CHAPTER 27
That week Fatima was as good as her word, and on the Wednesday she explained what her brother had told her.

“Your mother can be granted a divorce on the grounds of separation, for that needs only be for two years. The problems come afterwards”

We were at our midday meal, and with my mouth filled I could only raise my eyebrows to ask the question. She twisted her mouth, as if at some sour taste.

“There is the division of everything to argue over, and then there is the custody of children. No, listen to me. It is often the case, according to Abdullah, that even when there is a long separation of the two people, one will attempt to seize any children as a weapon against the other. They do not want the children, just their use and power to hurt that other person”

I was so nearly an adult that I wanted to scream. And then, I realised: he knew nothing of our win on the lottery. Would that give him the courage that had run down his leg at Rollo’s hands? There was a lot to worry me in so few words. Fatima continued.

“Sophie, my brother, he is my big brother, like yours, and he would talk to you. He likes to pretend he is the great advocate, before the judges and the magistrates, the man in the suit of clothes and the cravat, but he is still the boy who read my stories to me, still my brother, yes? Do not let his haircut and his shoes frighten you. Oh, Elle, just for once, be serious, please? He is a good man, he is someone who still believes that there is justice, that it should be sought”

I nodded. “I must speak with Maman. This thing with the children, if she can wait, then…then I will be eighteen and the sperm donor can…well, if he has pockets, he can–“

I couldn’t say that word, but Elle’s shriek of laughter was sufficient. They understood what I meant. I found her alone that evening in the kitchen as Roland worked late.

“Maman, the girls, they ask…you and Papa. What would you do?”

Her smile was sweetly sad. “You already know the answer, my little one”

I gathered my strength. “Yes, I do. But…listen, I have not discussed our private matters with the girls, not those ones, but they see how things go with you and him, and they ask when you would wed. And…please, I must finish, Fatima, she is not stupid, and her brother is an advocate. She knows about these things. Before you and Papa, well, before that you must, we must deal with the sperm donor”

“Deal with? I need nothing from him but an ending”

“Maman, Abdullah, that is Fatima’s brother, he says that some angry couples fight over children, and property, and I am yet seventeen”

She put down the plate she had already washed six times. “The lottery. That is our vulnerable place, no? If he thinks, after nine years, well, if he has the pockets he can go and fuck himself there!”

She was trembling, staring out of the window, and I bent to hold her, realising that I was taller than her, but never, ever, stronger. I pulled her head to my breasts, MY breasts, and whispered.

“Abdullah, she says that he would speak with us, speak with you. I feel he may wish to do things for his little sister, but also for his sense of fairness. If that is true, then he must know all. About me, about Guillaume, Papa, all”

She shed tears into my blouse. “You say that word so easily, my baby. I wish things had been possible, the circumstances different. You do not say it, but you speak the sense I need. When you are eighteen, all changes. That piece of a bastard, he will have no claim on you. It is our money I fear for. This Abdullah, you trust him?”

“I have not met him, Maman, not yet, but Fatima, she is someone I trust. She has a good heart”

“Her brother: he has a wife?”

I laughed aloud. “Are you asking on behalf of me or for yourself, Maman?”

She slapped me gently on my behind as I held her. “Silly goose! It is just, if we have him to eat it would not be natural to leave any family to await his return. Speak to your friend. Perhaps this Sunday when we have both intended spouses present?”

“He has asked you then?”

“He has never needed to, my sweet. Come, let us finish this, and then we shall take a glass and find ourselves something suitably feminine to watch from the films we have”

The next morning, I asked my friend directly.

“No, he has no wife yet, though our parents are looking hard. He will bring an excellent dowry, Maman says, but my brother, he just wants the right wife, and she asks, how will you know, and he just says, I will know when I see her”

“He would eat with all of us on Sunday?”

“I will ask him”

I made my decision. “And you yourself? Would you join us? It will be we three, plus Margot and her Papa”

“Not Benny?”

“Not this time”

Not if I had to explain my life to another stranger. Not to Benny, not yet. One day, one day that I hoped would be soon, I would have the strength and the confidence to let him know about me, but not yet.

