We could phone somebody to come and fix it, I say.
And pay them with what?
I don’t know, I say. I’m sorry.
She drops the spanner down by the sink and pulls the curtain back across. She leaves the mousetrap by the side.
Don’t touch it, she says, and she goes heavily back upstairs.
We sit at the table for quite a long time, thinking that Maman is going to be back soon. I stare at the mousetrap hoping that the mouse isn’t. For a long time, nothing happens. The clock ticks to eight o’clock and goes
ting
.
I’ve had a very good idea, says Margot. She has something very important to say, you can tell. An announcement. She is waiting until she has got my full attention.
OK, I say, what is your good idea?
I know how to win the challenge, says Margot. What we need is a new papa, and Claude can be it. She smiles proudly. It is a very big announcement.
A new papa? Can you get those?
I think anyone can be a papa. We need someone who can fix things in the house, and who can make Maman smile. If we had a papa she would have to do proper cooking again to make his dinners.
Every day, I say.
Yes, every day.
And you think Claude could be it?
I think he would be perfect.
The birds are very noisy this morning. Some are even in the tree near our heads, chatting and chittering. A woodpecker is drilling holes. It is probably too early for Claude, so while we wait for him we play shops.
I’m the shopkeeper, says Margot, and you are the customer.
OK, I say. Hello, shopkeeper.
Hello. What would you like to buy today?
I would like some cheese please.
Margot shakes her head. I’m afraid we don’t have any cheese.
OK, then I would like some coloured pencils.
We don’t sell those.
Have you got any eggs? I say.
Eggs? says Margot. What are they? And we both start to laugh.
What do you sell in this shop? I ask.
Lots of things, says Margot. Almost everything you could want.
Have you got carrots?
No carrots. Margot sticks out her tongue and I laugh some more.
What do you have?
We have octopus, clothes pegs, olives and onions, says Margot. She waves her hand across the front of her shop. See, here they are, right here in front of your eyes.
I’ll have an octopus and some clothes pegs then please.
Ninety-nine euros, says Margot. She knows big numbers; she is showing off.
We play shop for quite a long time, until the sun is halfway up the sky and even the air in the tree shade is heating up.
Let’s go paddling, says Margot. Then she doesn’t even wait for me to reply, just slips out of the tree and starts running back through the tall grass towards the stream. By the time I get there, Margot is already on the other side, sitting on a root on the bank.
Slowcoach! she says.
I am not interested in being bossed about today, so I decide to dilly and dally a bit more. I have spotted the evening primroses that I thought had been put there by witches before I knew about Claude. Today I am going to pick them for Maman. Even though the flowers are delicate, the stems are thick and hard to snap. But when I have finished tugging and twisting I have five long stems and there are more than ten flowers and lots of long green leaves.
Beautiful, says Margot. Now come on!
I smile at her and walk straight into the stream in my sandals. It is quite high today and the water sloshes around the bottom of my legs, cold and lovely. For a while I just stand in the same spot, kicking one foot after the other, splashing about. I stare down into the water. I can’t see my feet, only my pinky-purple reflection and the yellow reflection of the flowers. I wonder if they will make Maman smile. This makes me think about our leaky sink, and the mousetrap with the sausage, and having no money and needing a papa.
It’s getting to be a very big challenge, I say.
Maybe we don’t have to fix everything.
But if we don’t fix everything, Maman will still be unhappy.
Margot makes her thinking face. If we fix the papa, and maybe the cleaning, she says, I think that will be enough.
OK, I say, then we have to find Claude right now.
Come on, then!
I stop kicking and start to cross the stream. But the floor is slippy and rocky and I nearly fall over.
Oh!
Use the stepping stones, silly!
I put my arms out like an acrobat and take tiny slow steps to get me over to the stepping stones. Yey! I say. I did it! And I am climbing up on to the greeny brown of the first stone and stepping on to the second.
At last, says Margot.
I don’t really know what happens next. My feet are slipping off the stones. I am scrambling with both feet and trying to get my balance. And then both of my feet are in the water and so is my bottom and I am wet. That’s what’s important first, that my four-years-old memory dress and my knickers are wet and cold. But only for a very short time because then I feel the hurt in my foot. Not the scorpion foot, the other one. And when I try to move it to stand up, it hurts more. I feel down in the water. My foot is stuck under a stone. I try to push it, lift it, rock it, but nothing happens.
Margot! I say. But when I look up, she has gone.
The coldness of the water soon starts hurting even more than the rock-squash so I find a way to stand up by twisting my ankle and cricking my knee. The dark purple wetness of my dress is spreading up to my waist, into the lilac parts. I am very alone now. The banks of the stream have shadowy bushes, and I am sure I can see monsters hiding in them. I think about crying, but instead I begin to shout. I shout for Claude and for Merlin and for Josette. I shout as loud as I can and then I stop to listen if anyone is coming. Then I shout again. I am starting to get worried that no one will ever come.
I think I hear a rustling in the grass. When I look up, Margot is back, perched like a frog on the bank.
Don’t worry, she says. It will be OK.
Margot, I say, you don’t know anything.
It will be OK.
Claude! Merlin! My shouts are becoming quite screamy now. Claude!
