Read The Body In the Vestibule Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body In the Vestibule (21 page)
By the time she had reached her escape from the kitchen closet, Clotilde and Frédéric, first names having been urged at the same time as seconds of the omelet, were in tearsâhers of sorrow and his of anger.
Frédéric exploded. He jumped out of his chair and pounded his fist on the table. “If only I could get my hands on this boy!
Boy!
He does not deserve to be called anything human. And what is even worse is that he is not alone. It is
the majority of youth today. They have no morals to speak of, live solely for the sensation of the moment. They have nothing to fight for. They do not care. It is total anomie. They cannot make love without thinking of SIDA. They believe a nuclear war will occur. And look at us with all our potential Chernobyls and Three Mile Islands waiting to happen. We are in the last stages of the degeneracy of the capitalist state. They are the offspring of our failure.”
Boy!
He does not deserve to be called anything human. And what is even worse is that he is not alone. It is
the majority of youth today. They have no morals to speak of, live solely for the sensation of the moment. They have nothing to fight for. They do not care. It is total anomie. They cannot make love without thinking of SIDA. They believe a nuclear war will occur. And look at us with all our potential Chernobyls and Three Mile Islands waiting to happen. We are in the last stages of the degeneracy of the capitalist state. They are the offspring of our failure.”
Clotilde took up the chant. “They drift with nothing to do, nothing to believe in. At least we had a cause to cling to and it kept us alive. We have tried to live the rest of our life according to those ideals. That was why we came here to the Cévennes. We believe this is the real France, rural areas as yet unspoiled. We could be self-sufficient and live simply. It was very hard at first and many have left, but here, away from everything, we could bring up our children without the omnipresence of the world military-industrial complex and the corruption of a materialistic society.”
Faith looked around. She didn't see evidence of any children. Perhaps there hadn't been any little pattering feet.
“You did not have children?” she asked.
“But of course we have children. Twoâto replace ourselves. More would have been selfish. They are called Honoré and Verité. Actually, Verite is legally called Valerie, because Verite is not on the list.”
“List?”
“Yes, in France you must name your child an accepted French name. We wanted to name her âtruth,' but had to register her as Valerie. We have always called her Verite and I am happy to say she prefers it herself.”
So, no little Moonflowers, Ringos, or Vladimir Ilyiches as a legacy of the times of turmoil in France. Faith often wondered how many of these had changed to Susan, William, or other common monikers upon entering junior high, that great leveler where blending in takes precedence over such mundane things as individual beliefs.
“Where are your children now?” Faith wondered aloud. Surely it was too early for them to be upstairs tucked in their wee trundle beds. Although these children would be older.
“Our daughter is studying to be a lawyer and is in Marseille. She is hoping to change the system from within. We have some interesting discussions about it. And our son works in a garage in Narbonne.”
This didn't sound very revolutionaryâwithin or withoutâor an occupation that would give rise to interesting conversations, but Faith refrained from comment.
Honoré's mother explained, “We believe each child must be what he or she wants to be. We only hope we have taught them to be honest and hard-working, and perhaps a bit of our philosophy of brotherhood, sisterhood, and peace. Honoré was never a student and he didn't want to stay on the farm. He loves to work with engines, so this was a good job for him. And he comes home often to help us.”
Too bad he hadn't made a trip home recently to tinker with Old Faithful out in front of the house, Faith thought ruefully.
They had gotten far afield of Christophe, yet Faith didn't mind. She was pleasantly full and getting sleepy. Clotilde and Frédéric's life intrigued her. Did not beckonânot at allâbut definitely intrigued.
“Don't you get lonely here, and how did your children get to school?”
“We are not so remote as you may imagine. We go to the market each week to sell what we grow and make. There we see our friends and also we all help each other when it is time to shear the sheep or repair a barn. It seems we are always going to parties, too. True, there are few of us here, but we know each other well. In the summer, we take guests and we've met many friends that way. One couple from England comes every year for two weeks in August to walk across the
causses,
the plateaus, and go into the
avens,
cavesâAven Armand, a wonderful one, is not too far. It is a shame you cannot stay longer.”
causses,
the plateaus, and go into the
avens,
cavesâAven Armand, a wonderful one, is not too far. It is a shame you cannot stay longer.”
“She doesn't want to sightsee, Frédéric! She only wants to get back to her husband and small boy.”
Frédéric was a bit chagrined.
“I hope to come back with them someday and then we will see all these places,” Faith hastened to assure him. He seemed so proud of the region. “Did you grow up here?”
This time, they did laugh out loud.
“Frédéric grew up in the eighth
arrondissement
in Paris and his only hikes were in the Parc Monceau. I fared a little better. I grew up in a suburb of Paris, but my grandparents had a house in Brittany and the best part of my childhood was going there.
arrondissement
in Paris and his only hikes were in the Parc Monceau. I fared a little better. I grew up in a suburb of Paris, but my grandparents had a house in Brittany and the best part of my childhood was going there.
