It isnt that we couldnt do with the money, said Yannick earnestly. The restaurant business isnt doing well right now. That last review in Hôte amp; Cuisine didnt help. And weve been having trouble-
Laure quelled him with a glance.
I dont want the money at all, she repeated.
I know what you want, I said again, harshly, trying not to let my confusion show. My mothers recipes. But I wont give them to you.
Laure looked at me, still smiling. I realized that it wasnt just recipes she wanted, and a cold fist tightened around my heart.
No, I whispered.
Mirabelle Dartigens album, said Laure gently. Her very own album. Her thoughts, her recipes, her secrets. Our grandmothers legacy to all of us. Its a crime to keep something like that hidden away forever.
No!
The word wrenched from me, and I felt as if it were taking half of my heart with it. Laure started and Yannick took a step back. My breath was a throatful of fishhooks.
You cant keep it secret forever, Framboise, said Laure reasonably. Its incredible no one found out before this. Mirabelle Dartigen-she was flushed, almost pretty in her excitement-one of the most elusive and enigmatic criminals of the twentieth century. Out of the blue she murders a young soldier and stands by coolly while half her village is shot in retribution, then she just walks off without a word of explanation-
It wasnt like that, I said in spite of myself.
Then tell me what it was like, said Laure, taking a step forward. Id consult you on everything. Weve got the chance of a wonderful, exclusive insight here, and I know it will make a fabulous book
What book? I said stupidly.
Laure looked impatient.
What do you mean, what book? I thought youd guessed. You said
I felt my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. With difficulty I said,
I thought you were after the recipe book. After what you told me-
She shook her head impatiently.
No, I need it to research my book. You read my pamphlet, didnt you? You must have known I was interested in the case. And when Cassis told us she was actually related to us. Yannicks grandmother- She broke off again to grasp at my hand. Her fingers were long and cool, her nails painted shell-pink like her lips. Mamie, youre the last of her children. Cassis dead, Reine-Claude useless
You went to see her? I said blankly.
Laure nodded.
She doesnt remember anything. A complete vegetable. Her mouth was wry. Plus no one in Les Laveuses remembers anything worth mentioning-or if they do, they wont talk-
How do you know?
Rage had given way to a cold feeling, a realization that this was much worse than anything I had previously suspected.
She shrugged. Luc, of course. I asked him to come over here, ask a few questions, buy some rounds at the old anglers club, you know what I mean. She gave me that impatient, quizzical look. You told me you knew all that.
I nodded in silence, too benumbed to speak.
I have to say youve managed to keep it quiet for longer than I would have thought possible, continued Laure admiringly. No one imagines that youre anything but a nice Breton lady, la veuve Simon. Youre very much respected. Youve done well for yourself here. No one suspects a thing. You never even told your daughter.
Pistache? I sounded stupid to myself, my mouth yawning like my mind. Youve not been talking to her?
I wrote her a few letters. I thought she might know something about Mirabelle. But you never told her, did you?
Oh, God. Oh, Pistache. I was in a landslide where every movement starts a new rockfall, bringing a new collapse of the world I thought steady.
But what about your other daughter? When did you last hear from her? And what does she know?
You have no right, no right- The words were harsh as salt in my mouth. You dont understand what it means to me-this place-if people get to know-
Now, now, Mamie. I was too weak to push her away, and she put her arms around me. Obviously, wed keep your name out of it. And even if it got out-you have to face it, it might one day-then wed find you another place. A better place. At your age you shouldnt be living in a dilapidated old farm like this anyway-it doesnt even have proper plumbing, for Christs sake-we could settle you in a nice flat in Angers, wed keep the press away from you. We care about you, Mamie, whatever you may think. Were not monsters. We want whats best for you-
I pushed her away with more strength than I knew I had.
No!
Gradually I became aware of Paul standing silently behind me, and my fear blossomed into a great flower of rage and elation. I was not alone. Paul, my loyal old friend, was with me now.
Think what it might mean to the family, Mamie.
No!
I began to push the door closed, but Laure put her high heel into the crack.
You cant hide away forever-
Then Paul stepped forward into the doorway. He spoke in a calm and slightly drawling voice, the voice of a man who is either deeply at peace or a little slow in the head.
Maybe you didnt hear Framboise. His smile was almost sleepy but for the wink he gave me, and in that moment I loved him completely and with a suddenness which startled away my rage. If Ive understood this right, then she doesnt want to do business. Isnt that so?
Whos this? said Laure. Whats he doing here?
Paul gave her his sweet and sleepy smile.
A friend, he told her simply. From way back.
Framboise, called Laure from behind Pauls shoulder. Think about what we said. Think about what it means. We wouldnt ask you if it wasnt important. Think about it-
Im sure she will,
said Paul kindly, and closed the door. Laure began to knock persistently upon it, and Paul drew the latch and put on the safety chain. I could hear her voice, muffled by the thickness of the wood, now with a high buzzing note in it.
