CHAPTER 15
I looked at her in shock, until she rose for her wiping, and I had to look elsewhere for my modesty.

“But Maman, she…”

Margot smiled into the mirror I faced. “Monsieur the doctor? I have heard things. He has a new reception lady, no?”

That was extremely peculiar; a schoolfriend knew more of my mother’s romances than did her own daughter. And Margot’s father? And Maman? That blush, the evening before, at church, suddenly I saw what had clearly been there for others to see, and if they did see, did not also M Boucher himself? I remembered my mother’s smile, the day in the sun when she had told me of her compact with our doctor, my doctor, and the frost of Mme Chinon that resulted. What was it Maman had said?

“No, it hasn’t been bad at all”

She was still young, still alive; why should I see anything odd? I turned from the mirror. “Margot, your Papa, he has spoken of this?”

She grinned, and for an instant she was another Elle. “Not in so many words, no, but he asked one or two things, such as the location of your own Papa”

“I have none. I have never had one”

“Calm, my little friend, calm. I meant no ill. It is just, as your mother has retained her ring, he was curious in what he thought was the most casual of interrogations”

I couldn’t help but smile. “And now he will start on a more rigorous course, no? About my brother?”

She blushed so prettily, and I lifted her chin again as her head dropped. “Elle’s maman, she has helped you with all this?”

I indicated the dress, the hair, the paint, and Margot’s grin was back. “Yes indeed! The dress is hers, and the shoes, which are only slightly too small, but the underneath is all mine. The brassiere is new, and the stockings, but I had no money for new knickers…”

Her voice tailed off, and then once more Elle shone through her eyes. “Anyway, a young man may just manage a sight of a good girl’s décolletage, especially if she is careful where she places it, but he should see no further, no?”

The laughter ended with an inspection of my own endowments. “They are coming, my girl, arriving together in a dead heat!”

The last was spluttered out in a wave of laughter, and then we simply had to repair our faces and return to the others. I watched Roland carefully as we entered, and there was a smile there, genuine and simply sweet. I looked over to M Boucher, and the expression of his face was more watchful. Margot settled down by Roland with a touch of his hand, and I looked across then to our mother, and she sent me a small smile of her own.

And we talked, and compared gifts, and expressed our gratitude, and I sat alone. It was now clear where Maman had cast her eyes, and Rollo’s were now filled with his Norman flower, for that was my thought, that my friend had come fully into bloom. I looked at her and realised that she had always been pretty, always a girl with good looks, but he had been released from that. It was not just the preparation given to her by Elle’s mother, but a glow from within her. The moment with Rollo had opened some window to her soul, and joy shone from her face. Rollo, for his part, looked almost stunned. It was still a look of happiness that sat in his mouth and eyes, but it was not the expression to which I had become accustomed when he had netted some polished girl of legs and breasts. No smugness, no satisfaction, just…I had not the words then, but now, as I write, I see that it was contentment. Not the look of a cat that has secured the best of the milk, but of a man after a good dinner. He looked satisfied, surprised and comfortable, all in one odd mixture.

Margot sat beside him, and her hand touched him often as they talked, until we were all interrupted by a strange sound, which was the snoring of her Papa. So, so tired.

“Sophie, a blanket for our guest? Alas, my charms as a woman appear to have been outdone by my skill in the kitchen. Margot? He does this often?”

She nodded. “Yes, Madame. He works, very long hours. He has since…since that time. I must call each end of each journey I make, so that he knows I have arrived safely, but he, he does not wish to spend time in the house”

Rollo enlaced his fingers with hers as tears threatened her eyes. “Perhaps, with new friends, we may cure him of this, no?”

She raised their joined hands to her lips, and kissed his. “We shall try, Rollo, we shall try”

There was another sound, then, my mother’s laughter. “So quickly comfortable for such a nervous child!”

“Child, Maman?”

Rollo’s manner was one of curiosity.

“Yes, my son, yet a child, as you must allow her to be for a while yet”

“You…you disapprove?”

Her laughter was louder, though Margot looked worried. “Disapprove, my dear son? Good heavens, how could I disapprove of such a thing, and with such a lovely one? No, it is only that you must be her protector before her suitor, no? At least, I hope, that would allow Guillaume some surcease. As for me…”

She laughed once more. “As for me, I am already counting the grandchildren I shall be delivered!”

Margot was a shining hot pink, just then, and I took the chance to hurry upstairs for the blanket, and as her Papa snored we three led Margot to the big sofa, and as Maman took her own chair we two girls settled either side of the token gentleman for a watching of the first of Pagnol’s ‘childhood memories’ films, the one about the partridges and the Catalan Uncle Jules, and in but a few minutes my friend had kicked off the not-quite-right shoes and curled her feet under her rump, leaning against my brother. He shifted, just enough, and an arm went across her shoulders. Maman just smiled, and soon we were immersed in Provence. I had always loved the books, and while the film did not quite match their subtlety, it still had charm. “There is only one T in ‘hermit’ “, priceless! As it ended, Maman stood to prepare a light supper, and as I went to rise she just shushed me and waved me back into my place beside my brother.

That brought me to awareness of exactly what it was we had been doing. He, the big man, had a girl either side of him, one to cuddle as a new love, the other to sit comfortably against his strength as a sister would. There are moments in my life when I have doubted my strength, queried the rightness of my decisions and the choices I have made, and then there are times when everything has fallen into place as do the balls in a bagatelle, and I have known, deeply, in my soul, that Sophie is real and always has been. That was one of those moments. I reached up and kissed my brother’s cheek as softly as I could.

“What was that for, my sweet?”

“Simply for being you, my brother”

“Alas that I must wash over the next few days, then”

“Your pardon?”

“Ah, to arrive at work, amid the men, with the marks of not one but two pairs of lips on my cheek, that would be a triumph”

I do not know quite how it began, but shortly thereafter two of us had sprung upon him, and his face bore many more such marks, and as I sat back to re-arm myself with fresh lipstick there was a pause; it ended when Margot simply and fully kissed him, one hand on his cheek, her eyes open and aware. I slipped away to the kitchen to leave them their space, and as I arrived M Boucher was stirring. Perhaps with a louder voice than strict necessity required, I bade him come with me to the kitchen, where Maman was heating water for coffee.

“Julienne, may I beg your pardon? It was of bad manners to fall asleep in such a way”

“Guillaume, were you not tired? Margot has told us of the hours you have been working. This is a time for family, a time to relax. You have, I hope dined well?”

“Very well, Madame. It was exquisite”

“Then, you will know of the myth from the Orient, that one must break wind to give compliments to the cook? Well, surely a well-fed man asleep in a chair is as traditionally French as can be? I need no better compliment, nor does my daughter, for we are a partnership in this room, not so, my little sweet one?”

She turned to see to the hot water, and called over her shoulder for me to ascertain what the two others wished to drink, and as she did so she gave a wince.

“I am stiff in the shoulders this afternoon, Sophie. Perhaps I should give you a greater share in our partnership?”

Margot’s father coughed, and then, quite shyly, “I have some facility in massage, Julienne. Perhaps I could loosen the tension in your shoulders?”

“That would be delightful, Guillaume. Please do”

I went back to the other two, who were now sitting as far apart as the sofa allowed. I laughed at the sight.

“Nobody will be fooled, you are far too obvious. Anyway, he is occupied at the moment”

Margot sat up. "Eh?"

“Giving Maman a massage for a neck I suspect is in perfect health. Coffee, tea, or?”