And Then Came Paulette by Barbara Constantine, Justin Phipps Read Free Book Online

to feed the donkey and the hens.
    Night fell. He went home, added some wood to the stove, and put the soup on to heat. Little Chamalo burst in, thinking it was dinnertime. Coming face to face with the dog, it stopped dead: with hair on end, and pupils dilated, it arched its back; sprang up, spitting like one possessed, and raced off to hide. After a while overcome by curiosity it came back to see the new arrivals. The old tomcat was asleep. No danger from there for the time being. The dog on the other hand was watching it, her tail wagging and her ears down. What was that supposed to mean? When the cat did that it was because it was angry. But the dog seemed content, even wanting toplay. It was the first time the cat had come across a dog. No wonder it wasn’t sure how to handle things.
    Ferdinand left them to get on with it. He went to fetch a bottle of wine from the cellar, laid the table and nibbled at a crust of bread to stave off the pangs of hunger. The soup was still warming on the corner of the stove. As he went by he lifted the lid to see how it was doing. He tasted it. Too thick, so he added some water. He stirred it. He looked at the time. Marceline and her cat had been sleeping in the same position for more than three hours. The situation was starting to become worrying. He went over and bent down to listen to their breathing. She was snoring very gently, as was the cat. He felt reassured. At that exact second she opened her eyes, saw him leaning over her and cried out. Ferdinand and the tomcat jumped, the dog barked, the kitten fled.
    She looked around her, completely disorientated.
    “What’s happened? I can’t remember.”
    “The storm? The roof?”
    “Has it collapsed?”
    “No, no, just leaks. But they’re big ones.”
    She got up, the old cat in her arms.
    “Cornelius!”
    “I’ve given him something to eat. And your hens too. Everything’s fine.”
    “Are you sure . . . ?”
    “Yes.”
    He poured out some soup, invited her to sit down and put the bowl in front of her. He offered her a glass of wine. She didn’t dare refuse. After two swigs the color returned to her cheeks and she almost managed a smile. They talked of this and that—nothing in particular. She found it more restful not to think too much at present.
    At the end of the meal she thanked him for all his help. So kind and thoughtful of him to feed her donkey and hens while she was asleep.And now this invitation to supper. She was feeling much better, but it was late and really she had to get back. She got up, put on her raincoat, and gathered her things, which he had hung out to dry a little while before. Ferdinand was desolate. He had been hoping he could make her understand his idea without the need to talk about it. But it was no use. He would have to spell it out, now, find the right words. To gain time he asked her if she wanted to look around the house before she left. She agreed out of politeness. They went through the rooms, left empty since his son and family had moved out. Then they went upstairs. He was still searching for inspiration. Finally he launched into a woolly and convoluted preamble where he talked of an idea, which was not entirely his own, because in fact, it was funny, it had been the children who had thought of it first—by now he was off topic—in short since her house was no longer habitable and there was room here, it seemed only natural to suggest, and of course he would be delighted if she agreed, for her to come and stay. They’re so logical, my little Lulus, don’t you think? As it happens, this is the room where you’ll sleep tonight. The bed’s all made up. You just need to lie down. Tomorrow you’ll feel more rested and you can think quietly about what you want to do. Good night, Madame Marceline. Oh yes, one last thing. Do you like tea or coffee in the morning?
    “Tea.”
    “That’s lucky, I’ve got some.”
    As he went out he patted the dog’s head and shut the door behind him.