Chocolat

31

Wednesday March 19

THERE SEEMS TO BE LESS ACTIVITY AT THE ROCHER woman's shop these days. Armande Voizin has stopped visiting, though I have seen her a few times since her recovery, walking with a determined stride and with only a little help from her stick. Guillaume Duplessis is often with her, trailing that skinny puppy of his, and Luc Clairmont goes down to Les Marauds every day. On learning that her son has been seeing Armande in secret, Caroline Clairmont gives a smirk of chagrin.

`I can't do a thing with him these days, pere,' she complains. `Such a good boy, such an obedient boy one moment, and the next-' She raised her manicured hands to her bosom in a theatrical gesture.

`I only told him – in the mildest possible way – that perhaps he should have told me he was going to visit his grandmother.’ She sighed. `As if he thought I would disapprove, silly boy. Of course I don't, I told him. It's wonderful that you get on with her as well as you do – after all, you're going to inherit everything one day – and suddenly he's shouting at me and saying he doesn't care about the money, that the reason he didn't want me to know was that he knew I'd spoil everything, that I was an interfering bible groupie – her words, pere, I'd stake my life on that.’

She brushed her eyes with the back of her hand, taking care not to smudge her impeccable make-up. `What have I done, pere?’ she pleaded. `I've done everything for that boy, given him everything. And to see him turn away from me, to throw it all in my face because of that woman…’

Her voice was hard beneath the tears: `Sharper than a serpent's tooth,' she moaned. `You can't imagine what it's like for a mother, pere.’

`Oh, you're not the only person to have suffered from Madame Rocher's well-intentioned meddling,' I told her. `Look around you at the changes she's made in just a few weeks.’

Caroline sniffed. `Well-intentioned! You're too kind, pere,' she sneered. `She's malicious, that's what she is. She nearly killed my mother, turned my son against me…’

I nodded encouragingly.

`Not to mention what she's done to the Muscats' marriage,' continued Caroline. `It amazes me that you've had so much patience, pere. It really does.’

Her eyes glittered with spite. `I'm surprised you haven't used your influence, pere,' she said.

I shrugged. `Oh, I'm just a country priest,' I said. 'I don't have any influence as such. I can disapprove, but-.'

`You can do a sight more than disapprove,' snapped Caroline tautly. `We should have listened to you in the first place, pere. We should never have tolerated her here.’

I shrugged. `Anyone can say that with hindsight,' I reminded her. `Even you patronized her shop, if I remember.’

She flushed. `Well, we could help you now,' she said. 'Paul Muscat, Georges, the Arnaulds, the Drous, the Prudhommes… We could pull together. Spread the word. We could turn the tide against her, even now.’

`For what reason? The woman hasn't broken the law. They'd call it malicious gossip, and you'd be no better off than before.’

Caroline gave a narrow smile. `We could wreck her precious festival, that's for sure,' she said.

`Oh?’

`Of course.’

Intensity of feeling makes her ugly. 'Georges sees a lot of people. He's a wealthy man. Muscat, too, has influence. He sees people. He's persuasive; the Residents' Committee…’

Of course he is. I remember his father, the summer of the river-gypsies.

`If she makes a loss on the festival – and I hear she's put quite a sum into preparing it already – then she might be pressured-' `She might,' I replied mildly. `Of course I couldn't be seen to have any, part of it. It might look – uncharitable.’

I could tell from her expression that she understood perfectly.

`Of course, mon pere.’

Her voice is eager and spiteful. For a second I feel utter contempt for her, panting and fawning like a bitch in heat, but it is with such contemptible tools, pere, that our work is often done.

After all, pere, you should know.