Page 56 of The Strawberry Thief
I reached for Narcisse’s confession and held the folder tight to my chest. ‘Did she read it?’ I said.
Vianne shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ she said. ‘Perhaps she’s working for Michèle Montour.’
I looked at her.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I know about that. I guessed when you brought Yannick to my shop. Michèle has been making trouble since she first arrived in Lansquenet. And now it looks as if Morgane has been helping her all along. I knew there was a reason Michèle rented the shop out so quickly. They’ve been working together to undermine you – to undermine us both, Francis—’
My aching head was spinning now. The taste of chocolate was like being buried alive in sweetness.
‘She has to go, Francis,’ said Vianne. ‘Whatever it takes, she has to go.’
I nodded. She was right, of course. I’d been so concerned about the Montours that I had forgotten about Morgane. Now I saw it clearly. It was she who had taken Narcisse’s file – doubtless on Michèle’s instructions. She must have been spying on me from the start, finding out my weaknesses. But she had made a big mistake in assuming I was helpless. I suddenly felt a tremendous surge of energy rush through me. My headache was gone. Instead I felt a new confidence, a certainty that I had not felt since I started to read Narcisse’s confession. What had I been so afraid of? I thought. Why had I been so slow to see thatIwas the one in authority?
‘Absolutely right,’ I said. ‘I’ll deal with the woman myself.Today.’ I handed back the silver box which had contained the chocolate.
‘Was it good?’ said Vianne Rocher.
I nodded. ‘Very good,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you put in there, but really, I feel like a new man.’
She smiled. ‘I thought you would,’ she said.
I followed her out into the light.
9
Thursday, March 30
I hate Yannick. I hate him.BAM!Pretending to be my friend, and then sneaking behind my back like that. The rain had become just ordinary rain, whispering through the leaf canopy, and I was still there in the clearing, sitting on the rim of the well, face turned up towards the sky. I can scream here if I like. I can sing and dance and run. So I screamed in the voice of an angry bird, and then in the voice of a wildcat, until my throat was sore with it, and my eyes were red and burning.
How dare they? How dare they? It’smywood.Myplace. Mimi’s place. Perhaps it’s really because of Mimi that I was so angry with Yannick. This wood is all that’s left of her. That’s why Narcisse left it to me. He knew I’d look after it. Afterher. Because I’m like her. He knew that. I’m not like all the others.
I miss Pilou. I wish he was here. He’ll come back from school at four tonight, and get off the bus, and see his friends, and not think about me. Maman says that boys can be stupid, sometimes. But Pilou was never stupid. We used to have such a good time playing with Vlad by the river. I don’t think he’s really changed. If we talked, I think I could make him understand.
But Idon’ttalk. That’s the problem. Only in my shadow-voice, and that can sometimes be dangerous. I won’t use my shadow-voice with Pilou. You never know what might happen. An Accident with Mme Montour, or with Yannick, that’s one thing. But with Pilou, an Accident would be worse. Maybe much worse. But then, Pilou isn’t like Yannick. If I told him what had happened, I know Pilou would understand.
I was thinking all this as I sat in my wood, listening to the ticking and tapping of the raindrops in the leaves. I was sheltered by the trees, and the rain made everything smell of earth, and green, and there were little insects that crawled up to the tips of the blades of grass and hung there like droplets, sensing the rain. I decided to wait for Pilou to come home, and then to tell him about Yannick, and Narcisse, and Mimi. He’d understand. I knew he would.
I waited until I heard the church clock tower strike four. Pilou’s bus gets in at ten past. Then I ran up to the bus stop on the Boulevard des Marauds, and waited for Pilou to get out. At first I didn’t see him at all. He was walking with a girl. I wouldn’t have noticed her, either, except that she was wearing his jumper. It was a brown one I recognized, and it was much too big for her. I ran up to them both and hugged Pilou. The girl in the jumper gave me a look.
‘Rosette!’ He didn’t sound very happy. ‘What are you doing here?’
I had to laugh.I live here, Pilou.I jerked my chin at the girl.Who’s that?
Pilou looked back at the girl, who was still looking at me. ‘Isabelle, you go ahead,’ he told her. ‘Let me sort this, and I’ll join you.’
Let me sort this. I didn’t like the way he talked about me as if I were an unexpected chore. I made a mocking blackbird noise, but I wasn’t feeling too chirpy.
The girl gave me another look.BAM!She was a kind of leggy girl, the kind of girl that looks good even when she’s wearing an old brown jumper of Pilou’s that’s at least two sizes too big for her. I promised myself to draw her as soon as I got a chance – maybe as a gazelle, which rhymes with her name, and suits her, with her long eyelashes and skinny legs.
‘Don’t be long,’ she said, and smiled at Pilou and gave him a little pat on the arm. It wasn’t much, but I can tell a lot from what people say without words, and that little pat looked a lot like:He’s mine.
I waited till she was out of the way. She walked as if she was wearing couture instead of a ratty brown jumper that Vlad sometimes uses to sleep on. I jerked my head at the place she had been.
Who’s that? And why is she wearing your clothes?
He sighed. ‘She was cold. That’s Isabelle. My girlfriend.’
I laughed. It was laughable. Then I remembered Joséphine saying something about Pilou’s girlfriend. At the time I hadn’t believed it. Pilou doesn’thavegirlfriends. Pilou’s like me: he thinks that that kind of thing is totally ridiculous.
