A Coming Evil (7 page)

After dinner, Louis Jerome and Etienne did the dishes, then everybody gathered in the candlelit living room because once again the electricity had gone off
at six o'clock. Aunt Josephine had unraveled one of Cecile's old sweaters to reknit it into winter outfits for baby Rachel. Anne was helping her, sitting with her hands held apart while Aunt Josephine wrapped the yarn around them. Emma and Cecile were playing cards, but they kept showing their hands and dropping their cards, so they were no fun to play with. Louis Jerome was playing with Rachel, making faces and shaking her rattle so that she squealed with laughter, and Etienne was reading a book about planes that looked much too old for him.

"May I get a book to read from the study?" Lisette asked.

Aunt Josephine nodded while Cecile looked up from her cards and said, "Those are grown-up books. I have some in my room—"

"No, I was in the mood for a grown-up one."

Cecile looked at her as if she were crazy, but she abandoned Emma anyway. "Will you read it to me?" she asked.

With a glance at Aunt Josephine, who didn't look as though she was paying attention—but with mothers you could never be sure—Lisette said, "Certainly."

"Be careful with the candles," Aunt Josephine warned.

Cecile opened the huge doors at the end of the hall on the first floor, behind the staircase. "There are some over here that have pretty pictures," she said.

Lisette followed her. Cecile was talking about a section that had books on photography. Because Uncle Raymond was such an organized person, the photography section was also where he had a shelf for his photographic equipment: cameras, special papers and trays, bottles of chemicals. Uncle Raymond— Lisette's father had used to complain after family gatherings—tended to make a nuisance of himself with his picture taking. Here, the one wall without bookshelves was covered with framed photographs of Cecile and Aunt Josephine, and there were other pictures on just about every flat surface in the room.

Lisette bypassed the photography section and continued examining the shelves until she found a copy of the
Encyclopedia Larousse.

"That looks boring," Cecile told her.

Lisette brought the book to the desk. "What's this for?" she asked, indicating the red cloth draped over the desk lamp.

"It's something to do with Papa developing his pictures. He can't use light, except red light is all right. Look at this picture of when I was five. Wasn't I cute?"

"Mmm-hmm." Lisette was trying to find out what sorts of things were going on in the world during 1314. It was before the Protestant Reformation, but after the Crusades.

"What are you looking for?" Cecile asked.

"Just looking. Hold that candle still." It seemed that most of the Middle Ages were one big lump. The
book talked at great length about serfs and the role of the Church, but there were few specific dates. Apparently Gerard had died in time to miss the Black Death.

"Are you through yet?" Cecile asked.

"Isn't there a list of who was king when?"

Cecile shrugged. "Who cares? Let's do something else. Let's go back with the others."

She'd never find out anything this way. Lisette closed the book and returned it to its place. In Paris, there were all sorts of wonderful museums staffed by knowledgeable people who no doubt had the information she needed at their fingertips. But Sibourne wasn't Paris. Lisette wondered if the town even had a library.

They walked back to the living room, where Lisette had no sooner sat down than Cecile suggested, "We could brush each other's hair."

"All right," Lisette said, though she suspected that she would be doing most of the brushing.

Cecile ran to get a hairbrush, then settled herself in front of Lisette. "How about if we tell each other stories while you brush?" she suggested.

"What kind of stories?"

"Ghost stories," Cecile said a bit too quickly.

Lisette brushed Cecile's hair, which was the same light color as her mother's, but finer and straighten "I don't know any," she said.

"Then tell me, what's the spookiest thing you've ever seen?"

Lisette worked her way through a tangle. "Aunt Louise with her hair in curlers."

"Lisette," Aunt Josephine warned.

But Lisette had gotten Cecile giggling, and she started talking about a teacher in her school—her old school in Nice—who had hair that always stuck out in all directions.
This must be hard for her, too,
Lisette realized. Cecile was used to spending her summers here, but she had never been to the school in Sibourne either.

After Aunt Josephine finished wrapping her yarn, it was time to get Rachel, Anne, and Emma ready for bed. While Aunt Josephine was upstairs reading the twins a bedtime story, Etienne started telling his own ghost stories, which made little, if any, sense. Lisette finally said, "Your turn to brush, Cecile."

