The Notebook + The Proof + The Third Lie Read Online Free PDF Page B

capable of anything. Once they split my head open with a stone. They've got a razor too, and they don't hesitate to use it. They'd slit your throat as soon as look at you. They're completely crazy."
    The boys leave.
    We hand the filled bucket to Harelip. She asks us:
    "Why didn't you help me right away?"
    "We wanted to see how you defended yourself."
    "What would I have been able to do against three big boys?"
    "Throw your bucket at their heads, scratch their faces, kick them in the balls, shout and yell. Or run away and come back later."
     
     

Winter
    It's getting colder and colder. We rummage in our suitcases and put on almost everything we find: several pullovers, several pairs of trousers. But we can't put a second pair of shoes on over the holes in our worn-out town shoes. Anyway, we don't have any others. We don't have gloves or hats either. Our hands and feet are covered with chilblains.
    The sky is dark gray, the streets of the town are empty, the stream is frozen, the forest is covered with snow. We can't go there anymore. So we'll soon be out of wood.
    We say to Grandmother:
    "We need two pairs of rubber boots."
    She answers:
    "And what else do you need? Where do you expect me to find the money?"
    "Grandmother, there's hardly any wood left."
    "Then we'll have to go easy on it."
    We don't go out anymore. We do all kinds of exercises, we carve various objects out of wood, like spoons and breadboards, and we study late into the night. Grandmother stays in bed almost all the time. She seldom goes into the kitchen. We are left in peace.
    We eat badly, there are no more vegetables and fruit, the hens aren't laying anymore. Every day Grandmother brings some dried beans and a few potatoes up from the cellar— which is full of smoked meats and jars of jam.
    The postman comes sometimes. He rings his bicycle bell until Grandmother comes out of the house. He then moistens his pencil, writes something on a bit of paper, and hands the pencil and paper to Grandmother, who puts a cross at the bottom. The postman gives her some money, a package, or a letter and goes off toward town whistling.
    Grandmother locks herself in her room with the package or the money. If there's a letter, she throws it into the fire.
    We ask:
    "Grandmother, why do you throw the letter away without reading it?"
    She answers:
    "I can't read. I never went to school, I've never done anything but work. I wasn't spoiled like you."
    "We could read you the letters you get."
    "Nobody must read the letters I get."
    We ask:
    "Who sends the money? Who sends the packages? Who sends the letters?"
    She doesn't answer.
    Next day, while she is in the cellar, we scour her room. Under the bed we find an open package. In it there are pullovers, scarves, hats, and gloves. We say nothing to Grandmother, because if we did she would realize that we have a key to her room.
    After the evening meal, we wait. Grandmother drinks her brandy, then staggers over to open her bedroom door with the key that hangs from her belt. We follow her and push her from behind. She falls on her bed. We pretend to search and find the package.
    We say:
    "That's not very nice, Grandmother. We're cold, we have no warm clothes, we can't go out anymore, and you want to sell everything Mother has knitted and sent for us."
    Grandmother says nothing, she cries.
    We say again:
    "It's Mother who sends the money, Mother who writes you letters."
    Grandmother says:
    "It isn't me she writes. She knows very well I can't read. She never used to write me. Now that you're here, she writes. But I don't need her letters! I don't need anything that comes from her!"
     
     

The Postman
    From now on we wait for the postman in front of the garden gate. He's an old man with a cap. He has a bicycle with two leather pouches attached to the carrier.
    When he arrives, we don't give him time to ring: very quickly we unscrew his bell.
    He says:
    "Where's your grandmother?"
    We say:
    "Don't worry about her. Give us what you've