Moon in a Dead Eye by Pascal Garnier Read Free Book Online

eleventh-century abbey church taken that morning. Every so often, one of them would catch sight of herself leaning romantically against a pillar or gazing up at the ogival arches, would bring her hand to her mouth and cry, ‘Oh, how ghastly! I’m so unphotogenic.’
    Causing the others to reassure her in unison, ‘Don’t be silly, you look lovely. It’s the flash, it wipes everything out.’
    The solemnity of the setting had led them all – even Léa – to adopt the same expression reminiscent of a constipated Virgin Mary. Only Nadine wore a wide grin, like a slice of watermelon. It should be said she had twice claimed a need to use the facilities, sneaking out for a quick puff in the chapel courtyard. Even now, her retina was still throbbing from having stared too long at the psychedelic light show of the stained-glass windows, and the other women’s voices sounded distant and distorted, as though coming through a tube.
    This job was really beginning to grow on her. Of course, it was all a complete con, but at least everyone was getting something out of it … She got on well with the three women; the two men made only brief appearances, like actors playing bit parts. It was rather like going to visit her aunties for the day. Odette was a born organiser and loved to be in charge. In fact, she arranged almost everything and no one seemed to mind, they were all in agreement. It didn’t really matter to them where they went, whether it was an exhibition, a craft market or an abbey church; they just enjoyed spending a few carefree hours in each other’s company. What’s more, Nadine was being paid for her troubles, which meant she had finally been able to get her toilet flush fixed. As she had got to know them better, she had realised that, leaving aside bank balances and a few years on the clock, there really wasn’t that much difference between her life and theirs. Especially Léa, who was single, just like her. Wasn’t Nadine’s little house, like Les Conviviales, a kind of bunker where she too lived tucked away in her own little world? She had to laugh, really. Having spent years living in a commune, carrying the cards of all sorts of wacky organisations, fighting for countless lost causes, she had wound up so disillusioned that she had said to herself if she could not change the world, she would at least make sure the world did not change her. Had she managed it? It was doubtful, to say the least. In any case, it seemed to her now that these wealthy old people were also misfits of a kind, a species left to ensure its own survival, rebels almost.
    Odette switched off the computer with a sigh of satisfaction.
    ‘I’ll print off the best ones tomorrow for our album. What a pity Martial didn’t come. I wonder how Maxime managed to drag him along to play golf. Martial hates sport … Damn, missed it!’
    She had just slammed her hand down on the clubhouse folder. Frowning, brow furrowed, with her nose in the air, for a fewseconds her gaze followed the winding path of a fly only she could see. Ever since ‘the cat day’, Odette had been tormented by this fly, the very same one. She had told everyone about it but still no one else had actually seen it – except Martial, but he was only pretending.
    Marlène stood up, fanning herself with a medical journal.
    ‘When are they going to sort the air con out in here? That fan really isn’t up to the job. I think I might go for a swim.’
    A wall of heat hit her the moment she stepped out of the door. The pool looked white-hot, as though filled with boiling mercury. Blinded by the glare, she screwed up her eyes and shielded them with her hand.
    ‘Ah, here come our returning champions!’
    Maxime’s car was making its way down the road, but it was not him driving. The coupé passed right in front of Marlène, stopping outside her house. Martial was behind the wheel, wearing a strange look on his face. Next to him in the passenger seat, Maxime seemed to be trying to