The Widow (14 page)

‘Scheffer, officer of municipal police. I've been trying to get in touch with you, Madame, affair concerning you, your cleaning woman tells me you'll be back before lunchtime, I'd like to say I'd be grateful if you'd arrange to be at home in the early afternoon and I'll call before three o'clock or would you otherwise please ring to make an appointment at headquarters. Thank you…

‘Press here, Jean-Claude Bouillon. I'm anxious to make contact, Madame, to arrange a short interview on the subject of a report that's circulating, and we'd like to get that this afternoon at the latest, so perhaps you wouldn't mind ringing me
at the office to confirm. Or if I'm not there the desk, to say when it'll be convenient, and please don't put that off or we'd have to say you know, you weren't available for comment, and that never looks well, so it'd only be prejudicing your own interest. So hoping to hear from you by lunch if poss., right?'

She switched' on the phone and at that moment it buzzed.

‘Arlette Van der Valk.'

‘Bouillon here. Did you get my message?'

‘I have just heard it. Whatever this is, I'd be glad to clear it up as soon as may be because I'm about to be extremely busy, so I'd be obliged if you could arrange to call here within a quarter of an hour.'

‘That's okay, be right with you, Rue de l'Observatoire, right? Yes, I've the number noted; five mins.'

She clicked the receiver and dialled.

‘Arthur? Could you arrange to leave the office a little early? I'm a bit under siege. Press on the doorstep and cops: it looks as though an attack has been launched.'

‘Really? Well, we'll deal with that. Is your press literally on the step? – Stall him till I get there.'

‘No, I can handle it. I'd like to have your broad bosom handy so I can rest a cheek if I feel that way. Have you by the way any notion of Marie-Line's whereabouts?'

‘Yes, she was here learning how sociology's done. I told her a few truths which staggered her a little: she tapped me for ten francs and made tracks I believe for the pub. Ten minutes about, I'll be home.'

The Press was young and bit its nails. Seemed fairly clean. Inclined to be noisy. Had experience enough to listen, but fonder of the sound of its own voice. Made itself very much at home.

‘Rather snug you are, here,' glancing about at the panelled ‘waiting-room'. The same quick glance round the white walls of the office. He strolled up to the big seascape and said, ‘Not bad that. Paint's put on nicely. Funny how representational is coming back.'

‘I wasn't thinking of following a fashion. Sit down, then.' He had already.

‘Madame Van der Valk, that's your right name isn't it?'

‘Correct.'

‘You speak good French.' Nice, to have one's accent as well as one's pictures thought well of.

‘I am French.'

‘You're married to Doctor Davidson, right?'

‘I don't use his name; he's a professional man. And now let's hear from you.'

‘What? Oh,' laughing merrily, ‘this is just routine interview stuff, you know.'

‘Let's get it straight. I've no wish to become a divers fact in your paper, and no particular need for a write-up. Suppose you tell me the purpose of your visit.'

‘Ah; a certain distaste for publicity, is that right?'

‘I'm neither courting it nor avoiding it, and please be careful not to misrepresent me.'

‘No need to worry. Now aid bureau, perhaps you can tell me what that is exactly.' Arlette was determined to keep her head. Be rude to this young man and he will find ways of being unpleasant.

‘We like things labelled in this country. Our famous Cartesian spirit of system. There are a lot of help organizations devoted to a particular purpose: I don't address myself to any type in particular.'

‘A penny here and a penny there, so to speak. Do you have any particular qualification, d'you mind telling me?'

‘Monsieur Bouillon, we're beating round the bush. You spoke of a report that's circulating. Will you tell me what it is?'

‘That's right; I'll come to that in a sec. You were just saying, about your qualifications.'

‘I have a variety of diplomas in medical and social work, which I do not pin on the wall. If I see out of a broad experience that anyone consulting me would be better served elsewhere I send them on. Whether that be to a psychiatrist or a fortune teller.'

‘So let's suppose I come in, Madame, and ask you for help, what then?'

