The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles by Katherine Pancol Read Free Book Online Page A

as the poor abandoned little girl.
    “Word would have gotten around sooner or later, so why not let it all out? It makes us look less dumb.”
    “You really think Dad’s gone for good?” Zoé asked.
    “He’s definitely moved on,” Hortense said. “He told me he was looking to start a ‘project’ that ‘she’ was going to finance. She’s crazy about him, apparently. He’s looking for work outside France, says there’s no future for him here.”
    Joséphine was stunned: Antoine confided in their daughter more easily than in her. Did he now think of her as an enemy?
    “Still, you could have asked me before you spoke about it, Hortense.”
    “Don’t get too worked up about it, Mom. We’re going to need Henriette’s money, and she loves it when we come to her like lost little ducklings.”
    “No, Hortense. We’re not going to play that game. We’re going to make do on our own.”
    “Oh, really? How do you plan to do that with what you earn?”
    Joséphine slammed on the brakes, pulled into a side road, and switched off the ignition.
    “Hortense, I forbid you to speak to me that way! If you keep on like this, I’m going to ground you.”
    “Oh, please, not that!” she sneered. “I’m
so
scared!”
    “Now you listen to me, young lady. You may not think so, but I can put my foot down. I’ve always gone easy on you, but you’re crossing the line.”
    Hortense sat back in her seat and assumed an offended look.
    “Go ahead. I dare you. You talk big, but dealing with real life? That’s another story.”
    That was the last straw: Joséphine pounded the wheel and shouted so loudly that little Zoé began to cry. “I want to go home!”
    “What’s come over you since yesterday, Hortense? You’re being awful. I feel like you hate me. What did I ever do to you?”
    “You made my father leave because you’re ugly and boring and there’s no
way
I’m going to be like you. I’ll do anything tomake sure I won’t, even if I have to kiss Henriette’s ass so she’ll give us money. I don’t want to be poor! I hate poor people! Poverty sucks!”
    Joséphine was hardly able to breathe.
    Hortense turned to Zoé, who was crying quietly in the backseat, her fist in her mouth. “And stop bawling! You’re getting on my nerves. Damn! How the hell did I wind up with you two? Now I understand why Dad left.”
    Joséphine stared at her eldest daughter as if she were an escaped killer who had somehow found her. She forced herself to focus on the Bois road, which was lined with trees in bloom. The gentle swaying of the branches comforted her. Joséphine prayed that she hadn’t gone the wrong way and that they would come out at the Porte de la Muette.
Then all I’ll have to do is find a place to park—one more problem
, she thought with a sigh.

    Mercifully, the family dinner went off without a hitch. Carmen ran everything smoothly, and the serving girl she’d hired was energetic and helpful. Wearing a long white blouse and lavender linen pants, Iris joined the conversation when it faltered. That happened often, since no one was particularly talkative. She seemed a bit withdrawn.
    In the old days, when Iris came home, her arms full of shopping bags, she would shout, “Carmen! A hot bath, right away. Hurry, Carmencita! We’re going out tonight!” She would drop her parcels and run to find Alexandre in his room. “Did you have a good day? Tell me all about it, my love! How was school? Did you get good grades?”
    In the bathroom Carmen would run the water in the enormous blue-green mosaic bathtub, mixing thyme, sage, and rosemary oils with some Guerlain bath salts. When everything was just right, she’d light the little candles and call for Iris to slip into the scented water. Iris would sometimes have Carmen keep her company and pumice the soles of her feet or massage her toes with rose oil. She would talk about her day, like the time she bumped into a homeless woman with her hand outstretched. Iris was so