The Returned Read Online Free PDF Page B

doctor’s role. He looked to Claire, who nodded. She’d had more than her share of sleepless nights, and
her medicine cupboard was well stocked.
    Jérôme was waiting for them when they came back downstairs. He’d been straining to hear what they’d been talking about, trying to make out the muffled
words coming down through the floor. Some, he’d caught; most had been unintelligible, and the thought of Pierre having this privileged role rankled with him.
    There was another source of his anger, though. Irritation with Pierre hadn’t been the only reason he’d not gone up to Camille’s room. While he’d been waiting, it had
occurred to him that his wariness of Camille was perhaps a little more than just caution. He thought he might even be scared of her.
    ‘So,
doctor
. . .’ he said to Pierre, belligerent. ‘What’s the diagnosis? Spontaneous
resurrection
?’
    ‘Please don’t be so disrespectful,’ said Pierre.
    ‘Come on then,’ said Jérôme. ‘Out with it.’ Pierre looked at him, still as infuriatingly calm as he always was; if this didn’t shake the man, what the
hell would? ‘For Christ’s sake, Pierre,’ said Jérôme, his voice low. ‘My daughter’s risen from the
dead
. What do we do?’
    Pierre thought for a few seconds, then shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It’s never happened before. Well, once, obviously . . . but I imagine you’re
not interested.’
    ‘You’re right, I’m not. Save it for Claire.’ Jérôme found his patience at an end. Frustrated, he could feel his aggression towards Pierre growing. ‘Now
answer the question – what the hell do we
do
?’
    Claire stepped towards Jérôme, holding out her hands to try to calm him. ‘Why take it out on us?’
    ‘Because after years of praying for this, I thought you would at least know how to
welcome
her. That’s why. I’m disappointed you’re not more prepared. I may not
know what to say or do, but at least I didn’t pray for this to happen.’
    Pierre, maddeningly, was still unfazed by Jérôme’s outburst. ‘Claire prayed for her daughter to be returned to her,’ he said. ‘But it was God’s grace
that saw fit to answer her prayer this way.’
    ‘It must be good to be so sure it was
God’s
grace.’ Jérôme felt the tears sting. He turned away and walked to the other side of the room. Claire followed,
put her arm around him. Held him. He gave way to it, to the grief and the fear and the confusion, sobbing.
    Pierre cleared his throat. ‘When she finds out the truth, it won’t be easy. She must be told what happened, and that so many of those she knew died. She must be told that she
shouldn’t be afraid. What she’s going through is terrifying but also wonderful, and that must be what she focuses on. She has to understand that we’ll be here for her.’
    Jérôme looked at him. ‘If you think you can tell her that . . .’
    ‘No, you’re going to tell her,’ said Pierre. ‘You and Claire. You belong here, Jérôme. With your daughter.’
    Jérôme glared at the man, so impossibly reasonable, so intolerably
understanding
. He clenched both hands, Pierre’s throat becoming too tempting a target, and spoke
through gritted teeth: ‘Then why are you still here?’
    ‘Stop it,’ said Claire, close to tears herself. ‘Pierre is here to help us. All of us. Our
family
.’ She looked up to the ceiling, to Camille’s room.
    Drained, Jérôme said nothing. His eyes drifted up to where Claire was looking, and he found himself saying a prayer of his own. Praying that what had come to the house today was
exactly how it seemed; praying that it really was his daughter lying upstairs in that bedroom.

8
    After leaving Michel Costa’s home, Julie had waited twenty minutes at the bus stop under the shelter, the rain still coming down and the sky rumbling. The bus was empty
when she got on, but as she sat she was surprised to see a small boy of about nine climb on board and stand by the