At the end of the path, Jean could see his sister’s car, still parked. Billie was at the wheel. No doubt she had waited to see what was happening.
They had just gone inside the house when she switched on the engine and drove off, after several noisy manoeuvres to turn the car in the narrow lane.
‘Has someone been here?’ Tati asked automatically.
Billie’s scent was still noticeable in the room.
‘Help me to my bed. I can feel something thumping inside my head. Are you sure nothing’s broken?’
‘We could call the doctor.’
‘What could the doctor do? Help me up the stairs. I don’t think I’ll ever get to the top. Who’d have thought an idiot like Eugène would ever be capable …’
The bedroom smelled stale.
‘Undo my dress, hurry.’
He stripped her as if he were skinning a rabbit. The black silk clung to her flesh, which hung in rolls of fat. She had started to weep quietly.
‘Oh, Jean, you’re so kind. Wait. No, I can get into bed by myself. Who was it came to the house?’
‘My sister.’
‘What did she want?’
And, suddenly sitting up in bed:
‘You’re not going to go away, are you? She didn’t come to fetch you?’
‘No, no. Calm down. Wait. Is there any antiseptic in the house?’
‘There should be some iodine in the wardrobe.’
It was the first time he had ever had to look after someone. He was astonished to feel light on his feet, attentive to every detail, making precise movements.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To boil some water.’
‘Promise me you’re not going to leave.’
‘Of course I’m not.’
‘Swear.’
‘I swear. Here, hold this towel to your head, then the blood won’t get on the pillow.’
He would have liked his sister to come back and see him coming and going as if at home here, stoking the fire, fetching water from the well, boiling it on the stove, opening the wardrobe full of old dresses smelling of mothballs, to look for a little bottle of brown liquid.
From her bed, Tati listened to every sound and was only frightened if there was a sudden silence.
‘Into the shed, cows! Not that way, you stupid things! I’ll see to you later.’
Would he be able to milk them? He had watched the old man doing it, but he had never tried himself.
When he returned to the bedroom, Tati greeted him with a grateful and admiring gaze.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. Just, you’re funny like this. Anyone would think you’d been a nurse all your life.’
He had taken a blue apron from behind the door in the kitchen.
‘Now try to keep still. This may hurt a bit, but we have to do it.’
‘Not much left, is there?’
‘Of what?’
‘Of my hair. This isn’t disgusting you? You’ve got blood all over your shirt.’
‘If you don’t keep still, I can’t …’
‘All right, but you’re hurting me!’
He made her a dressing as a kind of turban, which completely changed her appearance.
‘I feel as weak as … What will you eat now, Jean?’
