4

It was still raining outside, the same icy monotonous rain, this town had no imagination, it could only do rain. Stan said he knew the way back to the hotel, I think he was lying because we went past the post office three times, but I didn’t say anything because I was too tired, more wrung out than after a sleepless night and, by going round in circles, we eventually found our hotel, our brown hotel.

It felt welcoming to me, it did, a bolthole, a burrow in this strange place, but on the way up the stairs Kevin said he wanted the seashell to give to Marie-Hélène, as if we could dig one up now from the lino, as if we could go back to that angry beach. He said he wanted it, he cried for it like he would have cried for Marie-Hélène, and Stan let go of his hand sharply. The littl’un was surprised and he gave him a kick on the shin before running off crying. Be quiet! Just shut up! I said, do you want to draw attention to us? Why was I so frightened? Apart from the person in the bathroom, you couldn’t tell there was anyone in the hotel and, anyway, I didn’t give a stuff about invisible neighbours, what frightened me wasn’t someone hearing my two kids laying into each other, no, what frightened me was this violence they’d kept in check and couldn’t hold back any more. They settled it by pulling faces at each other, I could tell they really wanted to fight, to yell at each other, incredible how you can go from love to hate, there’s never any warning, there’s like an irritation, a fury that builds up and you don’t really know who or what it’s aimed at, sometimes I wish I could scream, to find who it is I’ve got it in for, but there are no limits and everything’s against me.

I was shattered, I hurt all over and I wanted to go to bed, I’d seen too much already. I was shattered but I was actually happy we had to climb all that way, right to the sixth floor, we were getting away from the mud, the sea, the cafés, the roads without pavements. I could have climbed even higher and even faster.

When we reached our room my hand shook with impatience as I opened the door, that bed was a miracle on earth, I took off my jacket and my muddy shoes and threw myself onto it. I got under the sheets and told the kids, I don’t want to hear another word, and I closed my eyes, I wanted to get right inside myself, where nothing more could reach me. The kids are used to it. I often sleep all day on a Sunday. They sort themselves out. They poke about in the fridge, watch TV, and when it’s fine they go out to play. But in that room there was nothing to do, nowhere to put yourself, so they played with the coins. I could hear them and then, pretty soon, it worked, at last, at last, I went.

I left everything, left that town and myself along with it: my body was weightless, painless, I sank into something soft and I shed my fear and anger, and my shame too. I went to a world where there’s a place kept for me. Not asleep and not awake, I’m a feather. Not asleep and not awake, but I come undone, I sprawl out like a cotton reel unwinding. Why did I topple over the edge then? Why did I start to dream?

I dreamt of the sea, I remember, of Stan running towards the sea, into the sea, but not drowning, and me with no words left to call him back… Where was Kevin? I don’t know, I could feel him but not see him, it was like the sea was only there for Stan and the two of them understood each other so well that it couldn’t hurt him. When we understand them, things are good to us, they’re on our side, as soon as there’s any confusion, I’ve noticed, as soon as we don’t understand them, things hurt us. I kept looking out for Stan, trying to spot him way out to sea, wanting him so badly but unable to speak, and sleep was no longer a refuge, just a place. A place where anything can happen, anything can pounce on you, and you go down, you go down somewhere deep, no one to catch you, you just keep falling. I went there. Crushed. Punished. Worn down.

When I woke up it was almost dark in the room, the sky was full of black clouds, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. I had four boys: the ones in my sleep and the ones in the room, beside me. The four of them didn’t know each other, I was the only one who got them confused, who knew about getting from one world to the other, and the pain that always lurked in between.

The boys had stopped playing and were lying on the bed: Kevin sucking his make-do noonoo and winding a lock of hair round his finger, and Stan watching me, I think. He smiled at me, he never resents me for sleeping, he knows I’m better after, when I’ve had a chance to “recharge the batteries”, as I call it. I didn’t tell him a nightmare had just cut me right to the quick, I’d rather believe I was fine, too, I’d had a good nap, we agreed on that. Maybe it’s the tiredness that’s made me lose touch with everyone else. I couldn’t spend a full day on my feet, doing this and that, being friendly, polite and happy, no, I wouldn’t make it through a whole day with my eyes open. Shame sleep has two sides to it: it’s a way of forgetting but also a threat. No way of knowing in advance which side you’re going to fall on. I believe in it every time, I always hope it’s not going to be such a struggle as being awake, I’m often wrong.

The insomnia got worse when Stan was born. I started listening out for him: crying, breathing, coughing. I thought I had to stand guard, that if I went to sleep he’d play a nasty trick on me, I know it happens, children dying, all alone, in their cots. It was the same with Kevin, of course, and now that they’re both bigger I still keep watch, sometimes I tell myself the whole city needs guarding, that there has to be a light on somewhere. Apparently there are these priests, no, not priests, monks. Apparently there are these monks who pray for the sorrows of the world, day and night, never stopping, taking it in shifts so there’s never a break. Me, I don’t know how to pray. I’d rather not believe in God, it’s too frightening and, anyway, how can I understand God when I don’t understand his representative, the Pope, that rich, crumbly old man? God must be like a bunch of popes put together, thousands of popes in one single person, terrifyingly powerful… yes, but knowing there are these monks thinking of me night and day, that’s reassuring.

