Трейси Шевалье - The Virgin Blue

The beam held. I trained the flashlight back and forth along the rope, to the block, down to the clamps around the stone, back along the rope, down through the window and out to the truck. There was a lot to keep an eye on. I concentrated, my body tight as a spring.

I'd let the flashlight fall for several seconds on one of the clamps when it began to slide from the stone. I quickly flashed the light through the window to the mirror. Lucien stopped the truck just as the clamp came free from the stone and the metal frame hurtled up toward the block, knocking into the chimney before smashing into the beam. I shrieked and pressed my back against the door. The frame clattered to the floor. I was rubbing my face when Lucien poked his head through the little window.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes. It was just one of the clamps, it slipped from the stone. I'll put it back on.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course,’ I replied. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the frame.

‘Let me see it,’ Lucien said. I brought it to him to examine. Luckily the metal wasn't damaged. He watched from the window while I placed it around the stone and tightened the clamps as I'd seen him do. When I finished I shone the light on it and Lucien nodded.

‘Good. You know, maybe we can do this.’ He went back to the truck; I returned to the window as before.

Isabelle crouched in the straw and looked out through the devant-huis . The rain was falling hard now and the sky was dark. It would be night soon. She watched her sons. Petit Jean continued to brush the horse, glancing around nervously. Jacob sat studying the stones from Marie's dress. He licked them, then looked up at his mother.

– They chose the ugliest stones, he said softly. The grey ones, with no colour. Why would they do that?

– Be quiet, Jacob! Petit Jean hissed.

– What do you mean, you two? Isabelle cried. What are you keeping from me?

– Nothing, Maman, Petit Jean replied. Marie has run away, you know. She's going back to the Tarn to meet the devil. She said so.

– No. Isabelle stood up. I don't believe you. I don't believe you!

The clamps slipped twice more, but the third time they kept their grip on the stone. Lucien inched the truck forwards slowly and steadily, making a tremendous racket but maintaining an even pull. I had the flashlight on the block when I heard the sound, a sucking noise, like a foot being pulled from mud. I moved the light and saw the hearth separating reluctantly from the dirt, rising an inch, two inches, three inches, steadily. I watched, frozen. The beam began to groan. I left the window, crouched next to the stone and shone the light into the crack. There was a terrible din now, with both the beam and the block groaning, and the truck outside straining, and my heart pounding. I looked into the dark space under the hearth.

They heard the boom of rock hitting the ground and froze. Even the horse went still.

Isabelle and Petit Jean moved towards the door, Jacob uncurling himself to follow them. Isabelle reached the door and tried it. As she pushed, the bolt was slid across and the door opened by Etienne, red-faced and sweating. He smiled at her.

– Come in, Isabelle.

She started at the sound of her name, then stepped past him. Hannah was on her knees next to the newly set hearth, eyes closed, candles placed on the stone. Gaspard stood back, head bowed. He did not look up when Isabelle and the boys came in. I have seen Hannah like that before, she thought. Praying at the hearth.

I saw a flash of blue, a tiny piece of blue in that dark hole. Then the stone had been lifted five inches, and I stared and stared without understanding, and then it was six inches, and then I saw the teeth and I knew. I knew and I began to scream and at the same time I reached into the grave and touched a tiny bone. ‘That's a child's arm!’ I shouted. ‘That's -’ I reached in further and took the blue between my fingers and pulled out a long thread wound around a strand of hair. It was the Virgin blue and the hair was red like mine and I began to cry.

She stared at the hearth, placed so strangely in the room.

He couldn't wait, she thought. He couldn't wait for others to help and he let the stone drop where it would.

It was a huge slab, set too close to the entrance. They were crowded between it and the door, she and Etienne and Petit Jean and Jacob. She stepped away from them and began to circle the hearth.

Then she saw a flash of blue on the floor. She fell to her knees, reached out to it and pulled. It was a piece of blue thread and it came from beneath the stone. She pulled and pulled until it broke off. She held it up to the candle for them to see.

I heard the snap and a sizzling of rope in the air. Then with a vast boom the stone fell back in place, the clamps smashing into the beam. I knew I'd heard that boom before.

– No! Isabelle cried, and threw herself onto the hearth, sobbing and banging her head against the stone. She pressed her forehead against the cold granite. Clutching the thread against her cheek she began to recite: – J'ai mis en toi mon espérance: Garde-moi donc, Seigneur, D'éternel déshonneur: Octroye-moi ma délivrance, Par ta grande bonté haute, Qui jamais ne fit faute.

Then there was no more blue; all was red and black.

‘No!’ I cried, and threw myself onto the hearth, sobbing and banging my head against the stone. I pressed my forehead against the cold granite. Clutching the thread against my cheek I began to recite: ‘ J'ai mis en toi mon espérance: Garde-moi donc, Seigneur, D'éternel déshonneur: Octroye-moi ma délivrance, Par ta grande bonté haute, Qui jamais ne fit faute .’

Then there was no more blue; all was red and black.

I stood on the stoop for a long time before I could bring myself to ring the doorbell. I set down my travel bag, the gym bag next to it, and looked at the door. It was nondescript, cheap plywood with a peephole at eye height. I glanced around: I was in a complex of houses, small and new, with grass but no trees except for a few spindles trying to grow. It wasn't so different from new American suburbs.

I rehearsed what I was going to say one more time, then rang the bell. As I waited my stomach began fluttering and my hands grew sweaty. I swallowed and rubbed my hands on my pants. I could hear thumps coming from inside; then the door swung open and a small blonde girl stood on the threshold. A black and white cat pushed past her legs and onto the steps, where it stopped in the act of sloping off and pushed its nose against the gym bag. It sniffed and sniffed until I nudged it away with my toe.

The girl wore bright yellow shorts and a T-shirt with juice spilled down the front. She hung onto the doorknob, balancing on one foot, and stared at me.

‘ Bonjour , Sylvie. Do you remember me?’

She continued to stare. ‘Why is your head purple?’

I touched my forehead. ‘I hit my head.’

‘You must put a bandage on it.’

‘Will you put one on for me?’

She nodded. From inside a voice called, ‘Sylvie, who's there?’

‘It's the Bible lady. She's hurt her head.’

‘Tell her to go away. She knows I won't buy one!’

‘No, no!’ Sylvie shouted. ‘The other Bible lady!’

There was a click-click-click down the hall, then Mathilde appeared behind Sylvie, wearing short pink shorts and a white halter top and holding a half-peeled grapefruit in one hand.

‘ Mon Dieu! ’ she cried. ‘ Ella, quelle surprise! ’ She handed the grapefruit to Sylvie, seized me and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘You should have told me you were coming! Come in, come in.’