Blackberry Wine

54

SHE ARRIVED UNANNOUNCED ONE EVENING. JAY HADN’T SPOKEN to her for several days. In fact, he hadn’t really gone out, except to the village to buy bread. The café was mournful in the rain, the terrasse reverting to a road as the tables and chairs were taken in, rain dripping steadily from parasols bleached colourless by the weather. In Les Marauds the Tannes had begun to stink, hot foul waves rolling off the marshes towards the village. Even the gypsies moved on, taking their houseboats to calmer, sweeter waters. Arnauld was talking about calling in a weatherworker to solve the rain problem – there were still a few in this part of the country – and the idea met with less scorn than it would have a few weeks before. Narcisse scowled and shook his head and repeated that he had never seen anything like it. Nothing in living memory even came close.

It was nearly ten o’clock. Marise was wearing a yellow slicker. Rosa was standing behind her in her sky-blue mac and red boots. Rain silvered their faces. Behind them the sky was a dull orange, occasionally lit by the dim flare of distant lightning. Wind shook the trees.

‘What’s wrong?’ Their appearance surprised Jay so much that at first he didn’t even think to invite them in. ‘Has something happened?’

Marise shook her head.

‘Come in, please. You must be freezing.’ Jay cast an automatic glance behind him. The room was tidy enough to pass muster. Only a few empty coffee cups littered the table. He caught Marise looking curiously at his bed in the corner. Even after the roof had been fixed he’d never quite got round to moving it.

‘I’ll make you a drink,’ he suggested. ‘Here, take your coats off.’ He hung their slickers in the kitchen to drip and put on some water to boil. ‘Coffee? Chocolate? Wine?’

‘Some chocolate for Rosa, thank you,’ said Marise. ‘Our electricity is down. The generator shorted.’

‘Jesus.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Her voice was calm and businesslike. ‘I can fix it. We’ve had this kind of problem before. The marshland is very prone to flooding.’ She looked at him. ‘I have to ask you for help,’ she said reluctantly.

Jay thought it was an odd way of putting it. I have to ask you.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Anything.’

Marise sat down stiffly at the table. She was wearing jeans and a green jumper, which brought out the green in her eyes. She touched the typewriter keys tentatively. Jay saw that her nails were cut very short, and that there was dirt under them.

‘You don’t have to say yes,’ she said. ‘It’s just an idea I had.’

‘Go on.’

‘Do you write with this?’ She touched the typewriter again. ‘Your books, I mean?’

Jay nodded. ‘I always did have a retrogressive streak,’ he admitted. ‘Can’t stand computers.’

She smiled. She looked tired, he noticed, her eyes strained and bruised-looking. For the first time, and with a feeling of surprise, he saw her as vulnerable.

‘It’s Rosa,’ she said at last. ‘I’m worried she might catch cold – fall ill – if she stays in the house. I wondered if you would perhaps find room for her in your farm for a few days. Only a few days,’ she repeated. ‘Until I can get the house back into shape. I’ll pay you.’ She pulled out a bundle of notes from the pocket of her jeans and pushed them across the table. ‘She’s a good girl. She wouldn’t interfere with your work.’

‘I don’t want money,’ said Jay.

‘But I-’

‘I’d be happy to take Rosa. You, too, if you like. I have plenty of room for both of you.’ She looked at him with an air of bewilderment, as if in surprise that he had given in so easily.

‘I can imagine the problems the flooding has caused,’ he told her. ‘You’re very welcome to use the farm for as long as you like. If you want to bring some clothes-’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I have too many things to do at home. But Rosa…’ She swallowed. ‘I would be very grateful. If you would.’

Rosa was exploring the room. Jay could see her looking at the pile of typed sheets he had arranged in a box on the end of his bed.

‘Is this English?’ she enquired curiously. ‘Is this your English book?’ Jay nodded. ‘See if you can find some biscuits in the kitchen,’ he told her. ‘The chocolate will be ready soon.’ Rosa scampered off through the doorway.

‘Can I bring Clopette with me when I come?’ she called from the kitchen.

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Jay mildly.

From the other room Rosa gave a crow of triumph. Marise looked at her hands. Her face was careful and expressionless. Outside the wind rattled the shutters.

‘Perhaps you’d like that wine now,’ Jay suggested.