The Ninth Life of Louis Drax (7 page)

     —Tell me something, Monsieur Perez. Am I a typical Disturbed Child?

     He laughs. —There’s no such thing, Louis.

     —What about now? I ask him when he’s finished mopping up the water and broken glass with his dustpan and brush and his gay dishcloth, and put a plaster on his cut and called Maman on her mobile to say we’ll need to finish the session early.

     —Who were you thinking of when you smashed that bowl, Louis? he goes while we’re waiting for her. —Who are you angry with?

     Duh, again! He’s always on about ‘anger’. ‘Your anger’. Why can’t he find another word in the dictionary? Why can’t he use a word like ‘
loathing
’?

     The doorbell buzzes meaning no time left, so that’s when I ask him.

     —Is it true that there is a pill that ladies can take to stop them having babies? You take one every day from a little packet that’s green and has twenty-one little tiny pills in and you keep them in a secret place?

     He looks at me like I’m Wacko Boy.

     —Yes, Louis, there is. It’s called the contraceptive pill. Why do you ask?

     —I just wanted to know. It was a bet.

     —With someone at school?

     —Monsieur Zidane, my teacher. I say there’s a pill to stop babies coming, and he says there isn’t.

     He thinks for a minute.

     —Might you be
swallowing
these pills you found, Louis?

     And then I pretend to think for a minute, too. Think, think, think. And then I do another mouth click.

     —I might be. What happens if you do?

Maman says that children need rules and they need certainty.
Children should be told the truth. Children should tell the truth too, they should always tell doctors the truth about how they had their accident. They should never make up stories just to make things look dramatic and impress people. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to be the parent of an accident-prone child. Your heart’s in your mouth the whole time. Adults do bad things sometimes. If an adult does a bad thing to you, you should tell another adult, one that you can trust. I’ll always be here for you, Lou-Lou. I’m sitting by your bed right now, and when I squeeze your hand like this, maybe you can feel it
.

     —You don’t have to listen to her, says Gustave. —You can switch her off. Tell me more of your story, Young Sir.

     —There was a thing that happened one day.

     —Where?

     —Disneyland Resort Paris.

     It’s winter. On the Weather it said this morning’s average temperature is twelve degrees centigrade and this afternoon it will increase to fifteen but there will be winds gusting in from the south to meet the low pressure over northern France. This means a 65 per cent risk of showers tomorrow and Monday so don’t forget your umbrella. Disneyland Resort Paris used to be called EuroDisney. But the Euro bit didn’t work, Papa says. Only the Disney did. So they got rid of Euro and called it Disneyland Paris and then they said how about calling it Disneyland Resort Paris instead and letting you drink alcohol. And then abracadabra, people came flocking because it says in the brochure it’s
an enchanted realm with lots of kingdoms
especially
Discoveryland with Space Mountain and its unique sensations. It’s a magic dream that’s ideal for the whole family
, even if you’re not really a family, just a mum and dad and a boy with a hamster. Me and Papa came on the TGV from Lyon and we’re staying in the Hotel Santa Fe for the whole weekend giving Maman and Mohammed a rest because we are both men and sometimes men can be too much of a good thing at a weekend and give you a headache.

     In Adventureland, the brochure says, you can
wander through the oriental bazaar from the world of Aladdin, soak up its exotic atmosphere and follow the rhythm of the bongos to the heart of the Caribbean
, so we do that with Christmas decorations everywhere and Papa carries me on his shoulders for a while even though I’m too big and heavy. The World of Aladdin’s full of someone’s popcorn accident so we start queuing up in the cold for the giant tree from
Swiss Family Robinson
on Adventure Isle. They were a family that got stranded on a tropical island and they had to make a house in a tree. We’re just starting to climb the stairs when a lady’s voice says —Pierre? Is it you?

     And straight away I can feel Papa’s hand go tight over mine, like she’s going to steal me or something. He puts the other hand on my shoulder and we stop, we don’t go up the stairs. The lady’s with a man and they have two Chinese girls, younger than me, who look like twins and a fat baby in a buggy who’s not Chinese. We’re all squished up together and there are people going past us and up the stairs.

     —Well, says Papa. —What a surprise.

     He looks like he’s going to throw up, but he and the lady kiss each other on both cheeks like everything’s normal, and then we all get back so the other people can get past.

     —And this must be Louis, she says. —Hello Louis.

     And she bends down and I kiss her cheeks too and she kisses mine. She smells of vanilla. Her lips are soft and cold from the wind and suddenly it feels like Christmas is tomorrow or the next day, not in two weeks.

     The lady looks at me with her eyes that are pale blue, like swimming-pool water, but I don’t say anything. I haven’t seen her before, so I don’t know how she knows my name. Maybe she met me when I was a baby. She’s wearing a red coat and red earrings, she has a pretty face and black hair but not as black as the Chinese girls who are giggling like something’s funny, maybe my stupid gloves that Maman made me wear, so I take them off and shove them in my pocket. Then their dad who isn’t Chinese either shakes Papa’s hand.

     —Alex Fournier, he says.

     —Pierre Drax, says Papa.

     I want to know why the girls are Chinese if the mum and dad aren’t.

     —So you’re the famous Pierre Drax.

     Papa doesn’t look very happy about being the famous Pierre Drax.

     —I didn’t know you were famous, Papa.

     —It’s just a joke, says Papa quickly.

     The man keeps looking at Papa and then he looks at the lady. And he nods his head like he’s working something out, maybe a tricky piece of Lego, and then he says, —Well, I can’t say I haven’t heard a lot about you, Pierre.

     —And these are our children, says the lady all bright and smiley but it’s fake, taking Pascal’s hand. —This is Mei, and this is Lola, and the baby’s Jerôme. He’s thirteen months.

