Peasant-like, Jean stood still and watched them come, as if it was an interesting spectacle. He noted that the family stopped, to hold a brief council. The woman took advantage of the pause to hitch up her clothes with her belt, then shook the arm of the child, who had bent down to pick something up.
‘What is it, Jean?’ called Tati, seeing that he had stopped work.
He couldn’t pick up her words, since the door and window were shut. He just saw her lips move, so he peered into the kitchen.
‘I think you’ve got visitors.’
Frowning, and already fixing her hair on top of her head, she leaned out of the door herself.
‘Amélie and her husband. I’m going to get properly dressed. Tell them I’ll be down directly.’
In a swift movement she had made the dishes disappear into the cupboard, then could be heard going upstairs and bustling about on the upper floor.
The newcomers, who were now another fifty metres closer, reached a standstill again, as they saw Jean at the door, the hoe in his hand. Another family council. The man had a pince-nez and a purple ribbon on his lapel. Finally, they came right up, having taken their decision. They walked past the young man as if he did not exist, and Amélie pushed the door open.
‘Are you there, Tati?’ she called into the depths of the house.
‘If you’d like to go in, Tati will be down in a moment.’
The woman shrank back, as if to avoid any contact with him. Her husband literally walked round Jean so as not to brush against him, and ordered his son:
‘Go inside, sit on a chair and try to keep still.’
For the sole reason that they were pretending not to see him, Jean went inside himself, leaving the hoe at the door, and brought chairs forward for them.
‘Do sit down. It’s hot outside, isn’t it? You surely haven’t walked from Saint-Amand?’
The husband, caught by surprise, admitted:
‘We took the bus.’
And his wife sent a withering glance at him, since he had spoken to that individual.
Silence. She had sat down. The husband stayed standing and tipped up his boater in order to mop his brow.
‘Sit still, Hector.’
Over their heads came Tati’s heavy footsteps as she hurriedly put on her good dress and combed her hair.
Addressing her husband and still ignoring Jean, Amélie said, to break the silence:
‘I’m sure Papa is out there, grazing the cows. On a day like this, with the sun so hot, he could have an attack …’
At last, Tati came downstairs, opened the door to the kitchen and went to greet her sister-in-law.
‘Good day to you, Amélie.’
Two brief, dry pecks, one on each cheek.
‘I didn’t expect you today. Has your husband got a day off? Hello, Désiré. Sit down, why don’t you! And Hector, aren’t you going to say hello to your aunt?’
‘Hello, auntie. I want to go fishing in the canal.’
‘I absolutely forbid you to go fishing!’ cried his mother. ‘I can’t have you falling in the water. Stay right here.’
Jean was ready to leave the room at a sign or look from Tati. But she kept him back.
‘Fetch the bottle of brandy, Jean. And for Amélie you’ll find the blackcurrant liqueur just inside the cellar.’
She placed on the table some glasses with gold rims, which she took from the sideboard in the dining room.
‘So, have you got some good news?’ she asked, sitting down comfortably. ‘You can stay, Jean. We don’t have any family secrets, do we, Amélie? Does Désiré like his new job? Still with the hardware firm on Rue Gambetta?’
‘Yes,’ the other replied sharply.
‘Well, that’s good, eh? Your health. Can we let the boy have a little blackcurrant?’
‘No, thank you. I prefer he doesn’t touch alcohol.’
‘I’m thirsty, Maman.’
‘You can have a glass of water, then. Is Papa not here?’
‘He must be somewhere around with the cows.’
‘How is he?’
‘Same as usual.’
