A Coming Evil (11 page)

The woman drew heavily on her new cigarette and the end flared bright red. It smelled more like burning rope than regular tobacco and wasn't rolled tight and smooth, so it must have been homemade. Lisette's father smoked, but he'd already said that once real tobacco wasn't available he'd give it up rather than make do with corn silk. The woman was finally satisfied that her current cigarette wouldn't go out, so she crushed out the old one, all before saying, "Hello, my dear. Is your mother home?"

"My mother doesn't live here," Lisette said, determined not to volunteer any information about Aunt Josephine, whom, she suspected, this woman did not know, or she wouldn't have mistaken Lisette for her daughter. The woman's movements were so precise, despite the fact that she seemed bristling with nervous energy, that she was making Lisette nervous. That was probably why she was so skinny, Lisette thought: nervous energy. Or maybe she was hungry. Some of the northern provinces had even less food than Paris. Had this woman come south begging? She looked to be closer in age to Lisette's father, who was fifty, than to Aunt Josephine. Her hair, which was cropped short and was all in curls, was almost midway in turning from black to gray. What was Lisette supposed to do about an elderly beggar woman?

But the woman said, "You aren't Josephine LePage's daughter ... umm, Christine?" which proved that she at least knew Aunt Josephine, even if she wasn't a close friend.

"I'm her niece."

The woman sucked deeply on her cigarette. "Well, I'll tell you what, my dear: one of us had better give in or we'll both be sitting out here until the next full moon. And frankly, my behind is getting cold and sore from this step. My name is Eugenie Dumont, and I'm a friend of your aunt's, though she was not expecting me today. Shall I call you Josephine's niece, or Mademoiselle LePage, or what?"

"My name is Lisette."

Madame Dumont left the cigarette in her mouth and extended her hand to shake Lisette's. "Now, Lisette, are you going to go in and bolt the door behind you, or are you going to invite me in?"

So she had tried the door and seen that it was unlocked, Lisette decided. Had she seen the children? Had the children seen her? Were they safely down in the basement where they belonged or were they lurking in corners, ready to be discovered if she let this woman in?

"My dear," Madame Dumont said in exasperation, "eventually you are going to have to make a decision about something."

Presumably Madame Dumont had knocked when she first came. If the children hadn't hidden then, it probably meant that they were making too much noise to have heard. And if they were making that much noise, then Madame Dumont had no doubt already heard them. Since she hadn't mentioned hearing noises from the supposedly empty house, maybe all was as it should be. Lisette went to open the door, saying: "I'm sorry. I'm from Paris and I'm not used to country manners." It was both to explain her hesitation and to warn the children that she was coming in with someone.

Madame Dumont snorted before crushing out her cigarette.

The house was totally still, the front room empty.

"Would you like to wait here, Madame Dumont?"
Lisette asked, raising her voice as much as she dared, a final warning that she wasn't alone. "Or would you like to come into the kitchen?"

"I'd like something warm to drink," Madame Dumont said, raising her voice to match Lisette's, "if you don't mind."

Lisette felt her cheeks grow pink. Either this woman knew exactly what was going on, or she thought Lisette was a total fool.

Passing the staircase, she glanced up. No sign of anybody there.

In the kitchen, all was as it should be. Lisette put the flowers she'd gathered on the table then set the kettle on the stove.

Madame Dumont sat down at the table and lit another cigarette.

"Let me fetch a vase for these flowers," Lisette said. She opened the basement door and was relieved to see that the flashlight was missing from its niche.
Thank you,
she mentally told God. At least the children were where they were safest. "No, wait," Lisette said out loud, "I think she keeps the vase under the sink."

She found a white vase that was a bit too small but she crammed the flowers in it.
Hopefully they don't have any bugs,
she thought as she set the vase on the counter.

"We don't have any coffee left," she told Madame Dumont. "My aunt has been using bouillon."

"That's fine." Madame Dumont was putting the
ashes from her cigarette into her left hand, which hurt just to think about.

As far as Lisette knew, Aunt Josephine didn't have any ashtrays, so she got out a bowl for her visitor to use. She was just passing the porch door when she heard a faint thump from there.
Oh, no,
she thought. Out loud she said, "Here you go, Madame Dumont." She put the bowl on the table, making as much noise about it as she could.