I was up very early on Sunday morning, for this would be a day that involved two things of importance. Firstly, I would be declaring myself to another adult, trusting in the faith his sister had shown me, and as well in her own love of me. Secondly, I was to acknowledge my own father. Not yet in public, and only between the man, my mother and myself, but for the first time I would be able to say those things I needed to. I could only know of a father’s love by observation: watching Elle and her Papa, Margot and Guillaume. The sperm donor was a null, a nothing. More than that, he was an empty place in my life. He did not simply lack existence as a father but left a void where such a person should stand, and I would have that space filled with life and a smile.

Maman, had decided that we would dine on lamb mice, which were always a favourite of mine, with a bowl of puy lentils, one of small carrots and another of spinach. We would eat in the sun, in our garden, and the meal would begin with some cold Spanish soup she had brought with her from the Mediterranean.

“I do not know what he can eat, my sweet, so lamb is the safest meat I can use. This is so difficult: is he, are they, allowed cheese? I remember things about Jewish food that say it is not allowed”

I realised that I had never noticed what it was that Fatima ate, save the fact that she never had saucisson or ham. Maman was shaking her head.

“Chocolate mousse, then. I will have the cheeses inside, and if he will eat them we can bring them to the table. Good Lord in Heaven, does he drink wine? This Fatima, does she wear the scarf? Going to school?”

“No, Maman. She says it would be silly to put it on outside when God sees her all day without it inside the school”

“Thanks be to the Saviour. Now, before you wake your do-nothing brother, let us see what we will need for the meal”

In the end, while Maman prepared the mice and the lentils, Roland and I drove out to the large shop for bread, cheese, wine, and at Maman’s insistence a lot of fruit juice, just in case Abdullah was so observant of his religion as to shame the rest of us into abstinence. And new shoes, a sandal in straps, for my feet continued to grow. I watched Rollo as we did our business, and it was wonderful, if perhaps strange, how I now saw him.

My brother was handsome, that was my thought. I did not desire him, but as I became more and more the woman I had always known I should be I saw him with the eye of a woman, I knew, without a doubt, that when he took Margot to the Mairie he would attract the gaze of every woman there, and most of them would have desires that would not be right for a sister to share. Those thoughts brought another, and I wondered how handsome the sperm donor must have been to ensnare our mother, and to leave such a legacy to his son. My brother was indeed beautiful.

He caught my gaze. “Of what are you thinking, my little one?”

I looked down at my feet and shrugged at the words. “I am just dreaming of how beautiful Margot will look on your arm, my brother. A jewel needs a splendid setting in which to shine, and you…”

My clever words died, and I saw his smile again, and oh how I loved him. “One day, my sister, one day you will shine on someone’s arm, and then I will be there for you. Now…we must be professional. There is stationary over here, and it is for little children, and I think we must buy some to show where our guests should sit. Asterix or Tintin?”

And so we ended up with place-markers for our guests. Rollo, of course, was Asterix and Guillaume Obélix; Abdullah would be Panoramix for his knowledge, Maman Bonemine (naturally), Fatima Iélosubmarine, and Margot, at my insistence, Cléopá¢tre. To my embarrassment, my brother insisted I should be Falbala, the beautiful one.

We returned after a coffee and a small piece of cake for me and a much larger one for my brother, and together we brought out the tables and chairs for our meal. The cold Spanish thing was already in the refrigerator, and the kitchen was enchanting my nose with the smell of the lamb. I had just creamed the spinach when our guests arrived, for Abdullah had collected Guillaume and Margot as well as his sister.

He was as dark as Fatima, but where she was comfortable in her plumpness, he was tall and sharp in the nose. His sister had been absolutely right, and he was pulled to four pins in his clothing and haircut. I had to stifle a small giggle at birth when I found myself trying to see his shoes, but they were of a kind with the rest of him, impeccably so. Fatima introduced him to me, and then he smiled, and in his eyes I saw my brother, just as Fatima saw hers, and I wondered at this apparent law of the universe that big brothers must be tall, and kind, and loving towards their sisters.

“Abdullah, Fatima, this is my mother”

“Julienne, I beg you”

“And my brother, Roland”

“Rollo, please”

Fatima made it very obvious that he was being inspected sternly, as if on parade, and then she could pretend no more and laughed. “Margot, I see now why you smile! If you ever fall out of love with this one, you will find a crowd of other women awaiting their turn!”

