Anne Mather - The Night Of The Bulls

‘Damn!’ Dionne pressed her lips together tightly, refusing to panic, and thrusting open her door she climbed out to inspect the damage.

It was nothing serious, only her offside wheel was stuck in the mud, but without assistance she didn’t quite see how she was going to extract herself. She looked across at the gardien and he patted his horse and it trotted slowly over.

‘You have a rope, mademoiselle ?’

Dionne controlled her annoyance with difficulty. She was strongly tempted to retort that she did not normally find it necessary to equip herself with a rope when she went out for a morning drive, but pettiness would help no one. So she shook her head vigorously, staring fiercely at the offending wheel, almost as though she believed her force of will power would be sufficient to make it lever itself out of the ditch.

The gardien climbed out of the saddle slowly. There was a passiveness about him which was in itself infuriating. It came from long hours spent out on the open marshland, communing with the earth and the sky.

‘I have a rope, mademoiselle ,’ he said calmly, unwinding a length from the pommel of his saddle.

Dionne’s relief was such that she was able to banish the inevitable comment that sprang to her lips. Instead she smiled rather tightly, and said: ‘Where does one attach it to the car?’

The gardien raised his brows lazily, and then bent to tie the rope to the front fender. This done, he straightened, surveying her flushed appearance. ‘The wheel, mademoiselle ; you will direct it – so?’ He showed her what he wanted her to do.

‘Of course.’

Dionne opened the car door and as he attached the rope to the horse and climbed back into the saddle, she began to push. It was hard work, and she was sweating by the time the car began to edge its way back on to the packed surface of the road. The task was almost completed when she heard the sound of horse’s hooves. Glancing round nervously, she saw a lone rider approaching them. At first she thought it was a boy, but as the rider drew nearer she saw the mane of golden-brown hair tossed over one shoulder and she realized it was a girl. She straightened apprehensively as the girl reined in her mount beside them, but she was unprepared for the excited exclamation: ‘ Dionne! Dionne, it is you! What in the world are you doing here?’

Dionne stared at the girl in astonishment, her momentary withdrawal banished by the absolute pleasure in the newcomer’s voice. ‘Louise,’ she said slowly. ‘Good heavens, I hardly recognized you. You were a child when – when I left.’

The girl laughed infectiously. ‘I was fourteen, Dionne. I’m seventeen now. What are you doing here? Are you coming to the mas to see Grand’mère?’

Dionne felt dazed. This was a contingency she had not planned for. Louise’s enthusiasm was so genuine, and she scarcely knew how to reply to her. Turning to the gardien who was climbing back into his saddle after untying the rope, she thanked him warmly, giving herself a moment to think of what excuse she could give Louise. But as the old man rode away, something Louise had said pierced the confused reaches of her mind.

‘You – you said Grand’mère?’ she questioned, in astonishment. ‘You mean – you mean Gemma?’

‘Of course.’ Louise’s smile disappeared. ‘You surely did not intend to leave without seeing her?’

Dionne shook her head helplessly. ‘I – I saw the caravan,’ she murmured. ‘I thought—’ She shrugged. ‘Never mind, I – look, Louise, this isn’t a social visit.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘Surely you are not too young to realize that I would not be a welcome visitor at the mas.’

Louise’s eyes clouded. ‘Grand’mère gets very few visitors,’ she said sadly. ‘But why are you here, Dionne? I thought Manoel went to see you last night.’

Dionne frowned. ‘You know about that?’

Louise shrugged. ‘But of course,’ she said, with typical continental inconsequence. ‘I recognized your voice on the telephone. It was I who told Manoel you must be here.’

Dionne pressed her hands to her sides. ‘And does – does everyone know this?’

Louise grimaced and kicked at the scrub grass beneath their feet. ‘Oh, non , not everyone. Just Manoel and me.’

Dionne bit her lip. ‘Tell me something, Louise,’ she said. ‘Is – is your father no longer at the mas ?’

‘Papa is dead!’ Louise spoke regretfully. ‘He died two years ago. Manoel is in charge of the manade now. This is his farm, these are his bulls.’

Dionne shook her head in amazement. ‘I never guessed,’ she murmured, almost to herself. Then: ‘Does your mother still live with Manoel?’

Louise nodded. ‘Of course. And Yvonne.’

A knife twisted in Dionne’s stomach. ‘Oh, yes, Yvonne,’ she agreed tautly.

Louise stared at her for a long moment. ‘You are looking thinner, Dionne. How have you been? Are you still teaching?’

Dionne compressed her lips. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said dully. ‘Yes, I still teach. And you? Are you finished school?’

‘Manoel wants to send me to a school in Switzerland, but I don’t want to go. I love it here. I can see no possible reason for him to send me away. Just because he finds life so impossible.’ She flicked a glance in Dionne’s direction. ‘You know of Yvonne’s accident, of course.’

Dionne’s attention was riveted. ‘No,’ she denied swiftly. ‘What accident?’

Louise shrugged. ‘She was gored by a bull. She is paralysed from the waist down.’

Dionne gasped in horror. Louise said it so chillingly, so carelessly. Almost as though she considered the accident was nothing more than Yvonne’s due.

‘But how terrible!’ Dionne spread her hands. ‘When – when did this happen?’

Louise shrugged again. ‘Soon after you left, I suppose. Is it important?’

‘You don’t think so?’ Dionne was horrified.

Louise played with the reins of the bridle. ‘Yvonne asked for all she got,’ she said coldly. ‘She was angry with Manoel, and she thought she could annoy him by teasing his bulls.’ She gave a characteristic movement of her shoulders. ‘No one can play with bulls!’

Dionne tugged at a strand of silky hair that had come loose from her chignon. No wonder Manoel looked so much older, so much more experienced. What a terrible time it must have been for him!

Now Louise touched her arm lightly. ‘It’s good to see you again, Dionne. I mean that. But why did you want to see Manoel? I thought — we thought—’ She halted abruptly, biting her lips. ‘Are you staying long in the Camargue?’

Dionne fingered the rim of the car door absently. ‘I don’t know, Louise. It – it depends.’

Louise sighed. ‘Did you come out here to see Manoel?’

Dionne hesitated and then she nodded. ‘Yes. Where is he?’

‘Actually he is away today,’ replied Louise, frowning. ‘At the vineyards.’ She stared at the other girl for a long moment. ‘What happened last night?’

‘What do you mean?’ Dionne pretended not to understand.

‘Between you and my brother? Dionne, you know what I mean. He came home in a terrible temper! Not even Yvonne dared to question him. Only I guessed you must have had a row.’

Dionne made a wry face. ‘I must go, Louise. If Manoel is not here, there’s no point – I mean – I have no reason to go to the mas .’

‘And Grand’mère? Do I tell her I’ve seen you?’

Dionne slid behind the wheel of the car. ‘I can’t stop you, of course,’ she said. ‘But perhaps it would not be kind, in the circumstances.’

‘Oh, Dionne !’ Louise clenched her fists, leaning on the bonnet of the car. ‘Why are you so secretive? Why have you come back after all this time? Surely you must have known what it would do to Manoel to see you again – now!’