Stone Bruises

‘You mean he stole them?’

‘Of course not! Papa isn’t a thief!’ she retorts. ‘They’re only old statues, and the places they’re from were all empty. How could it be stealing if no one lived there?’

I doubt the owners would see it that way, but I’ve upset Gretchen enough for one afternoon. And the walk has taken more out of me than I thought. The dog runs on ahead as we emerge from the woods and start across the dry vine field. The sun is still hot but lower now, so our shadows stretch ahead of us like spindly giants. I labour along with my head down, too tired to talk. By the time we’ve reached the barn I’m slick with sweat and my leg muscles are twitching with fatigue.

Gretchen pushes her hair back behind her ear as we stop by the doorway, an unconscious echo of her sister. ‘You’re all sweaty,’ she says, dimpling a smile. ‘You should practise on your crutch more. I take Michel for a walk most afternoons. If you like I could meet you at the lake again tomorrow.’

‘I won’t be here,’ I tell her. ‘I’m leaving in the morning.’

Saying the words makes it more real. Just the thought of it feels like stepping off a cliff.

Gretchen stares. ‘You can’t leave! What about your foot?’

‘I’ll manage.’

Her face hardens. ‘This is Mathilde’s fault, isn’t it?’

‘Mathilde? No, of course not.’

‘She’s always spoiling things. I hate her!’

The sudden venom takes me aback. ‘It’s nothing to do with Mathilde. I need to go, that’s all.’

‘Fine. Go then.’

She walks away, leaving me standing there. I sigh, staring into the dark interior of the barn. I wait till I’ve caught my breath, then begin the long haul back up the wooden steps to the loft.

I sleep for a few hours and wake to find that the sun has gone from the loft. It’s still hot and close but there’s a dusky quality to the light that suggests it’s getting late. When I look at my watch I see it’s after eight. No sign of dinner yet. I wonder whether it’s delayed or if I’ve upset Arnaud or Gretchen enough not to get anything.

I’m not sure I could eat anyway.

I go downstairs and wash under the barn’s tap. The icy water takes my breath away but makes me feel a little better. Then I sit down outside to watch the sun’s slow descent. As it slides behind the chestnut wood I light up a cigarette. It’s my last, but finding a supermarket or a tabac can be my first objective tomorrow. After that…

I’ve no idea.

The glowing tip of my cigarette is almost down to my fingers when I hear footsteps coming from the courtyard. It’s Mathilde, carrying a tray on which I’m surprised to see is a bottle of wine as well as a plate of steaming food.

I start to climb awkwardly to my feet. ‘Don’t get up,’ she says, setting the tray down beside me. ‘I’m sorry dinner’s late. Michel has gripe and wouldn’t settle.’

Even though I’d told myself it didn’t matter, I’m glad there’s a mundane reason. Though I daresay Michel is less pleased.

‘Smells great,’ I tell her. And it does: pork and chestnuts, with sautéed potatoes and a green salad. It’s a pity I’m not hungry.

‘I thought you might like some wine tonight. It’s only our own, but it’s not too bad with food.’

‘What’s the occasion?’ I wonder if it’s meant to mark my departure.

‘No occasion. It’s just wine.’ She pours the water glass half full of dark liquid. ‘Are you still intending to leave tomorrow?’

I wonder what Gretchen’s told her. Maybe nothing, and I’m just flattering myself. ‘Yes.’

‘What are your plans?’

‘Nothing concrete.’

It doesn’t sound so bad when I say it like that. Mathilde tucks her hair behind one ear.

‘You could always stay here. We could use some help on the farm.’

It’s so far from anything I expect that I think I’ve misunderstood. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘If you don’t have to go straight away then there’s work here that needs doing. If you’re interested.’

‘You’re offering me a job?’

‘Apart from Georges, there are only the three of us. We could use an extra pair of hands, and Gretchen told me you’ve been a builder.’ Her hand goes to tuck her hair back again. ‘You must have seen the condition of the house. The walls badly need repairing.’

‘I’ve worked on building sites but that isn’t the same thing. Why don’t you hire a local builder?’

‘We can’t afford to,’ she says simply. ‘We won’t be able to pay you very much, but you’d be living here free. You’d have your meals. And we wouldn’t expect you to start straight away. You can wait until you’re stronger and then work at your own pace. Whatever you feel you can do.’

I pass my hand across my face, trying to think. ‘What about your father?’

‘Don’t worry about him.’

Right. ‘He does know about this, doesn’t he?’

The grey eyes are unreadable. ‘I wouldn’t ask you if not. My father can be stubborn but he’s a realist. The work needs doing and since Providence has brought you here… It would be good for all of us.’

Providence. Nothing to do with her father’s traps, then. ‘I don’t know…’

‘You don’t have to decide now. Take your time. I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to leave tomorrow.’