‘Are you in trouble with your employer, your syndicate, your family, your debts, or your car? The best advice I can give you without knowing you better is to be very careful what you print, and especially what you insinuate.'

He smiled.

‘Not bad at all. No insinuation, just a straightforward question, so no need to take offence: have any of your activities been the subject of a complaint, let's say, to any legal or judicial authority?'

‘If you like to go down to the police, Monsieur Bouillon, and ask the commissaire, I dare say he'll answer that.'

‘But I'm asking for yours.'

‘Not to my knowledge. If any complaint is made, I'm there to answer it. Since this is the subject of your visit, it's my turn to ask you.'

‘No notion, I'm sorry. You'll have to ask them at the desk. I believe that some query turned up. They just asked me to pop along and get a general picture, you know. Which I have. No need to be sore at me, you know. Just doing the job.'

‘I'm aware,' she said. She got up. ‘I've my lunch to cook. Okay? As long as you're careful, you know, about suppositions. I know you'll be careful about facts.'

‘One last question then on a fact. You're sheltering a young girl under your roof here, as I'm given to understand.'

‘That is true. She came to me yesterday in a state of anxiety. She's free to go as and when she pleases. I don't intend to discuss it. That would not be acting in her interest.'

‘But you're advising her not to go home, is that right?'

‘No comment, Monsieur Bouillon, and no suggestions, please.'

Arthur was in the living-room, with a stiff drink and a frown.

‘Pestering you?' he asked. ‘I'll admit I've been finding self-control rather difficult. A tendency to eavesdrop …'

‘It wasn't very easy. I'm not used to them. I tried to behave as though it were anyone else. But patronizing, rather offensive, and, of course, provincial. Anything without a clearly written label that's not within their experience, they're unable to grasp. He told me I spoke good French: I was much touched. Thought I was Dutch I suppose.'

Arthur shrugged.

‘If need be I'll go down to their office and set them straight. They will be pretty careful what they print. It's plainly this Siegel stirring them up.'

‘No, I prefer to fight my own battle – if battle there's to be. I've a notion what they might do is refuse my advert.'

‘My dear girl, I won't interfere at all, but if there's any harassment, I'll make it quite clear to them that you're not unsupported. There's quite a lot of cooperation they get from various sources which they value.'

‘I see. That sounds comforting. It rather makes one think – I mean supposing one didn't have any influential friends, or a certain social standing.'

‘Then one would be bullied. A fact of life that's universal. By the way,' changing the subject firmly. ‘It occurred to me – but I don't know yet how you got on this morning?'

‘The Pelletier woman. She's all right. A bit distant. Call it selfish, if one likes, but only to be expected. She's neutral. Refuses to intervene either way.'

‘Act according to the way one's bread is buttered, specially when it's thick. Yes, well, most people are like that: acting out of interest is the world's chief occupation. With that in mind, how about getting a shrink's opinion on Marie-Line just in case they try any hanky-pank when she goes home? Now,
while she's free of emotional pressure. We have to get her to go home; can't have her hanging round here.'

‘Yes, but isn't that a bit drastic? – might she get worked up about that and start one of her comedies? She's healthy as a tree, and absolutely normal, but if she gets the idea that we think she needs an expert opinion, I wouldn't put it past her to act up to it.'

‘No: apart from anyone competent being able to recognize that, I told her with some bluntness this morning not to be a little ass. She swallowed and gulped a bit, and said she'd be good. Shpss, there she is.'

Just in time really. Arlette was a bit indignant with Arthur.

Tact with Marie-Line, over lunch.

‘I'd a bit of a chat with Cathy. She's quite sympathetic. You know… doesn't want to be the interfering step-ma. And she's really rather frightened of you: under the impression you take a slightly poisonous view of her.'

‘That's crap, honestly. I've never resented her at all. But it's an excuse for her, you see. She acts all independent and the intellectual executive stuff, but she's bossed about by the men both at home and at work and likes it. Pretending I disapprove of her lets her agree with them, while pretending to be neutral.' Arthur laughed, and Arlette had to grin.

