Трейси Шевалье - The Virgin Blue

‘Because the grandmother wanted it for herself!’

‘Yes, the cloth was very beautiful but there was only enough to make a dress for a little girl. When she wore it she looked like the sky.’

‘Was it a magic dress?’

‘Of course. It protected her from the grandmother, and from other things too – fire and wolves and nasty boys. And drowning. In fact, one day the girl was playing by the river and fell in. She went under water, and she could see fish swimming below her and she thought she was going to drown. Then the dress puffed up with air and she floated to the surface and was safe. So whenever she wore the dress her mother knew she would be safe.’

I glanced over at Sylvie; she was asleep. My eyes lit on the fragments of blue between us.

‘Except for one time,’ I added. ‘And it only takes once.’

I dreamed I was standing in a house that was burning to the ground. There were pieces of wood falling and ashes blowing everywhere. Then a girl appeared. I could only see her out of the corner of my eye; if I looked at her directly she disappeared. A blue light hovered around her.

‘Remember me,’ she said. She turned into Jean-Paul; he hadn't shaved in days and looked rough, his hair grown out so it curled at the ends, his face and arms and shirt covered with soot. I reached out and touched his face, and when I took my hand away there was a scar from his nose to his chin.

‘How did you get this?’ I asked.

‘From life,’ he replied.

A shadow crossed my face and I woke up. Mathilde was standing over me, blocking the evening sun. She looked like she'd been there for a while, her arms crossed, studying us. I sat up. ‘I'm sorry,’ I said, blinking. ‘I know this must look bizarre.’

Mathilde snorted. ‘Yes, but you know, I'm not surprised. I knew Sylvie would want to see those bones again. It looks like she's not scared of them anymore.’

‘No. She surprised me, she was so calm.’

Our voices woke her; Sylvie rolled over and sat up, cheeks flushed. She looked around, her eyes coming to rest on the bones.

‘Maman,’ she said, ‘we're going to bury her.’

‘What? Here in the yard?’

‘No. Her home.’

Mathilde looked at me.

‘I know just the place,’ I said.

Mathilde let me take her car into Mende. It was strange to think I'd been there only three weeks before; a lot had happened since then. But I had the same feeling now walking around the grim cathedral and the dark narrow streets of the old town. It wasn't a welcoming place. I was glad Mathilde lived further out, even in a treeless suburb.

The address turned out to be the same pizzeria I'd eaten in before. It was almost as empty as last time. I felt calm walking in, but when I saw Rick sitting alone with a glass of wine, frowning at the menu, my stomach turned over. I hadn't seen him in thirteen days; it had been a long thirteen days. When he looked up and saw me, he stood up, smiling nervously. He was wearing work clothes, a white button-down shirt, a navy cotton blazer and docksiders. He looked big and healthy and American in that dark cave of a place, like a Cadillac crawling through a narrow street.

We kissed awkwardly.

‘Jesus, Ella, what happened to your face?’

I touched the bruise on my forehead. ‘I fell,’ I said. ‘It's no big deal.’

We sat down. Rick poured me a glass of wine before I could say no. I politely touched it to my lips without swallowing. The smell of acid and vinegar almost made me gag; I set it down quickly.

We sat in silence. I realized I would have to start the conversation.

‘So Mathilde called you,’ I began feebly.

‘Yeah. God, she talks fast. I didn't really understand why you couldn't call me yourself.’

I shrugged. I could feel tension gathering in my stomach.

‘Listen, Ella, I want to say a couple things, all right?’

I nodded.

‘Now, I know this move to France has been hard for you. Harder for you than for me. Me, all I had to do was work in a different office. The people are different but the work is similar. But for you, you don't have a job or friends, you must feel isolated and bored. I can understand that you're unhappy. Maybe I haven't paid enough attention to you because I've been so busy with work. So you're bored and, well, I can see there'd be temptations, even in a little hick town like Lisle.’

He glanced at the psoriasis on my arms; it seemed to throw him momentarily.

‘So I've been thinking,’ he continued, getting back on track, ‘that we should try and start over.’

The waiter interrupted him to take our order. I was so nervous that I couldn't imagine eating anything, but for form's sake I ordered the plainest pizza possible. It was hot and close in the restaurant; sweat formed on my forehead and hands. I took a shaky sip of water.

‘So,’ Rick continued, ‘it turns out there's an easy way to do that. You know I was in Frankfurt at meetings over this housing project?’

I nodded.

‘They've asked me to oversee it, as a joint project between our company and theirs.’ He paused and looked at me expectantly.

‘Well, that's great, Rick. That's great for you.’

‘So you see? We'd move to Germany. Our chance to start over.’

‘ Leave France ?’

My tone surprised him. ‘Ella, you've done nothing but complain about this country since you arrived. That the people aren't friendly, that you can't make friends, that they treat you like a stranger, that they're too formal. Why would you want to stay?’

‘It's home,’ I said faintly.

‘Look, I'm trying to be reasonable. And I think actually I'm being pretty good about it. I'm willing to forgive and forget this whole thing with – you know. All I'm asking is that you move away from him. Is that unreasonable?’

‘No, I guess it's not.’

‘Good.’ He looked at me and his goodwill momentarily slipped. ‘So you're admitting something happened with him.’

The hard knot in my stomach moved and beads of sweat broke on my upper lip. I stood up. ‘I have to find a bathroom. I'll be back in a minute.’

I managed to walk away from the table calmly, but once I reached the bathroom and shut the door I let go and vomited, long gasping retches that shook my whole body. It felt like I'd been waiting to do it for a long time, that I was throwing up everything I'd eaten in France and Switzerland.

Finally I was completely empty. I sat back on my heels and leaned against the wall of the cubicle, the light set into the ceiling shining on me like a spotlight. The tension had been flushed away; though exhausted, I was able to think clearly for the first time in days. I began to chuckle.

‘Germany. Jesus Christ,’ I muttered.

When I got back to the table our pizzas had arrived. I picked mine up, set it on the empty table next to us and sat down.

‘You all right?’ Rick asked, frowning slightly.

‘Yup.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Rick, I have something to tell you.’

He looked at me apprehensively; he really didn't know what I might say.

‘I'm pregnant.’

He jumped. His face was like a television where the channels changed every few seconds as various thoughts passed through him.

‘But that's wonderful ! Isn't it? That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Except -’ The doubt in his face was so painful that I almost reached across and took his hand. It occurred to me then that I could lie and that would solve everything. That was the open door I was looking for. But I was never good at lying.

‘It's yours,’ I said at last. ‘It must have happened just before we started using contraceptives again.’

Rick jumped up from his seat and came around the table to hug me. ‘Champagne!’ he cried. ‘We should order champagne!’