The Night Rainbow A Novel - By Claire King Page 0,88
quite slowly. She wasn’t as fat as she is now, but she still had a round belly. It was the other baby was in there. The girl baby. The not-good-enough one that we didn’t get to keep. As we went, Maman was shouting. Amaury? Amaury! It didn’t take us long to find him. He was only in the peaches and he hurried over when he saw us. Maman went soft against him and he kissed her forehead. Papa wanted to pinch the tick off with his fingernails, but Maman had brought tweezers with her.
When the tick was off, Papa put it on the floor and trod on it. That killed it, and then Papa showed us what was left. There was hardly any tick at all, just a splat of Maman’s blood on the ground. I crouched down to look at it and Papa came down next to me.
Make sure Maman puts some antiseptic on when you get her home, he said.
I promise, I said. Then I got a head-kiss too.
OK, I say to Margot, I will be Papa and I will get it off you.
Margot holds her arm out. Use the tweezers, she says, not just your fingers.
Of course, I say, I have the tweezers. There is nothing to worry about.
And there isn’t. I get it off first time and drop it on the floor. It is too fat with Margot to run away, so together we stomp on the tick. Like a stompy dance.
Ooh, says Margot, look at the blood!
Yes, lots of blood. That tick must have drunk nearly all of you up. It’s a good job I got it off.
Thank you for looking after me, Pea, she says.
You’re welcome, I say.
Chapter 22
We have fed the chickens and brought the bread up to the house. We have had our breakfast and waited for Maman for a long time, but it got very boring and I want to go and see Claude, so I have tidied away our breakfast things and left the table set for Maman.
We are trotting down through the peach trees on our horses, jumping over logs and winding through the trees. The edges of the teardrop leaves are already turning orange. Margot looks back at me over her shoulder.
My horse is dappled grey and it is called Bolter. What’s yours called?
Saskia, I say. And she is black like Black Beauty.
As we get down towards the road I hear a strange noise. It sounds like someone calling my name and I stop to listen.
Come on, says Margot, giddy up!
Don’t you hear that? I say. Isn’t that Maman shouting?
I doubt it, says Margot. We did all the jobs. What else would she want you for?
Maybe she got another tick?
Could be. Margot gets off her horse and pats his neck. I do the same. Let’s leave our horses here, she says, so they don’t fight with the donkeys. We can go and see Claude and not take long. Then we will go back up and check if Maman has a tick.
Yes, I say, that’s a good idea, because I really want to see Claude and check again about him being our papa.
We cross the road and climb the gate into the low meadow. I can see Claude, right down at the bottom of the path.
Look! says Margot. He brought his elephant-tracking knife!
Claude is slicing at the brambles, cutting away the loops and trailing parts. As he swishes them, the bushes are getting flat edges, and thorny bits, blackberries and little brown punaises patter on to the path. Even the ripe blackberries are getting chopped.
Oh no! I say.
Let’s go and save the blackberries! says Margot.
Definitely! I say, and we run down the hill. Claude hasn’t heard us yet.
Peony!
I stop running and turn. It really is Maman. She is by the gate and she is waving her arms over her head.
Peony!
I must be in big trouble for something, although I can’t think what it is. Unless Maman really has got a tick too. But even if she has I don’t know how to help her. My tweezers are only pretend ones and I’m still only five years old.
Maman walks slowly down the path. I stand still and watch her coming.
Peony, come here! she shouts. But I’m scared. After only a few steps she stops and leans against an oak tree. She presses her head against the trunk and her shoulders go up and down.