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

to open the gate to his pen and had gone around the vegetable garden in search of something to eat. But finding nothing he returned to the yard, complaining noisily. Marceline stroked him for a long time, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. And she also scolded him just a little, as she’d noticed that during his walk he had trampled all over the cabbages. Then she went down to her house and slowly pushed open the door. The tarpaulin on the roof had given way. Half torn off, it was flapping against the wall in the wind. Two inches of water covered the floor. Dismal.
    An hour later it started to rain again.
    Ferdinand was washing the breakfast dishes. He heard a bark, so he went to open the door. Berthe splattered him from head to toe, as she carefully shook her coat on the doorstep. She was happy to see him, rubbing herself against his leg. She ended up completely soakinghim and when she had been patted enough she ran to lie down in front of the stove.
    Marceline crossed the yard, clutching two large vases. The wind had beaten back her hood, her hair was soaked, and the water trickled down her face.
    She stood in front of him, and looked him straight between the eyes.
    “You know very well I don’t have any money to pay rent.”
    “I haven’t asked you for anything.”
    “So why the offer?”
    “It’s natural.”
    “What’s natural?”
    “To help each other out.”
    “I don’t understand. We’ve hardly said a word, let alone shaken hands. You barely knew I existed and now all of a sudden you’re offering . . .”
    “I know. But don’t you worry about that for now, Madame Marceline. Come on in.”
    He held back the door to let her through. She hesitated, then finally went in. He wanted to help her. But she brushed him aside, and holding the vases tightly, ran upstairs.
    When she came down again there was a faint smile on her face, as though she wanted to apologize. He told her not to worry, it didn’t matter, we all have our little foibles. And she replied that one day—but not just now because at the moment she was so on edge she would definitely cry—she would explain why she preferred to carry the vases herself. In just a few words. It wouldn’t take long.

18
Moving Out, Moving In
    Ferdinand had attached the trailer to the tractor and Marceline harnessed the donkey to her cart. In less than an hour they had loaded up all her belongings. The biggest problem was the wardrobe. They rested it on one side, and slid it as far as the door, but there it got stuck. Ferdinand pushed and he pulled, he huffed and he puffed with all his might, but nothing worked. After a while Marceline began to laugh. He worried she might be about to break down. But soon he understood it was the situation that amused her. He was amazed. To be able to laugh after all she’d been through was simply astonishing. Well, it astonished him anyhow. He resumed pushing the wardrobe. It wouldn’t budge. In the end Marceline decided she might as well leave it there. It was not worth breaking their backs for such a short time. She didn’t have that many things. She could live without it.
    Returning to the farm, they piled her belongings in the room the kids had chosen for her cello. It was a small, bright room, on the ground floor, not far from the kitchen. Not at all like her house.
    She chose that room because of the window looking out on Cornelius’s stable. It would reassure him to see her, and she could keep an eye on him. No sooner had he arrived than he started to examine the bolt on the door of his stall. It wouldn’t take him long to work out how to open it. Two or three days at the most. And then what would he get up to once he was out? This was a donkey that liked to go where he pleased, visit the surrounding area, particularly the vegetable garden. Ferdinand might not be too keen on finding hoof marks in the middle of his vegetables. Only she could see the funny side. And even then, not always.
    She finished sorting her