Had Madame Dumont heard? She gave no indication that she had.

From the porch came a noise as though someone was dragging something. What was the matter with them? Didn't those children have any sense at all? "So," Lisette said as brightly and as loudly as she could, "Madame Dumont. Would you like a cup or a mug?"

"A cup would do nicely."

Another thump.

Lisette slammed the cup down on the table.

Madame Dumont glanced from her to the porch to the cup and back to the porch.

From which came the definite sound of something moving.

Lisette leaned in close to demand Madame Dumont's attention. "Do you think you want a saucer, too?" she shouted at her.

"My dear," Madame Dumont said, "I think we should see what's rattling around on your aunt's porch."

"Porch?" Lisette asked.

Another thump, and the sound of glass breaking.

"Porch," Madame Dumont said.

"I'm sure everything's fine there," Lisette said. "You know how old houses creak."

Something big crashed—possibly a chair tipping over.

Madame Dumont abandoned her cigarette to walk to the door. She opened it and Lisette tried to see past her. "I know your aunt is not a country woman," Madame Dumont said, "but, my dear, I would expect that even in Nice they would know better than to keep goats in the porch."

"Oh, no!" Lisette said.

Maurice's goat had been single-mindedly trying to determine what a porch tasted like. It had nibbled on a chair pillow that was now bleeding fluff all over the chair and the floor. The blackout curtains had two corners chewed out of them, as though the goat had wanted to make sure that both sides tasted alike. An end table was lying on its side, a broken vase beneath it held headless stems. At the moment the stupid goat was working on eating a philodendron plant, formerly almost two meters tall and currently lying on its side, at least half its potting soil dumped out onto the floor and trampled in with the pillow stuffing.

"Oh, this is all my fault," Lisette said, thinking,
Those stupid children.
"Our neighbor just brought this goat over, and I was afraid it would run away while I was picking flowers, so I brought it in here." It sounded like a seven-year-old's reasoning to her, but she didn't think Madame Dumont thought very highly of her intelligence anyway. "It must have been hungrier than I realized."

The goat left the philodendron and tried to munch on the edge of Madame Dumont's jacket. "My dear," Madame Dumont said, pushing the goat away, "goats don't eat because they're hungry. They eat to annoy humans."

Just then there was a thud from inside the house.

What more could possibly happen
? Lisette wondered, but a moment later she heard Aunt Josephine call out from the front door, "Lisette?"

"In the porch," Lisette said.

Aunt Josephine must have seen the bicycle outside, for she looked worried. But as soon as she saw Madame Dumont, she smiled. "Eugenie!"

"Josephine!"

The two women hugged.

"And Lisette," Aunt Josephine said, sounding concerned, Lisette thought, and trying to hide it. No doubt she was wondering about the children. Both her voice and her smile were strained. "And ... a goat. How ... interesting. Lisette?"

Cecile appeared in the doorway. "A goat!" she squealed. "Where did it come from?"

"Monsieur Maurice brought it for us to milk," Lisette explained.

"What does goat milk taste like?" Cecile asked.

Lisette, Aunt Josephine, and Madame Dumont all shrugged.

"Well, Lisette," Aunt Josephine said, talking slowly and enunciating carefully, "maybe you should put the goat in the barn until we decide what to do with him."

"Her," Lisette and Madame Dumont corrected. Madame Dumont winked at Lisette.

"In fact," Aunt Josephine said with strained brightness, "Cecile, sweetie, why don't you get that bucket that we normally use to bring home the ice and you and Lisette can try to milk the goat?"

She was trying to get rid of them. Cecile was too interested in the goat to notice, but Lisette was sure of it. Aunt Josephine wanted to talk to her friend alone. This was getting more and more interesting.

At first Cecile was so eager to milk the goat that she could hardly stand still long enough for Lisette to show her the way Maurice had shown her.

"What's the goat's name?" Cecile asked.

"Umm, I can't remember. I told the others, but I've forgotten now."

Cecile looked at her as though she were the stupidest person she'd ever met, but at least she didn't accuse Lisette of lying.