‘You aren't far out, I dare say. A bit crude, but we aren't going to psychoanalyse Cathy. Nor you either, come to that, but Arthur's made a suggestion and there might be something in it, and that's to ask a shrink to give you a rapid check-up; the result of which would be of course that you're resoundingly well-balanced. This would cancel any subsequent suggestion that you weren't at any moment. Like last night. A bit emotionally het-up, which is far from being neurotic. You don't have to, of course.'

‘I don't mind a bit. Will you come with me?'

‘No, I'd prefer you handled it by yourself: it's only a formality and if it comes from you it has more weight. I don't want it said that I'm whispering suggestions at you. I can ring up for you.'

‘Why bother?' asked Arthur. ‘Perfectly good neighbour down one flight.'

‘No, I'd like to leave old Rauschenbach as a neighbour, and no more. A completely independent evaluation is best.'

Arlette went into the office and tried three or four numbers of psychiatrists at lunch-time. Everybody was most polite but all full up today, teddibly sorry. Lordy lordy, she hadn't known there were so many Strasbourgeois with neuroses. There's a clinic of course at the hospital, yes, yes, quite. Wait all morning, and by that time anybody'd be neurotic.

All right then. She slipped downstairs to Doctor Joachim Rauschenbach, an elderly gentleman who was having a postprandial cigar in his living room, who greeted her cordially and gave her a cup of coffee. Ma Rauschenbach said hallo, and vanished into the kitchen, the way she always did: one of those effacing women that haven't anything to say with a man present.

Arlette was on good terms with her neighbours, had been since going down at moving-in time to apologize for all the damn hammering.

‘I've come to ask a favour, tiresomely – a matter of could you fit someone in for half an hour without upsetting your appointments.'

‘Oh, that's probably no great strain. One often has cancellations; even if not, I could squeeze a half-hour if that's all it is: who is it, you?' grinning.

‘A girl who came round with a family problem. I wouldn't dream of bothering you, and don't intend setting any precedents, you know? I want her to go home as soon as maybe, but she's a bit scared to: the parents are – so she says – threatening her with a psychiatrist simply because of a few behavioural problems, and I thought it would reassure her if she had a word with the expert, and get told, I imagine, that she's nothing to worry about.'

‘I see. You mean something quite rapid and superficial, without a physical or any tests? Bit of fatherly chat? That's easy enough. I might want her to come back. What's her name?'

‘Marie-Line Siegel. I don't suppose there's any problem about coming back, if you wanted it more thorough.'

‘Siegel, ah. The name's familiar: I wonder, am I mistaken – colleague of sorts?'

‘That's right. Dentist.'

‘Ahah, that's it.' The old boy was looking at her and rubbing his jaw. ‘You're putting me in some slight embarrassment, my dear Madame Davidson. I'd be delighted to do as you ask, but hereabouts I'm not too sure. Professional colleague you know: I don't know him socially but we sit on a committee together. I'm wondering whether what you suggest mightn't be a wee bit ticklish.'

‘Yes, I see,' said Arlette at once, knowing it was hopeless to press it. ‘Not ethics but perhaps etiquette?'

‘Some such protocol expressions. He's a bit stiff, you know, and old-fashioned. The father whom I knew as a young man was exceedingly Victorian. It might be taken amiss, y'know.'

‘No strain,' said Arlette, ‘and forgive my bothering you.'

Arthur was doing the washing-up, with Marie-Line to help, when she came strolling in falsely negligent, hands in pockets and cigarette in mouth, looking, said Arthur, ‘just like John Wayne at a discouraging moment'.

‘It looks rather, children, as though we've been anticipated. All the shrinks in Strasbourg are unaccountably preoccupied. The old fruit downstairs was mortified. I almost think he'd had a phone call.'

‘That wouldn't surprise me at all,' said Marie-Line portentously.

‘Quite a conspiracy,' squinting along the cigarette and blowing ash on the floor. ‘The press this morning, with broad hints that I'm a charlatan. There's a cop coming this afternoon, probably wanting to know whether I've got you locked in an attic, my girl. Ludicrous. I don't quite know what I've done to deserve all this.'