérie couldn’t stop. Her knee was stinging
and it was her brand
new stockings, her first pair. Tonight, when her mum got home,
she’d
get a scolding for sure. Can’t you watch where
you’re going? Well, my
dear, it’s the first and last time I buy you stockings. From
now on you
can just wear socks like everybody else. Stockings! And what next?
But it wasn’t true. All the other girls, they had stockings.
It was the
fashion this winter. But it didn’t matter; if her mum really
didn’t
want to buy her a new pair she would ask Santa Claus. It was nearly
Christmas anyway, there were already garlands in the streets and in the
shops. It wasn’t so much the thought of not getting a new
pair of
stockings, that wasn’t so bad, but the thought of her mother
scolding
her, especially since she hadn’t done it on purpose. When her
mother
scolded her everything fell down, sad and faraway, and she started to
cry, and the more she cried the more her mother became angry and
threatened to smack her. When she saw her mother take the strap out of
the drawer she would stop crying. She’d go and pick up her
teddy bear
who was sleeping on her bed and bury her face in his fur to muffle the
sobs. It passed.
The children quickly forgot the incident which had interrupted their
game. They made a circle and chose another Wolf because Didier had
wanted to stay with Valérie. A few moments later the same
excited cries
of ‘What’s the time, Mister Wolf?’ filled
the courtyard.
Valérie hobbled to the nearest bench and sat down next to
Didier. She
was very fond of Didier and Didier was very fond of her too.
That’s why
she’d been laughing so wildly when he’d chased her,
and that’s why
she’d tripped over. Because she was so happy. If felt nice
when her
thigh brushed against Didier’s. Her knee didn’t
hurt so much now and
the prospect of her mother’s scolding had faded into the
distance.
Didier was always so gentle with her, he wasn’t like the
other boys who
pestered you all the time and showed off. Didier was soft.
They were often seen together on the way to school, like today, when
there were no classes. Sometimes the others made fun of them; they
chanted ‘Didier Valérie, Valérie
Didier.’ One of the other boys had
carved D4V on the bench where they were sitting. Not that it mattered,
they were stupid anyway, they didn’t understand anything
about
anything. They didn’t understand for example that
Valérie would have
liked to have Didier for a big brother.
Valérie was an only child and Didier had a four year old
little sister.
He played with her, but it wasn’t the same as with
Valérie who was
exactly two years younger than him. Next year he was going to high
school; he’d have to go by bus, and then there’d be
homework to do in
the afternoons. He wouldn’t have any more time to play
outside. Valérie
had a heavy heart when she thought about it, and at night, before going
to sleep, she also said a prayer for Didier, so that he
wouldn’t have
any homework next year. Who knows, she might only see him on Sundays at
11 o’clock mass? Didier was an altar boy. His shining white
robe made
his face seem even more tanned, like the colour of caramel toffee. It
she’d been his sister she would have had that colour too. It
ran in the
family. Not like her, who lost all her colour and freckles as soon as
the school year started again. And then his mum was so nice too, nice
like Didier.
One day his mother had invited her to have tea with Didier and
Veronique. Didier had asked her and she had said yes. The three
children played Snakes and Ladders while Madame Vernier kneaded some
dough, her hands covered in flour. Her belly was all puffed up and
Didier said he was going to have a little brother soon. Veronique said
a little sister. They had enjoyed playing but Veronique kept cheating.
She didn’t know how to count and you always had to make the
moves for
her. Valérie would have gladly gone back there, and Madame
Vernier had
said to her, ‘You’ll come back to see us,
won’t you, Valérie?’ But her
mother, noticing that Valérie was only picking at the dinner
she’d
prepared, began to question her as to why she wasn’t hungry
and how
she’d spent the afternoon. Valérie had told her:
how she’d played such
good games, that she’d eaten really good apple pie, that
Madame Vernier
had a big belly, and she asked how you have babies and how
they’re
born, but her mother had answered that it wasn’t the time to
explain,
that from now on she must remember not to go disturbing people and that
she could just as well wait for her at home. Valérie
defended herself.
‘It was Madame Vernier who invited me, she doesn’t
mind having other
children, Veronique always has girlfriends visiting her and Madame
Vernier told me I could come back.’ But she saw it was
useless to
insist. Her mother had said no, full stop. Just the same, it would have
been so good if she’d been able to go back there. She
wouldn’t be here
now, all by herself, stuck under this tree.
