There are guys in the Docteur-Ayme housing complex who are ready to smash anyone’s face in, given a chance. Saïd knows several like that. He was happy to make an effort because of Jo and Céline, but it’s got out of hand now and the old guys are in for it. He can’t stand up to them on his own, but next time he won’t be alone. Of course, that’ll put an end to his dealings with Manuel. But he knows people: on the business front, it won’t be hard to find another builder ready to pinch two or three antiques from posh people’s building sites. Sometimes, it’s even more than posh – what do you call it when it’s even more? Some of his mates would say lucky bastards, dripping with money. Saïd doesn’t actually mind these people. They’re a godsend for the survival of his job. As long as there are rich people, he’ll be able to take advantage of them, get into the cracks and make everyone happy – while helping himself on the way. When all’s said and done, just like Manuel and Patrick, Saïd is a small-timer: his profits would make the owners of even the smallest villa laugh themselves stupid. But he doesn’t mind the order of things, and his greed is reasonable. A prudent young man adapted to his times. But on the other hand, he often has a sense of entitlement and feels the need to defend his territory. You don’t touch his car, that’s it. You don’t threaten him like that. Saïd has respect for the old guys, especially for the father of his friends, but it’s time to set boundaries and not let himself be trampled on, not let these guys treat him without respect. So he’s called two of his mates and is waiting for them with determination. Three should be enough. Enough to make an impression on the other two, but not so many that it looks like a beating. He’s waiting outside his house, leaning against his car while rolling a joint. Every now and then he glances at the damaged mirror that’s hanging by its wires and feels anger bubble up. That’s good. Small waves that keep up the impetus and reassure him his plan is justified. Of course, there’s also the job at the farm, his seasonal work, and especially his mother’s. But this is a matter between men, and Manuel wouldn’t go and whine about him to his father-in-law. Or would he?
Another glance at the back of the car – he’s doing the right thing, he’s right. A long drag, his eyes shut. His friends won’t be here for a while, so he’s got time. The cat walks past, mewing, crazy-eyed: the stupid thing still hasn’t worked out she’ll never see her little ones again and has been looking for them everywhere for days. He grits his teeth – fuck, he doesn’t care, after all it’s an animal. Saïd blows out the thick smoke through his mouth and nose, thinking about Johanna’s legs.
She couldn’t make up her mind at first, and finally opted for a black T-shirt, denim shorts and Roman sandals. Then she put on make-up only to remove it all with cotton wool and cream and start again. The very fact of spending so much time on this and being unable to make up her mind has made her angry. Consequently, instead of enjoying herself, Jo is harbouring persistent irritability at the start of this evening, which she takes out on her sister. She finds it impossible simply to admit she’s scared, scared of going to a party where she only has one friend, if that, scared she won’t like the people, scared of not being liked. She thought she didn’t care about all that.
“Are you really going to wear those things? Are you serious?” Jo looks at Céline and her red feather earrings.
“You don’t like them?”
“They’re ugly. They look like – don’t know, don’t like them.”
“You’re pissing me off. Always criticizing.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are, and even more so since you made new friends.”
“They’re not my friends. And I didn’t have to wait for them before I criticized your clothes.”
“That’s true, you’re a real bitch.”
“Or your slutty jewellery.”
“At least a slut can put on her make-up.”
A blend of defeat and childish laughter appears on Jo’s face. She’s really pretty when she smiles, with dimples like fish hooks in the hollows of her cheeks. As she gets older she’ll probably be even more attractive than her sister, but you can’t see it yet because she struggles to fully live in her own body.
“All right, help me, but don’t put tons on.”
In the corridor, there’s the sound of their mother’s footsteps when they thought they were alone. The door suddenly opens.
“You could knock.”
“You expect me to ask permission, do you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Don’t push it, Céline, and don’t take that tone.”
The kid holds her gaze, a final show-off of pride before yielding.
“Where are you going exactly?”
“To a party, in Gordes.”
“Your new mates?” Séverine asks, jutting her chin at Johanna, who grunts to say yes.
The mother looks at Céline. “You’re not going.”
“What?”
“You’re just not going.”
Séverine realizes it’s really stupid to argue that Céline should stay. With any luck, Manuel will hang out with Patrick after work; she often gives him grief because of it but, in truth, she quite likes it – to be alone and then give him grief. She wonders if she still has the power to stop her daughter from doing anything whatsoever without the support of paternal threat. She knows the answer.
Tears of rage appear in the corners of the teenager’s eyes. “I’m sixteen!”
“You’re sixteen and you’re staying right here. Have you seen what you look like, with that belly?”
“So? Is it stopping me from partying and seeing people?”
“You’re staying here, that’s it.”
Deep down, both mother and daughter know that Céline will go out anyway, through the window if she needs to. But at least they’re pretending – it’s important. Séverine turns to Jo, who’s sitting on the bed, knees bent up, elbows resting on them. “Who are you going with?”
Jo wants to say they’re going to the party in Saïd’s car just to piss her mother off but she actually hasn’t spoken to Saïd since the last time. She can’t totally forgive him for having run away and left her alone with her father and Patrick. But, above all, even though she has trouble admitting it, she doesn’t want to mess things up. As it is she’s a bit worried about turning up there with her sister, but Saïd on top of that… She keeps telling herself that in any case he’d be bored, so no point in risking it. “Garance’s sister is coming to pick me up in the car.”
“Here?”
“No, in the village,” Jo almost cries out, and there’s anxiety in her reply.
Séverine is hurt by this, and remembers that at the same age she, too, preferred to wait for her friends at the bottom of the path rather than in the farm kitchen, under the old people’s eyes. She wonders if she, too, is old now, and tightens her ponytail by parting it into two strands and pulling on them. “Stay the night there, if everybody’s drinking.”
Before she leaves the room, in a surge of emotion she can’t explain, Séverine strokes one of the scarlet feathers dangling at her eldest daughter’s ears. “They’re pretty. They suit you.”
When Jo comes out of the house, Saïd doesn’t see her. He’s got his back to her, thirty yards away, his buttocks pressed against the side of his car. Jo gives her sister a sign and walks quietly to the paved path. While waiting for Céline to climb out through the window, she watches a wave of bats skimming the tops of the cherry trees and diving under the roofs of the crumbling houses along the fields. It’s like the flight of ashes over blazing paper. Jo quite likes that, it makes her a little sad, she doesn’t know why, though it’s not an unpleasant sensation. An interlude of pain and fulfilment – beauty often has that effect on her. She’s still young: it will take some time before she’s able to identify the inexpressible, these oases of the sublime amid the chaos, these fleeting instants that save you.
“What are you looking at?”
Céline wipes the sweat from her temples and above her lip, looking at her sister. A little out of breath, she starts talking, lifting her hair with one hand and securing it with a clip. “I almost can’t get over the wall any more, with my belly.”
“You’ve changed your earrings?”
“Maman thought they looked pretty. Made me suspicious.”
In front of the cross at the entrance to the village, a white Laguna is waiting for them. Garance’s sister is punctual.