Merlin comes first; I hear his bark from far away and then he runs down to the river. He is not galloping as usual, just trotting. He is not in a hurry even though I am stuck. He paddles into the water and I stop screaming so as not to frighten him. Merlin lies down in the water on his belly and looks at me with sad eyes.
Don’t be sad, Merlin, I say. I’m not dead, I’m just hurt.
Soon after Merlin comes Claude. His arms and legs are very scratched and bleedy. Even his face has dotted red lines on, welling with blood. He must have hurried fast through the brambles without taking care. He steps straight into the water without saying a word. He leans over and grabs around my waist with one hand, and then his other hand goes down into the water. Suddenly the stone is off my foot and I am being lifted up out of the stream. Claude carries me all the way out and sits me on the bank of the low meadow. I am still holding the flowers. Merlin comes over too and sniffs my face, pressing his head up against my neck. I ruffle his fur. Claude sits down next to me and takes my foot in his hands. He takes off the shoe and presses his hands against the skin. His hands are so hot they feel as though they are burning me.
You’re frozen, he says. What happened?
I don’t know, I say.
My foot feels like it is being pricked with about a hundred little needles; I don’t like it at all.
Claude stands up.
Can you walk? he says.
I don’t know about walking. But I am shivering hard. I really want him to hug me. I cling to his legs and wrap my arms tight around them. I look up at him. I wish he would hug me. He tries to unpeel me but I hold on like a monkey.
Claude looks unhappy. Let go, Pea, he says. Claude does not want to hug me even when I am hurt, because he is not my papa. Margot is right.
Claude, I say, I have something important to ask you.
Extremely important, says Margot.
OK, says Claude, sitting down again. Go ahead.
Will you be our new papa?
I’m not your papa, says Claude.
But we NEED a new papa, says Margot.
And you would be the best new papa for us. You don’t have to live with us if you want to stay in your house.
How would I be your papa, then?
Well you would have to do the papa things, I say.
Here is our list, says Margot, and she pretends to be unrolling a long piece of paper to read off. There isn’t really any paper.
Number One! says Margot.
Papa has to make Maman smile and sing, I say.
Number Two! says Margot.
Papa has to make Maman get out of bed and cook us good food like she used to.
Number Three! says Margot.
Papa has to hug us and read us bedtime stories.
Number Four! says Margot.
Papa has to fix the kitchen sink that is leaking, because otherwise our kitchen will fill up with water and we could possibly drown.
Number Five! says Margot.
Papa has to . . .
Drown in your kitchen? says Claude. How long is this list anyway? He looks impatient, and his face is already saying no.
It’s not easy being a papa, says Margot, you have lots of jobs.
The first one is the most important one, I say. I don’t want Claude to think that being our papa is too much work.
And the hugs, says Margot.
And the hugs would be nice, I say.
You miss your papa, don’t you? says Claude.
I nod.
Claude leans over and gives me a hug, but it is a stiff one, as though he is folded flat like clothes in a drawer.
You’re getting too skinny! he says. We’ll need to fatten you up.
Like in
Hansel and Gretel
? So you can eat me?
If I ate you, who would I have to chat to down here? says Claude.
No one, so you can never eat me, and that’s that, I say.
Claude smiles and gives me another hug. A bit softer but not much.
When you are our papa, I say, you will have to practise hugging. That was quite good for the first time but you can get better.
Merlin is better than I am at all that, says Claude. Hey Merlin, come and give Pea and Margot a cuddle! Merlin gets up and comes over. He flops down beside me with a groan and puts his head in my lap. Margot and I ruffle his tummy and stroke the red fur on his floppy head and ears. His flappy tail whumps softly on the damp grass.
Do you like sausages? says Claude.
We love sausages! says Margot.
We love them! I say.
Well then, it’s a deal, says Claude. You come round later and help me eat some sausages, and I promise not to eat you up.
Merlin’s tail bangs on the floor.
Yes, OK, says Claude. There’ll be one for you too.
When we get home I leave my sandals outside in the sunshine and carry the flowers in for Maman. But the yellow petals are already hanging their heads sadly. I put them flat on the table and try to think how to make them look nice. The phone rings, but I am too tired to answer it. I think I know what Maman means by that now. It’s not that my hand is too tired to pick the phone up, it’s that my ears are too tired to listen. So the telephone rings and it rings. Eventually there is a bed-creak upstairs, and Maman’s door swings open, banging against the wall.
Why don’t you answer the telephone, she says, stomping down the stairs, instead of just letting it ring until it wakes me up? Is it because you think I’ve had enough sleep for today?
No, I say. I’m sorry, I say. I look at Margot, who is kicking her sandals on the kitchen floor, staring at her toes.
I thought it would just be Mami Lafont again, so we should just ignore it.
Maman looks at the unhappy flowers on the table.
Maybe if we put them in some water? I say.
They’re dead, she says. Put them in the dustbin.
Maybe I could plant them outside?
Peony, they’re dead. Just throw them away.
I grab the flowers from the table and go back outside, letting the door bang hard behind me. Maman does not follow.
Around the back of the barn we sit in the shade with our backs to the cool hard stones. I hold the flowers against my body but the yellow petals are already falling from the heads. I am crying even though there is nobody to see and ask me what is wrong.
What is wrong? asks Margot. She sits next to me, scooching up until our bottoms touch, her hand on my knee.
Maman wants me to throw them away because they’re dead.