Black Radishes Read Online Free PDF Page B

more fun if Jean-Paul and Marcel were there to do it with him.
    Still, Gustave wanted to explore it, and, after the long trip, he was really starting to need the bathroom. He ran ahead of his parents and found the key between the roots of the small tree in the planter, brushed the soil off it, and fit it into the lock.
    The door squeaked open. Inside, it was dark and smelled musty. When Maman opened the windows and shutters, they saw a small room with large, heavy country furniture—a sofa, two armchairs, and a large oak armoire. A radio sat on a table in a dark corner. Stairs separated the living room from an old-fashioned kitchen with a large sink and a pump. Gustave ran up the squeaky steps to the second floor. It was musty up there too.
    The smaller bedroom must be for him. He pulled open the windows, pushed out the shutters, and looked out over a walled garden behind the house. Two hazelnut trees grew there, one on each side of a small shed. Inside the room, a narrow bed stood against the wall beside an old night table. There was nothing else but a dusty chest of drawers holding a basin and pitcher for washing.
    But how did you get up to the attic? Gustave pulled open a door in the wall of his room, feeling hopeful. Maybe he had his own private entrance and the attic could be his secret place. But it was just a closet. Maman and Papa’s room didn’t even have a closet, only an armoire. Gustave tapped the walls to see if they sounded hollow anywhere. They didn’t. There was no pull-down trapdoor on the ceiling of either bedroom or in the hallway. And where was the bathroom, anyway? Gustave wondered. The situation was getting urgent.
    Gustave ran to the landing halfway down the stairs. Maman was already dusting the living room, and Papa was bringing in boxes.
    “Where’s the bathroom?” he shouted. “I need it, and I can’t find it!”
    Papa grinned up at him. “Outside in the backyard! And there’s a chamber pot under your bed for nighttime. Remember how Aunt Geraldine complained that the country was uncivilized? Now you know why. But you’re a Boy Scout—you know how to rough it, right?”
    Gustave ran to the shed in the backyard. So that was what it was. It smelled, but he needed it too badly to be fussy. When he came out, Papa was pulling the mattresses down from the top of the truck.
    “How do you get up to the attic, Papa?” Gustave called.
    “Come help me carry up the mattresses,” answered Papa. “We can put them on the bed frames, and I’ll help you look.” But Papa couldn’t find an entrance or a trapdoor either.
    “But there has to be a way up to the attic,” said Gustave. “Otherwise, what’s the point of having one?”
    “There must only be stairs up to it from the other side of the house,” Papa told Gustave.
    “Oh, why couldn’t we rent the other side?” Gustave moaned.
    Papa shrugged. “Désolé, mon vieux,” he said. Sorry, old pal . “That’s where Madame Foncine lives.”
    “Why does she get the good side?” Gustave muttered under his breath. It was so unfair. The attic was the most interesting thing about the house, and Gustave couldn’t get into it. He turned and pounded down the stairs.
    “I’m going outside to explore!” he shouted, pushing open the front door.
    “Unpack first,” said Maman, sticking her head out of the kitchen.
    “Do I have to? Can’t I do it later?”
    “Now,” said Maman.
    Maman had already opened the box with Gustave’s things in it, so unpacking didn’t take long. Gustave tucked Monkey into the loose pocket of his pants and put his books into the bottom of the armoire in the living room. He lugged his suitcase up the stairs and put his clothes into the bureau. When he pulled open the bottom drawer, he found some old jigsaw puzzles and an empty picture frame, but he didn’t have enough clothes to need that drawer anyway, so he left them there. Maman handed Gustave a pile of bedding, and he made the bed, spreading his familiar blue