Etienne stopped talking midsentence and Louis Jerome, who'd been looking through his stamp collection, closed his book with a snap. They were both out of the room before Cecile and Lisette had exchanged places.

Now what was that about?
Lisette wondered. She said, now that they were alone, "So, Cecile, if you were going to tell a ghost story, what kind of ghost would it be?"

The brush caught in a tangle, and Cecile dragged it through.

"Be careful!" Lisette snapped, holding her hands over the spot that still tingled. "Go slower."

"Sorry," Cecile said.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry."

"OUCH!"

"Sorry. If you brushed it once in a while, it wouldn't be so tangly."

"I
do
brush," Lisette protested. "But my hair's thicker and curlier than yours. You can't—ouch!—Here, that's enough."

"No, no, I've got it," Cecile said. "Just this one more tangle, then it'll be easier."

Lisette tried not to squirm.

Cecile said, "He'd be young."

"Ouch. Who?"

"The ghost."

It was hard to concentrate on the conversation. "How young?"

"My age."

"Ouch! Cecile! Give me the brush."

"No, wait. Let me put it up with a rubber band."

"I don't want it up with a rubber band. I can never get those things out without having to cut—
Ouch!
" Lisette lunged for the brush.

Cecile yanked it away in time. "Be that way." She was wearing her hurt, sulky expression. "I'll do Etienne's hair."

"Fine," Lisette called after her. She remembered how Etienne and Louis Jerome had practically fallen over each other trying to get out of there. "If you can find him!" She rubbed her scalp. Finding out what
Cecile knew about Gerard wasn't worth the pain.

Except, she thought, that she
had
learned something.

Cecile had described him as looking to be her own age.

And even Cecile should be able to tell the difference between ten and thirteen.

The next morning dawned gray and rainy, and it looked as though it would stay gray and rainy all day. When Etienne came back in from feeding the rabbits—a twenty-second dash from the porch door to the rabbit hutch and back again—Aunt Josephine carried on for at least half an hour about the mud on his shoes. Lisette was relieved. There was no way Aunt Josephine would permit her to play outside, and there was no excuse Lisette could give for going up the hill. So it wasn't her fault that she wouldn't be able to keep her promise to Gerard.

At first, Aunt Josephine announced that it was too wet to go into town. There was enough milk for
Rachel, if the others did without, and since it was so cool in the basement, the ice hadn't melted from the day before, so the milk would keep all day. But after breakfast and the regular morning chores, the rain that had looked to keep on forever had lessened to a dismal drizzle. Rachel was in a wretched mood, crying with a bone-jarring twang that was worse than nails on a blackboard. It reminded Lisette of home. "Probably teething," Aunt Josephine said. She poured some whiskey on her finger and ran it over the baby's gums, but still Rachel fussed. Aunt Josephine decided to go marketing after all.

"Let's play hide and seek," Cecile suggested before Aunt Josephine had pedaled to the bottom of the drive.

"Your mother said we were supposed to clean our rooms," Lisette said.

"My mother isn't here," Cecile pointed out. "You're it."

The children scattered.

"Three quick games," Lisette called after them. "And then the cleaning." Why did she have the feeling nobody was listening? "Then, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can play some more." To herself she thought,
I'm beginning to sound like my own mother.
It was a scary thought.

But after three games, Cecile said, "I never get to be it, because I'm such a good hider. Please, please, please, let me be it!"

"Oh, all right," Lisette said, because she'd thought of a good spot. She ran upstairs and hid in Aunt Josephine's armoire, crouched in the corner behind a long evening dress.

After a while she heard Cecile enter the room. Anne was with her—apparently Cecile had found her first—and Lisette held her breath so that neither of them could hear her. Cecile opened the armoire but didn't look closely enough to find Lisette. "Bed?" Anne suggested, perhaps the first time Lisette had heard her say anything that wasn't a response to a direct question, and then they were gone. From the hallway, she heard Cecile call out shrilly, "I see Etienne behind the armchair." And then she found Emma under the bed in her room, where she'd hidden during each of the three previous games also. All four of them went running down the stairs, laughing and shouting. Lisette knew Louis Jerome was downstairs because he hadn't come up with her. She waited patiently for Cecile either to come back after finding him and conduct a more thorough search, or give up.

