Getting the job became an obsession. Nora thought about it night and day. What a triumph it would be if she pulled it off—for herself, of course, but also for her relationship with Gérard. She knew he was patiently waiting for her to fall at the first hurdle and beg him to take her back. She wasn’t afraid that she’d be destitute, scrimping and saving, never sure she’d make it to the end of the month. What she was afraid of was the different lifestyle she was forcing on her children, compared to the luxury they were used to with Gérard. The alimony payments barely covered the rent: against all logic, she’d made it a point of honor to find a place large enough for each of the kids to have their own room. It was out of the question for them to enjoy the comfort of a 3,500-square-foot house one week and the next find themselves slumming it in a tiny apartment.
The small house she’d found in a residential neighborhood was nothing like where they’d grown up, but it was nice enough: light-filled and welcoming. And affordable. With her limited means she was determined to make it comfortable and cozy.
As she looked around at the piles of boxes and furniture scattered about the first floor, the cozy dream began to fade. She looked at her watch: she had two hours before Gérard was due to bring their son back. Two hours for her to set up a snug corner in his bedroom. She had no time to waste. She went into the entryway and called up to Inès.
“I’m in my room!”
She went upstairs and pushed open the door to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. It was lovely and bright, filled with boxes waiting to be unpacked.
“Maman?” came Inès’s voice from the other end of the corridor.
“I’m in here, sweetheart.” A moment later, Nora sensed her daughter’s presence behind her. She turned and stepped aside to let the teenager pass.
“Do you think he’ll be happy here?” Nora asked, biting the inside of her cheeks.
“Sure he will! This is a great room. And look.” Inès walked over to the window and opened it. “He has this amazing view over the backyard, and it’s right above the deck.”
Chapter 4
Sylvain arrived back at six. He went into the kitchen and put down his keys, wallet, and a thick file of work he had to finish for the following Monday on the table, then went straight out into the backyard, where he found Tiphaine crouched down among her plants, filling in the soil around the roots of a young shrub. The minute she saw him, she stood up and went over to him.
“Something’s happened,” she said in a low voice.
“Why are you whispering?”
By way of answer, Tiphaine nodded at the hedge that separated their backyard from that of the neighboring house. Sylvain raised his eyebrows in surprise and curiosity.
“And?” he asked, lowering his voice in turn.
“A mother and daughter. There doesn’t seem to be a man, so she’s either divorced or widowed. About my age. She looks nice.”
“And the daughter?”
“Teenager. Standard model. Cute.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“No.”
They looked at each other in silence. Since Madame Coustenoble’s death, they had never spoken about who might move into the house next door, but they both knew perfectly well the repercussions it would have on their lives. Sylvain nodded mutely several times, without taking his eyes off Tiphaine. He was about to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind.
“Where’s Milo?” he asked finally.
“Upstairs in his room. He’s meant to be studying, but it might not be a bad idea for you to check on him.”
“I’ll go up and take a look.”
As he turned to the house, he glanced back at the hedge. Alone again, Tiphaine finished planting the shrub, adding some homemade compost to the soil and methodically tamping down the mixture around its base.
Tiphaine was a professional horticulturist, but plants were more than merely her job. She was fanatical about gardening and spent most of her time with her hands in soil, sowing, planting, watering, weeding, propagating cuttings, pruning, and harvesting. Plants, flowers, trees, and shrubs held no secrets for her; she knew all there was to know about every variety, not just when they blossomed and what their yields were, but their properties, health benefits, and dangers. Alongside her undoubted physical proficiency, she possessed fine observational skills, excellent scientific knowledge, and an artistic sensibility.
Being in contact with the earth was vital for her, therapeutic even.
Lost in what she was doing, at first she didn’t hear the rustling of leaves a few yards away, just over the hedge in the neighboring garden. A few seconds later, she caught a glimpse of a vague movement beyond the foliage. Intrigued, she turned her head and, otherwise motionless, stared at the place that had just stirred. A moment later she spotted a small figure, then a face and eyes watching her in silence. Slowly, she straightened up and walked to the hedge, on the other side of which was a small boy of seven or eight. He stood stock-still, as if he was debating whether or not to run away.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Maxime.”