Kevin’s hungry, Stan said. I’ll go down and buy some biscuits, put the coins back in the tea tin, I told him. Are you going to pay with those little coins? He was worried, you’d have thought I was going to rob a bank. I’m not going to hang on to my savings, Stan, I put them aside for this trip, I’ve got to spend them. He put the money back in the tin, judging by the noise it made you’d have thought there was a lot of it, but it was dead money, money no one trusted, I’d grasped that.

Kevin was sucking on his noonoo more and more quickly, his eyes closing, opening, closing again, he was falling asleep, he felt safe. Keep an eye on your brother, Stan, I said… It was so obvious Stan would keep an eye on the littl’un, I don’t know why I needed to say it, some sentences are just like that. Be careful when you cross the road, Don’t talk to strangers, Keep an eye on your brother, such simple sentences, they belong to everyone and we say them all the time so they never go out of circulation. Our parents used to say them. And our parents’ parents. They’re sacred, compulsory, make you feel alive.

I put my sodden jacket and muddy shoes back on, and left the two of them on their own.

As I went down the stairs I realized I was leaving them in another world, a bubble about to burst. The further down I went, the closer I got to hell. The hell of other people. Of course, I have to go there every now and then, there are things I need to get. It must be like this in war: breaking cover, risking your life to survive. Kevin was hungry. And Stan, too, I was sure he was. Not me. I was poisoned, full of bile and sour saliva, the sea salt had got into my mouth.

I went down those stairs, and the mist gathered a little closer round me with each floor, I missed steps, thinking they were further down than they were, falling slightly each time, like air pockets in the middle of a dream. With all that missing steps and seeing them too close or too far, my head started spinning, I clung to the banister, I could feel myself lurching to one side, someone must be pushing me from behind, I was sure they were. I stopped on one floor, I don’t remember which, they were all the same – brown, lit only by the neon of the fire exit signs, maybe that’s what was making me ill, all those endless floors, it drove me mad. My head was throbbing like the blood couldn’t wait to get out, I was out of breath. I’m used to that. It’s not the tiredness, it’s the panic. I’ve told them about it at the health centre. I’m not the only one, it does happen to people. You’ve got to reason with yourself. That’s what they say. In fact, all their sentences start like that: You’ve got to. It sounded to me like: You forgot to, you forgot to, you forgot to. Right! I couldn’t reason with myself, so the only way to deal with it was to piss off out of there as fast as possible and I hurtled down the stairs, with my fears chasing after me. Of course I tripped and twisted my wrist clinging on to the banister, I was like a ball thrown down from one of the upper floors, I bounced and I bumped but all the same… I reached the bottom.

A feeling of having come a long, long way, my kids were far away from me now, a whole journey lay between us. There was a leatherette armchair in the foyer, and I slumped down into it. I should have felt relieved, proud of myself, proud of winning that round, but I felt worse by the minute. It must have shown. A man came over, probably the hotel manager, I didn’t see him coming, he startled me. I couldn’t actually make him out very well, I was dazzled, like when the sun’s too bright, but the sun had abandoned that town long ago.

My heart felt all heavy and full, sort of thick, every beat hurt, it was full of blood, keeping hold of it and not letting it out any more, my hands and mouth started tingling, the manager seemed to be talking to me, I could hear but it sounded so far away, there were tons of cotton wool between us, it absorbed everything, every word and even the air, I was short of air, I hadn’t brought my pills.

I had to hang on to something, an idea, an image, something to get me out of this, I was a wonky machine, jumping in every direction, little twitches, nerves waking up with a jolt around my eyes, my hands, my lips, they moved on their own, twisting for no reason, turning inwards and biting themselves all on their own, the man shook my shoulder and then it came. In fits and starts. A bit at a time. But it came. I honestly believe that’s what saved me. Tears, moaning, more tears, little yelps, I couldn’t do anything to stop all that. The manager backed away quickly and left, maybe he was frightened I’d splatter him. Well, fine. I’d rather be left in peace, unhappiness is never a pretty sight.

I let my rickety machine run its course and, gradually, everything went back in to place. I was spent, I’d been beaten and battered every which way. I stayed in that chair for a while, to recover: my heart, my nerves, my muscles, it all had to start up again gently, without bumping into anything, without going mad, calmly, and back to normal. A huge sigh came out of my chest, one final misfire, and I knew I could set off again. I stood up, pushing off against the chair, my head was still spinning a bit but everything else seemed to be working. The manager came back. A problem? he asked. I knew exactly what I must have looked like, I was used to it: red face, thick nose, dark rings under my eyes and white lips. On top of that, I smelt bad, rain and sweat didn’t make a good combination. A problem? he repeated, slightly irritated. Everything’s fine, I said, stressing both words to be sure they didn’t get away from me, and I added, I’m off to do my shopping, trying to sound casual. Why did he have to look at me like that? Hadn’t he ever seen anyone cry? Where do people cry? I often wonder about that, funny you never see people blubbing in the street. They make phone calls much more than they cry, maybe we’d hate each other less if we cried a bit more.