She watched the windows light up one by one, the people crossing the
courtyard, going home. They walked quickly, without lifting their
heads, the collars of their coats pulled up to protect themselves
against the bitter cold. When she saw someone Valérie hid
behind the
tree. She didn’t want to be seen, and felt that she was
somehow in the
wrong, that it wasn’t normal for a girl to be still outside
all by
herself, in such weather and at such a time. Her mother sometimes spoke
of the rough kids, the kids that roamed the streets in rags. They used
swear words and played cruel tricks. They were bad and never turned out
well. Valérie was well dressed, well brought up, always had
enough to
eat, and yet when she saw that she was the only one still outside in
the cold as the night was falling she felt she wasn’t like
she should
be, so she hid. But where else could she go? At home she felt more
alone still, completely alone. Besides, she was scared, whereas here,
outside, she felt more secure. There were always people passing, and if
she’d started to scream someone would have heard her, people
would have
opened their windows, they would have seen everything, nobody would
have dared do anything to her. But at home it wasn’t like
that, she
could be hurt, killed, and nobody would have known, or only much too
late, when she was dead. And yet it wasn’t right to stay
outside. If
only it had started to rain. Then she wouldn’t have had any
choice but
to go inside, and she wouldn’t have been standing there,
deciding
between her fear and her feeling of doing something wrong.
In Didier’s room the light was on. She felt an immense shame
come over
her. What if Didier opened his window to close the shutters? What if he
saw her standing in the middle of the courtyard, saw that she
wasn’t
like the other kids, that she wasn’t normal, that there was
something
funny about her? Then maybe he wouldn’t want to play with her
anymore.
Suddenly her mind was made up.
She climbed the two flights of stairs as fast as she could. The key was
under the doormat. She lifted up a corner, delicately, with the tip of
her fingers, as if she was holding a filthy rag. She hated touching it.
It was rough and dusty, it stung. That was why she never hid the key
properly but placed it just under the edge instead of putting it right
in the middle like her mother had showed her.
She went in and locked the door.
It was much better in here. The whole flat was in dusk, even greyer
than outside, almost dark. She sat down on a stool in the kitchen, near
the stove that had been burning low all day. Her mother would turn it
up when she got home from work. She went to the bedroom to find her
bear. ‘Come here, teddy. Poor teddy, you’ve been
left alone all day.
Come with me.’ She never took him outside, she only took her
dolls
because she didn’t want to be thought a baby. She stuck the
bear on her
lap and pressed him against her.
She started to feel the cold. She held the bear even tighter against
her. It didn’t do anything. His soft fur didn’t
warm her at all. She
got up and took her coat off the back of the chair and put it on. Yes,
that’s right! She’d forgotten all about it! Her
afternoon tea on the
table. She hadn’t eaten it. Of course, if it had been a roll
and milk
chocolate... But it was always thick bread and dark chocolate! Anyway,
she wasn’t hungry. She lifted the lid of the rubbish bin,
took out some
scraps from lunch, threw in the bread and chocolate, and covered them
over with peelings and paper. She sat down on the stool again. Her feet
didn’t touch the floor; she dangled them in the air while she
rocked
the bear.
It was cold in the kitchen. So cold and lonely. She was the only one in
the whole world. She was afraid of having been abandoned forever,
forgotten. It was so silent - inside, outside, everywhere. Not even a
whisper. Inside her teddy there was something that made a sort of
croaking sound, but you had to hit him on the back or drop him on the
ground to make him speak. She squeezed her bear tightly, though not
hard enough to hurt him. No, she certainly wouldn’t have done
anything
to hurt him, especially since he’d been alone all day, all by
himself.
She felt she should talk to him, and she tried, but the sound of her
own voice frightened her. Alone and not the slightest noise anywhere in
the building. But then it was probably better that nobody knew she was
there - she might have attracted the attention of people up to no good.
She felt scared and abandoned.
She lay down on the cold tiled floor, listening with one ear. Is there
anyone? Is there anyone there? Her ear grew bigger and bigger. She was
only a giant ear curled up on the icy floor listening, listening and
searching for the signs of human presence on the floor below. That
distant, indistinct murmur - was it the sound of voices, or of things
being put down or bumped? Was it the sound of her blood pulsing in her
head?
Did she fall asleep? She hadn’t heard her mother’s
high- heels clicking
on the stone steps. The doorbell rang. It’s mummy! The
surprise and
fright she felt at the idea of having been discovered asleep on the
floor instantly gave way to the joy of deliverance. Oh my little mummy!
She’s back! She ran quickly to the door and suddenly
remembered the
hole in her stockings.
‘Ohhhh!’ she gasped imperceptibly, as if to hold
back for a moment the
inevitable.
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