The Night Rainbow A Novel - By Claire King Page 0,65
that he can smile at us properly.
Claude has laid the table. There are tomatoes cut into slices like wheels, and radishes, and butter and a big loaf of bread. He sees us looking.
Maybe you’d like some bread, he says, just while the sausages cook?
Yes please! we say together, and hold out our hands. Claude breaks off the two crusty ends and passes them over. We sit ourselves down on the grass near the barbecue.
Now don’t touch!
I know, it’s hot.
Good girl.
The sausages are still cooking a long time later. The more cooked they get the more sausagey smells float to my nose, the smoke stinging my eyes a little bit. Merlin isn’t near the sausages. He’s lying under the tree in the shade. Claude has put some water down for him to drink. But Merlin just lies on the grass, dozing and watching us with one eye. His waggy tail isn’t wagging today either. He looks so sad that I have to leave the sausage air to go and give him a hug.
OK, says Claude at last. I think they’re done. And he brings the first sausage over for Merlin, waving it in the air on a fork and blowing on it to cool it down.
Merlin lifts his head up and looks at the sausage. His tail wags a little happiness, tap, tap, tap, in the dust, but he does not get up and take his lunch.
Claude frowns. He crouches down by Merlin. Here, take it, he says. But Merlin just says, Owwww, and lays his head back down. Claude puts the sausage by his nose and we all stare.
Maybe it’s the heat, says Claude quietly.
Chapter 16
I have had enough of these spotty clothes, says Margot.
Me too, I say. Also, I have no clean knickers now and there are some clean ones up there. Well, clean and tomatoey but we can fix that.
Let’s clean them, says Margot. We are going to win the challenge today, you will see.
We get on to the wooden table. I have to be the one doing the standing because I am the one with the biggest reach. I still have to do tiptoes, though, which is not easy because of my two bad feet. The one from the scorpion, which is still a bit sore, and the one that got trapped in the stones, which is freshly sore and aches a lot. Also, when I try to reach up to get the laundry I feel dizzy. Margot kneels next to me and holds on tight around my knees, staring up to see what I’m doing.
One by one I unpeg the spotty clothes and let them drop on to the table. It is all going very well until I knock a little pan with my elbow and it falls from the airer with a crash. I try to hurry, so that I can tell Maman I didn’t know what the bang was. I pick up the pan and try to hang it back up, but it is very tricky and I keep missing the shiny metal S with the sharp ends. In the end I knock that off too. It bounces off the table, leaving a tiny dint. I don’t think Maman will notice it.
Oops, I whisper. Sorry. But it’s OK, Margot is not hurt.
I climb down and we fill our arms with laundry and take them to the washing machine in the buanderie. I pour in some washing liquid on top of the clothes and shut the lid.
Which button makes it go? I ask Margot.
You could try this one, she says, pointing at one with a picture of some hands dipping in a bowl. That looks like washing.
OK, I say, and I press it. Nothing happens.
Try another one, she says.
I run my fingers along the buttons, pressing them all. When the machine starts up with a grunt it makes me jump even though I should have been expecting it.
Maman will be happy, says Margot.
I hope so, I say.
The washing machine takes a long time, longer than it takes us to give drinks and food to the chickens, and we can’t go and play until we have hung the clothes out to dry, so we decide to do dancing. The courtyard paving stones are hot under our feet. I dance slowly and Margot copies me. We are doing the same dance even though the music is in our heads.