I walked towards the door, as upright as I could manage, the bloke stepped aside, frightened I’d fall on him, poor git! I knew exactly what I was doing. I wouldn’t have asked him the way to the nearest shop for anything in the world, I do have my pride. Just as I was about to go out he called, There’s a funfair on, you should take your boys! Now, that was a good idea! We’d make up for the grey sea and the scrap in the café, we’d have our bright lights! A funfair? Uh-huh, he said, on the outskirts of town, just before the main road. I was too exhausted to carry on the conversation so I gave him a little wave and went out.

Hard to say whether it was nightfall already or whether it had never actually been day, the light itself seemed so hesitant. It wasn’t raining so hard but the sky was darker, it was a fine rain with tiny icy raindrops, poor man’s snow, something you couldn’t put a name to. It did me good, though. I tipped my head back and looked directly at the sky, it was all fresh, waiting for me.

In fact, the town was very small, everything was either at the end of the road or behind the post office, it was a shrunken town, maybe the sea nibbled into it a bit more each day, edging a bit further into the streets. I walked very slowly through the mud, it was harder on your own than with a nipper on each hand. It’s just as well they’re not here, I thought, they didn’t see me cry, the psychiatrist often says Try to avoid breaking down in front of the children. Right. There are some things you have to do in secret. You forgot to, forgot to, forgot to.

I didn’t have any trouble finding a shop. There were wizened vegetables and black bananas displayed by the door, they didn’t seem to be attracting any customers, and the shopkeeper was outside the door watching all those people walking past and not stopping at his shop. Mind you, he didn’t look very pleased to see me, he barely budged to let me pass, and then he followed me inside looking at the mud I was leaving on the floor. Terrible weather! he said. I didn’t answer. They say it’s not getting better. I couldn’t give a stuff, he’d never guess how little I cared. I chose some chocolate biscuits and a bottle of water – incredible how much they charge for their water, you’d never know it just falls out the sky.

At the till I pulled the tea tin from my pocket, it wasn’t easy and the shopkeeper watched me with a frown, which was a good start… Okay! Stay calm, darlin’, I thought, this bloke doesn’t exist, he’s just a shadow, he can’t do anything to you. I took out my ridiculous coins and said, This is all they had at the bank, can you imagine? He opened his eyes so wide! Like he’d never seen money before in his life, This had to happen to me, he muttered, and I knew straight away he couldn’t wait for someone else to come into the shop to make fun of me. Tough luck, the place was deserted, and he started counting the money, all disdainful like he didn’t really want it, my arse! I was his only customer that month, he could at least have thanked me. I told myself all that to keep going, but I was dying to bugger off out of there. Let him take the money and let me never see him again. People can come into your life like that, from one moment to the next, even if you don’t want them to. You should be able to screen them. Why was I alone with this tight-fisted shopkeeper when my kids were waiting for me up there? He put the money in the till, I stuffed everything into a plastic bag and left without saying goodbye.

Still no light outside, same rain, same people, I think it was the ones I’d seen earlier still going round in circles, was it really that dismal where they lived that they had to dawdle like this before going home? What were they after in town that they couldn’t find in their own homes? Me, I couldn’t wait to get inside, had enough of exposing my face to the air.

When I got back to the hotel the manager was no longer there, the phone was ringing all on its own and there was a smell of sausages, he must have been making a little snack, I wondered what time it could realistically be, was this dinner or tea?

Those stairs were pure torture, I looked at the tips of my toes to stop feeling dizzy, the bottle of water weighed a ton and, when I reached the third floor and realized I was only halfway up, I was so disheartened I sat down and started singing a song to myself, just to have something else to think about. Brave sailor back from the war, Hushaby, your shoes all worn, your clothes all torn, Brave sailor where have you been, Hushaby. I thought about how tired that sailor was, how tired the whole world was, we were all exhausted, weren’t we? Who felt like getting up in the morning? If people weren’t paid any more, wouldn’t half the world stay in bed? Not necessarily… sailors love the sea, even when it’s grey, even when it’s nasty, and soldiers love war… even in the snow, even in the mud… I’m the only one who’s so exhausted, didn’t I use to long to be knocked down by a car and break my leg so I’d finally have a good enough reason to be left in peace? When am I going to be left in peace? I’m just missing a few chemicals, yes, that’s what I tell myself when I swallow my pills, I’ve got fewer chemicals than other people… maybe it’s that simple, maybe that’s all it is: a few more chemicals… a few less… Brave sailor back from the war, Hushaby… it’s the Hushaby that makes it seem tired, that song, when a man’s really hushed he’s bound to stop. To stop laughing and putting on airs, I mean he can just forget it. There’s nothing better than a man who can forget it, and there’s nothing so bloody rare, either. You find it mostly in songs, and films, in everything you can’t touch. Dear lady, I’m back from the war… Dear lady, I’m back from the war… I stood up and climbed the remaining floors counting the steps, there were thirty-six of them, thirty-six little numbers to count between my kids and me.