After a while her back got tired, and she very carefully shifted position. Later, her knees got sore, so she stretched her legs out. She'd be sure to hear Cecile coming back up the stairs, and she could conceal herself better then. After more time passed, she got so tired of being in the armoire, she realized she was wishing Cecile
would
find her. She shifted position yet again, not taking care to be quiet. She sighed.

Eventually Lisette opened the door of the armoire. No sign of Cecile, except that she had left the edge of the comforter up when she'd checked under the bed.

Lisette moved quietly into the hallway—nobody there—and down the stairs. Still nobody.

From the living room she could hear Rachel banging her rattle on the floor, which meant that someone had gotten her out of her bassinet.

Stealthily Lisette eased around the corner. Emma was on the floor playing with the baby. Anne and Louis Jerome were attempting to construct a house of playing cards on the coffee table. And Cecile was arranging Etienne's hair. So far, she had it up in five little rubber-banded tufts topped with barrettes. Etienne didn't appear to be having nearly as much fun as Cecile was.

Lisette cleared her throat.

Cecile looked up. "Oh, there you are."

"Why didn't anybody tell me the game was over?" Lisette demanded.

"The game isn't over," Cecile said. "We just all got bored looking for you. You're it again."

"I am
not
it," Lisette protested. "And you're supposed to be cleaning your rooms."

"Oh, sure," Cecile said. "Get us to do your work while you play."

"I am not—" Lisette started, but Etienne suddenly shouted, "Somebody's coming."

Lisette ran to the window, knowing that if he was
simply intent on getting away from Cecile, Etienne could have tried this long ago. Now she, too, could hear the clump of horse hooves on the driveway and the crunching of wheels on gravel. But it would take a few more seconds before the approaching vehicle made it around the curve in the driveway that would bring it into sight.

Etienne put on his gas mask, pulled it down over his face, and headed for the kitchen and the basement door. He was the only one of the children who reacted according to Aunt Josephine's plan. "It's every man for himself!" his muffled voice proclaimed.

A bicycle horn honked.

"It's Monsieur Maurice and Maman," Cecile said as the battered cart pulled into view. "Don't bother with the basement. Everybody in the kitchen."

"What if she invites him in for coffee?" Lisette asked as finally the children began to move.

"She always invites him in," Cecile said. "He always says no."

Maurice pulled up on the reins. Now Lisette and Cecile could see that Aunt Josephine's bicycle was in the back. Had she had some sort of accident? Maurice was lifting the bicycle out of the cart.

Cecile gave Lisette a worried look as Maurice approached the back door, which opened out onto the porch, which opened onto the kitchen. "Everybody in the basement," Cecile screamed, nearly shattering Lisette's eardrum.

"Noise," Lisette told her. "We need to make noise to cover up the children's noise."

The two of them headed for the porch.

"Maman, Maman," Cecile called, at the same time Lisette shouted over her voice, "Aunt Josephine, are you all right?"

"What happened?" Cecile asked.

"Is the bicycle broken?" Lisette asked.

"Hello, Monsieur Maurice," Cecile said. Then to her mother, "What's Monsieur Maurice doing here?"

"Is it still raining?" Lisette asked, having run out of good questions.

"Yes, yes," Aunt Josephine said. "Everything is fine. Just put the bicycle over there, Maurice. That's fine. Thank you.
Cecile! Lisette!
Please."

Cecile and Lisette fell quiet at Aunt Josephine's tone of reprimand. There were no telltale noises from the stairs or the basement.

"Let's have some coffee," Aunt Josephine said. "We're both soaked."

"Well," Maurice said, "if you're sure it won't be inconvenient."

Aunt Josephine seemed suddenly to realize the possibility that the children might be up out of the basement. "Sometimes the house
is
a bit messy with these two girls..." she said hesitantly.

Maurice looked ready to leave then, but Cecile said, "We've spent all morning cleaning." Lisette could tell Aunt Josephine took this as a message that
the children were safely hidden. "Come in," she insisted to Maurice.