for him. He likes my treasure.
For a minute we just sit and listen to the birds and the crickets. We forget to talk. Even Margot doesn’t have anything to say. Then, Oh, my arm is trapped, says Claude.
Oh, I say, leaning forward a bit, and Claude moves his arm so it is around my shoulders. It feels nice. After a little while longer he starts to squeeze gently. It is like a one-armed hug. I put my head on his chest and think about being hugged. I can hear my breath. I can hear Claude’s breath. And I can hear the bumping of his heart. I am remembering Papa now. Papa’s hugs, the way he made breakfast in the morning, the way his kisses were too scratchy in the afternoon.
Can you feel sad and happy at the same time? I say.
Yes, says Claude. I feel just like that now.
Me too, I say.
We cross the stepping stones and walk together back up through the low meadow.
When the baby is born, says Claude, I’ll come back and see your maman. It will be all right.
It’s a boy baby, I say.
That’s great! says Claude.
No it’s not, I say. I wanted a sister.
Oh yes, says Claude. Of course.
We stop by the apricot spider, because Margot wants to count how many crickets she has caught for her supper. The spider is sitting in the middle of her web. Margot leans down to do her inspection. She has caught three.
Yes, says Margot, that is enough.
Well, says Claude, who is still thinking about Pablo, wait and see. Brothers can be good too.
Have you got one? I say.
No.
On the path, the brambles are everywhere now, making big loopy knots in the spaces where we want to walk. In some places they come so far over that we can’t really get around them any more without falling off the edge on the other side. We have to pick our way through them, or go underneath. I can do that easily but Claude is too big. He tries to hook them up out of the way as he goes so I can pass through, but they keep falling back down.
Halfway up the path I bend down to look at a bright green punaise that is sitting on a blackberry, and the thorny part tangles in my hair. It scratches my face and I try to wriggle out of it but it just gets more scratchy.
Ow! I shout.
Claude looks back. Stop! he says. Don’t move!
I stand very still, and just move my eyes from side to side. What? I say.
Don’t move, says Claude. You don’t want those thorns to get in your eye.
His rough fingers go into my hair, untangling the brambles. You have to be careful, he says. It’s just like the jungle here!
Except not so many elephants, says Margot.
Not so many elephants, I agree. Still, you could bring your elephant knife, I tell Claude.
You know what, says Claude, that’s a very good idea. He ruffles my untangled hair, and opens his other hand, which is getting purple skin because he has filled it with surprising blackberries. I reach out and pop one into my mouth. Claude tips the rest into my hands. There are so many I have to use both.
Really, says Claude. Why didn’t I think of that?
Chapter 21
Maman is cleaning everything.
The laundry basket from the bathroom is empty. All the clothes are clean and wet and hanging out on the spinning dryer in the courtyard, turning white in the sun. In the house, the floor is swept and still shiny-wet from the mop. The mop and bucket stand drying by the door. The windows are all open, letting the house breathe all the warm afternoon smells of sage and jasmine, and pushing out the old smells of suppers and sadness.
Maman is in the baby’s room. There is a big heap of clothes and she is sitting there, taking up all the space on the floor, making piles.
Can I help? I ask.
She looks up at me, her eyes doing most of the lifting. Her cheeks are pink.
No thanks, she says. Why don’t you go and play?
Maman has earrings in that look just like pomegranate seeds.
Maybe I could just sit with you, I say, or do folding?
Maman shakes her head. I won’t be long, she says. I just want to get this over with. Off you go.
We wander into Maman’s room. There on the bed is a suitcase, half full on one side and half empty on the other.