And Then Came Paulette Read Online Free PDF Page A

them off. They’ve promised me they won’t do it again.”
    “I can bring them back after tea, but . . .”
    “These dinners finish late, don’t they?”
    “One in the morning . . .”
    “Two o’clock? You poor things, you’re going to be tired.”
    “If I were you, I’d . . .”
    “But it’s natural to be stressed, Mireille. I understand.”
    “You’re right, I think it’s better too.”
    “OK, Mireille.”
    “Don’t worry, we’ll manage.”
    “See you tomorrow then.”
    “Yes, after lunch.”
    “Night.”
    He hung up and, gamboling like lambs, the two boys threw their arms around his neck. Little Chamalo was scared and went off to hide under the bed. It took them ages (and most of the leftover roast chicken) to make him come out.
    Ferdinand had to change the menu for supper. Unanimously they voted for spaghetti.

8
Laughing under the Blanket
    The children shared the bed in the room next to his. In the past it had been Henriette’s room. But Ferdinand had changed everything since then: the bedding, the wallpaper, even the decoration. Roland loved his mother’s collection of china ornaments, so Ferdinand gave them to him. In their place he put Ludovic and Lucien’s work since they started preschool: drawings, paintings, pasta necklaces, playdough sculptures and toilet paper rolls with Santa Claus heads.
    It was much nicer like that.
    He left the adjoining door ajar, in case the boys woke during the night.
    Worn out by all the cycling, Ludo was the first to go to sleep. Beside him Little Lu still had his eyes wide open. He clutched little Chamalo close to him. Eventually he nudged his brother in the ribs and speaking in what he thought was a whisper, asked:
    “You asleep?”
    “Mm.”
    “You know, Ludo, I’m pretty sure I don’t love Papa anymore. How about you?”
    “Yep, me too.”
    “That right?”
    There was silence and then Ludo went on:
    “He’s a moron.”
    “Is that a swear word?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Oh, right.”
    Little Lu was delighted.
    “What’s it mean then?”
    “He’s an idiot.”
    “In that case yeah, Papa’s a big, fat moron!”
    They dived under the blanket to stifle their laughter. And little Chamalo seized the chance to flee.
    From his room Ferdinand had heard every word, but hesitated to intervene.
    On the one hand he felt he should. On the other hand . . .
    He wasn’t supposed to have heard, so he smiled. Told himself that children these days were very sassy. He no longer remembered what he had thought at that age—if he could it would be interesting to compare the two. He tried, but nothing came back. Little Chamalo curled up against him and eventually went off to sleep, purring in his ear. Not really what you need when you’re trying to think.

9
Mireille Has Had Enough
    The organizers of the dinner had produced a list of guests willing to stay sober. These designated drivers would take their friends or partners home at the end of the evening when they were completely drunk. But, as always, there were a few unable to hold out. Two drivers down already. Mireille had spotted them. Almost two in the morning, the evening was far from over and her feet really hurt. She thought about the moment when, due to a shortage of staff, she would have to take them home herself. Not a thrilling prospect. There was always the risk of finding herself with a guy who, inhibitions gone after all that alcohol, would try and kiss her, grope her breasts with one hand, the other on his fly. Or the sort who’d vomit over the car seats. No she wasn’t excited by the idea. She looked at Roland. He didn’t excite her much either. Or at all in fact. He’d finished working in the kitchen an hour ago and had sat straight down at one of the tables. He was drinking a lot and laughing loudly. Everything she hated. In her eyes it was common and inappropriate for the owner of a restaurant to mingle with the customers. In fact she found it difficult to stand anything hedid.