Framboise! Be reasonable! Ill tell Luc to go away! Things can go back to the way they were! FRAMBOISE!
Coffee? suggested Paul, going into the kitchen. Make you feel you know better.
I glanced at the door. That woman, I said in a shaking voice.
That hateful woman.
Paul shrugged.
Take it outside, he suggested simply. Wont hear her from there.
It was as easy as that to him, and I followed, exhausted, as he brought me hot black coffee with cinnamon cream and sugar, and a slice of blueberry far from the kitchen cupboard. I ate and drank in silence for a while until I felt my courage return.
She wont give up, I told him at last. Either way shell keep at me until she forces me out. Then, she knows there wont be any point in me keeping the secret any longer. I put my hand to my aching head. She knows I cant hang on forever. All she has to do is wait. I wont last long anyhow.
Are you going to give in to her? Pauls voice was calm and curious.
No, I said harshly.
He shrugged.
Then you shouldnt talk as if you are. Youre smarter than she is. For some reason he was blushing. And you know you can win if you try-
How? I knew I sounded like my mother, but I couldnt help it. Against Luc Dessanges and his friends? Against Laure and Yannick? It hasnt been two months yet and already theyve half-ruined my business. All they need to do is go on the way they began, and by spring I made a furious gesture of frustration. And what about when they start talking? All they have to say- I choked on the words. All they have to do is mention my mothers name
Paul shook his head.
I dont think theyll do that, he said calmly. Not at once, anyway. They want something to bargain with. They know youre afraid of that.
Cassis told them, I said dully.
He shrugged. Doesnt matter, he said. Theyll leave you alone for a while. Hope to make you come around. Try to make you see sense. Theyll want you to do it of your own accord.
So? I could feel my anger reaching toward him now. How long does that leave me? A month? Two? What can I do with two months? I could rack my brains for a year and it still wouldnt do any-
Thats not true. He spoke flatly, without resentment, pulling a single crumpled Gauloise from his top pocket and popping a match against his thumb to light it. Do anything youve a mind to do. Always could. He looked at me then over the red eye of the cigarette and gave his small, sad smile. Remember from the old days. You caught Old Mother, didnt you?
I shook my head. That isnt the same thing, I told him.
It is, though, just about, replied Paul, dragging acrid smoke. You must know that. You can learn a lot about life from fishing.
I looked at him, puzzled. He went on:
Take Old Mother, now. How dyou catch her, when all those others didnt?
I considered that for a moment, thinking back to my nine-year-old self.
I studied the river, I said at last. I learned about the old pikes habits, where it fed, what it fed on. And I waited. I was lucky, thats all.
Hm. The cigarette flared again, and he breathed smoke through his nostrils. And if this Dessanges was a fish. What then? He grinned suddenly. Find where he feeds. Find the right bait, and hes yours. Isnt that right?
I looked at him.
Isnt that right?
Maybe. Hope scratched a thin silver trail across my heart. Maybe.
Im too old to fight them, I said. Too old and too tired.
Paul put his rough brown hand over mine and smiled.
Not to me, he said.
9
Hes right, of course. You can learn a lot about life from fishing. Tomas had taught me that, among other things. Wed talked a lot, the year we were friends. Sometimes Cassis and Reine were there and wed talk and exchange news for small items of contraband: a stick of chewing gum or a bar of chocolate or a jar of face cream for Reine or an orange Tomas seemed to have an unlimited supply of these items, which he distributed with casual indifference. He almost always came alone now.
Since my conversation with Cassis in the tree house I felt that things were settled between us, Tomas and me. We followed the rules; not the mad rules of our mothers devising but simple rules that even a child of nine could understand: Keep your eyes open. Look after number one. Share and share alike. We three children had been self-sufficient for so long that it was a blissful, if unspoken relief to have someone in charge again an adult, someone to keep order.
I remember one day. We were together, the three of us, and Tomas was late. Cassis still called him Leibniz, though Reine and I had long since progressed to first-name terms, and today Cassis was jumpy and sullen, sitting apart from the rest of us on the riverbank, pinging stones into the water. Hed had a shouting match with Mother that morning over some matter of no importance.
If our father was alive you wouldnt dare talk to me like that!
If your father was alive hed do as he was told, just as you do!
Beneath the lash of her tongue Cassis fled, as always. He kept Fathers old hunting jacket on a straw mattress in the tree house, and he was wearing it now, hunched in it like an old Indian in a rug. It was always a bad sign when he wore Fathers jacket, and Reine and I left him alone.
He was still sitting there when Tomas came.