In the end, the two were not as observant as Maman had feared, and the cheese was no issue, although Fatima abstained from the wine. In the end, her brother had removed his jacket and his tie, and even his vest, as the food and the wine worked with the sun to relax our group. Finally, though, things had to be said.

“My sister tells me that your father is estranged for many years, Sophie. Guillaume, Julienne, I need no written file to see your hopes, so let us be without any wasting of time. You fear two things, two that I know of. One is that Sophie’s father will attempt to take her into his custody, and the other is that he will seek to take your property for his own. Nine years, you say, Julienne?”

“Nine indeed, with that whore from the tabac”

“Is there any urgency for your marriage, that with Guillaume? Forgive my blunt questioning, but I wish this matter finished so that we can continue as a wonderful day of friends and family and good food. Oh, and wine. I must order a taxi for later…there is no prospect of further issue soon?”

I saw my mother’s eye make a small movement.

“No, Abdullah, there is none. I am not with child”

“I am sorry to be so prurient. If that is so, then the simplest course is to await Sophie’s majority, which will be soon, no? As for property…?”

Rollo leant forward, Margot’s hand in his. “We had a small lottery win, which allowed us to move, to clear our debts and find a better life here. We are stable now, financially, but we are not wealthy”

Abdullah frowned. “This win, it was after he went with this…whore?”

“Yes, years after”

“I see. This is how it works, with abandonment, with adultery. He is gone two years and many more, and that means a judge can make a declaration of divorce. Unless he contests it, there are two things that we must protect. I have already explained what they are. A notary public makes the apportionment of assets, and I know the right man, or at least I know several of them and would be able to assist them in their logical processes. Your win; tell me, how much money does your husband send to you for the feeding and care of his---that is all the answer I needed or expected. Thank you, Julienne. This will be cake, unless, of course, there is anything else that might throw an evil light on things?”

It had to be said, it had to be faced. “Yes, there is”

Fatima’s brother looked at me without speaking, and then nodded. “How long has it been now? Two years, Serge?”

Fatima’s eyes went round, and her brother put a hand on her shoulder. “Worry not, my little princess. I do not go before a magistrate without researching my case, and I do not make offers to help friends without knowing theirs”

He turned back to me. “I know where to look, little one, so once I knew, the signs were easy to spot. It is also clear to me how correct your course of action is. I am not here to judge…”

He smiled again, and once more he was no accusatory figure but the brother of a close friend, He frowned slightly.

“I do not get paid as well as the judges, either! Forgive my bluntness, little one. I can see by the reactions of the others sitting here that they already knew, so I was correct in my guessing. This is one of the things that worries you, no? That your father–“

“Sperm donor!”

“Yes, Fatima warned me of that. That the man in question might accuse your mother of abusing you, and try and hurt her through you, no?”

Rollo growled. “He will come nowhere near my family and live”

“Yes, and you would be without your family until you are old, Rollo. This is not something he would do and look you in the eye, it is a war fought with documents and signatures. I have said what I needed to, my friends, for I feel that you are such. Sophie, Fatima has talked of you constantly since you met, and I believe that you, and, yes, Margot, you, are behind the strength she has developed against our mother’s planning for her. So, friends we are, agreed? Now, what I can do is mostly in preparation. Julienne, Guillaume, we can have a file ready for a judge as soon as Sophie has her birthday. With the consent of all of you, I would like to start preparing another document, this time to be a collection of sworn affidavits as to Sophie’s well-being and safety. This, er, sperm donor can dance and sing all he wishes, but I believe Sophie said something about pockets?”

I laughed with relief. “Maman said the same thing, but she was much ruder! Fatima, we will talk, and I will explain, no?”

She signed no with her head. “No. Not the way you think. I know who my friend is, and if she wishes some day to tell me of her pain when younger, we will talk. But to apologise, to explain, to feel that she has hurt me, no; that conversation we will never have, for it will never be needed. I told you I was proud of my brother, no?”

Maman sniffed. “I think we should have coffee now. I am but an aged cook, but I have a daughter and a fit young suitor, so perhaps they should see to its preparation”

Guillaume and I left the table, and I put the water on to heat. I turned, and he was behind me, and in my eyes, and as one we embraced.

“Oh, Papa…”