Léon and Louise by Alex Capus, John Brownjohn Read Free Book Online Page B

of his taciturn evenings at the bar of the Café du Commerce, and he came to the conclusion that what he had hitherto done in life could not be called good. It wasn’t bad either, because he hadn’t so far done any damage worth mentioning and had never harmed anyone or done much that he would have been ashamed to admit to his parents; but it was also true that none of his daily doings was truly important, fine or good, and he certainly had no reason to be proud of anything.

    Léon didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when the sound of voices woke him. It was coming from outside the window, which he’d left open because the night was so warm, and it was accompanied by a peculiar stench – a mixture of disgusting smells whose source he couldn’t identify. He got out of bed and looked down at the platform. There in the dim light of the gas lamps stood a long train made up of goods wagons and cattle wagons, and old Barthélemy and Madame Josianne were bustling along the platform from one to the next. Léon descended the stairs in his bare feet, stripped to the waist.
    The train was so long, it seemed to have no beginning or end. Many of the wagons were closed and many open, but issuing from them all was that frightful stench of putrefaction and excrement, together with the voices of men groaning and screaming and begging for water.
    â€˜What are you doing here, boy?’ said Madame Josianne, who was doling out water to the soldiers in a big pitcher. They were sitting or lying on bare wooden planks strewn with straw, their faces glistening with sweat in the light of the gas lamps. Their uniforms were filthy, their bandages soaked in blood.
    â€˜Madame Josianne...’
    â€˜Go back to bed, my pet, this is nothing for you.’
    â€˜But what’s going on here?’
    â€˜Just a hospital train, my angel, just a hospital train. It’s taking the poor fellows south to hospitals in Dax, Bordeaux, Lourdes and Pau, so they soon get better.’
    â€˜Can I help?’
    â€˜That’s kind of you, my treasure, but now go. Go on!’
    â€˜I could fetch some water.’
    â€˜No need. We’re used to it, your chief and I. You young people shouldn’t see such sights.’
    â€˜But Madame Josianne...’
    â€˜Go to your room at once, my pet. At once! And shut the window, you hear?’
    Léon tried to protest and looked round for Barthélemy in search of support, but as soon as the stationmaster heard his Josianne raise her voice he came hurrying up. He eyed Léon sternly and pursed his lips so that the bristles of his moustache stood out horizontal, then pointed to the goods shed and hissed:
    â€˜Do as madame says! Dismissed!’
    So Léon gave up and went back to his room, but he left the window open in defiance of Josianne’s instructions. Stationing himself in the shadows behind the curtain, he watched what was happening on the platform. When the train pulled out he flopped down on his bed and, because the whole incident had tired him out, fell asleep even before the nocturnal breeze had carried the last remnants of the stench away.

    It so happened that just before work began the next morning, as Léon was on his way from the goods shed to the station building, little Louise came riding along the avenue with her bike squeaking urgently. Reaching the station, she applied the back-pedal brake so hard that gravel crunched beneath her wheels and a cloud of dust went drifting across the forecourt. She left her bicycle in the bike shelter and ran up the three steps to the booking hall. Léon would have liked to follow her, but it was his unpostponable duty to get his red flag from the office and be standing on the platform by the time the 8.07 a.m. passenger train arrived.
    When the train pulled in, Louise was the only passenger to emerge from the booking hall. Léon was relieved to note that she was holding a ticket in her hand but