Stan had locked the door, I knocked, he opened it very gently, he didn’t look welcoming but when he saw it was me his eyes lit up, I knew he was happy. I handed him the plastic bag and I smiled, too, we were making our peace.

Kevin was asleep, dribbling on the pillow, still curled up in a ball, his little fists tight and his wet noonoo by his cheek. Well, there was someone who was happy, it made you feel good just seeing him. And envious. I slid in beside him, his feet were freezing but I could feel the warmth from his breath, it smelt good.

You took ages! Stan said in a sad little voice. I closed my eyes and rolled myself into a ball, too. Shit! always whinging, always questions, after doing the shopping surely I had a right to a bit of rest, my crying fit had worn me out, sleep would sort that out, why did Stan never take a nap? Lie down, I said, you need to gather your strength, I’ve got a surprise for you two. Really? he said, a bit suspicious, what is it? Lie down! I ordered… I mean, really! I was the mum, I was the one who should say what we did and when we did it, why wouldn’t the kid lie down? Are we going home? I heard. I opened my eyes to look at Stan but it was so dark in the room I couldn’t see him properly, I couldn’t seem to understand why he’d said that. All these years I’d regretted my kids had never had a holiday and now we were here they could only think of one thing: getting home. They were cats, these kids, mustn’t make changes. Never mind. I was glad, I really was, to have slipped my moorings, glad to be somewhere different, hardly any light, we’d got to the edge of the world and that was a good thing.

I sat up in bed and said to Stan, Listen, when I say a surprise I mean a surprise, okay? So eat some biscuits, trust me and let me rest. But what is the surprise? My God, he’s made up his mind to drive me mad with his questions, any other kid would have jumped for joy if his mum told him she had a surprise for tonight, any other kid would have gone to bed to make the time pass faster, but mine was a mix of anxiety and suspicions, mine only took shallow little breaths, mine didn’t trust anything or anyone! His teeth were chattering, I grabbed him by the shoulder. Lie down, I said, and I was so angry he obeyed me right away.

That’s how I should have spent the rest of my days, in bed with my kids, we could have watched the world the way you watch telly: from a distance, without getting dirty, holding on to the remote, we’d have switched the world off as soon as it fucked up.

I rubbed Stan’s back through the blankets to stop him shivering, for him to go back to being nine years old and let go of all those fears that don’t belong to a child his age. I walked round the town, you know, I told him quietly, I’ve got the hang of it, we won’t get lost any more, the man in the shop was all thankyous taking the coins, and this evening we’re going to spend the rest, all the rest, that’s all I’m going to tell you! I’d like to go home, he said very gently, he was begging me. I stopped warming him up, I lost interest in him, turned the other way and closed my eyes.

Yet again it didn’t do any good. That room meant nothing to me, I was just passing through, between two strangers, it was a waiting room, a whispering gallery, there was a crowd around us, from before and from afterwards, which had left traces that were all muddled up. What was I, in the middle of all of them? What was I doing? I closed my eyes, and wasn’t welcome anywhere any more, I was ejected, thrown out like some nasty little scrap. It was spinning inside my head, jostling about, I know that feeling well, it’s what happens before the terrible thoughts, the ones that take me straight to the place I mustn’t go, feelings I never have when I’m awake, yep, there are some things I can only do when I’m asleep, I go back to them in my sleep, that’s where we’ve arranged to meet.

I buried my head in the pillow to make it go away, but it just thumped harder. It was knotted and heavy. Animals with pincers, scuttling little crabs who want to suck my blood. And they always tell me things aren’t going well, things aren’t going well at all, it’s all gone wrong and it can still get worse, something terrifying’s waiting for me and it’s all my fault, I went about it all wrong and it’s too late now. I try to fight it, to wake up a voice to say it’s not true, nothing’s going to come and gobble me up, I haven’t made such serious mistakes, it was just kids’ stuff, pranks that didn’t mean anything, it was meant for a laugh, I do what I can, I’m not some giant, some perfect mother who lets everything roll like water off a duck’s back, without leaving any scars – I know there are some people who are never hurt, shame I’ll never be like them, I’ll have to come to terms with that. I wasn’t getting anywhere, there was no peace for me in that bed and I may well have slept the night before, but it was bound to be the last time, now something was holding my head above the waterline of sleep, I just had to realize it, that was all.

I opened my eyes, the room was almost completely dark now, you could hear rain against the window panes, the wind was up, if I’d been alone with Kevin it would have been easier, but there was Stan rebelling against everything, standing up to me. I looked at him as best I could, I wanted to know why nothing was straightforward with him, he’d started quietly eating the biscuits, nibbling at them, and he gave me a fake smile full of crumbs.

The sea must have been black now, too, like this shrunken patch of sky. The sea was swollen with dead sailors thrown into its waters, Hushaby. The sea was a freezing great floating graveyard. Was Kevin’s enchanted castle still on the beach? Had the tide risen that far and snapped it up in one mouthful? And what about all those shells… other children will pick them up, when the water’s all blue and the sun’s broken through the sky. There’ll be classrooms full of them, dead seashells, sick notes picked up along the beaches.

