Can you tell me a story?
Maman sits down in a plastic chair, which creaks as she fits her bottom into it, and holds the ice against my foot.
Once upon a time, says Maman.
I don’t want a made-up story, I say. I want a ‘When I was a little girl’ story. Those ones are always the cuddliest.
When I was a little girl, says Maman, there weren’t any scorpions.
Were there spiders? I ask.
Well, yes, spiders and bees and wasps, but no scorpions.
What else did you have? Margot wants to know.
Did you live near the mountains, like us?
No, not really. Just a town. Not far from the countryside, though.
What about the sea?
We were quite far from the sea too.
Were there meadows to play in?
No meadows, Pea, but we had a garden, with a swing.
Oh.
What did you do in the summer? I ask.
Maman is thinking, rolling the icy towel back and forth on my foot and rubbing her feet together. Her hair is a long wet snake down her back.
I played in the garden, and at friends’ houses. Our houses were all next to each other in a long row, just streets full of houses. The front gardens were joined by pavements, but the back gardens were joined by snickets, like footpaths. We used to climb over the back fences into each other’s gardens. We had paddling pools – yours is yellow but mine was green – although in summer it did rain a lot. We would call on each other to go out and play. If one of us had money we would go to a shop and buy ice-lollies. Other days my mummy would pack me a picnic. Some days, if we were really, really lucky, we would get in the car and drive to the seaside.
Maman’s face is empty, as though she is far away from here.
Our seaside?
No, a long way away. A different seaside. A different sea.
There’s more than one sea?
Maman smiles. Well, she says, kind of.
Were there flamingos, I say, and moules-frites?
There were donkeys to ride on, she says, and the sea was so cold. And there was rock to eat . . .
You ate rocks? I say.
Not rocks, rock, she says. It’s a kind of bonbon stick. And my granddad would sit in a deckchair and make us all sunhats out of hankies.
You can’t make hats out of hankies!
You could then.
That was a long, long time ago, I say.
Yes, says Maman, it really was. Her belly jumps and she curls over it. Pea, she says.
Yes?
Don’t do anything stupid like that again. I’ve got enough to worry about. I need you to be a big girl.
I suddenly feel sad again, and a little bit sick in my throat. Sorry, I say.
Maman gets up slowly. Are you thirsty? she says, and I nod.
Does it hurt a lot? says Margot, when Maman is inside fetching drinks.
I scowl at her. Yes, it really hurts a lot, I say.
Do you think we have to go and play now or can we stay here today?
I hope we can stay here, I say. I don’t feel like playing. Maybe we can do a colouring-in.
What about Claude? He’ll wonder where we are.
You could go and tell him? I look down at Margot, sitting cross-legged on the paving. Maman didn’t notice all our cleaning, I say.
She was just busy with you because of the scorpion, says Margot.
Margot, why were you so horrible to me when I was upset?
Horrible? says Margot. I was not. You must have imagined it.
Chapter 11
The bedroom door creaks open and Maman fills the space with herself, soapy-smelling and with wet hair.
Come on, she says, hurry up and get ready, we’re going out. Then she slides into the room and pushes the shutters back so the hot outside smells fly in to wake us, and the cockerel’s crow agrees that it’s time.
Come on, don’t just sit there, get up! Up, up, up! says Maman, as she swings her belly out through the door. I stare after her.
Where are we going? says Margot.
I don’t know, I say, it’s not market day. Maybe to the shops, or to the doctor’s?
It’s very early for shops, says Margot.
Mami Lafont’s?
I doubt it. Margot rolls her eyes round in her head.
The cemetery to see Papa?
Margot shakes her head. It doesn’t feel like that.
No, I agree. But how do we know what to wear?
We could just choose our favourites? says Margot. But my green dress is really dirty now, I had it on for two whole days.
I have a better idea,