“I’m sure of it. He knows.”
After a few more seconds of silence, Sylvain leaned up on his elbow and tried to look Tiphaine in the eye. She was still staring at the ceiling.
“It’s absolutely impossible,” he said. “Stop playing games.”
“He might not know it consciously, but he senses it.”
“Tiphaine, please. Milo’s just...” He paused, unsure how to express his thoughts, then said, “He’s lost both his parents. He’s suffering. He’s handling it in his own way. I know it’s hard for you, but it’s harder for him. You mustn’t take it personally.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Sylvain wasn’t even sure she’d heard him. Then all of a sudden she stopped staring at the ceiling and turned to look at him.
What he saw in her expression didn’t reassure him at all.
Since that day, Tiphaine hadn’t been able to shake her slight wariness of Milo, even if, over time, the tension between them had eased. But Sylvain had the sense that his wife’s sadness and frustration were eating away at her more and more each day. And now that another little boy had moved into the house next door, was going to live and grow older before their eyes, he knew that the casket of memories had opened up again and was going to take over her mind.
And now Tiphaine was realizing with horror that she simply was not going to be able to bear the presence of this child.
In the house next door, on the other side of the wall, Nora tapped out a number on her cell phone; she waited for someone to answer then placed an order for three pizzas, gave her name and address, and asked how long they would take to be delivered. Just as the call ended, Inès and Nassim burst into the kitchen.
“I’ve ordered pizza,” announced Nora, with a big smile on her face.
The two children showed their delight by flinging their arms around their mother’s neck.
“Did Nassim tell you?” she asked her daughter. “We just met the lady who lives next door.”
“What pizza did you order for me?” Nassim asked.
“Four cheeses, your favorite.”
“Tell me about the neighbor. What’s she like?” asked Inès, stuffing two pieces of gum into her mouth.
“She was pretty nice. We had a laugh, actually. She seems like she could be fun,” Nora said, smiling. “I think we’re going to like it here.”
Chapter 6
Gradually the boxes were unpacked and Nora began to organize her life. Tidying, sorting, choosing which things to throw away, which to keep. Finding a place for every object, a nuance in every gesture, a motive behind every decision. She was furnishing both her house and her life, the life of a single mother with daily responsibilities that weren’t the most straightforward. Her children gave her the motivation to deal with myriad things, but at the end of the first week her confidence took a knock when Inès and Nassim walked out the front door, their overnight bags slung over their shoulders, and climbed into their father’s car. The door slammed shut with a week on her own ahead of her, during which she found herself beset by doubts. She missed them. What was she doing there, all alone in an empty house? Wasn’t she supposed to be with her children, no matter the sacrifice? Had she really tried everything before making such a radical decision?
The relationship between her and Gérard remained strained. He was furious with her for leaving, for not having given their relationship another chance, and thus denying their family a future. And to make matters worse, she hadn’t found a job yet. Her financial situation was terrible, and every morning, when the mailbox spat out nothing but bills and flyers, she had to fight to keep panic at bay.
And then, one Tuesday, two weeks after she moved into the house on rue Edmond-Petit, a phone call shone the first ray of sunshine onto the gloom of her increasingly worrying situation.
It was the principal of the nursery school, Madame Stillet. When she realized who she was speaking to, Nora held her breath. Her heart began to race. After the usual preliminaries, Madame Stillet told her she was going to take her on part-time, for an initial three-month probationary period. Nora stifled a triumphant little cry. She would obviously have preferred a full-time job, but this half-positive answer was nonetheless excellent news. Madame Stillet said she’d like her to start the following week, and Nora found herself getting all tangled up in thanks.
At last, some good news. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Even if it was still only a faint glimmer, Nora was determined to see in it a sign that things were going to get better. The children were with their father, which meant she’d have to wait until the following Sunday before she could tell them the news. Not that she couldn’t phone them, on the contrary: she spoke to them briefly every evening, just to hear their voices, ask about their day, send them her love. But she didn’t want Gérard to know yet. Not right away, not until she actually started working.
Instead, the newly minted kindergarten assistant called her lifelong friend Mathilde. She had to celebrate with someone. Mathilde answered on the second ring. She tried to understand through Nora’s laughter and cries of joy what she was so happy about, and let out a shriek of delight when she eventually understood.
“Can you get away this evening?” asked Nora. “I don’t want to celebrate on my own.”
“I could be at yours around eight. That way I’ll have time to put the little one to bed. Do you want to go out?”
“Not necessarily, we could have a bite to eat at my place.”
“I’ll bring the champagne!”
It was a wonderful evening. The two women sat on the deck enjoying the mild early summer evening that foreshadowed the gorgeous days and starry nights to come. For the first time in weeks, Nora felt renewed self-confidence. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but at least there was some hope that things were soon to get better.
“What you have to do is make yourself indispensable,” Mathilde told her. “I bet you at the end of the three months she’ll be begging you to work full-time.”