The rain was spattering against our window, poison released from above, the rain was at war with us, that’s what was blurring the colour of the sky, would there be lots of lights at the funfair and lots of people, too? Here at the hotel you couldn’t hear anyone any more. It wasn’t a hotel, it was a tower, a rocket that never took off, we were closer to the sky than the others, suspended in thin air, with clouds pressing against the window panes.

Would you really like to go home? Is it because you miss school? That’s what I wanted to ask Stan but the rain stopped me talking, lashing at the windows with its needles, I mustn’t pay it too much attention, I knew that, had to think of something else, but was Stan really missing school? All day long with the teacher, how does that work? She bamboozles him for hours on end, telling him more and more stories! I can’t even get him to read through his homework, I don’t understand it at all, specially the maths, Forget it, he told me the other day when he realized I couldn’t go through his geometry with him, is it really all that important? Calculating the angles of things? That’s not how I see life, all flat on minutely squared paper, no more mysteries anywhere, school is the kingdom of numbers, even my kids measure them, weigh them, write them down, gauge them, they compare their average with the class average, why not with the national average while they’re at it? That’s the problem: we bring babies into the world and the world adopts them. We’re the incubators, that’s all, then they get away from us and it’s not long before someone tells us we’re no longer in on the act. Do I remember school? Do I remember being nine years old? I’ve forgotten everything. Apart from my father’s songs, I don’t remember anything. The psychiatrist at the health centre tries to dig up my memories, but nothing ever surfaces, nothing good or bad, nothing. I remember so clearly the sailor’s shoes and the bed with the river flowing through it, but where my father was when he sang that to me, or my mother, my sisters, my brother – I couldn’t tell you. It’s lost. Fallen into a hole. You struggle to live as best you can but soon the whole lot disappears. We get up in the morning, but that morning doesn’t actually exist any more than the night before which everyone’s already forgotten. We’re all walking on the edge of a precipice, I’ve known that for a long time. One step forward, one step in the void. Over and over again. Going where? No one knows. No one gives a stuff.

The rain was hurling its gobs of saliva against the window, tiny transparent flecks of spit, why were we being spat on? I didn’t know but I was convinced if I opened the window I’d soon be filthy from head to toe. Was the wall opposite covered in it, too? Were the windows below getting the same as us? Were we all sheltering from this spit from the sky? I didn’t want to know, nope, didn’t care, no, mustn’t think about it, never had thought of it, no, no and no again!

Are they good? I asked Stan. He didn’t answer. He’s gone off somewhere, he’s good at that, Stan, slipping his moorings – oh, he’s mine alright. The teacher lends him books and it’s the same when he reads: he leaves us. Sometimes I think he carries on reading his books when he’s given them back, he still thinks about them, he can read them even without the words, he’s really very good at being somewhere else.

I let him drift and turned back to the wall to try and forget that the rain had it in for me. I looked at the brown paint, some black marks, holes in the plaster, patches of mould, but the fear had decided not to let go of me, I would have liked someone to ask me for something – anything, a song, a silly face – someone to make me talk out loud, someone to see me. There were things written on that wall, too, but you couldn’t see them. I was like Stan, I could see in the dark, reading in a vacuum. It said on the wall that we weren’t the first people in that room, that lots of people had been through there, hours of rain and no light, people who didn’t know if outside was full up or just a void, who didn’t know if we’re too alone or there are too many of us, people who’d made love in this bed, lovingly or not, who’d fought too, thumping each other, lovingly or not, who’d said stupid things to each other, terrible things, the truth, and then lied to save themselves, to be believed… that bed up against that wall, that bed as big as the room, as small as it, that bed – what a piece of shit!

I could hear the rain smacking away behind me, and Stan nibbling, his new little teeth on the biscuits. Are they good, Stan? I asked more loudly, I’d like to have talked about them, to have wasted a bit of time talking about biscuits and Is it nice eating in bed, and Do you like the hotel and Do you think the rain falls straight out of the sky or comes swirling up from the middle of the earth? Yes, does it go upwards or does it fall? Does it spin round or fall flat? Stan! I begged him, are those fucking biscuits any good? I turned round and saw that Stan was talking to me, in the half-light I could see that he was looking at me and his lips were moving… I couldn’t hear a thing, he looked worried, I threw the sheets back and got up. I left the room, the door banged hard against the bed, I ran to the bathroom and I stuck my head under the cold tap, to save myself. It was freezing. It hurt. It got inside my skull, I was being pulled by my hair, pulled towards the ceiling, my whole back was trapped in the ice, I was in pain, real pain, the explainable, logical sort, I was in brilliant white light, I was nowhere, in fact. I’d stopped falling. I got up. I woke up. I was breathing heavily from fighting the cold water, I’d made up my mind to win, to suffer for as long as possible, it felt terrible and wonderful at the same time, looking the enemy in the face at last, knowing exactly what’s hurting, and emerging dazed, breathless, worn out. I was whimpering, the struggle was almost over, I was a solid mass of pain, it was coming to an end. I turned off the water. My hair hung down around my face, viscous little black threads. I stood up, then bent double as my spine gave way and the room reeled around me. When I opened my eyes I saw that both my kids were watching me.