“You asked about our children. We taught them here. You can do this by mail. The government sent the lessons and we followed them with some revisions and additions of our own.” Faith could well imagine. “Then when they were old enough for
lycée,
they went to live with Frédéric's parents. It was quite a different life, but it did not spoil them and they were happy to come back here for all the
vacances
.” Her pride was evident.
lycée,
they went to live with Frédéric's parents. It was quite a different life, but it did not spoil them and they were happy to come back here for all the
vacances
.” Her pride was evident.
Faith knew the area around the Parc Monceau wellâthe beautiful homes, nurses keeping a close eye on their privileged charges in the carefully manicured park with the ubiquitous KEEP OFF THE GRASS signs. If Frédéric appeared there in his present state, he'd be told to move on.
The contrast was enormous and her head was aching with all that had happened that day. Fatigue was causing things to blur. This much was clear: She had escaped, made her way across the rugged Cévennes landscape to the door of the local chapter of the Scott and Helen Nearing fan club, and now she wanted to find a bed, collapse, wake up, and go home.
She must have murmured the request out loud, for in a few minutes, she was in Baby Bear's bed, burrowing down
under an avalanche of quilts and wrapped in a thick flannel nightgown that might have belonged to Clotilde's grandmother. First, there had been the unavoidable trip to the outhouse, fortunately attached to the main house by a small covered porch and complete with all the necessaries. It was clean and free of the usual heavy lime odor. She'd been amused to notice the stack of reading materialâold copies of
Libération
and
Rolling Stone
magazine.
under an avalanche of quilts and wrapped in a thick flannel nightgown that might have belonged to Clotilde's grandmother. First, there had been the unavoidable trip to the outhouse, fortunately attached to the main house by a small covered porch and complete with all the necessaries. It was clean and free of the usual heavy lime odor. She'd been amused to notice the stack of reading materialâold copies of
Libération
and
Rolling Stone
magazine.
The quilts were so warm. Faith was so warm. And so to sleep.
Â
Clotilde roused Faith the next morning. It was still dark and the air was cool, but Faith jumped from the bed with alacrity and threw on her clothes. Tom! Ben! In a few hours, they would be together. The baby stirred. It was as if he or she understood. The movement was so slight, like the flicker of a feather, Faith had almost missed it. She was thrilled.
Clotilde had left the oil lamp and Faith pulled the covers back over the bed before leaving the room. While tucking her in the night before, Clotilde had told Faith the building had originally housed silkworms. All day long, women would sit and unwind silk from the softened cocoons spun by worms, satiated by the leaves of the abundant mulberry trees that grew on the terraces. Years after all this had come to an end, the young Parisians had been able to buy the decrepit structure and surrounding acres for very little, slowly converting it into a home. The last thing Faith had remembered before falling asleep in her own cocoon was complimenting Clotilde on her, and her husband's, excellent English. Clotilde had thanked her. “We were both studying languages at the university before May of â68 and have enjoyed teaching several to our children.” Then she added mischievously, “But, Faith, we are what we French call the âchildren of â68.' Frédéric and I are not married. There is no need and it goes against all we believe.”
Faith wasn't surprised. Pure was pure. Now in the
dim new day, she hastened down to her new friends and hoped their neighbor with the truck wouldn't forget to pick them up.
dim new day, she hastened down to her new friends and hoped their neighbor with the truck wouldn't forget to pick them up.
He was already there, the twin of Faith's lettuce man at
le marché
St. Antoine. Genial, red-faced, a dusty old beret pulled down over his ears, but not sufficient to hide the bristling tufts of hair shooting out from them. It was hard to believe that some manufacturer was turning out the standard blue cotton overalls large enough for his girth. He held a cigarette in his nicotine-stained fingers and was talking nonstop as Clotilde and Frédéric scurried about the kitchen packing their cheeses for market. It was all Faith could do to stop herself from throwing her arms around him and kissing his unshaven cheek.
le marché
St. Antoine. Genial, red-faced, a dusty old beret pulled down over his ears, but not sufficient to hide the bristling tufts of hair shooting out from them. It was hard to believe that some manufacturer was turning out the standard blue cotton overalls large enough for his girth. He held a cigarette in his nicotine-stained fingers and was talking nonstop as Clotilde and Frédéric scurried about the kitchen packing their cheeses for market. It was all Faith could do to stop herself from throwing her arms around him and kissing his unshaven cheek.
It was he who kissed hers, striding over to her with outstretched arms, “Madame, madame. Soon your ordeal will be over! We will go directly to the
gendarmerie
in Meyrueis.” He had obviously been filled in.
gendarmerie
in Meyrueis.” He had obviously been filled in.
