“Hello, Mélanie.”
Nora was relieved to know that the children were not home alone. But she was terrified of the secretary’s questions.
“I’m so sorry to get you involved, but Monsieur Depardieu promised he’d be back over an hour ago. I really can’t stay all evening, I have plans. I’ve been trying to call, but he’s not answering his phone. If I don’t hear from him in the next half hour, can I call you and you can come and take over?”
Caught off guard, Nora turned in a panic to look at Mathilde. The urgent need for a response made her stammer.
“Of course...sure....it’s...er...fair enough.”
Mathilde watched her with concern. “What’s fair enough?” she whispered.
“Or I could bring them over to your place, if you prefer?” Mélanie suggested, a little embarrassed to be asking such a favor of her boss’s estranged wife. But they were her children, too, after all.
“No!” Nora said, aghast. “I’ll come and fetch them.”
“Great! I’ll get back to you if he’s not home in half an hour.”
Nora ended the call and turned to Mathilde looking totally panic-stricken.
“We have half an hour.”
“Half an hour to do what?” asked Mathilde in panic.
“To get rid of the body!”
Mathilde froze. This refusal to accept reality triggered a wave of fury and revulsion. She had the feeling that when Nora had called her for help she was just trying to offload a problem she couldn’t deal with on her own. She was using her as a crutch. Dragging her into the abyss of guilt. Rage pounded her stomach more violently than if she’d been kicked in the abdomen. She suppressed the desire to throw herself at Nora and tear out her eyes.
“If it’s the two of us we can manage it,” Nora went on, as if in a trance.
That was it. Mathilde turned and slapped her friend as hard as she could. If words weren’t enough to persuade her, maybe physical pain would bring her to her senses.
Nora’s head pivoted violently, and her hair whipped the window. For a few seconds the car was filled with stunned silence. Then Nora turned slowly to Mathilde, her eyes brimming with tears.
She began to sob. Floods of tears that bore away with them the illusion that she could escape punishment, devastating upheaval, and the agony of guilt. She crashed abruptly back to earth so hard that the shock reverberated through her body, her mind, and her soul. It would be an endless descent into hell. Branded forever with the stigma of guilt, that wicked sorceress who insinuates herself into everything, leaving a long trail of venom in her wake.
Mathilde heaved a deep sigh of despair and compassion. At last Nora seemed to have come to her senses. Crying would do her good: Mathilde allowed her to purge herself of her pain for several long minutes, before exclaiming, “Damn it, Nora, look at the mess you’ve gotten us into.” She put her head in her hands. What was she going to do now? Could she turn around and go home, act as if she knew nothing, get on with her exhausting life as a working mother and wife? Was it too late?
She knew.
She knew that Gérard had died falling from the top of the stairs because Nora had pushed him as she tried to get away.
She was already complicit.
She was already guilty.
And now Nora seemed to have lost her mind. How could she trust her? How could she be sure that, in the event of her being interrogated by the police—which was bound to happen—Nora wouldn’t crack, and tell them everything, dragging Mathilde in her wake?
She could think of only two options: either she helped Nora get rid of the body, leaving her in constant fear that once the body was discovered the autopsy would reveal the real cause of Gérard’s death, and the police would open an investigation.
Or...
Or she managed to convince Nora to call the cops.
To explain what had happened. After all, Gérard had no reason to be at her house, much less upstairs. Her story was plausible, especially if she were the one to deliver it. If she didn’t, though, if she tried to escape justice, she was signing her own death warrant. No one would ever believe her story later on.
Mathilde lifted her head and gave a deep sigh. “Nora,” she began, in a voice so somber and lacking in vitality she didn’t recognize it. “I really can’t.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