Kevin threw himself at me, his head against my stomach and his arms round my waist, he tried to squeeze but he’s got so little strength I could hardly feel him. Stan didn’t say anything. How long was it since I’d taken Stan in my arms? I couldn’t say. I’m taking you to the fair, I said. My voice was wrong, I didn’t want to say it like that, in a whisper, I’d like to have said it all loud and happy, the kids didn’t react. I took a deep breath and tried to shout, I’m taking you to the fair! but it came out faded and tired… the boys didn’t move. Mind you, I’d have sworn they’d have followed me to the ends of the earth, but I realized the three of us didn’t need to talk to each other any more. We could do things. Anything. The weirdest, craziest things. But without talking. We followed each other instinctively. We were sure of ourselves, like animals who never question, who just know what you should do and what you shouldn’t.

We went back to the room and got ready. They got ready, choosing sweaters for the fair, trousers for the fair and even socks. No one would see them, it was too dark, but they felt smart. The evening was beginning. I just dried my hair a bit but the towel was very damp… anyway, what with the rain… drenched outside, drenched inside, what was the difference? They did their hair looking at themselves in the window, You can see yourself in the dark! said Kevin, Yeah! Stan said in a gangster voice, better watch out, Kevin, you’re twice as strong in the dark! I made the bed so that it would be warm when we got back, I went through the motions, the same ones we go through at home. We put our wet jackets back on, nothing seemed to dry them, they weren’t waterproofs, they were sponges, just putting them on was like going out into the cold.

The stairs prepared us for being outside, too, and for being seen. But there was no one there. On each floor we thought we might come across someone, be surprised, be their neighbour, but not a soul, not a trace, nothing. I do think I heard a noise on the fourth floor. Something falling, breaking. That was all. Six floors of brown, of fire exits, banisters, silence and, downstairs, the smell of sausages. Still no one in the foyer.

The rain had eased up outside, floating in little wafts, the air was wet, there wasn’t really anything coming out of the sky, not properly, it was like the clouds had come down to earth and were dying of boredom. The ground was soaking, puddles all over the place, we slipped on tyre tracks and other people’s footprints as if we were all trampling on each other, never in sync, no one actually being the first to put their feet in any one place.

The boys took my hands and at almost exactly the same time the street lights came on: we were royalty. I thought about the bus coming again and people getting off, like yesterday, visitors arriving in this damp town every evening, but to do what? Yes, people arrive here every evening and no one knows why, no one gives a stuff, they come, they go, it doesn’t bother anyone, doesn’t make anyone happy either, it’s just movement, a bit of noise, no surprises, nothing to worry about.

I knew how to get to the funfair. You had to head out of town, towards the main road, that’s what the man said. Fairs are often next to a main road, so the music doesn’t disturb anyone. It’s like with prisons, or nursing homes, anything that doesn’t fit in with the surroundings happens near main roads, where laws aren’t the same and pain is different.

I soon knew I was heading in the right direction: I saw sparkling lights driving back the darkness, and I could hear music. There, that’s the fair. The boys still didn’t ask any questions, they walked in silence, I felt they trusted me, they believed in me, yes, they believed in me completely.

We were gradually surrounded by people. Couples, groups of teenagers, I couldn’t see any children… what was the time? Hard to believe it’s exactly the same time for everyone at the same moment, hard to believe we have such important things in common. People were talking very loudly. They were digging each other in the ribs, they were joshing each other and laughing, pretending to be annoyed, the boys were pinching the girls and the girls had high heels and lipstick, I never looked like them, even at their age, and anyway I never was their age.

We weren’t very far from it now, we could hear the music really loud but couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make out what the singer was saying, what he was bawling about, yes, it seemed a sad sort of song. The lights carved into the sky, threw up little fireworks, it was really strange to think we were going to step into that light, and take on a bit of colour.

People were running round us, overtaking us, they looked happy, were they the same people you came across in broad daylight? Was this a surprise for them, too, or did they always live like this, with a funfair next to the main road? I didn’t recognize them, I wouldn’t have dared pull faces at them behind their backs, they were so happy, they seemed strong.

What surprised me as soon as we got there was the smell. A reek of cooking oil and sugar, a smell that couldn’t get lost in the crowd and followed everyone everywhere. It smelt greasy and everything seemed more dense than normal: the smells but also the lights, the music, the shouts, the laughter… no, you could hardly recognize these people, you’d have thought it was everyone’s birthday, a day made specially for them.

I looked at my boys, they were wide-eyed, impressed, yes, they were impressed. It warmed my heart. I was proud. Obviously, we didn’t feel at home there like the others, but that would come. We were feeling our way, carefully, like getting into cold water, only worse but we’d get used to it. The others were fine! They must be the same people who laugh and have fun by the sea when it’s all blue, they like being together because they’re all the same, or maybe not: they like being the same to be together… what I mean is it was difficult telling them apart.