“
Merci
, monsieur,” Faith replied wholeheartedly, and then offered to help with the packing.
Merci
, monsieur,” Faith replied wholeheartedly, and then offered to help with the packing.
“No, no,
chérie.
Eat something quickly and we will soon be going. It is almost dawn.” Clotilde set a steaming bowl of café au lait on the table next to a loaf of bread, a jar of what looked like strawberry preserves, and a dish of butter. Faith set to her task eagerly, and by the time she had finished eating, they were ready to go. Besides the cheese they made from their herd of goats, Clotilde and Frédéric also sold honey from their bees, a variety of preserves, batik lamp shades, and sundry articles forged from ironâhooks, fireplace tools, drawer pulls.
chérie.
Eat something quickly and we will soon be going. It is almost dawn.” Clotilde set a steaming bowl of café au lait on the table next to a loaf of bread, a jar of what looked like strawberry preserves, and a dish of butter. Faith set to her task eagerly, and by the time she had finished eating, they were ready to go. Besides the cheese they made from their herd of goats, Clotilde and Frédéric also sold honey from their bees, a variety of preserves, batik lamp shades, and sundry articles forged from ironâhooks, fireplace tools, drawer pulls.
Clotilde gave Faith a heavy loden-green wool cape, probably of local origin, considering the style and texture. It seemed to weigh about ten pounds and Faith found it a little difficult to navigate at first, but when she stepped out the front door into the cold, she was glad for every ounce. Monsieur RadisâFélix, he insistedâwas already in the
driver's seat, pumping the gas pedal, producing reassuring automotive noises. His truck was the same pedigree as the one that sat forlornly to the side of the house. Faith hoped this one would make it to Meyrueis.
driver's seat, pumping the gas pedal, producing reassuring automotive noises. His truck was the same pedigree as the one that sat forlornly to the side of the house. Faith hoped this one would make it to Meyrueis.
Félix motioned her into the cab. Clotilde and Frédéric jumped into the back and happily settled into each other's arms amidst the crates. Faith noted their devotion but soon had cause to wonder how much was still-crazy-about-each-other-after-all-these-years and how much was common sense as the truck bounced its way over the rough track. She was grasping a strap that hung from the ceiling for dear life while Félix kept up a running commentary, presumably on the landscape they were passing and the history of the region, in such rapid French that Faith soon abandoned any pretense of comprehension, simply nodding and smiling at what she hoped were appropriate moments. She didn't catch anything about the death of a family member or the silkworm blight, so her responses seemed right so far. Félix appeared to regard personal hygiene with considerably less interest than his brother and sister of '68, if he was one of their group and not indigenous. Faith suspected these particular overalls had had many close encounters with his livestock, and between trying to stay upwind of him and trying to hold on, the time was passing rapidly.
Soon they were on an actual road, careening down the mountain, and as Faith caught glimpses of the precipitous drop and what she presumed was a riverâa thin blue-green ribbonâbelow, she began to realize her ordeal was not yet over. Félix, either determined to get her to the police station as quickly as possible or because it was his habitual driving styleâand Faith suspected the latterâwas proceeding at breakneck speed in apparent disregard for any vehicle foolish enough to be coming around the narrow bend from the opposite direction. To his credit, he did lean on the horn from time to time with startling results. There was also his disconcerting habit of driving with one hand while he gestured
with the other. After several repetitions, Faith understood that they were at the top of the Gorges du Tarn, the Tarn being the river, and would soon plummet into Meyrueis.
with the other. After several repetitions, Faith understood that they were at the top of the Gorges du Tarn, the Tarn being the river, and would soon plummet into Meyrueis.
The truck was descending almost vertically, and just when Faith was about to cross the line from fear to abject terror, she caught sight of a village nestled at the bottom of two crevices. “Meyrueis,” Félix announced with a flourish. The whole town was decked with red, white, and blue bunting gathered up with bunches of red silk poppies, cornflowers, and daisies. The tricolor flew from every building and there was an air of great festivity. How did they know? Faith wondered, then remembered that it was Victoire 1945, the celebration of the end of WWII and the reason Tom was able to take the long weekend. Well, it had been a long weekend.
Félix brought the truck to a screeching halt outside the
gendarmerie
. The oddly assorted party disembarked and prepared to go inside. Faith, her legs stiff after having spent most of the trip pressing an imaginary break pedal to the floor, flung the woolen cloak about her and led the way.
gendarmerie
. The oddly assorted party disembarked and prepared to go inside. Faith, her legs stiff after having spent most of the trip pressing an imaginary break pedal to the floor, flung the woolen cloak about her and led the way.
She walked up to the counter, but before she could speak, the man on duty gasped,
“Mon Dieu
!” and raced around to the front.
“Mon Dieu
!” and raced around to the front.
“Madame Fairsheeld!” He kissed her ecstatically. “France is looking for you!”
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