Louis de Bernières - The Dust That Falls From Dreams

‘Damned nails from horseshoes,’ said Daniel. ‘Had two punctures. It’s always nails from damned horseshoes. Every time I go out. The sooner we get the horses off the roads, the happier I shall be.’

‘ Ça n’arrivera jamais ,’ said his mother. ‘How would we get along without the horses?’

‘With motors, maman . You must have noticed. We’ve had them for about twenty years.’

‘And les chevaux we have had for des milliers ,’ replied Mme Pitt, ‘and they don’t need gasoline.’

‘ Ils ont besoin de foin. Une énorme quantité de foin .’

‘But the hay is in the fields! C’est partout! You don’t have to make holes in hot places to find it, n’est-ce pas ?

‘ Vous avez raison, maman. Comme toujours .’

‘ Ne me moque pas! Viens . I have made a cassoulet. Lave-toi, et viens t’asseoir. J’ai du bon vin, et du vrai pain .’

As they mopped up what sauce remained by scouring the dish with bread, Daniel said, ‘I’m not allowed to do this in Eltham.’

‘The English don’t trust the pleasure,’ said his mother. ‘ Autre pays, autre mæurs .’

‘I think I’m in the wrong country,’ said Daniel gloomily.

‘You would be just as énervé at home in France, because they are not English enough. And ici you are irritated because they are not sufficiently French.’

‘ C’est vrai. ’

‘Now, I have to speak to you.’

‘ Je m’en doutais, maman. ’

‘Rosie.’

‘Yes? What about her?’

‘I have a letter from dear Mr McCosh. Everything is not good. Tais-toi! I know everything. I am going to speak to Rosie and to her mother, but I am going to speak to you first.’

Daniel was thoroughly used to being told off and lectured by his mother, and, as he had grown more mature, he had learned to appreciate her advice. She was always humorous, never malicious, and was incapable of annoying him. In this she made a sharp contrast to Mrs McCosh.

‘Rosie is a sweet girl. She is vraiment sympathique . You must make more effort.’

‘More effort? Maman , I have had to exercise more patience than you can possibly imagine!’

‘Rosie is clever and interesting, and she worked so hard all through the war that she is worn out completely. Je crois qu’elle est encore épuisée . Especially in the heart.’

‘ Maman , she is still in love with a dead man. She can’t relinquish him. I have no idea why she married me. Sometimes she seems to love me a great deal, and sometimes she’s an absolute stranger that I can’t get through to.’

‘ Et pourquoi tu t’es marié avec elle? ’

‘I was in love with her. Or I thought I was.’

‘Of course. And, naturally, you still are.’

‘Strange to say, I also thought it was a question of destiny.’

‘ Pas de choix? ’

‘ Pas de choix. Exactement . And I love Esther. I go back to be with Esther. I feel I will never really have Rosie. I’ve stopped hoping for a happy marriage, or any kind of marriage at all. Sometimes she’s wonderful, and I think everything is going to be all right, but then sometimes I think that she did me terrible damage by agreeing to marry me and that I’ll never forgive her.’

‘I say that you still love Rosie, and the love is hiding under all the rage, n’est-ce pas ?’

Daniel looked at her and said nothing, unwilling to agree. Finally he said, ‘ Je ne sais pas .’

‘ Tu sais! Tu sais bien! Tu l’aimes encore! Je suis ta mère! Believe me!’

‘ Maman , being my mother doesn’t make you omniscient.’

She reached across the small wooden table and the remains of their meal, and patted his hand. ‘But I am! When it comes to my boys there is nothing I cannot know.’

Mme Pitt took a sip of wine and held it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing it.

‘Marriage is like a wine,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it can only be drunk very young, and then it goes bad and gets worse and worse. Sometimes when it is young it’s horrible, affreux ! And then the years pass and it becomes wonderful, and perhaps you don’t even notice, and then you realise that at last the wine has become beautiful and you are happy. Sometimes a wine must be left alone and sometimes it must be blended and tasted and changed a little. And sometimes someone must come along and turn every bottle over, many times. I am going to turn the bottles over, tu sais ? I am going to go and see Rosie and your belle-mère , and I am going to be very blunt with them, I will say things that are cruel, and they will have to excuse me because I am only a mad old Frenchwoman. But I am going to turn your bottles first, tu comprends ?’

‘ Maman , I see you’re not going to let me do otherwise.’

‘ Oui! Mon fils , I know that you still love her. I think she loves you and doesn’t know it. She has her dead man standing between, and he is blocking the view. I will tell her to look at the view.’

‘ Maman , have you ever talked to Archie? You must know … how he feels about Rosie. I did a horrible thing to him when I married her. I think I might have brought about his destruction. In the end, that is.’

‘Archie m’écrit , and I write to him, of course. He adores his life in India, with his wild tribes and his ambushing, and his soldiers with their blood feuds. Yes, I have thought that it was very bad of you to marry Rosie when he has always loved her, and when poor sweet Ottilie has always loved him too, mais je te confie quelque chose quand même .’ Mme Pitt leaned forward and patted his hand again. ‘I am certain that Rosie could never have loved him, she would have dragged him down into the misery. But I am certain that she loves you.’

‘ Vous en êtes sûr ?’ Daniel felt a small wave of hope pass through him.

‘Yes, but you must understand that Rosie is not a man. You have been with other men too much. A woman is not a man, d’accord ? It is no good stating facts and reasons and good arguments and making accusations. Il faut faire la cour. Il faut courtiser. Il faut de la patience, de la générosité, de la liberalité. Il faut montrer que pour toi elle tient sa juste valeur .’

‘ Maman, il est trop tard . I only have my daughter. I doubt if I will have any more children. I hate to say it, but there it is. I’d like lots of them. Esther is the only good thing to come out of this fiasco.’

‘It is not too late. I am going to go and turn over the bottles.’

‘Good luck, maman . But what are we going to do about Archie?’

Mme Pitt stood up and looked out of the window, as if she could see through the Downs all the way to the North-West Frontier.

‘I grieve for him,’ she said. ‘What can we do? Je suis en deuil . I lost your father over some affaire d’honneur ridicule , I lost your poor dear brothers in South Africa. Archie s’enivre, et se cache dans les déserts et les montagnes avec les sauvages . You are the only son left that gives me hope.’ She turned round and said, ‘You have so much charm, so much energy. Of course I hope.’

MME PITT ARRIVED at the house like a man-o’-war in full sail, billowing with chiffon and taffeta. Her clothes were scrupulously matched and were of that lovely shade of soft blue grey that one sees on the back of a wood pigeon. Her hat bore a brim splendidly wide, and its band was trimmed with a single dark red rose, very cunningly made. It was most effective, being the only red item against the field of smoky grey.