To divert her attention, Lisette asked, "What's the stray cat's name?"

"Mimi," Cecile said. "I named her after your cat."

Lisette didn't even answer.

After about five minutes of milking, Cecile got tired, which was a good thing since Maurice had said the goat should be milked in the morning and in the evening.

"I'm going back in," Cecile announced. "This is boring."

"I think your mother wants to talk with her friend alone," Lisette said.

Cecile was heading for the barn door. "She wouldn't mind me being there."

"Cecile," Lisette said, "stay here."

"You're so bossy. No wonder your parents couldn't stand you and sent you away."

Lisette gritted her teeth. "Do you want to play out here for a while, Cecile?" She tried to think of some game that would involve tying and gagging Cecile.

Before she could come up with anything, Cecile said, "Let's play family."

"No," Lisette said. "We did that this morning before breakfast, and last night, and yesterday morning, and—"

"I'll be the mother."

"No, you're always the mother, and I'm always the—"

"And you'll be the father."

"I don't want to be the father," Lisette protested. It didn't do any good. It never did.

"And the goat can be the baby. I'll sit down, and you put the goat in my lap."

"The goat is not going to want to sit in your lap, and I don't want to be the father."

"Alphonse, dear," Cecile said to Lisette in her version of a sophisticated lady's voice, "kindly fetch our baby, Lulu. I don't know
what
has become of our servants. They '/answer the bell. We'll have to
dismiss
them all and hire new ones."

Lisette stood there tapping her foot while Cecile batted her eyelashes at her.

"Alphonse," Cecile commanded. "I'm waiting."

All right,
Lisette thought. "I'm sorry, dear—" she started.

"Magdalene," Cecile told her.

"I'm sorry, Magdalene, but the army has drafted me. I'm off to fight in the war."

Cecile jumped up and stamped her foot. "Alphonse, you have not been drafted."

"I'm sorry," Lisette said, picking up the pail of milk, "but I must go. And if I'm lucky,"—this wasn't worth it: if Aunt Josephine wanted Cecile out of the house, let Aunt Josephine tell Cecile to get out—"if I'm
very
lucky, I may not come back."

"What a hateful thing to say!" Cecile was so angry, she looked ready to spit. "You beast! I'm telling Maman."

"What?" Cecile's reaction was beyond reason.

She pushed past Lisette and ran into the house, howling all the way.

With a sigh, Lisette followed.

Aunt Josephine and Madame Dumont were in the kitchen, Aunt Josephine looking as though she'd just hastily risen from her chair. Cecile had her face buried in her mother's skirt and she was wailing, "Maman, Maman, Lisette said Papa is never coming back from the war."

"I didn't—"

"Lisette!" Aunt Josephine was obviously shocked. "How could you say such a thing?"

"But I—"

"There, there, sweetie, Papa is safe, Papa will be coming back. Lisette, I can't believe you'd say such a cruel thing." But obviously she
did
believe it.

"I never said—"

"Hush, darling. Lisette didn't mean it. Lisette, tell her you didn't mean it."

It was, after all, the simplest way. "I didn't mean it," Lisette said.

"There, there, all over now," Aunt Josephine assured Cecile. "As a matter of fact, Madame Dumont has just brought us some good news about Papa."

"He's coming home, he's coming home," Cecile chanted.

"Well, yes and no," Aunt Josephine said. "He's not coming home, but Madame Dumont has some friends who know exactly where he is."

"Near here?" Cecile asked Madame Dumont.

Madame Dumont nodded.

"Papa's coming home! Papa's coming home!"

"Cecile," Aunt Josephine said sharply.

"What?" Cecile must have recognized by her mother's tone that whatever was coming next was not going to be entirely good news.

"
I
am going to visit Papa. You will have to stay here with Lisette—"

"Why can't I come?"

"I'm sorry, you cannot. Papa will be arriving at night and he will only be there for a very short while and—"

"Is he coming by parachute?" Cecile looked eagerly from her mother to Madame Dumont. "He
is,
" she said; it was the same conclusion to which Lisette had come. "I want to see Papa jump out of a plane with a parachute. Has he come to blow up some bridges?"

"Cecile, it would be very dangerous for Papa if anybody found out."