Tomas noticed that at once, and sat a little farther down the bank without saying anything.
Ive had enough, said Cassis at last, without looking at Tomas. Kids stuff. Im fourteen. Ive had enough of all that.
Tomas took off his army greatcoat and tossed it aside for Reinette to go through the pockets. I lay on my stomach on the bank and watched.
Cassis spoke up again.
Comics. Chocolate. Its all rubbish. Thats not war. Its nothing. He stood up, looking agitated. None of its serious. Its just a game. My father got his head blown off and its all a stinking game to you, isnt it?
Is that what you think? said Tomas.
I think youre a Boche, spat Cassis.
Come with me, said Tomas, standing up. Girls, you stay here. Okay?
Reine was happy to do that, to flick through the magazines and treasures in the greatcoats many pockets. I left her to it, and slunk after them through the undergrowth, keeping low to the mossy ground. Their voices filtered toward me distantly, like motes from the tree canopy. I didnt hear all of it. I was crouching low behind a fallen stump, almost afraid to breathe. Tomas unholstered his gun and held it out to Cassis.
Hold it if you like. Feel how it feels.
It must have felt very heavy in his hand. Cassis leveled it and looked over the sights at the German. Tomas seemed not to notice.
My brother was shot as a deserter, said Tomas. Hed only just finished his training. He was nineteen, and scared. He was a machine gunner, and the noise must have sent him a little crazy. He died in a Polish village, right at the beginning of the war. I thought that if hed been with me I could have helped him, kept him cool somehow, kept him out of trouble. I wasnt even there.
Cassis looked at him with hostility.
So?
Tomas ignored the question.
He was my parentss favorite. It was always Ernst who got to lick the pots when my mother was cooking. Ernst who got the least chores to do. Ernst who made them proud. Me? I was a plodder, just about good enough to take out the rubbish or feed the pigs. Not much else.
Cassis was listening now. I could feel the tension between them like something burning.
When we got the news I was home on leave. A letter came. It was supposed to be a secret, but within half an hour everyone in the village knew the Leibniz boy had deserted. My parents couldnt understand what was going on. They behaved like people who had been struck by lightning.
I began to crawl closer, using the fallen tree as cover. Tomas went on.
The funny thing was that Id always thought I was the coward in the family. I kept my head down. I didnt take risks. But from then on, to my parents I was a hero. Suddenly Id taken Ernsts place. It was as if hed never existed. I was their only son. I was everything.
Wasnt that scary? Cassiss voice was almost inaudible.
Tomas nodded.
I heard Cassis sigh then, a sound like a heavy door closing.
He wasnt supposed to die, said my brother. I guessed it was Father to whom he referred. Tomas waited patiently, seemingly impassive. He was always supposed to be so clever. He had everything under control. He wasnt a coward-
Cassis broke off and glared at Tomas, as if his silence implied something. His voice and his hands were shaking. Then he began to scream in a high, tortured voice, words I could hardly make out spilling over themselves in furious eagerness to be free.
He wasnt supposed to die! He was supposed to sort everything out and make everything better and instead he went and got his stupid self blown up and now its me in charge and I dont know what to do anymore and Ims-s-sc-
Tomas waited until it was over. It took some time. Then he put out his hand and casually retrieved the gun.
Thats the trouble with heroes, he remarked. They never quite live up to expectations, do they?
I could have shot you, said Cassis sullenly.
Theres more than one way of fighting back, said Tomas.
I sensed they were reaching a close, and began to retreat back through the bushes, not wanting to be there when they turned around. Reinette was still there, absorbed in a copy of Ciné-Mag. Five minutes later Cassis and Tomas were back, arm in arm like brothers, and Cassis was wearing the Germans cap at a rakish angle on his own head.
Keep it, advised Tomas. I know where I can get another one.
The bait was taken. Cassis was his slave from that moment.
10
After that our enthusiasm for Tomass cause redoubled. Any piece of information, however trivial, was grist to his mill. Madame Henriot at the post office was opening mail in secret, Gilles Petit at the butcher was selling cat meat and calling it rabbit, Martin Dupré had been heard speaking against the Germans in La Mauvaise Réputation with Henri Drouot, everyone knew the Truriands had a radio hidden under a trap in their back garden and that Martin Francin was a Communist, and day by day he would visit these people with the excuse of collecting supplies for the barracks and would leave with a little more than he came for, a pocketful of notes or some black market cloth or a bottle of wine Sometimes his victimspaid with more information; a cousin from Paris hiding in a cellar in downtown Angers, or a stabbing behind Le Chat Rouget. By the end of summer Tomas Leibniz knew half the secrets in Angers and two thirds of those in Les Laveuses, and he already had a small fortune tucked away in his mattress in the barracks. Fighting back, he called it. Against what, he never needed to say.