     —Congratulations, says Papa.

     —And how about you? says the lady. —Do you have any more at home?

     —No, it’s just Louis, says Papa. They look at each other for a long time then, till the lady’s husband clears his throat and opens his mouth like he is going to say something, but he doesn’t.

     —And how is Louis’ mother? says the lady.

     —Natalie’s very well, thank you, says Papa. —She couldn’t be with us today.

     —Cos we give her a headache, I say. —Cos sometimes men are too much of a good thing.

     —What a shame, says the lady, and she looks hard at Papa, and he tells me to put my gloves back on, my hands’ll freeze and I say how come her children are Chinese? And he says I shouldn’t be rude. But the lady says it isn’t rude, he’s just curious. They were born in China which is a faraway country, and have I heard of adoption? She expects I have, she expects Maman and Papa have explained all about adoption to me. But I tell her they haven’t and that makes the Chinese girls giggle like it’s funny I don’t know what adoption is and the lady looks at Papa and then at me and then she says very fast, well anyway, she and Alex got the girls from China two years ago and then right afterwards they had a lovely surprise because Jerôme came along.

     —Like a bolt from the blue, she says, going all red in the face because she’s happy.

     —We didn’t waste time, says the man, who’s happy too. —Three kids in one year!

     He looks proud, like he’s won the Loto. Like he’s saying to my dad, see? I have three and you only have one, and I have two girls and everyone knows that girly Chinese girls are better than Disturbed Boys. Plus we have a cute baby with fat red cheeks and a dummy and a hat that’s got bunny ears.

     —So now there are five of us, the lady’s saying, —which is a bit of a squeeze in the apartment but we hope to be moving soon because I’ve been offered a new job up in Rheims, and Alex heard just yesterday that he could be transferred too, and they’re promoting him to regional manager at the same time, so today we’re all having a bit of a celebration.

     —Well, I’m so glad things are going well for you, says Papa. —You deserve it, Catherine.

     She looks like a nice lady, I don’t know why Papa’s looking so sick; the more she talks and is happy and laughing the sicker he looks, and then he suddenly looks at his watch as if he is shocked at what time it is.

     —I think we’d better be off,
mon petit loup
, he says.

     Yeah, blah blah blah. —What about the Swiss Family Robinson’s tree? I go. —We can go up it with them.

     The Chinese girls are still giggling at me but I don’t care, they are just stupid girls plus they are Chinese and they have eyes that are the shape of a leaf and I don’t want to play with them anyway because girls suck and I know they’re laughing at my gloves even if they’re in my pocket.

     —The queue’s a bit long, says Papa. —We’ll go and have some lunch first. I think I saw some candyfloss for sale over there. You can have that afterwards. Nice to bump into you, he says to the lady. —I’m glad things have worked out for you. All the best. Bye!

     This time they don’t kiss, they shake hands. Him and her and then him and him. The man looks at Papa like Papa’s a pickpocket who’s thinking of stealing something from him. I’d like to stay and go up the tree with the Chinese girls even if they’re still giggling at my stupid gloves and they’re stupid girls, but Papa pulls me away – he really tugs my arm so it hurts. If I dislocated it, I’d go to hospital and I’d better not, because I promised Maman that if I felt danger coming I’d tell an adult, one that I could trust, that’s what you must always do if you don’t feel safe. When I look back I see one of the Chinese girls waving, and the lady and the man are holding hands. Maman and Papa don’t do that, or kissing, because kissing’s silly
and there are other ways of showing love, like being a responsible provider for your family and not letting them down
. But sometimes I’d like them to.

     There’s a rubbish bin so I chuck my stupid babyish gloves in while Papa isn’t looking. At lunch we have Mexican fast food called tacos that tastes of cardboard with
pommes frites et ketchup
and Papa’s face looks weird and he keeps ordering beer and he takes my hand and he says he loves me and I say I love him too but I know something’s wrong.

     —Who were those people? Who was that lady?

     —Just someone I used to know, says Papa. —We used to be ... friends. Very good friends. Actually – He takes my hand. —I haven’t told you this before. Maman thought you didn’t need to know, but ... well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t know. I used to be married to that lady.

     —Married?

     —Yes. For three years. A long time ago.

     —Oh.

     —Louis, I’m sorry to tell you like this. Are you upset?

     —No. Why should I be? Because you’re married to Maman now. And you wouldn’t have me if you weren’t married to Maman, would you? You’d have Chinese children and a baby with a stupid dummy and bunny ears.

     He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me with his thinking face.

     —Yes. Maybe. I don’t know what I’d have. And he sighs again. —But we’re not telling Maman about meeting Catherine, are we?

     —Aren’t we? Why not?

     —Well, he says, picking up a
pomme frite
and eating it. —You know Maman.

     It’s true. Maman’s funny about Papa and other ladies. She doesn’t like him talking to them. It leads to trouble.
Men let women down. Over and over again. It’s what they’re programmed to do
. And we eat our
pommes frites
with our fingers for a while and I tell him about this new model aeroplane I want, that’s got a one-metre wing-span that makes me knock over my Coke so Papa has to make a wiggly sign in the air to the restaurant lady.

     —So what’s
adopted
?

     The man who’s cleaning up is black but he doesn’t have stripes on his cheeks from Ritual Torture that’s Initiation, like the one in the market in Lyon who sells necklaces with shells, and while he’s mopping up Papa tells me that adoption means you get someone else’s baby if you can’t have your own. The baby’s mum and dad can’t look after it because they’re too poor or they can’t cope, so they give the baby to another couple, who can’t have children of their own. Those Chinese girls were adopted because Catherine thought she couldn’t have children. But then after she and her husband adopted the Chinese girls, she was able to have a baby of her own.