If it wasn’t for the mud I’m sure they would have danced, but it clung to everyone’s shoes, it climbed up their legs, it churned with greasy bits of paper and spent firecrackers. With that mud you couldn’t forget where you were, in a little town beside the rain, shoehorned between the sea and the main road.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted to buy the kids some chips. Eating with your fingers was something Kevin and Stan really loved, and eating chips is always a treat. I looked for the truck. We went past shooting ranges and fairground rides, the boys looked but didn’t ask for anything, taking it in through their eyes, maybe they thought we were only going to look, but oh no! we were going to do what the others were doing, it wouldn’t be long, I was sure of it!

I found the chip stall. Chips. Waffles and candyfloss. There was a queue. We waited. Kevin had that cheeky little expression on his face, and when he saw me looking at him he rubbed his tummy, he looked happy. Stan was looking at a tall bloke in front of us, standing there with his hands in his pockets and chewing gum, and every now and then he’d kiss his girlfriend. But he always went on chewing his gum afterwards. Stan looked amazed, but the girl seemed to be used to it, she didn’t find it funny.

The truck was making a terrible noise, its battery working flat out, it was hard to hear the love song playing on the sound system, the song didn’t go with the lights, well, I didn’t think it did, because the lights were flashing away trying to be cheerful and the song was going on about this poor woman who desperately wanted to dance with some man, like she was a seventeen-year-old but apparently she was much older and the man wasn’t at all interested in her. I knew that song, I really liked it, they often played it on the radio. Take me dancing in the park, cheek to cheek in the dark… It was my turn, I ordered two paper cones of chips. I couldn’t care less if the man whinged about my coppers, It was one of the rides, I said, that’s what they gave me as change, didn’t they? They’ve done me proud, haven’t they? I involved him like that, on purpose, so he’d take the money and let me go. My kids were happy. Both of them at once.

We set off again, going right and then left, in the crowd, with the children eating their chips, and so I didn’t lose them I held on to their hoods, like I’d dragged them out of a pool of water. We wandered aimlessly, there were people everywhere, the girls talking really loud, hanging on to each other or on to their boyfriends’ arms, but always holding someone, always noisy and excited. The stallholders talked into mikes, It’s starting now! Roll up! Roll up! And we’re off! And bells rang overhead for the slowcoaches. I wondered whether in the end these people were actually happy or just in a hurry. Everyone was rushing around and it was because of all this rush that a girl knocked into Kevin and made him drop his cone of chips. He started crying. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want tears here, I didn’t want anything to happen, just for us to walk about in all that racket that’s all. I couldn’t explain that to the poor kid because I didn’t feel like shouting to make myself heard, so I carried on walking, holding him by his hood.

Stan had realized that the fair was for them, too, that they could join in, get excited, have a good shout, have their share of fun. He wanted to go on the dodgems. I said yes and paid. The cashier took the coins without really looking at them and gave me a token. The kids stood on the edge, enjoying themselves already, in anticipation. Kevin kept wiping his nose on his sleeve, but he looked relaxed now. I sat down on a wet bench a little way away, I’ll wait for you here, I said, and their enjoyment vanished, they insisted I watched them. Hurry up then, I said, the session’s over, and they rushed out towards the cars, incredible how children always want you to watch them.

I don’t know how long it went on. The lights mingled with the sound system, becoming as depressing as the songs, you couldn’t see the rain but it was following us all, it felt at home, it wrote things too, but I couldn’t read them, the bells wouldn’t stop ringing, people were hurrying onto rides in every direction, where did all that money come from, everyone could afford everything, there was too much of everything everywhere, too much noise, too much rain, too many lights, all reeling past me and I didn’t know where I was any more.

Every now and then the kids would come and take more money from me and head back, they always asked if I’d seen them, I didn’t answer. They headed off again. I waited in all that bustle, that turmoil, that rushing, trying to find a quiet corner to lay my eyes, I was the only person not moving, and then eventually I found it: up in the sky there was a big wheel full of whoops and screams, I settled on that and didn’t let go. The people hung in the air for a moment then they were brought back down very fast – like in life. A breath of air and then you fall.

In the white lights of the big wheel the sky looked pale, I knew it was dark all around, nothing but darkness in every direction. And silence. I was in a furious pinpoint, with darkness all around, I was a star, old and always there, old and full of fire. I’d been thrown up into the sky, I wasn’t holding on to anything but everything around me hung on, like I was cradled by arms.

I stayed there sitting on that bench and when we had no money left the kids came and sat down next to me. I was still looking at the big wheel. I liked hearing the people scream, they weren’t real screams, nothing terrible was happening, it was wonderful. I was up there, in the white light, head down, feet in the air, I could puke up, scream with cold or joy or anger, I could do anything I wanted, I’d paid with golden coins, and down below the earth had turned upside down, a pathetic little lump, the crowd wasn’t worth anything, milling about pointlessly, birds on a dung heap.

Kevin started snivelling, I came down to look at him, he said he was tired. I went straight back up again. I could see the sea from up there, it had reached a foreign country, all the fish had gone with it, and the seaweed, and the shells, all that was left were the rocks. I wrapped myself up in the darkness, followed the motion of the wheel, it was moving for me, no need to choose a direction, you just had to let yourself go, I was still in its arms.

