Lullaby - Leila Slimani Page 0,18

as if she’s been burned. She is immobile, like the corpse of a flayed torture victim, left out as a warning to the others.

Louise is seasick. She takes deep breaths. She closes her eyes then opens them, unable to quell the dizziness. She can’t move. She sits on a bench, her back to the bridge, far from the edge of the boat. She would like to look at the sea, to remember it, and those white-shored islands that the tourists are pointing at. She would like to memorise the shapes of the sailing boats that have anchored in the sea and the slim figures diving into the water. She would like to, but she feels nauseous.

The sun grows hotter and hotter and now there is a crowd of people staring at the woman on the bench. She has covered her eyes and the sound of the wind probably prevents her from hearing the stifled laughter, the remarks, the whispers. Louise can’t stop looking at that scrawny body, streaming with sweat. That woman consumed by the sun, like a piece of meat thrown on the embers.

Paul has rented two bedrooms in a charming guesthouse in the island’s hills, above a beach where the children spend a lot of time. The sun sets and a pink light envelops the bay. They walk towards Apollonia, the capital. The roads they take are lined with cactuses and fig trees. At the bottom of a cliff is a monastery visited by tourists in swimsuits. Louise is completely entranced by the beauty of the place, by the calmness of the narrow streets, the little squares where cats sleep. She sits on a wall, her feet dangling, and she watches an old woman sweep the courtyard outside her house.

The sun has sunk into the sea, but it isn’t dark yet. The light has just taken on shades of pastel and the details of the landscape are still visible. The outline of a bell on the roof of a church. The aquiline profile of a stone bust. The sea and the bushy shore seem to relax, plunged into a languorous torpor, offering themselves to the night, very softly, playing hard to get.

After putting the children to bed, Louise can’t sleep. She sits on the terrace outside her room, from where she can contemplate the rounded bay. The wind begins to blow in the evening, a sea wind, in which she can almost taste salt and utopias. She falls asleep there, on a deckchair, with a shawl covering her like a thin blanket. The cold dawn wakes her and she nearly cries out at the spectacle of the new day. A pure, simple, obvious beauty. A beauty within the reach of every heart.

The children wake too, enthusiastic. The only word on their lips is the sea. Adam wants to roll around in the sand. Mila wants to see fish. As soon as they’ve finished breakfast, they go down to the beach. Louise wears a loose orange dress, a sort of djellaba that makes Myriam smile. It was Mrs Rouvier who gave it to her, years before, after telling her: ‘Oh, you know, I’ve worn it a lot.’

The children are ready. She has smeared them in sun cream and they run straight for the sand. Louise sits with her back to a stone wall. In the shade of a pine tree, knees bent, she watches the sunlight glimmer on the sea. She has never seen anything so beautiful before.

Myriam lies on her front and reads a novel. Paul, who ran four miles before breakfast, is dozing. Louise makes sandcastles. She sculpts an enormous turtle that Adam keeps destroying and she keeps patiently rebuilding. Mila, overwhelmed by the heat, pulls her by the arm. ‘Come on, Louise, let’s go in the sea.’ The nanny resists. She tells Mila to wait. To sit down with her. ‘Why don’t you help me finish my turtle?’ She shows the child some seashells that she’s collected and that she places delicately on the shell of her giant turtle.

The pine tree no longer gives enough shade and the heat is growing ever more oppressive. Louise is pouring with sweat and she can no longer think of any argument to oppose the begging child. Mila takes her by the hand and Louise refuses to stand up. She grabs the little girl’s wrist and pushes her away so brusquely that Mila falls backwards. Louise shouts: ‘Will you leave me alone?’

Paul opens his eyes. Myriam rushes over to Mila