Fred Vargas - The Three Evangelists

‘Don’t come back till Tuesday, Matty,’ she said, taking a sudden decision. ‘We’re going to be closed for the weekend. I’m going back home to Normandy. All this kerfuffle with trees and trenches has upset me. I’m going to put on boots and go walking in the wet grass. I like wearing boots and the last days of May.’

‘Good idea,’ said Mathias, who couldn’t imagine Juliette in rubber boots.

‘Come too, if you like. I think it’s going to be fine. You look the sort of man who likes the countryside.’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Mathias.

‘You’d be welcome to bring St Mark and St Luke and the gothic policeman if you like. I’m not particularly anxious to be on my own. It’s a big house and we wouldn’t have to be in each other’s way. But, as you like. Do you have a car?’

‘We don’t have a car, because of our little problem with money. But I know where I can borrow one. I’ve got this friend who works in a garage. Why did you call him “gothic”?’

‘Oh, I just did. He’s very fine-looking, isn’t he? His lined face makes me think of those old churches with pillars going in all directions, that look as if they are falling apart but keep standing. He’s rather dishy.’

‘You know about churches?’

‘I used to go to Mass when I was little, believe it or not. Sometimes my father would pack us off to the cathedral at Évreux and I would read the guidebook during the sermon. Sorry, but that’s all I know about the gothic. Does it bother you that I compared the old man to Évreux Cathedral?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Mathias.

‘I do know one or two other places besides Évreux. The little church in Caudebeuf is solid and very plain, goes back a long way, and it feels very restful. And that just about exhausts the subject of my acquaintance with churches.’ Juliette smiled. ‘After all that, I would really like to go walking. Or cycling.’

‘Marc had to sell his bike. Do you have some down in the country?’

‘Two. If it really tempts you, the house is at Verny-sur-Besle, a village not far from Bernay, just a small place. When you come along the main road, it’s the big farmhouse to the left of the church. It’s called Le Mesnil. There’s a stream and some apple trees, nothing but apple trees. No beeches. Will you be able to remember all that?’

‘Yes,’ said Mathias.

‘I’m off now,’ said Juliette, winding down the shutters. ‘No need to tell me if you’re coming or not. There’s no telephone anyway.’

She laughed, kissed Mathias on the cheek, and went off, with a wave of her hand. Mathias was left standing on the pavement. Cars went past, making exhaust fumes. He thought that he might be able to bathe in the stream, if it stayed sunny. Juliette had soft skin and it was nice to have advances made to one. He stirred himself, walking very slowly towards the house. The sun warmed the back of his neck. He was clearly tempted. Tempted to go and relax in this village of Verny-sur-Besle, and to cycle over to Caudebeuf, although he didn’t really care much about old churches. But it ought to please Marc, at least. Because there was no question of going there alone. Being alone with Juliette, with her plump, agile body, pale-skinned and languorous, might lead to trouble. Mathias could see the risk and in some ways feared it. He felt so weighed down at the moment. The sensible thing would be to take the two others along, and the commissaire as well. The commissaire could go and visit Évreux in all its grandeur and appealing decadence. It would be easy to persuade him. The old man liked going places, seeing new things. Then he could persuade the other two. It was a good idea. It would do them all good, even if Marc preferred towns, and Lucien was sure to protest against going off to some godforsaken place in the country.

They were on the road by six o’clock. Lucien, who had brought some work with him, was grumbling in the back seat about Mathias’ primitive rural tastes. Mathias smiled as he drove. They arrived in time for supper.

The sun stayed out all weekend. Mathias spent a lot of time skinny-dipping in the stream, though nobody else understood why he did not feel the cold. On Saturday, he got up very early and wandered round the garden, looking at the woodshed, the cellar, the old cider press, and went off to Caudebeuf to see whether he and the church had anything in common. Marc went off cycling for hours. Lucien spent most of the time sleeping in the grass on top of his papers. Armand Vandoosler told stories to Juliette, as he had done that first night at the Le Tonneau. ‘Your evangelists are nice,’ said Juliette.

‘They’re not really mine,’ said Vandoosler. ‘I just pretend they are.’

Juliette nodded. ‘Do you have to call them St This and That?’

‘No. It was just a silly fancy that came to me one night, when they were standing at the three windows. It was a game. I like playing games, I like telling lies too, and making things up. So I play my games, I gamble with them and that’s how it comes out. Then I imagine they each have a little halo. Yes? It certainly annoys them. Now I’ve got into the habit.’

‘So have I,’ said Juliette.

LUCIEN DIDN’T WANT TO ADMIT IT WHEN THEY RETURNED ON MONDAY night, but the three days’ holiday had been an excellent thing. His analysis of the propaganda destined for the home front hadn’t made much progress, but everyone’s peace of mind had. They had supper peaceably and nobody got grouchy, not even him. Mathias had time to say a few words, and Marc constructed some long sentences about little things. It was Marc who took out the bag of rubbish every night to the main gate. He held the plastic sack in his left hand, the one with the rings, to counterbalance the refuse. He came back without the bag, looking preoccupied, and went out several times over the next two hours walking as far as the gates.

‘What’s the matter,’ Lucien asked him in the end. ‘Are you inspecting the grounds?’

‘There’s a girl sitting on the wall opposite Sophia’s house. She has a child sleeping on her lap. And she’s been there more than two hours.’

‘Leave her be,’ said Lucien. ‘She’s probably waiting for someone. Don’t be like your godfather, nosy about everything. I’ve had enough.’

‘Well, I’m worried about the child,’ said Marc. ‘I think it’s getting cold.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Lucien.

But nobody left the big room. They made some more coffee. Then a light rain began to fall.

‘It’s going to rain all night,’ said Mathias. ‘May 31. How dreary.’

Marc bit his lip. He went out again. ‘She’s still there,’ he said, coming back in. ‘She’s wrapped the kid up in her jacket.’

‘What’s she like?’ asked Mathias.

‘I didn’t go and stare at her,’ said Marc. ‘I don’t want to alarm her. She’s not in rags if that’s what you mean. But rags or not, we’re surely not going to let a girl and her child wait for God knows what, are we, all night in the rain? OK? So come on, Lucien, lend me your tie. Hurry up.’

‘My tie? What for? Are you going to lasso her?’

‘No, stupid,’ said Marc. ‘Just so’s not to frighten her. A tie is kind of reassuring. Come on,’ he added, holding out his hand. ‘It’s raining.’

‘Why don’t I go myself?’ asked Lucien. ‘It would save me taking my tie off. Anyway it doesn’t at all go with your black shirt.’

‘You’re not going because you’re not the reassuring type,’ said Marc, knotting the tie as fast as he could. ‘If I do bring her back here, please don’t stare at her as if she were your prey. Be natural.’

Marc went out and Lucien asked Mathias what he should do to look natural.