Kevin started sobbing and Stan pleaded with me, How do I get back down to earth? I wondered, it felt so good in this volcano spitting flashes of light, don’t feel like letting go and falling into the freezing cold mud, churned up by everyone’s shoes, spread thick on the ground, no really, don’t feel like landing in that mess.

Stan stood himself in front of me, I couldn’t see the white light any more, I came back down in freefall, my head spinning while my body stayed still, Stan was shouting that we had to go back and go to bed, that Kevin was tired, that Kevin had been sick, that Kevin was crying, that Kevin was coughing, Stan was blocking the big wheel from view, with his wet hair and his huge mouth, I hardly recognized him. I looked over at the littl’un, he was sobbing, his shoulders shuddering, snot running from his nose over his mouth, and his legs kicking at thin air. The fun was over.

The cold had accumulated inside me without my realizing and it spread right through me when I stood up. My hair made my neck wet, icy droplets ran down my back, the rain always wins in the end if you don’t watch it, the rain never forgets anyone.

I took Kevin by the hand and we left that funfair, going against the tide, in the opposite direction to the crowd, as usual. My back was stiff, I’d have liked it to be broken and then put back in place, I couldn’t feel my feet any more, I was walking with planks at the ends of my legs.

We’d hardly left the funfair before we were plunged back into darkness, we could still hear the music and the screams in the distance, and the bells ringing, and the Roll up! Roll up! but it wasn’t for us any longer, it was forgotten. No one will remember my little boys in their dodgem. What was the time? Still evening? Night time already? And the morning, when was that? Who was it for?

We walked on in silence in the dark, and the rain came with us while the funfair disappeared behind us, along with the girls who still had age on their side and the men hanging on to their arms, everything was getting smaller, their lives buried in the darkness. Where are those people when they aren’t at the funfair? Maybe the girls sold shoes and the men were mechanics or delivered pizzas? Maybe they only laughed at the fair and the rest of the time they were just getting ready for it? Getting ready for that, I mean, for the fair. So their men didn’t mind draining fuel from old cars, they knew that at the funfair they’d be the strongest, the proudest, ready to fight if they had to. Soon they’d be telling everyone about it, talking about it in cafés, hitching up their balls in their trousers, it’s called memories. Me, I haven’t got any. Everything that’s happened is lost.

Kevin was lagging, pulling at my shoulder and snivelling, he didn’t have any memories either, the fair was already forgotten, Did you like the dodgems? I asked him. What? he said in his sulky little voice. We went in the red one three times, said Stan, did you see us? There was too much hope in Stan’s voice, I preferred not to answer.

We reached the hotel. I was frightened. We went into that place like going into a church. I often go into churches, when they’re empty of course. There’s a smell which makes you think about time passing, there are candles, there’s silence, it always has an effect on me, a hollow feeling inside. Churches are very old but they are still standing. They are old but they never die. An empty church is something you can’t explain, I like it. The hotel was the same. Something had to happen there. We went in with our rain and our mud, all that stuff we lugged with us, everything we’d picked up outside, we left traces of it all over the place again, the nightwatchman still didn’t give a damn, there was another match on the tiny black-and-white TV, and what if it was always the same one? Always the same match on the same TV and us coming in every evening from that filthy weather and never hearing the nightwatchman say Good evening, how are you? Good night, madam, and what are the names of these two fine lads? He gave us the key, recognizing us without looking up, he knew his job by heart. I would have liked to ask him what time it was, what day it was, to have something clarified, the beginnings of an explanation about what was happening. He wouldn’t have heard me. It wasn’t worth it.

We climbed the six floors without holding hands, without talking, without complaining, Kevin wasn’t even crying any more, he looked dazed, walking with great wide eyes, a sleepwalker. Those six floors were a punishment, it had to be done, all three of us had got the message there. I looked at my boys, sad, tired and struggling, it was the law, that’s what I thought, These stairs are the law. Fuck this life where stairs are the law.

We didn’t make a sound. We walked like old men, the ones who don’t talk any more because they’ve got the message, so they just keep their heads down. Yes, we’d grown old. Let’s hope it’s not too late, I thought.

On and on we climbed, our place was up at the top, above the others, they were all asleep beneath our footsteps, and we climbed on. The nightwatchman’s TV was just a tiny crackling sound now, the keys behind him hung there like bats and he didn’t even feel the threat. We were breaking away from the earth, leaving a little bit of it on each stair, that was the mark left by my children, patches of dirt on brown lino. Their shoes had had it. Eaten away by the sea, ruined by the rain, my boys were walking in exhausted old shoes, why should they carry on if even their shoes couldn’t follow?

We didn’t talk but we could hear each other. We could hear our breathing, getting louder and louder, were there people behind those doors to hear my kids suffering? Was their breathing getting inside their dreams, and blowing on them, snuffing them out? My God, I would have liked that so much, for my kids’ breathing to have snuffed out all the dreams of people I don’t know, and for there to be nothingness instead, a bit of room for nothing, behind every door.

We got to the sixth floor. There weren’t any more stairs after that, we couldn’t get it wrong. When it came to an end that was where we belonged. We knew that.