Suzanne begins the writing of chapter thirty-two. She has already mapped it out with Julia. This will cover the arrival in Gaul, finding the village and the headman telling them they can stay. It will describe how the village bands together to build a hut for the new arrivals. Then will come the onset of winter and how Birkita’s little family is warm and snug and has enough food. The girls will pick up the Gaulish language very quickly and, in that way that children have, soon make friends.
At different times over the winter, young men in the village will approach Birkita and Galena but they make it clear that they are not interested. The headman will come to them and tell them that the men of the village are completely confused by these two women – something he finds hugely amusing. After a time, the approaches will stop.
The writing takes Julia and Suzanne into June and covers chapters thirty-two through to thirty-six. They alternate – when one feels they’re getting a bit tired or their ideas are drying up, the other takes over. They are working together most days and they do their writing after dinner in the evenings.
The days get longer, the weather is good a lot of the time. They are still achingly hungry but their weight loss doesn’t seem as dramatic now and Julia feels it may even have stopped. Whether it has or not, she has ceased to think about it much.
One evening, Julia writes the last few words of chapter thirty-three. Ever since they began writing, whenever they finished a chapter they always have a little celebration. It might only be a hug or to eat a piece of food that they had saved for the occasion. Then they always write the chapter heading of the next chapter. It is a reminder that they will have to do it all again tomorrow, that no matter how well they think they had done today or how far they have travelled, tomorrow – once again – the blank page will be waiting for them.
Julia is about to write the heading for chapter thirty-four when she does something else. Quickly she scribbles down, ‘For me, the last few days have been like reading the first pages of a big fat novel that I’ve not read before, hearing the opening bars of a symphony that I’ve never heard, seeing the first moments of a long movie that I’ve not seen: There is so much to be discovered.’
Then she writes ‘Chapter Thirty-four’ and draws a line under it.
‘May I see?’ asks Suzanne.
Julia hands her the book and watches while Suzanne reads. Then she looks up and smiles.
‘Me too,’ she says.
Later that night, after they have made love and lie sweating in the warm June night, Julia bursts into tears. One of the things she loves about Suzanne is that, when it really, really matters, she always seems to know the right thing to do or say. Now Suzanne just holds Julia while she cries.
When she has finished, Julia says, ‘Tell me about your childhood.’
‘I was lucky,’ begins Suzanne. ‘My parents loved me. And they were well off. They had to work, of course, but they loved their work. To them it wasn’t like work. We lived in a nice house. We always had plenty. In the summers we travelled. It was perfect. I was lucky,’ she says again. ‘Very lucky.’
After a long silence, Julia says, ‘Every childhood should be like that.’
‘They should.’
The next silence is so long that Julia thinks Suzanne may have fallen asleep. She lies in the crook of Suzanne’s arm and looks up now to see. But Suzanne’s eyes are open and bright.
‘I don’t mean to make light of all you’ve suffered,’ says Suzanne, ‘but it’s made you who you are. You know that, don’t you? You wouldn’t be the Julia I love – in fact, we probably wouldn’t even have met if it wasn’t for your past and everything you’ve gone through.’
Julia knows it’s true. Had she had the same kind of loving family as Suzanne, she would never have left home. That would probably have meant she would have been rounded up during the deportations of 1942 and 1943. Or else she would have gone into hiding like Suzanne. But yes, the chances they would have met would have been miniscule.
‘I just wish I could leave it all behind me,’ she says. ‘All that ... that stuff. Everything that happened. I feel ... I don’t know ... cheated or something. No, it’s more than that. It’s like I was given something and then I lost it. And I keep looking for it even though I know ... I know I can never find it again. If I could just stop this stupid fucking searching...’
Julia goes silent. Her head lies near Suzanne’s breast and she can feel and hear her heart beating. It is rhythmic. Big. Solid. Almost permanent – like it might never stop.
‘You’ll find a way,’ whispers Suzanne. ‘I know you will. That’s what you do.’